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Nanna stopped grinning. “Whoever did that, we will ensure he goes to jail and stays there. Eventually those documents will be found.”
“It may not be enough,” Agastya said thoughtfully. “Someone did this and tried to pin the blame on you. Maybe we’ve been coming at this from the wrong angle. Someone leaked the story to City News. Maybe we need to find that someone and then follow his trail backwards.”
Nanna’s eyes sharpened. “I’ll get my people on it. You go to Delhi and come.”
Agastya nodded. He walked around the table and bent to touch his father’s feet and take his blessings.
“Are you going to tell her?” the interfering old man asked as he patted Agastya’s head absentmindedly.
“Why don’t you focus on work?” Agastya asked, straightening and glaring at his father.
“Why don’t you? Honestly Agastya, how foolish are you? Who falls in love with their own wife?” His father chortled, thrilled with his inane joke.
“You should retire,” Agastya grumbled. “You’re clearly going senile.”
His father was laughing too hard at his own humour to respond to the insult. Agastya was about to leave the room when his mother walked in, the sambrani dhoopam in her hand. She used her palm to waft the smoke towards all corners of the room.
Agastya touched her feet and then hugged her, saying, “I’m going to Delhi. I’ll be back in two days.”
“Take your wife with you,” she murmured, still focused on getting the sambrani smoke into all the corners of the room.
“I can’t. She has dance rehearsals.”
His mother stopped walking around and stared at him. “So?” she asked.
“So. Dance is her work, Amma, like politics is mine.”
Her mouth fell open as she looked at his father. “He’s gone mad or what?” she asked him in Telugu.
“He’s in love it seems,” his father replied, laughter spilling out of him.
“Have you no dignity?” Agastya asked repressively as his father giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Have you no sense?” his mother demanded in turn. “Talking about love and all in front of your parents!”
“I didn’t.” The unfounded accusation outraged Agastya. He pointed at his father. “He started it.”
A knock sounded on the door before the morning devolved even further.
“Sir.” Ganesh called out, sounding faintly annoyed. “We should leave for the airport.”
Agastya nodded at his parents, ignoring his still laughing father and left with a muttered goodbye. The minute he exited the room, Ganesh fell into step beside him, Naresh trailing behind.
“We’ll have to stop the traffic to make it on time.”
“No.” Agastya said. “Don’t stop traffic.”
“You’ll miss the flight Sir!”
“Then I’ll take the next one.” Agastya shrugged, his speculative gaze going to the stairs and the corridor beyond. They weren’t using the jet today. If he missed the flight he was booked on, he’d get a little extra time with Veda. Maybe…
“We’ll make it Sir,” Naresh interjected quietly. “I know another route which will work.”
Dammit, there went his plan. It was only when he turned towards the door and started walking that he noticed how annoyed his PA looked.
“Is there a problem?” he asked Ganesh, curious as to what had his normally unflappable PA visibly flapping.
“I don’t like surprises,” Ganesh muttered, rearranging his mutinous expression into his normal placid one.
