Salt. Water. Pepper

By Karanbir Singh

Dive headfirst into the enigmatic depths of ""Salt. Water. Pepper: A Perfect Mock-Tale,"" a spellbinding tapestry that weaves together mystery, love, and relentless pursuit.
Brace yourself for an extraordinary literary escapade where truth lies hidden beneath layers of deception and justice teeters on a precarious tightrope.
As you step into the world of this tantalizing fiction, be prepared for an exquisite dance between light and shadow. Follow the intrepid journalists, Richard and Carrie, as they are drawn into a labyrinth of secrets, sparked by an anonymous tip that resurrects the haunting murder case of Hannah. Their quest for truth plunges them into a whirlwind of danger, testing their courage and challenging the very essence of their identities.
With Hannah's friends, Edward, Mary, Zac, and Riley, by their sides, this valiant collective group embarks on a treacherous odyssey through the city of Bekswroth—a self-governing sub-Arctic archipelago floating on the edge of reality. In a race against time, they strive to expose the hidden machinations of power that lurk within its shadowy corridors.
But beware, for the path to justice is a twisted labyrinth of unforeseen perils. Within the pages of ""Salt. Water. Pepper,"" you'll traverse three distinct realms, each revealing a new layer of truth. In the intoxicating domain of ""Salt,"" the characters come alive, their souls bared to the reader's gaze, beckoning you to decipher their intricate motives. Then, be swept away by the relentless current of ""Water"" as their journeys take unexpected turns, leaving them forever changed. Finally, the sizzling heat of ""Pepper"" crackles with revelation, each truth unraveling like a fiery spice that both delights and scorches.
As the plot thickens, an electrifying cast of characters emerges, their destinies intertwined by the thinnest of threads. Unravel the enigma of Hannah's murder as she becomes the catalyst for a battle that transcends the bounds of conventional storytelling. The powerful politician, Hannah's father, looms large, while the mysterious industrialist, Randol Tower, shrouds himself in secrets. Together, they form a formidable web of intrigue that threatens to entangle our heroes in a fight for their very lives.
Yet, even as danger stalks their every move, another force emerges from the shadows—the relentless lawyer, Brad Hamilton. With his own agenda and a burning desire to restore his tarnished reputation, he becomes an unpredictable wild card, complicating the already perilous landscape.
Prepare to be spellbound as the author deftly orchestrates this symphony of suspense, allowing you to experience the heart-pounding crescendos and the tender, achingly beautiful moments that resonate long after the final page is turned. With each word meticulously chosen and every twist crafted to perfection, ""Salt. Water. Pepper: A Perfect Mock-Tale"" unveils a world where truth blurs with lies and where the taste of justice lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging you to unravel the mysteries that lie within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Jul 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9789358830040

Karanbir Singh

Karanbir Singh, a model turned actor and now an author, published his first book, ""My Little Infinity,"" on April 28th, 2018, at Pepper Fry Studios in Santacruz, Mumbai. After this, he went on to author a poetry collection called ""Silent Verses"" and a gripping thriller novel called ""Salt. Water. Pepper, a Perfect Mock-tale,"" both released in 2023.Born in the holy city of Punjab, Amritsar, he belongs to a family of doctors who run a private clinic and considers himself to be the only orange in the family's mango tree. Karanbir has been awarded by the PANKAS Academy and has been featured in major magazines, radio channels, and newspapers, which include: Society Magazine, Tribune, Deccan Herald, Dainik Tribune, Punjab Kesri, The Daily Post, Askmen, What’s Hot, Afternoon DC, Punjab Jagran, Mid-Day, etc.After completing his education at Mayo College, he went on to earn his bachelor's degrees in psychology and sociology from Christ University, Bangalore, and Mumbai University, respectively, and then a diploma in acting from Barry John Acting Studio. He is furthering his artistic development by earning an MFA in creative writing from Chapman University in Orange, California.

Book preview

Title

eISBN 978-93-5883-004-0

Copyright © Karanbir Singh, 2023

First published in India 2023 by Leadstart Inkstate

A brand of One Point Six Technologies Pvt. Ltd.

Unit no. 26, Ground Floor, A1, Shram Safalya,

Wadala Truck Terminal Road, Near Post Office,

Antop Hill, Mumbai - 400037.

Phone: [phone]

Email: [e-mail]

www.leadstartcorp.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Editor: Sita Bhaskar

Proofreader: Reshma S Kulkarni

Cover: Chinmayee Samant

Layouts: Sathish Kumar

Dedicated to my father, who read me stories, my sister, who made me believe in them, and my mother, whose love nurtured them to life.

Contents

Orn

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

The Story Unfolds in Three Parts

1. Salt

2. Water

3. Pepper

Author’s Note

Orn

This book that you behold in your hands at this very moment was at once nothing but a blank page with a dust of ideas. Even though the seed of the story was planted years ago, what strengthened its roots was this one Ancient Greek word, sciamachy —fighting with a shadow. The story is based on a fictional country named Gaul, a self-governing sub- Arctic archipelago floating over the North Atlantic Ocean and situated between the Shetland Islands, which are the Northern Isles of Scotland, and the Faroe Islands. The story revolves around different characters that tend to be joined by a thin thread sharing similar ends: ‘Hannah and Justice’.

I agree there are more strings to this guitar, but I promise if you use the notes of my symphony, you will be able to decipher the melody that tunes this orchestra of words.

Acknowledgements

Orn

I owe a bigger debt of gratitude than I can ever express to my mentor Parbina Rashid and my editor Sita Bhaskar for always guiding me; my flat mate Kaustubh Verma for never letting me settle for anything less than my dream; and the entire team of Lead Start publication for all their support and care. I would also like to extend my gratitude to Dr. Sarabjit Kaur, my cousin, for her continuing support and faith and for always being there for me in my literary journey. Many people have inspired this novel with their stories, experiences, narratives, and silences.

Finally, to my father, Dr. Rajinder Singh, for being my north star, and to my mother, Dr. Rupinderjit Kaur, and my sister, Dr. Harleen Kaur, for showing me that dreams do come true, this book truly owes you more than I can tell.

The Story Unfolds in Three Parts

Orn

Salt (the one that we are within; introduction): Salt, as an element in its natural form, is just a crystalline mineral, but for it to become productive and edible, layers of different minerals and other elements are added, changing it entirely from its natural composition yet still being called salt.

Water (the journey) is the element of flow, for it has no structure. It forms its identity in the utensil in which it’s placed. This is its biggest boon and its only curse. It can never really know what it is until it becomes a droplet of air, only to complete the cycle it started. For it is not only its journey to construct and deconstruct itself but its destiny too; after all, are we not the product of our circumstances?

Pepper (the truth): the element of spice for what is truth if not spice? It has its benefits for the soul, but it also has its burns to bear. Like pepper, it too is revealed in the end, for the end alone can complete the journey, for sorrow alone can complement happiness, and death alone can substitute life.

Part One

PT-Orn

Salt

The one that we are within

PT-Quote

Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of the love is lost

– Khalil Gibran –

PT-Quote

Bette Sutherland

Orn

Sunday 24th October 2010, 7 a.m.

The strident call of the alarm brought me back from my wonderland to the face of the earth. It was an inexpensive clock; there was no snooze button. I had to wake up. On a Sunday morning, at 7 a.m., I burrowed my head into my pillow and groaned. That’s the price every freelancer has to pay. I closed my eyes and followed what my dad did when he had to send me to school. As soon as mom left the room to make my breakfast, he would lift me from my bed. I would wrap myself around him and use his shoulder as a snooze button. As soon as I was separated from his shoulder, I knew it was time. He would make me stand next to the sink and tell me how magical the water was. One splash of it on my face, and the grogginess would disappear. At times, he would even narrate a story of friendship between water and dreams. A beautiful dream can draw water from your eyes, and a splash of water out of your dreams. As a kid, you don’t resist, despite knowing the outcome. Soon you grow up and give up, without knowing the outcome.

There is something beautiful about mornings. You feel so calm and magical under the quiet, silvery moonlight, and sunrise has something similar to offer. But it’s easier to stay awake than to wake up.

I needed these Sunday mornings for myself to get my emotions back on track by talking to my counselor. I am a counselor myself, but I still take therapy from my previous mentor in order to take better care of my patients and not get bogged down by their emotions because I had to listen to them twice: once during the session, and then when I used to make voice notes out of my handwritten notes while playing the session’s recording. This helped me and the client whenever we went back to a session. It’s extra work, sometimes even pointless, but you needed to walk that extra mile, especially when you are trying to make a name for yourself and have only three clients.

The sky was still dark when my counselor called to cancel my appointment. One could see the rays of the sun, but the sun itself was hidden, as though it too was tired and wanted to take a day off. I couldn’t afford a house help, so my mom would send her housemaid to my apartment on Sundays to help me clean up, but she didn’t show up either. I had to look for a way to make my day better, so I called my boyfriend, Ryan, but today even he rain checked on me, as lately his life has been revolving around his work and his own ambitions.

He had just started his own online company called You & Eye, which jettisoned from his living room straight to the popular 16th street of Bekswroth’s Green Avenue, just two blocks away from my favorite coffee and waffle place, The Baker’s Cafe. He and his team helped their users find the best price for whatever they were looking for and then helped them contact the right person in the market. I would be lying if I said I didn’t ask him to promote me on his site, but he said he couldn’t lie to his customers, so he wouldn’t be able to put me at the top of the list of counselors. Well, for as long as I could pay the rent of this small one-bedroom house, I was happy. My parents are loaded with money; my dad is a judge. I could have asked for more and could have used the silver spoon that I was born with, but it made me undermine my self-worth. But Ryan never backs me on this belief of mine.

The sky was still light golden, but my mood now was grey. It resonated with the half-disappearing crescent moon that was still visible but had no voice. I decided to make myself a super unhealthy breakfast. Before I could get to it, my phone beeped. This tone was set for the mailers! For once, it wasn’t a spam mail. As a freelancer, you long to hear your mail beep. In a few seconds of hearing the beep to checking the mailbox, my mind phrased and rephrased the reply, thinking of ways to address any enquiry that the client would be making while spacing a few lines to flatter me with their fancy choice of adjectives they’d use to define my work and how my brilliance was not yet tapped by the world. I would give them an appointment a week from now, even though my calendar had just three dates marked! After all that enthusiasm, to find that I was nothing but a marketing target for a new kitchen product, a detergent, or an offer to be a part of some love application that has a tagline of No matter how lonely you feel, we always have someone looking for you. It puts me off, not because I was being spammed, but because my friends got better spam emails. The idea that even the spammers never saw any potential in me being their worthy customer was off-putting. I turned on my laptop with an air of indifference, but my eyes got widened.

It wasn’t a spam. It was an enquiry email from some guy named Edward Reckner. He was interested in seeking therapy and wanted to book a session with me. That was it! I had finally expanded my kitty. Even before I could read the rest of his email, I opened another tab and ordered some tops that had been on my wish list for months. Well, it’s my thing. Whenever I have a bad start to the day, a good cup of coffee and a little bit of shopping can just be the thing to turn the tables. That frown on my face changed to a smile, and I spent the rest of the day planning all my sessions and reading about Edward Reckner. Not to sound creepy, but I had to look through my clients’ profile not only to cross-check their history but also because over the past decade, the city of Bekswroth has changed. As our country eased its immigration laws to boost our economy, it led to an influx of new inhabitants. Bekswroth, being the capital and one of the only few developed cities of Gaul, a self-governing subarctic archipelago situated right between the Shetland Islands, which are the Northern Isles of Scotland and the Faroe Islands, had to bear the brunt of it. You never know who you would end up meeting. I am my only staff member. I had to prepare myself for the worst. Even after half an hour on my laptop, I couldn’t find anything about this Edward Reckner, not even a single photograph. He was twenty-eight years old, and there was not even a single piece of information about him on any social media platform. This was going to be interesting. I tried to forget about him, but there was something that lingered on. People ask for trial sessions and have so many questions. But this one had nothing to ask, and he didn’t even enquire about my charges, as if he was well aware of my system. I wanted to offer him an appointment for Friday, but something kept me clinging to him. Call it impulsive or irrational, but I sometimes go with my intuition. This is not correct. As a psychologist, you must work on behavior and scientific reasoning, but I was more eager than him to have the session, so I gave him the time for Tuesday, 9 a.m.

Carrie Brown

Orn

Monday, 25th October 2010, 8 a.m.

It’s been a little over a year. We have come so far; a single mistake now could cost us our lives. This is a big risk, but there is no other way to do it. I know Richard would never agree to our ways, but this was not his story. We have triumphed most of the battle; now the tail is left. Are you listening, God? I know we haven’t been on talking terms for a long time, but please stay close. Okay, I guess I am losing it completely now. It’s not often that you get to be part of a journey that unleashes a different side of you.

It’s eight in the morning here in Bekswroth and I am writing a journal! Wow. Did I finally change? Everyone wanted me to speak to a counselor as well. If only I was half as strong as Mary! We had to wait for the dust to settle. Could we actually make this happen? I had started to believe that my city had surrendered its ownership to the hands of people who could either buy justice or rob you of it. I also remembered that as a kid, I used to be very fascinated by this story, which never left me, in which Jane, the character, persistently worked towards changing and molding her town, and irrespective of the barriers, she participated in its destiny, for that was her home.

Irrespective of the nature of my city, it always felt like home. This is the city that docks my childhood, even though it is now turning into a fantasy hell. Our win in court was the beginning of a new chapter for this city. People were waiting to paint me like a hero for fighting this case and for my independent investigation as a journalist. As journalists, the causes are always the underlying current on which we stand and boast our morality, which is one thing that none of us have any more. We all believe that we are superhumans trying to do right, but we never realize that all our actions are as selfish as our news. Even our sympathy for people is shown to demonstrate that we have the ability to enact empathy. That is why we journalists are just an arrow of one single straight line.

Yesterday, when questions were thrown at me repeatedly, questions to which I had no answers, I escaped my office building as if fleeing an unknown assailant. I had to share what was boiling in me with someone, and who better than my brother? I never kept a thing from him, and he never judged. His love was always unconditional. I sat beside him on his gravestone, back-to-back. I filled my lungs with air, closed my eyes, and I could clearly remember it all.

It was sometime in the fall of 2008 when I was informed that someone was waiting for me in the hall. When I entered, there was only an envelope. Journalists got news tips, but never in their offices. I opened the envelope to find a scratch card, which could mean two things: either it was a soft prank or something big was about to unfold. My gut sensed it was the latter. I scratched it on my way to my cubicle. It showed the time and coordinates of a location. I was a journalist, not a spy; I could never figure this out without Richard’s help.

Richard Roylott. Right from our first day at college, after the first lecture, he purposely walked out of the class and waited until someone occupied his seat so that he could quietly come and occupy the seat next to me. Even though he tried to hide his nervousness under his bespectacled look, his shaky voice gave away his nervousness as he introduced himself. He was a tall, fairly thin guy with thick hair neatly side-parted with gel. His face was without any facial hair, and neatly filed nails. Only his ears were wider than usual. He blinked more when nervous, but his heart was as naïve as that of a child. We became friends in an instant. I guess this is why he made sure I ended up joining his dad’s company, which is a news channel by the name ‘Daily News, so that someday he could express his feelings towards me. If only he had half the wit and guts as his father, who knows, maybe, just maybe, we would be dating. Thankfully, things were not complicated between us. That was the only space in my life where everything stood explained.

I reached out to him to decode the location for me. Even after I told him to not follow me to the location, he did. We both knew he didn’t have the stomach for these things, but he could never leave me when things were uncertain. These little acts of honesty and care made me fall for him.

He sat there beside me on the bench, holding my hand like a child who had been left alone. What I had thought was a mistake by the informer was part of her act; she wanted Richard to be there. She stood beside us, and her voice was soft. It was dark, and even if we turned, we could not have seen her. She covered her face with a mask and a scarf. She slipped an envelope between us, which she said was the first feather in the hat. More would come if we were worthy of it, but that would be decided on the merits of this. She placed her hands on my left shoulder, bent towards my right shoulder, and said, There is no one else I can turn to. We need justice. This is not going to be easy by any means, but I trust you. I know your story. If anything stops you, ask yourself, ‘Would you not have liked it if someone ever stepped up for your brother, Kenith?’

We turned in unison when we heard that name, but all we could see was a long black coat that quickly dissolved in the dark. We opened the folder, which had a key and the whereabouts of a girl named Mary Lee, who was reported missing a few years ago. But that name was enough for us to know which way this was leading. According to her investigation, Mary was being held captive at MHAFEC (Mental Health Association for Effective Care), which ran on the funding of Randol Tower. Richard wanted me to walk away, but it was too late. Kenith’s name was enough for me to move mountains. The last two pages of her file had a word-by-word plan to rescue Mary. Her work was not just thorough, but complete. We hurried back to our office. I pinned all the papers to my wall. There was still one thing that didn’t add up! If she was so prepared, why did she choose us for it? I was contemplating this question when Richard entered the cabin with two cups of freshly brewed black coffee, which he has been quite passionate about ever since he got a new coffee brewer and the new French roast coffee beans that now have a permanent corner in his office. He placed the cups on the table and settled the question for me. The hospital where we were to take Mary directly after rescuing her, belonged to Richard’s Russian uncle, Dr. Alexander Tartocovsky, who was still heading it. Richard was scared, and so was I, but we had to give it a shot.

We divided the work between us to complete the background check on every piece of information she had provided to us. MHAFEC was a nonprofit organization and Randol Tower’s shell company had the maximum share in it. They were going to celebrate their tenth anniversary, and we had around a week to prepare for action. On that day, we were to enter with more than the required number of people in our crew. First, I had to look for and follow a guard named Breckin Ridge while Richard and his team interviewed the head matron. Then he would slip me into the extreme care section, which was closed to outsiders. He would diffuse the lights, giving me a window of exactly eleven minutes before the generators kicked in and someone came to fix the fuse. In those