She walks down the steps of the stairs with ease. Her straight posture & fluid movements have an athletic feel. She is wearing a bottle green kurta with an embroidered neck. The sleeves of the kurta end at her elbows. The kurta extends till her knees & a black jeans gives her a contemporary- traditional look. She wears a thin smile on her face that is more prominent today due to what appears to be another variation of her pony tailed hairstyle.
“Hello.” She says without missing a step.
“Hi. I hope you understand why I wanted to meet you away from the office.” I start walking with her.
“Sure. He came in the morning. Was too courteous. Took away all my reports, findings & paperwork. Told me in clear words not to entertain any further enquiries from you.” She says with a smile in her voice now. I look at her & realize that she has decided to ignore the warning.
“You can still go back. After all, it is just a cup of tea.” I smile at her.
“A cup of tea in the evening is something that nobody can stop me from. Not even the NIA.” She replies.
“Too bad for them I guess.” I walk easy now.
This cup of tea is what I use effectively to kill time. Well, not to kill time exactly because it is being put to great use. But it gives me a lot of freedom to concentrate on the really important thing. To observe what Bhavna talks, how she talks & what she does not talk about. I contribute with timely interruptions, questions & objections but let her do most of the talking. I have seen guys plan the details about punch lines, gifts & timings so much that they forgot to enjoy the time that they spent together with that special person. I have realized that it is the time that you spend together happily that shapes the relationship. On that count, I am doing well with Bhavna. We have been seating at a beach umbrella covered table for the past one hour.
It is not a restaurant but a makeshift seating arrangement right besides a public park. The owner of a sweets shop has found this day-long novel way for seating his tea-cup, lovey-dovey customers right next to the pavement. Nobody’s interested in what we are discussing. Not the shop owner, not the people passing by. Bhavna took no time to start off. She spent the first few minutes happily bashing the uptight NIA guy who had visited her today. There were other anecdotes from her run-ins with them in the past. She shares my respect for the NIA. I told her about my ingenious extraction of NIA’s surveillance from Kumar. She liked that. She let out the fact that Achhu’s body is still at her father’s office as the NIA was not keen on it. I wanted to tell her about Anees but didn’t. Trying hard to let the conversation roll, I asked her about her schooling & family. Her mother died of cancer when she was fifteen. Her father, Dr.Desai had been rock steady even in that crisis. She speaks of him with pride. She wants him to take voluntary retirement now but he says he would miss the work. I tell her about myself. Not much, but the basics. She listens attentively. Time flies.
The reverie is broken by a call from Ulhas. He has collected reports requested by me & him. He wants to analyze them together. Tomorrow morning. I agree immediately. Though many around us are gifted individuals, I have always found it easier & quicker to solve problems by discussing them with friends or colleagues. For me, somehow the numbers come into picture even when it comes to brains. I might figure it out eventually, but time is too valuable in police work. So more the merrier. I realize that it is almost 6.30. I have been with Bhavana for almost 2 hours. Needless to say, I have had a good time. I also realize that it may be hard for both of us to meet after today as the official cooperation has ended.
“Bhavna, I wish I could have such an enjoyable cup of tea every evening.” I sip the last of my tea that has gone cold by now.
“Me too.” She smiles.
“Can I see you for an odd cup of tea again?” My eyes are fixed on hers as I make an earnest request.
“Sure Pandurang. Anytime.” She replies immediately.
“I might hold you to that. I stay close.” I point in the general direction of the police colony.
“So do I. As I know you stay close by, I might be the one to hold you to that.” She shoots back.
We continue talking for another hour before she leaves for the day. It has been more than 12 hours since I left my flat, but when I get back on my bike, I feel as fresh as a sunflower that has been basking in sweet sunshine.
***
I repeat my dawn driving trick to be at the office by 6 a.m. Ulhas follows soon. He has 2 stacks of papers, one marked with my request number & one with his. We occupy two chairs across an empty table near the DYSP’s office. There is a reason why we do this in the morning. Me & Ulhas don’t have assigned desks. Because of the nature of the assignments that come our way, most of our working hours are spent in the streets. So whenever we require desk space, it is best to occupy it when it is empty. There are conference rooms in many police stations but they are usually taken in the day. So mornings offer us both; the space & the peace. I see that Ulhas has already marked a few circles on his papers with a red pen.
“Ok. You first.” I say to him. He has shaven & is looking fresh. This means that he has something. He is not wearing the khaki pant for a change. Dressed in a collared t-shirt that reveals his wrestler like forearms & a cotton trouser, he starts off.
“The Fortuner in the footage that we got from Mira road had Wheely’s number plates, right?” He asks.
“Yes.”
“But the NIA guy said they have proof that the original SUV never went to Mira road. So it must have been an identical vehicle with fake number plates.” He continues.
“Ok.” I am with him, so far.
“So the idea must have been to point the suspicion to Anees about the death of Achhu. What do criminals do with the fake number plates when the job is over?” He asks me again as if the thing is clear in itself.
“The clever ones change or dump them immediately.” I reply.
“The clever ones do. This one was not so clever. On a hunch, I requested information from the toll plazas in Mumbai about Fortuners on roads on that day. The Fortuner with Wheely’s number plates took the Western Express Highway towards Pune an hour later but never made it to Pune.” He finishes by stretching against the back of his chair.
“So the plates were changed between Mumbai & Pune.” I observe. Ulhas is smiling.
“There is more, isn’t it?” I see the mischief in his eyes.
“As it was night, there were only 3 Fortuners going to Pune on the entire expressway. 2 of them started from Mumbai & I have already confirmed their owners in Mumbai. The third, with Wheely’s numberplates paid toll against a different number just prior to Pune.” He explains. As the expressway has been built by different companies, toll collection has also been divided according to the companies. A toll receipt issued by a particular company is usually tallied at the beginning & at the end of the company’s stretch of the highway. The Fortuner’s numberplates were changed on a neutral stretch, most probably a restaurant or a petrol pump on the highway. Getting the receipts from a road company is easier now as their systems are computerized. So Ulhas does have the Fortuner’s number.
“And the number that it took next is from?” I ask.
“From Aurangabad area. The car was reported stolen one day before & has not been found.” Ulhas completes. So we do know now that the killer may have been to Aurangabad. I smile at Ulhas. He really did this well.
Then I see the stack with my request number. I take it as something strikes me too. I open up the map that has been folded. Spreading it out onto to the table, I find the Mira road area in it. It is a large map that covers entire south Mumbai, Virar on the North & till Panvel on the east. I see a large box near the railway station listing the mobile numbers that were in pairs at the time of Achhu’s dropping off at Mira Road station in the night. There are roughly 15 pairs. The map has charted these pairs over the next twelve hours as per my request. From similar rectangular boxes representing hourly entries on the chart, it can be made out that most of them have dispers
ed into singles by the next morning & some have held together. But that is not what I have in mind. I race my finger towards Panvel.
“When was the Fortuner at Panvel?” I ask Ulhas who is also trying to make sense of the chart.
“Around 1 a.m.” He consults his chart before answering.
Just like a black beard with a light colored straw, there is rectangular box showing two mobile numbers. There are two separate IMEI numbers for each, this means that there were two handsets & it was not a dual SIM phone. I do a quick tally of those numbers with the pairs at Mira Road station. There is an entry of the same pair at 12.00 p.m. at Mira Road. I tap it lightly.
“Well, the Fortuner driver did well to get from Mira Road to Panvel in one hour. Par Afsos, he forgot to switch off his & Achhu’s mobile phone.” Ulhas returns to his KBC styled compliment.
“It may not be Achhu’s phone, but it is a start.” It is not unusual for people, particularly drivers to have two cell phones. But when it comes to a murder investigation, such breaks are usually the beginning of unraveling the true picture. I rush to the common intranet terminal at a nearby desk. Putting the request for the information about the owners of these two cell numbers with their current location is the first thing that I do. I also put up a request for surveillance footage availabilities at the toll booths on the Mumbai-Aurangabad highway. In the past years, these booths have been collecting valuable evidence along with the toll. Though the road tolls are too high, I am completely for the visual evidence that they collect. I check my office email to confirm that my request has been logged. Ulhas has been to the sole tea vending machine in the entire building for getting us a cup each. Shetty comes in by 8.30 & that is still an hour away. I am wondering about how to kill the time when the DYSP barges into the office. I manage to stand up with a jerk just avoiding the tea cup from spilling its contents on me.
“Jagtap, Gosavi.” He snaps as he makes way to his office. We hurry along.
“How is the investigation going?” He talks as he settles into his chair. He is looking into a small folder. There is a newfound purpose about him. A disposing, tackling & aggressive purpose. He is at his best when he is like this.
“We are making progress Sir. We may have found the cell phone number of the man who dropped Achhu at Mira road.” I summarize.
“Keep at it.” He is still looking down. I stand in silence with Ulhas.
“There is another thing that you need to do.” He looks up at me.
“We have received credible information about a terror strike. No time or date but it looks imminent.” He breaks the cause of anxiety to us.
“Aai ghale..” Ulhas mutters under his breath to damn the mothers of the people planning the attacks. The DYSP smiles.
“The fact that it was shared with every police circle across the country means the “HIGHBOYS” are pretty convinced.” He rolls on.
“But this is the time to keep our eyes & ears peeled. We are not directly responsible but any lead however small could be vital. Reach out to every possible information source. Do it every day till you get something.” He pauses.
“Yes Sir.” We answer in unison.
“Let me know how the murder case progresses too.” He dismisses us with a nod.
I come out of the DYSP’s office & head out with Ulhas. The threat of a terrorist attack is not a new thing for me. Being alert about public safety is my job. But it is not something that I can get used to. In fact, I don’t want to. If a few screwed up men & women can change a national mindset about our daily life, it makes sense at least for me to weed out each one of them. Ulhas has also gone silent as we come out of the building. The canteen has opened early. I can make out Shetty’s rotund shape on the counter.
“Let us get some real tea.” Ulhas reads my mind.
We amble to the canteen without pace. Shetty is beaming with smile as he sees us.
“Kya Shetty aaj jaldi kaise?” I ask Shetty why he’s in early.
“My mother always said that on a good day, you should open early for business.” Shetty is quick with a reply.
“What’s so good about the day?” Ulhas snaps.
“Haven’t you heard? Kasab was hanged in the morning.”
14
Negotiator
Hormaz Baria was walking casually. When you are in a residential area close to the South Extension in New Delhi, it is criminal to walk. Every person who owns a house around here owns at least 3 cars of which a minimum of two are imported. So no, you don’t walk here. Worse, if you have to; it has to be at a brisk pace for exercise. Someone walking casually is a rarity. But Baria was doing this on purpose. Slow walks relaxed him. As the secretary to the national security advisor, he needed to relax just a bit.
As a young IPS officer, Baria had been destined to go places. Amongst the top rankers in the batch of 1998, he was looking forward to a life full of fighting crime & criminals. A freak accident on his posting at Chandigarh had changed that. A seemingly harmless fall from stairs had hurt his spinal cord. He was told that he could no longer run or put too much stress on his lower back. Obviously, the IPS would not have him any longer. His parents wanted him to come back to Pune & look over the family business. They had objected so vehemently to his initial inclination to join the army that he had opted for the IPS. His inability to serve in full physical capacity strengthened their concern.
But Hormaz would not have anything other than protecting the nation as a job. He roamed around the union home ministry for 3 months with his credentials. He met every notable officer, minister to find him a job. There was no success till he met the current national security advisor. In corridors of the home ministry, he inquired casually about Hormaz’s presence there. The relationship then developed into tea breaks when Hormaz was waiting for an officer to arrive or for his secretary to get him an appointment which was usually the next day. They discussed lot of things over a lot of tea cups for many weeks. All the while, the senior man never revealed his job description or the nature of his interest at the home ministry.
Their discussions involved regional problems in India, international diplomacy & even beurocratic issues. It was after almost 2 months that Hormaz confided in him. Hormaz was leaving for Pune as nothing was working out. A government job looked impossible. He was being offered postings in education, human resource development but not in national security. The senior man heard him out. As Hormaz’s flight was scheduled for the next evening, he asked Hormaz to meet him at a bungalow in the morning. Hormaz thought nothing of it. But went over just because the time spent over the tea cups at the home ministry was enjoyed by him. The resident of the bungalow, turned out to be Brajesh Mishra. Those were early days of the new government & Brajesh Mishra was designing a national security doctrine.
He spoke to Hormaz for half an hour. By lunchtime, Hormaz had an appointment letter that drafted him as an intern in the external affairs ministry on deputation to the committee on national security. For almost a year after that he was witness to the comprehensive discussions & articulations among the committee put together by Mishra. His senior friend was obviously a member. It was then that Hormaz came to know of him as a RAW officer on the rise. The doctrine of national security that emerged through the sharp minds then had been a guiding light even today. A recent review by top government officials had recommended more of the same to be pursued by India as a policy. It was a testament to the vision & acumen of Brajesh Mishra. As a result of approval of the policy recommended by Brajesh Mishra’s group to the Prime Minister, the post of National Security Advisor was created. His friend had been the obvious choice for the post when it became vacant two years back. He had insisted on making Hormaz his secretary. They had been doing good work since then. Hormaz had kept himself so busy that he had not come around to marrying yet.
But today he remembered Brajesh Mishra the most. Hormaz had heard him say. “When you are negotiating with a person or a nation, the single most important thing is this. When both of you leave the di
scussion table, he has to carry back something. It could be a small thing. But he has to feel that you have given him something. Because he may not return to the negotiations unless he gets something.” It was ringing particularly close today because Hormaz was on his way to negotiate. And the other person was not an easy man to please. He had nothing more to lose in life. But India had all to gain from him. Hormaz was on his way to meet Abu Ansari.
This handler of the terrorists who had attacked Indian cities had been apprehended in the UAE recently. His deportation was a diplomatic success for his boss. Never before had an Islamist extremist been extradited back to India. The extradition had raised controversies. After being caught by the UAE police, Abu had claimed to be a Pakistani. He had a valid Pakistani passport & the veiled backing of Pakistani officials. So it was up to the Indian government to prove him wrong. All the legal ways to prove it seemed to be failing. Abu’s family had not been cooperative about giving blood samples to be tallied with Abu’s. So the NIA had allegedly got the DNA from Ansari’s family via a not-so-legal way. They had gotten one man from Abu’s village in a fist fight with Abu’s father. During the fight, he had scratched Abu’s father generously. The NIA had lifted the DNA of Abu’s father from tissue lodged in this man’s fingernails. Once the DNA was matched with Abu’s, his extradition was a certainty.
But the real challenge was for later. The Indian establishment had worked hard to get him back and it may be for nothing. If Abu didn’t cooperate to give leads, confessions or information about his terrorist activities, all would be in vain. With voice samples confirming Abu’s handling of the terrorists during the Mumbai attacks, confessions by Kasab & evidence gathered by agencies investigating terrorist activities around the country, death penalty for Abu was a given. But if he died without India benefitting from his knowledge of the terrorist networks, it would be a shame. So the entire think tank of the diplomatic corps, the intelligence agencies & a team of psychologists had been working on a strategy. There was the easy way of a “Narco” test where he could be made to reveal all under influence of chemicals. But there were two risks. First, doctors who had examined Abu were not completely sure about his being able to stand the test as there was an old skull wound. Secondly, even under the chemical influence, he would answer only the questions asked by the interrogators. As a willing participant, he could divulge more. Not only the information about pending & ongoing terrorist activities, but finer things like people recruiting, motivating & financing were there to be had.
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