Immortals Read Online Free Page A

dream.
    ‘Fuck,’ Jai cursed mutely.
    But how did he reach here? 
    And why was there not a scratch on his body?
    He was sitting on his bed, in his room, in the Ghatkopar chawl , miles away from the farmhouse on Pune road. He reached for his mobile and saw the date.
    Shit! It was Sunday morning.
    But he had been caught, dragged over to the farm, tortured and killed on Sunday. So how could it still be that same fucking Sunday?
    Oh shit! Could the whole fucking thing have been a dream? Was that even possible?
    It had seemed all too real to have been just a dream.
    ‘Shit!’ Jai cursed for the second time that morning.
    Capture, torture, death and hell, some shitty white paralysing hell; all in a single fucking dream – phew! But it had all seemed so goddamn real.
    But that changed everything.
    It was still early morning. Too much should have happened in the night. He realised he did not have much time.
    If all had gone to plan, Rashique Bhai would be dead by now. Maybe the dream was a warning to him not to stick on in the gang and maybe he should make a run for it before anyone found out anything.
    But no one would, not too soon, anyway.
    There would be lot of trouble once news of Rashique’s death spread. He was sure there would not be anyone seeking revenge anytime soon. There would be a mad scramble for succession within the gang. Munna Bashir, a veteran in the gang, would stake his claim as the new boss. Rashique Bhai’s son Abdul, was only twenty-two – too young to be the leader of the gang. Abdul had lots of other issues too.
    Abdul was an impulsive bastard who already had three killings on his count and had a couple of court cases going on against him. The bastard spent most of his time spending his father’s money either on high-society whores or at the gambling den.
    He lacked the discipline of Rashique Bhai .
    Rashique Bhai had hoped that some sense would be knocked into his son’s head once he became a little older; but an age of twenty-two was old enough and Rashique Bhai was a truly worried man.
    If Abdul went after the top job, shit would explode. The gang would split into two, with the saner ones siding with Munna and the ambitious ones with Abdul. A split invariably would lead to a bloodbath, which would invariably end with a compromise across the table, mediated either by another don or by the Mumbai police.
    A bloodbath is bad news for both the police and the underground. The police would get a very bad rap and the hullaballoo and mayhem always got them unwanted political attention and wrath. This political wrath in turn led to a witch-hunt by the police, which would hurt the other gangs not involved directly in the bloodbath. That would be bad for the other gangs. So, both had a selfish interest in seeing a quieter succession to Rashique Bhai’s throne. And that issue had to be settled before they came after the perpetrators.
    However, there was another side to the story. 
    In the mayhem, rival gangs would see an opportunity and would move in for the kill. If the Rashique gang did not get its house in order soon, they would be finished off in a systematic cleansing act. This act would be orchestrated by the gangs holding the neighbouring territories, or those with similar or competing interests in the underworld trade. The cleansing would of course be done by the Mumbai police in the name of a renewed effort to cleanse Mumbai of the underworld. Nobody likes turmoil and uncertainty, least of all the police. They would be better off without this nuisance, of a faction-ridden gang led by a weak leader; the shitty nuisance of a beheaded chicken running amok.
    The police would draw a fat bonus from the likes of Rashique’s rival, Rajan Bhai , and would happily hunt the kin, brethren and brood of Rashique Bhai . The same police that had, until yesterday, been obeisant on a monthly basis at the doorstep of Bhai . The same police, that drew more from Bhai every month than what they drew from the