Sunday Photo Fiction – May 7th 2017

THE CALL                    (THE QUARRY- PART 3)

199 05 May 7th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

An hour had gone by and Richard was still holed up in his seventh floor Mumbai hotel room overlooking Marine Drive, the famed mile long strip kissing the Arabian Sea.

The call from the boss had clearly unnerved him.

He knew his boss well. Doling out empty threats over the phone was definitely not the man’s signature style.

‘Baldie’, as he was referred to in private by his minions, had a history of acting out his threats, remorselessly and quickly, the latter being his forte.

Richard got up and pulled out a bottle of Vat 69 from the liquor cabinet.

He desperately needed to calm his frayed nerves.

After a couple of large swigs down his throat, he closed his eyes and assessed the situation so far.

His boss had ordered a hit…shown him a face.

He had followed the face right from the airport to his hotel room and was a finger tip away from pulling the trigger.

The man did die but, not of his bullet. Somebody else had pulled the gun.

‘Who could that somebody be? Somebody known to him or his boss, or worse both…someone who wanted to settle a score with him or his boss … or, was it someone with no links to him or his boss but simply one who wanted the man dead at all costs?

A revenge killing, then?’

All questions but with no answers.

Richard needed someone to provide him with the answers.

Someone reliable, someone who knew the underworld like the back of his hand and most importantly, someone who had an axe to grind against his boss and hence would be more than ready to spill the beans.

His mind raced for possible names.

He needed one name, one guy who fit the bill.

All of a sudden his eyes flashed and he reached for his cell phone.

After stabbing a few keys, he dialled a number.

(neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #quarry#03

READ PART 1 & 2 here:






By Neel Anil Panicker

Richard stared into the phone for a very long time, aeons after it had gone dead, the words of his boss__”He’s dead. Shot in his sleep. Hope it is you”__still ringing in his ears, each syllabic sound a veiled threat, a ferocious kick in the gut.

Despite the airconditioning, he found himself sweating like a pig as his mind’s video played out horrific images of sordid brutality including one in which he saw himself being mercilessly hauled up by a giant crane and thrown under a monstrous road roller that steamrolled his enviable six foot two frame to pulp, the asphalt road glistening a bloody red.

‘No’, he screamed out into the dark as his tortured mind searched far and wide__thinking, dreaming, devising, concocting, even praying for a way out of the quagmire that he found himself in.

©neelanilpanicker2017  #THE QUARRY #02 #NOVELLA CONTINUES

Read part one here

Welcome to Week 66 of Three Line Tales.

Three Line Tales, Week 66