by UD Yasha
Silence.
I said, ‘Is the Viper a man or a woman?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘How do you know that the Viper exists?’
‘I’m here because of him or her. People have experienced his prowess.’
Silence.
My hands stopped shaking. I kept them on the table and said, ‘What were you thinking about earlier when I told you that my father’s body was never found?’
‘I don’t think your father is still alive. But if at all he is, then there has to be a reason.’
‘And what do you think the reason is?’
‘I don’t get many visitors here apart from my wife and kid. So, I remember every time someone comes to see me. I remember every small detail of what they said. I know your father was asking me the right questions. He was on the right track. He knew the Viper existed. He had spoken to people who knew the Viper. He had not been able to crack the Viper’s identity.’
‘Who knew that the Viper existed?’
‘I don’t know. I asked your father the same question. He said if he says anything, then their life would be in danger.’
‘But what were you thinking about when I told you that my father could be alive?’
‘Your father knew his actions would expose the Viper. That’s why he was careful. But at the same time, if he just vanished but didn’t end up dead, that means there is evidence out there that reveals the Viper’s identity and ties him to at least one crime he has committed. There’s no other explanation for your father still being alive. He or someone else has some sort of insurance against getting killed by the Viper.’
Suddenly what Rahul, Radha and I had discussed earlier came to my mind.
Why are we being spared? Are we immune? If we are, then what has given us that immunity?
Dhar said, ‘If that kind of evidence exists, the Viper can be taken down.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I thought the Viper was indestructible. Now, I know he isn’t.’
‘Since we’re being honest, did you kill Kabir Ahuja?’ I said.
‘It doesn’t matter and you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘Try me.’
‘I was with Kabir Ahuja on the day he died. But I didn’t kill him. Kabir had hired me to protect him. As you know, Kabir was a journalist. I think he was working on an article to expose the Viper. He was going to meet someone that day. He was going to be given something that would help him in his investigation of the Viper.’
‘How do you know that?’ I said.
‘Kabir told me. When I asked how dangerous the mission was, he told me that he’s taking down a big bad guy. But I wanted the money. Kabir was giving a lot of it. So, I took the job. Kabir himself didn’t believe that any evidence to that effect existed. But the person he was going to meet didn’t want me there. They didn’t trust me. Kabir still wanted me there. So, I hid in a bush in the large open yard of the farmhouse. But whoever was going to meet Kabir did not show up well past their scheduled meeting time. So, Kabir sent me home. Next day, I woke up to the police knocking on my door for the murder of Kabir Ahuja.’
‘How do you know then that the person Kabir wanted to take down was the Viper?’
‘Because the Viper’s men got in touch with me once I was arrested. They told me to not contest the charges otherwise I would meet the same fate as Kabir Ahuja. They showed me pictures of his wife as well and told me what they had done to her. They promised me that my family would be well taken care of in my absence. I was handed a twenty-two-year-old sentence. I am still young enough and that was okay for me. In four years, I’ll be out of here.’
I said, ‘What about the bag and bloody clothes?’
‘I don’t know how the bloody clothes got there. The bag had the money that Kabir had given me. I had told the cops too.’
I cut in. ‘I didn’t see that in the statement.’
‘What you read in that statement is not all true.’
I was confused, but before I could say anything, Dhar said, ‘You asked me why I’m helping you. I know that I will be a free man if the Viper gets caught because I am pretty sure he was behind the murder of Kabir Ahuja. I have one last thing to share with you. I have a theory. The evidence might be….’
Dhar never finished his sentence. He put both his hands on his heart. His eyes were bloodshot. He heaved air into his lungs, fell from the chair then collapsed on the floor.
Chapter Thirty-One
I pressed the buzzer, not knowing what had suddenly happened.
Two guards rushed in and looked equally confused.
‘He just grabbed his heart and went down,’ I said, now standing near the door as more guards rushed in.
They might have had some kind of an internal alarm go off because the small room was soon swarming with police officers, some of whom were armed. I was taken to another room while Mukund Dhar was carried out on a stretcher.
‘Wait in here,’ a police officer told me. ‘We’ll go through the video tape and then talk to you.’
The officer closed the door behind him. The room I was now in was similar to the one before. I could hear a lot of activity outside. Heavy footsteps and people shouting. I checked the time. Five minutes past three. I needed to leave soon but felt that was not going to be possible. I began thinking about what could have happened to Mukund Dhar. Was it an accident or had someone poisoned him to kill him?
The police would want to know what happened inside and I was their best bet. I knew they would want to question me. But I had no reason to answer any of them. If they suspected me of doing something to Dhar, which they possibly couldn’t because everything was on tape. At the same time, there was no evidence against me. I could stay silent until they arrested me for killing Dhar, if at all there was foul play involved. I had stayed back out of courtesy and to know what had happened to Dhar.
Five minutes later, the same officer who had spoken to me before came into the room. He sat across the table. He was wearing a poker face. I knew I had to start talking to him first before he started to question me.
‘What happened to him?’ I said.
‘We suspect he was poisoned,’ the officer said right away.
I had got what I wanted from the conversation already.
‘What were you talking about?’ the officer said.
‘I’m sorry, but that is personal and privileged information that I cannot share,’ I said. ‘I’m a lawyer myself and I know my rights.’
‘Were you his lawyer?’
‘I’m not required to answer any of these questions,’ I said with one eye on the clock.
The officer’s eyes narrowed.
‘Is there anything else?’ I said.
‘As a fellow law enforcement officer, I request you to help me,’ the officer said.
‘I don’t know what happened. He suddenly grabbed his heart while we were talking.’
‘Did you have anything to do with it?’ the officer said.
I got up. ‘If there’s nothing you’re charging me with, then I am going to go,’ I said. ‘You have my contact details. If there’s anything else that you want to know later, you know where to find me.’
‘You’re doing a very bad thing by leaving, Miss Rajput,’ the officer said as I stepped out of the room.
It was three fifteen. I drove home as all the things that Dhar had shared swirled in my mind. I tried to not get emotionally swayed. He had said things I wanted to hear. But he was also in prison for almost eighteen years with four more years of his sentence left. He knew that if I was convinced he was innocent or that he had helped an investigation, it could lead to an early release. What surprised me the most was that he never brought up a bargain plea.
I had noticed a genuine shift in Dhar’s body language when I told him that dad could still be alive. He really seemed to believe that there was a piece of evidence against this so called ‘Viper’.
I reached home, changed my cl
othes and put on black jeans and a slightly loose grey T-Shirt. I took a jacket, knowing fully well that Mumbai would be warmer and more humid. But the jacket would be useful in case of an emergency to keep my guns and extra rounds. I checked the mirror once to see if my bullet proof vest was visible through the T-Shirt. I smiled when I didn’t see it.
‘Take care, Siya,’ Radha said as I stepped out, hearing Rathod’s car at the entrance.
She waved at me as we drove away. The GPS app told us that we would reach Motilal Ahuja’s house by seven forty.
‘I’ve already told him that we are running late. He said it’s okay and he understands given the circumstances,’ Rathod said.
Over the next twenty minutes, I told Rathod what Dhar had told me. At the same time, I called Radha and Rahul so even they would be up to speed.
‘I don’t know of anyone called the Viper,’ Rathod said. ‘I’ve not heard of whispers or rumours on the street either.’
I said, ‘It could very well be something that just his associates call him. It sounds like an ominous name after all. Great way to entice fear.’
‘What do you make of the story that Dhar told you?’ Rathod said.
‘I don’t know if he was lying out of desperation. What happened to him is leading me to believe that everything he said was true. The police officer told me they believed Dhar was poisoned. Why kill him in the first place if he doesn’t know anything?’
‘Why was he kept alive then for all these years if he knew something so risky?’ Rathod said.
‘The same argument can be used for all the people who have died in the last forty-eight hours. Something changed just before that. Every second, I am reminded of the sudden shift in Dhar’s body language at the mention of my father being alive. At first, he ridiculed the idea. But after that initial reaction, when he actually gave it a thought, he said that could have only been possible if he had something against the Viper.’
‘Like an insurance policy.’
‘Exactly. Radha, Rahul and I were talking about it earlier too. Why has no one tried to kill us yet?’
As we hit the Yashwantrao Chavan Pune-Mumbai Expressway, Rathod pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. Once we were in cruise, he said, ‘Dhar said that Kabir Ahuja was supposed to meet someone the day he was killed, which is the most interesting part. It’s not mentioned anywhere in the case files.’
‘Probably because no one knew,’ I said. ‘I’ve gone through the evidence several times but did not find any clue of another person being there.’
‘If Dhar didn’t kill Kabir, then someone else did. If there’s no evidence of them being at the crime scene, then it’s possible that whoever Kabir was supposed to meet was also careful and discreet.’
I felt I did not know much about Kabir’s parents apart from the basics. ‘What do you know about Kabir’s parents?’ I said.
‘His father, Motilal Ahuja, is a respected bureaucrat. He was amongst the toppers of the Indian Administrative Service Exam. His career has flown since then. He started off in Delhi, then moved around the country, eventually settling in Mumbai. Six years back when the Modi Government was elected, Ahuja was elevated to being a secretary to the Minister of Defense. He has risen through the ranks and is now the Deputy Defense Secretary of India. He’s well respected across the country. He’ll probably retire at that position in a few years. Kabir’s mother’s name is Kumodhini. She started off as a teacher at Military Schools. She’s the Principal of Delhi Public School now. She’s also on the school’s board.’
‘And you had earlier told me that Kabir used his father’s political connections to further his own career as a journalist?’ I said.
‘That’s right. There’s no proof of that. But Kabir Ahuja was hired right out of college by Indian Times. He was with them till he was killed. Right from his first year at that newspaper, he bagged some of the biggest names in Indian politics. He had also interviewed Atal Bihari Vajpayi two times for an hour each, when Vajpayi was Prime Minister.’
‘Big catch. Journalists would love to get even one sentence from Vajpayi, forget two hours in total.’
‘I have explored the angle of maybe rival journalists or the people Kabir criticized playing a role in his murder. I’ve found nothing so far. But, to be honest, he criticized many people and he had made multiple enemies.’
‘Yes, I read that in the case files. His emails are attached as proof. One of the reasons the police could not locate who allegedly paid Dhar was because of the sheer amount of death threats that Kabir had got,’ I said and paused ‘Where is Kabir and Sheena’s kid now? Wasn’t he just a year old when his parents were killed?’
‘Yes. He’s now studying medicine in Kanpur,’ Rathod said.
We thought more about possible angles that we could explore to understand what happened on the day Kabir Ahuja died. I also read about Motilal and Kumodhini Ahuja’s lives. Rathod was right. Motilal was a respected officer of the Indian Government. He had taken down many deadly gangsters and criminals. He was also responsible for killing members of terrorist sleeper cells. Now, he was into government strategy and planning. Kumodhini was philanthropic in a different way. She had propelled her school to a completely new level. She had introduced mandatory social work hours for all the older students. She played an active role in girl child education in Delhi.
Both of us were hopeful that meeting Kabir’s parents would give us a new lead. We thought they might remember something that may not have seemed relevant earlier, but would now give us a completely new perspective on the case.
We got silent as we got closer to meeting his parents. Perhaps it was just the nervous excitement of finally having a potentially case-changing lead and then building on top of it to crack the mystery of the Viper.
Chapter Thirty-Two
We reached Motilal and Kumodhini Ahuja’s house in Lower Parel at seven forty-five. They lived in an apartment building. The security outside his building was tight. Motilal was a valuable asset to the Indian Government. His position of Deputy Defense Secretary of India was amongst the thirty top positions for a bureaucrat in the country. That meant he knew trade secrets and future and past government plans. He had a high security clearance. Because of all that, the Indian Government was protecting him as best as they could. Apart from the government security, the lane outside the apartment building had two police cruisers and two ambulances.
Any deviation from a plan was looked at with suspicion. So, the security was heavier because of the unplanned nature of Ahuja’s trip.
Since Rathod and I were not residents of the building, the guards outside checked our backgrounds. We had to deposit our weapons outside even though we had declared them earlier and were licensed to carry them. We went through two more security checks, making it a total of four, before we were allowed to meet the Ahujas. We were ushered to their house by another security guard. It was a hospitable gesture but also a part of the security protocol. I wondered how things would have been for Kabir and Sheena if they had access to such heavy security.
The door of their apartment was opened for us even before we rang the bell. Another person took over and we went through a narrow corridor that opened into the actual house.
‘I’m sorry for all the trouble,’ the man, whom I recognized as Motilal Ahuja, said. ‘I know it’s frustrating but they make a big issue if the protocol isn’t followed for anyone. Nowadays, such things can even be national news.’
Motilal Ahuja was a tall man at probably six feet two inches. His posture was upright and his frame was robust. He had a thick moustache that was grey and black, and hair that would have done even a thirty-year old proud. His voice matched his looks and he seemed to be in control of everything happening around him.
‘No, it’s okay. It’s good to know that the people who run our country are well-protected. I’m sure it’s a high stakes job,’ Rathod said. ‘I’m Senior Inspector Kapil Rathod.’
Rathod and Motilal shook hands.
‘I’
m Siya Rajput, private detective and lawyer,’ I said and shook hands with Motilal.
‘Please have a seat,’ a lady said, coming out of a door. ‘I’m Kabir’s mother, Kumodhini.’
She offered us a smile. She had a bob cut and was much shorter than her husband. I could make out she was a strict principal. She seemed sweet, but if I was a kid in her school, her smile would have made me fear her more.
A house-help got us some water and kachoris.
‘We were having kachoris from our favourite place in Khan Market in Delhi when I got your call. So, we thought we would pack them and get some here,’ Motilal said. ‘Please have some. You must be tired from the journey. We can start talking right after that. Even we’re eager to know what’s been happening.’
I was hungry so I picked one and Rathod followed suit. We munched in silence as all the masalas seeped into our taste buds. They were probably the best kachoris I had ever eaten. I looked around the house. It was big and appeared luxurious, yet small things lent it a homely vibe. There were multiple colourful rugs on the floor. The sofa set was old-fashioned and wooden.
After finishing and wiping his hands on a tissue paper, Rathod turned to the Ahujas and said, ‘Did you go through the case summary I had sent you?’
Motilal nodded. ‘Yes, we did,’ he said. ‘It’s sad to see the number of people who have been hurt. To be honest, I’m just very surprised that the same killer who took our precious Sheena is now operating again.’
Kumodhini’s eyes teared up at the mention of her daughter-in-law. Her husband put an arm around and pulled her closer, wiping her tears away. He said, ‘We seem to be okay. But there are times when we just don’t believe that anyone could have taken our kids away like that. At such moments, it still hurts like it happened just today.’
‘I’m sorry. I really can’t imagine what it must be like,’ Rathod said.
I felt for them. It would have been a hard time when the murders had taken place. In a natural death, you may come to terms with the loss of a loved one. But as they are murdered, you begin to lose faith in humanity and kindness. The investigation that follows can be brutal. It lingers and doesn’t allow you to get past the shock. Sheena’s case was closed four years later. That meant facing four years of trauma.