Seven Deaths for Five Thousand Crore
Chapter 6: The Empty Truck
Others gradually surrounded the truck. Outside, voices murmured.
"There’s five of us—how do we split it? First come, first served?"
"Heh," someone snorted, "First come, first served? I’m a state-level boxer. If you want to fight, come on, I’ll take you all."
"You… Even if you’re tough, you can’t beat all four of us."
"Let’s not argue. Let’s talk it out."
"Tch, bas karo na." The last young man cut in impatiently. "Listen to me—I have a plan."
"What plan?"
He looked at the others and sneered. "You know who I am? If not, let me introduce myself—Aryan, son of the Arya Group chairman."
"You want the coin, but can you keep it? Aren’t you afraid you’ll end up like this guy?"
"Here’s the plan: the coin goes to me, I’ll give each of you a one-crore cheque, then we all go home and pretend we never met. How’s that?"
The others looked at each other. After a long pause, someone said, voice trembling, "I agree."
"Me too."
As the cheques were signed, the deal was sealed. The five men, satisfied, walked to the back of the truck and opened the cargo hold together.
The next moment, they were completely dumbfounded. Because the truck was empty—there was no one inside.
The silence hung in the air like the aftermath of a Diwali cracker gone wrong. Not even a whiff of magic powder or torn packet remained. Just the echo of their greed and the dull thump of their own heartbeats, drowned by the honking of a passing tempo on the far highway.
