Compass Box Killer

by Piyush Jha

  Virkar waited for him to begin again, but the priest was lost in his thoughts. It was only when Virkar saw that tears had began to streak down the Reverend’s cheeks that he asked softly, ‘What happened then, Reverend?’

  ‘The boy came to me one day and told me that he suspected Tracy had been murdered. He had been to Khandala and had returned with this theory. But I thought that he was just emotionally disturbed and brushed his theory aside.’

  ‘Did he say anything about somebody called the Smooth Operator?’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ said the priest. ‘He said a lot of things, and it all seemed so ridiculous that I was upset with him.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I called up the director of the engineering college and told him to give the boy a few days off as he was emotionally disturbed.’

  ‘And did they?’

  Reverend Anthony sat back in his seat; his body seemed to have shrunk in size in the past few minutes. Finally, he sighed and said, ‘No. Instead, they threw him out of the college. You see, there was no one left to pay his fees.’

  Virkar gave him a stern stare. ‘But, surely you could have paid his fees, Reverend?’ The Reverend shrank further into his seat but this time he was squirming with discomfort. Somewhat defensively, he said, ‘I have two hundred children who I look after…everything that I earn goes into the orphanage. I don’t have a single paisa in my name.’

  Virkar continued to stare at him; slowly, a sense of understanding replaced the indignation he felt. ‘What happened then?’ he asked, his tone gentler this time.

  Suddenly Reverend Anthony looked very tired. ‘It’s a long story, son, but it concludes with the boy ending up in jail.’

  34

  ‘Hari Prasad…his name is Hari Prasad.’ Virkar saw the shock of realization in Raashi’s eyes as soon as he said this.

  ‘Yes, I’ve realized it too,’ he said before Raashi could say anything.

  The dying Colasco had, in fact, told them everything. He had said, ‘Hari…Tracy’s ward’ and not ‘Hurry…Tracy’s ward’.

  Virkar had spent the entire night riding around the dark streets of Belgaum on his Bullet after leaving the orphanage. In his head, he kept going over the sequence of events. Colasco knew Hari’s identity and his relationship with Tracy, and perhaps also knew that Hari was Akurle and Bhandari’s killer. But something had stopped Colasco from sharing this crucial information with the police. Was it the fear of revealing the crime that he himself had committed? Or was it the fear of someone else—the Smooth Operator, perhaps?

  By the time Virkar made his way back to the hotel, it was dawn and Raashi had fallen asleep waiting for him to return.

  Over breakfast, Virkar told Raashi what Reverend Anthony had told him, and more. Hari was not granted admission into his final year even though he was a brilliant student and had been topping his class every year. To earn money to pay his fees and gain re-entry into the final year, Hari had started teaching at a local coaching class. But as he hadn’t been able to cope with Tracy’s death, he became depressed and started having mood swings. In one such disturbed moment, he had fought with the owner of the coaching class over some underhand deductions in his salary. Hari lost his temper and beat the owner, destroying some coaching class property in the process. Instead of being treated for depression caused due to his circumstances, Hari had been convicted on drummed up charges of ‘attempted murder’ and imprisoned at the Central Prison at Barudanga.

  Considered the equivalent of Andaman’s infamous Kala Pani jail, the Central Prison at Barudanga, spread over an area of about 150 acres, was built by the British in the 1920s. The dreaded jail has two hexagonal sections. The first hexagon comprises of barracks where the convicted prisoners, both short-term and those convicted for life, are made to stay and work. The second hexagon has blocks where those prisoners who are under trial are lodged. The prison has the facility to hang people and has three gallows. And, therefore, all prisoners sentenced to capital punishment are lodged in Barudanga. Among sundry criminals like murders and rapists, it also houses SIMI terrorists, members of the dreaded Dandupalya gang and members of Veerappan’s forest-poaching gang.

  The prison was only about fifteen kilometres away from the main Belgaum city, a distance that Virkar covered in about twenty minutes. But not before Raashi spent two hours making phone calls to secure the required permission to visit the prison. She had finally swung it by calling in a favour from a contact in the Information and Broadcasting Ministry in Delhi who telephoned someone in the Secretariat at Bangalore, who, in turn, telephoned the Director of Prisons with a request to grant them permission to meet with the superintendent of Barudanga Prison.

  The superintendent, V. K. Joseph, was cordial towards them even though they had barged in unceremoniously. But as soon as they were seated in front of the superintendent, Virkar decided to dispense with all niceties and came straight to the point. ‘Joseph saheb, we want to know everything about a prisoner who was jailed here—Hari Prasad.’

  The superintendent looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm…Hari Prasad. I don’t seem to remember him…let me see.’ Virkar noticed the defocused and fixated position of superintendent’s pupils, indicating that he was lying. The superintendent then motioned to his assistant to bring out the file on the prisoner in question. After sifting through a few pages in the file he said, ‘Yes, I remember him now. He was a model prisoner. He was a good influence on a lot of other prisoners, too, especially his cellmate, whom he diligently tutored to secure a BSc degree.’

  ‘I see. And what was he convicted for?’ Virkar pressed further.

  ‘For attempted murder and destroying private property. He spent eight years here.’

  ‘Eight years for attempted murder! Isn’t that a little too harsh?’ asked Virkar.

  ‘Yes, I thought so too, but I am not the judge who sentenced him.’

  ‘When was he released?’

  ‘Uh…about a year ago.’

  ‘About a year ago?’ muttered Virkar, as though speaking to himself, and then added, ‘Wasn’t there some controversial incident here around that time?’

  He noticed that the wary look on the superintendent’s face now showed hints of fear. Virkar knew that he had suddenly become suspicious that this meeting could be a sting operation or a spot raid. He realized that he needed to do something quickly before the superintendent called the meeting to an end. He darted a look towards Raashi who, as usual, was quick to catch on.

  Flashing her broad, disarming smile, she raised her empty palms and showed them to the superintendent for his scrutiny, ‘Look, superintendent saheb, we don’t have any cameras or any other agenda. This is personal, not official.’

  The superintendent seemed to relax a little. ‘I was not involved in what happened,’ he said. Virkar opened his mouth to ask another question but Raashi squeezed his knee under table. She did not break eye contact with the superintendent, nor did she drop her broad smile. Instead, she infused a tone of compassion into her voice. ‘We know,’ she said. ‘Your record is absolutely clean. We’re not here to tarnish your reputation. Just tell us all about Hari Prasad and we’ll be on our way.’

  The superintendent relaxed further. ‘All I can say is that he did us all a favour.’

  ‘Us?’ Raashi’s question was gentle.

  ‘Well, yes. I mean the prison guards, the prisoners and even the people at large.’

  Virkar, who by now was feeling thoroughly confused and impatient, asked, ‘What kind of favour?’ Unfortunately, Virkar’s intervention broke the spell that Raashi had cast over the superintendent. He blinked, realizing that he had been led into sharing more than he should have. He clamped up, turning his attention to some papers on his desk and pretending to busy himself in them. Virkar looked all set to launch into an interrogation but Raashi squeezed his knee once again, calming him down.

  ‘Sir,’ Raashi addressed the superintendent, ‘I understand that you may not want to share the details yourself,
but maybe you can tell us how we can get this information ourselves?’

  The superintendent sat still, looking thoughtful. He seemed to be considering Raashi’s statement. But then he rose and said, ‘I have to go on my rounds. Please excuse me.’

  Raashi, in a frustrated, last-ditch effort, said, ‘Superintendent, can you please give us a photograph of Hari from your records?’

  ‘Sure,’ said the superintendent, ‘as soon as you apply through the proper channels.’ He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Virkar and Raashi staring at his receding back.

  A few seconds later, the assistant superintendent walked into the room and announced that their meeting was over. Raashi and Virkar rose and followed him out without a word. But just before they could exit the formidable prison gate, Virkar excused himself to go to the bathroom. The assistant superintendent didn’t want to take any chances, so he had Virkar escorted by a guard all the way into the visitor’s toilets. Raashi was left standing alone near the prison office—a situation that she didn’t appreciate at all, for she suddenly became the cynosure of every passing eye. As long as Virkar was with her, nobody had dared to make eye contact, but as soon as she was alone, it was open season. Just when she was thinking that the intensity of everyone’s gaze would melt the clothes off her body, Virkar returned, looking nonchalant.

  Raashi flung him a dirty look, and, without a word, flounced out of the prison, walking two steps ahead of him till they reached the Bullet parked in the visitor’s parking lot. When Virkar geared the Bullet on to the highway, Raashi, who was clinging to him on the back seat, exploding sarcastically into his ear, said, ‘Where to now, O mighty Lord Virkar?’

  ‘To Khade Bazaar in Belgaum,’ said Virkar matter-of-factly. Raashi was a little taken aback at his response.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Rahmat Ali Peerzada, Hari’s ex-cellmate, the one who Hari tutored for his BSc degree, runs a small computer coaching class there.’

  ‘And how did you find that out?’

  ‘Through improper channels,’ Virkar laughed.

  Behind him Raashi rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  Virkar took his time laughing, and then finally said, ‘I bribed the guard who accompanied me to the prison toilet.’

  35

  When they neared the city, they decided to split up. Virkar had realized that Khade Bazaar was an area where Raashi’s presence would work as a disadvantage. And, in any case, they needed to speak to the authorities at Hari Prasad’s engineering college to try and get a photograph from their records. Even though it may be a few years old, it was still something that they could work with. Virkar convinced Raashi that they would get results faster if they both pursued their leads individually. After dropping Raashi at the gates of the SUMYCO Institute of Technology, Virkar headed towards the crowded lanes of Khade Bazaar.

  Khade Bazaar is one of the central shopping areas of Belgaum, something of a combination of Mumbai’s Mohammed Ali Road and Bhuleshwar. Its crowded lanes truly represent a mix of the Marathi-Kannada, Hindu-Muslim culture of Belgaum. The small shops that line the road are tightly bunched together and are always packed with people buying clothes, dry fruits and other household items. Virkar’s Bullet made its way slowly through the main road jammed with traffic. His eyes scanned the shopfronts for anything that indicated a computer coaching class. He had to make two passes up and down the road to finally spot the small sign for Bright Computer Education Classes. He had missed it before because it was dangling above a small shopfront between a readymade garment showroom and a pathology lab. Virkar looked for a place to park the Bullet. Not having found one close to his destination, he rode on and located a spot about 500 yards ahead.

  But just as he was parking his Bullet, he saw a police jeep pass by him. He turned towards the Bright Computer Education Classes and saw the jeep stop right in front of his destination. Virkar turned his attention towards the window of a readymade garment shop that was now parallel to him. Keeping one eye focused on the entrance of the computer classes, he pretended to be very interested in the children’s clothes displayed in front of him. Suddenly, he saw two constables and a sub-inspector emerge from inside Bright Computer Education Classes; they were dragging a slim, middle-aged man along with them. The thick beard on the man’s face obscured almost all his features other than his sharp nose. The constables pushed the bearded man into the back of the jeep while the sub-inspector sat in the passenger seat. The jeep took off with a screech, blocking traffic. As it made a sharp U-turn, it roared past Virkar. The small crowd that had gathered to watch the show began to disperse.

  Virkar stood still for a minute, trying to figure out his next course of action. Suddenly, he overheard a man who had emerged from the readymade garment shop say to a similarly bearded man behind the counter inside, ‘Poor Rahmat Ali…it’s difficult to lead an honest life after having been a criminal.’ The shopkeeper inside tut-tutted and went back to sorting clothes.

  Virkar casually asked the man outside, ‘Where have they taken him?’

  ‘Where else?’ said the man. ‘To the local police station.’

  Virkar walked back to the Bullet and made his way to the local police station after seeking directions. Once outside the station, he lingered, wondering whether to go inside and ask to meet Rahmat Ali Peerzada. But something inside him told him that his visit to the prison that morning and the fact that the police had picked up Rahmat Ali were linked. He decided to wait at a safe distance outside and observe the goings-on.

  Afternoon turned to evening after a couple of hours and Virkar soon grew tired of staring at the entrance of the police station. As it began to grow dark, Virkar decided to go inside and ask to see Rahmat Ali after all. Suddenly, he saw Rahmat Ali emerge from within the gates with the look of a freshly beaten-up police detainee. He stood at the entrance and looked around as if trying to spot an empty autorickshaw. Virkar quickly gunned the Bullet and rode it towards him. But as he neared the compound of the police station, he saw another motorcycle ride out of a bylane and begin cruising towards Rahmat Ali from the opposite direction. The two men seated on the motorcycle were staring purposefully at Rahmat Ali. Virkar’s trained eye picked up on a sudden movement made by the man on the back seat; he saw that the man had his hand covered with a handkerchief. The way the man was holding his hand left no doubt in Virkar’s mind that he had a gun under the cloth.

  Virkar glanced at Rahmat Ali who had no idea that he was in danger. Instinctively, Virkar swung his Bullet into the path of the other motorcycle. With the assured action of a man who knows his motorcycles, he jumped off the still moving Bullet just in time, letting it skid in the direction of the two men. By the time the two men became aware of the careening Bullet, it was too late. The Bullet smashed into their legs, throwing them forward as it continued skidding along the road, taking their motorcycle along with it. The two men flew into the air and the rider landed face-first on the bonnet of a passing car. Rolling on to the ground, he lay still. The man with the gun wasn’t that lucky; he, too, bounced off the car front but fell directly in the car’s path. A loud crunch was heard as his body came under the car. The gun in his hand skidded on the road, spinning and coming to rest in front of the shocked Rahmat Ali who stood rooted to his spot. The loud crash of the Bullet and the other motorcycle coming to a stop against a wall jolted him back to his senses. Virkar, by this time, had steadied himself and was walking towards Rahmat Ali.

  Rahmat Ali took one look at the two crushed men and then at Virkar. Deciding not to linger around any longer, he turned and ran as if his life depended on it, which it probably did. Virkar made a move towards Rahmat Ali but was brought to a stop by the shrill whistle of a policeman who had emerged from within the police station. Realizing that the situation might soon get out of hand, Virkar instead ran towards his Bullet. In the confusion created by the crowd surrounding the two men, everyone had forgotten about the motorcycles. Virkar picked up the Bullet and saw that, apart from the scraped pai
nt, the bike was fine. Lifting it off the ground, he rolled it into a bylane, quickly gunning it to a start and made his way away from the scene.

  36

  ‘What the hell happened to you, Virkar?’ asked a shocked Raashi as he entered the hotel room. Virkar caught his reflection in the almirah’s mirror and, for the first time that day, became aware of his dishevelled state. Night had fallen since Virkar’s departure from the Khade Bazaar area. He had turned the Bullet on to the highway and ridden out about thirty kilometres towards Goa. He had noted a busy highway hotel specializing in Goan food on the way, so, a couple of kilometres ahead, he had found an abandoned shed and hidden his Bullet inside and proceeded to walk back along the highway towards the restaurant. At the highway restaurant, he had hopped on to a passing State Transport bus and made his way back to Belgaum city. Alighting at the main bus depot, he had caught an autorickshaw to Sambhaji Chowk in Bogarves. Stopping the autorickshaw about half a kilometre from the hotel, he had completed the rest of his journey on foot. Standing outside the hotel for about fifteen minutes, he had observed every passerby until he was sure that no one was waiting for him. Then he had made his way back up to the hotel room, only to be greeted by a worried Raashi.

  ‘I don’t have time to explain; we have to get out of here now,’ said Virkar. As quickly as he could, he began to gather his things and shoving them into his backpack.

  Raashi was a little slow to respond. ‘But…what happened?’ she asked again.

  ‘I’ll tell you when we’re safely out of here. Get your things together.’

  Something in Virkar’s tone snapped her out of her daze. She, too, began to quickly stuff her things into her bag. But just as they were ready to leave, there was a knock on the door. Virkar froze. He raised his finger to his lips, motioning Raashi to be quiet. Then he removed the bed lamp from its socket and stood behind the door, poised to strike anyone who may come through it. He signalled Raashi to open the door.