by Piyush Jha
Raashi walked up to the door and opened it only a crack. Peeping through it, she asked, ‘Yes? What is it?’
‘The man on the Bullet… I want to talk to him,’ said a shaky voice from the other side of the door.
‘Who are you?’ she enquired.
‘Rahmat Ali Peerzada.’
Raashi shut the door without saying anything. Virkar quickly exchanged positions with her, handing her the lamp and motioning her to strike if anything seemed untoward. Then he opened the door, but again only just a crack. Virkar saw the bearded man whose life he had saved earlier that evening.
Rahmat Ali Peerzada looked at him and said, ‘I’ve come to thank you and to tell you whatever you want to know about Hari Prasad.’
Virkar shot back, ‘How do you know what I want?’
‘The prison network works outside the prison, too, saheb. My network was a little slow today, but thanks to you, I’m unharmed.’
Virkar opened the door just enough to pop his head out and look up and down the corridor to see if Rahmat Ali Peerzada had any friends lurking in the shadows. Satisfied that the man was alone, Virkar opened the door and let him in. But as soon as he was in the room, Virkar pushed him against the wall and carefully searched his body for any concealed weapons. Rahmat Ali stood silently while Virkar conducted his search.
When Virkar was absolutely sure that Rahmat Ali was unarmed, he relaxed. In a brusque tone, he asked, ‘Why did they want to kill you?’
Rahmat Ali’s eyes were expressionless. ‘To answer that, I have to start from the very beginning.’
When Virkar nodded, Rahmat Ali took a deep breath and began: ‘Ten years ago, I was a small-time gangster in Belgaum. I was just hitting the big-time when I was caught in a case of attempted murder and jailed. I had spent two years in prison when a young man named Hari Prasad became my cellmate. He was also in for attempted murder. I found out that his case was quite flimsy, it was clear that he had been framed…but that’s a different story. Hari Prasad was a very intelligent young man, and although I didn’t get along with him at first, I soon became very curious about the books that he constantly borrowed from the prison library and read. Hari was more then willing to share and soon, he opened up a world of knowledge to me—knowledge that, I was surprised to find, fascinated me. So much so that I wanted to formally educate myself while in prison. Although Hari Prasad himself did not seek formal education, he tutored me till I obtained a BSc degree. That changed my life, and I decided to give up the life of crime and walk the path of honesty.’
Virkar interrupted at this juncture. ‘Look, we don’t have time, so please come to the point.’
Rahmat Ali nodded and continued, ‘Yes…yes. The prison authorities noticed Hari Prasad’s influence on me and began to direct other prisoners who were interested in being educated to him. Soon, Hari Prasad was given a small room in the hospital section of the prison where he conducted tuitions for students. He was also allowed to conduct experiments with chemicals found in the hospital as well as with herbs and plants grown around the prison area.’
Virkar tapped his feet, conveying his impatience. Rahmat Ali noticed this and quickened his pace. ‘And then one day, a prisoner called Bhushan Hegde was brought into the prison. Apparently he had been treated at NIMHANS in Bangalore for some sort of a mental disorder. But it soon became obvious that he hadn’t been cured. One day, in the prison hospital, Hegde attacked a fellow inmate with a blade and inflicted a deep wound. That inmate was HIV positive. Then with the same blade, now smeared with the blood of the HIV infected prisoner, he attacked two more persons, including a prison guard. He was finally subdued and thrown into the isolation cell, but the incident triggered a panic, as both the people attacked with the blood-smeared blade feared that they might have been infected with HIV.’ Rahmat Ali paused to take a breath.
Raashi, who had been listening silently until now, broke into the conversation, ‘Yes, I remember hearing about this case. But wasn’t the prisoner transferred to a mental hospital?’
Rahmat Ali turned towards her and said, ‘Yes, he was. But after six months he was sent back to Barudanga Prison. The same day, he attacked another inmate with a log of wood, hitting him on the head and sending him into coma.’
‘What happened then?’ Raashi asked.
‘That night, Hari Prasad was called by the superintendent. When he came back, he was very disturbed. I asked him what had transpired in his meeting, but he didn’t tell me. Three days later, Hegde was found dead. The official reason was given as food poisoning. But later that night, Hari Prasad broke down and told me that he had mixed some chemical that he had isolated from castor seeds into Hegde’s food. He said that he had been promised two years off his sentence if he did so.’
Virkar butted in. ‘But why ask Hari Prasad to get involved? People attack and kill each other in prisons regularly.’
Rahmat Ali smiled a rueful smile. ‘Yes, they do, and our prison had become quite famous for that. Perhaps that’s why they didn’t want Hegde’s death to catch any media attention. But there’s no escaping that, is there?’
‘And what about those people on the motorcycle today, why did they come for you?’
Rahmat smiled again. ‘Apparently after you visited the prison this morning, they feared that I will tell you exactly what I’m telling you now.’
Virkar looked Rahmat Ali in the eyes and concluded that he was telling the truth. ‘And what’re you going to do now?’
‘I’m going to disappear. And I advise you to do the same; they’ll soon find you here, like I did.’ And saying that, Rahmat Ali quickly turned and walked out of the door, leaving Raashi and Virkar staring at each other. Virkar waited for exactly three minutes before motioning to Raashi to walk into the small lobby with him. They paid their bill quickly and hailed a taxi all the way to the highway restaurant that Virkar had spotted earlier. Leaving Raashi seated in the midst of a group of travellers from Gujarat, Virkar went ahead and retrieved the Bullet from its hiding place. With Raashi riding pillion, Virkar finally opened up the Bullet’s throttle on the highway and headed back towards Mumbai. It was only after they had covered around fifty kilometres that Virkar asked Raashi about her visit to the engineering college. She told him that she had got a copy of an old photograph, but more importantly, she had found information that conclusively pointed to Hari Prasad being the Compass Box Killer. The hostel warden at the boys’ hostel had told Raashi that, while ‘that foreigner lady’ Tracy was alive, apart from paying his fees, she used to send some cash to Hari Prasad for his upkeep every few months. So as not to attract undue attention from the other students, she used to send the cash hidden inside an old, metal compass box.
37
Mumbai
They reached Mumbai in the early hours of the morning, delayed by the black, moonless night and a cloud cover that shut out even the meagre light of the stars. Given Virkar’s night-riding skills, none of this would have mattered. But since he hadn’t slept the past two nights, Virkar’s body was battling with heightened exhaustion. He felt as though he was now heading straight into what marathon runners called ‘The Wall’: a physical state so debilitating that the body is forced to shut down operations till it has rested enough. Champion marathon runners train all year round to face ‘The Wall’, and yet many a time, when confronted by it, they have been known to collapse like a proverbial house of cards. But Virkar was not ready to collapse yet; the physical responsibility of Raashi sitting behind him on the Bullet was enough fuel in his body-tank to get them back to Mumbai safely.
As soon as they reached Raashi’s Andheri flat, Virkar was ready to head off onwards to the Worli quarters of ACP Wagh, eager to share the details of his discovery of the Compass Box Killer’s identity, but on seeing his state, Raashi forced him to accompany her up to her flat. Virkar, too, realized that he needed rest purely to retain some kind of coherence in his thoughts, which were beginning to get muddled due to fatigue. He lay down on Raashi’s soft bed, feeling
the warmth engulf him immediately; within a few seconds, he was so fast asleep that he didn’t even feel Raashi undo his boots and slip his clothes off his body.
The tittering of little children playing hide-and-seek finally woke Virkar up. He opened one eye and looked towards the window. It was still a little dark outside. He estimated that he might have slept for about half an hour or so. That was enough to give his muscles the rest they needed. He sat up and noticed that his clothes had been taken off him. Smiling to himself, he looked around, but Raashi was nowhere to be seen. He raised himself from the bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, splashing water on his face at the washbasin. Now fully revived, he came back to the bedroom but still didn’t find Raashi anywhere.
He walked into the hall, but that, too, was empty. Stepping into the kitchen that looked like it had not been used for a couple of days, he wondered if Raashi had gone to the shops across the road to pick up groceries. But something else was bothering him at the back of his head; he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He began to walk back to the bedroom when it suddenly struck him. It was the sound of children playing in the building compound. Children don’t play in the morning; they go to school, unless it was the weekend, and this was not one. He quickly rushed to the window and looked down. The relaxed manner in which people were moving about did not resemble a Mumbai morning in the least.
He strode back into the bedroom and found his clothes neatly folded on a stool. His mobile phone was kept on top of the pile. He snatched it up and checked the time: the digital clock read 6.30 p.m. Virkar slapped his forehead. It was evening. He had slept through the entire day. No wonder she wasn’t around! He suddenly noticed that there were three missed calls from Raashi’s number. He stabbed the redial button, but the phone kept ringing and she didn’t answer. Scrolling through his contacts, he dialled ACP Wagh’s number next. His call was picked up within two rings. ‘Wagh saheb, I have to meet you immediately. I’ve made a very important discovery.’
From the other side, ACP Wagh spoke softly, ‘Is that so? Then come immediately please, you’re most welcome. I’m in the office.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Virkar, and hung up. For a second he wondered if there was a hint of sarcasm in ACP Wagh’s tone, but then dismissed the thought. Deciding to waste no more time, Virkar slipped on his clothes and boots and rushed out of the apartment. Running down the stairs two at a time, he reached his parked Bullet within a few minutes and swung it towards the main road, hoping to make it to the Crime Branch headquarters within the hour.
He was successful; it was 7.30 p.m. when he knocked on ACP Wagh’s door, seeking permission to enter. ‘Come in, Virkar saheb, welcome,’ called out ACP Wagh from inside. Virkar had been right—he could now not only hear the sarcasm in ACP Wagh’s voice, but could see it plastered all over his face.
Feeling a little confused, Virkar blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. ‘ACP saheb, I’ve discovered the identity of the Compass Box Killer.’
‘Really?’ asked ACP Wagh.
‘Yes, sir, he is—’
‘Hari Prasad from Belgaum,’ cut in ACP Wagh, finishing Virkar’s sentence. Virkar was stunned into silence. The dumbfounded look on his face must have registered with ACP Wagh, because he said, ‘Wah! Virkar, that’s a great performance.’ He banged his hand on the steel call-bell on his table and the constable on duty popped his head inside immediately. Pointing at Virkar, ACP Wagh called out to the constable, ‘Inspector saheb ke liye ek Oscar lao.’
‘I… I…’ stammered Virkar. The confused constable looked from Virkar to ACP Wagh, not knowing what to do. ACP Wagh was on a roll. He continued loudly in the same vein, ‘Accha, Oscar nahi mila toh Screen ya Filmfare Award bhi chalega. Now go!’ The constable saluted and left, still totally confused.
‘ACP saheb, I don’t know how you know…’ managed Virkar in a weak voice.
‘The same way the rest of the country knows, my friend,’ the ACP retorted. He picked up a TV remote lying on his desk and switched the television on. Virkar turned to see Raashi on it say, ‘This report was an exclusive brought to you by CrimeNews Channel. Once again, we would like to inform you that the Compass Box Killer, who has been identified as Hari Prasad, is roaming freely in Mumbai city. Please take a close look at his face again in the exclusive photograph brought to you by our channel.’ The photograph that Raashi had got from Hari Prasad’s engineering college flashed on the screen along with a morphed image of what a computer artist imagined him to look like at present. Virkar turned back towards the ACP and was about to convey his helpless indignation when he heard Raashi continue, ‘The entire team at the CrimeNews Channel would like to thank Inspector Virkar of the Mumbai Crime Branch for his help in identifying the Compass Box Killer. We hope that his seniors at the Crime Branch value his contribution and begin the manhunt for Hari Prasad immediately.’
Virkar stared at the screen, dumbstruck.
ACP Wagh switched off the TV. ‘So, Virkar, you’ve learned to play the media game. This, despite the fact that you are no longer on the case. I commend you on your shanpatti.’
‘ACP saheb, aai chi shapat, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with this. I was going to come to you directly from Belgaum but…’
‘But what?’
Virkar fell silent. ACP Wagh shook his head. ‘I’ve heard enough from you, Virkar, now you hear what I have to say.’
38
Virkar was standing on the jetty at Ferry Wharf waiting for the Koli Queen to dock. After a long time, he had felt the need to head out to sea armed with his favorite Jhinga Koliwada and half a crate of Godfather beer. ACP Wagh’s ‘words of wisdom’ were still ringing in his ears and Virkar desperately needed to wash them down and spit them out of his system. The cool night breeze and the waves lapping the shore only made his thirst grow stronger. Suddenly, his mobile phone rang and perhaps because he was lost in his thoughts, he picked up the call without first checking the caller ID. From the other side, Raashi’s voice said, ‘They made me do it.’
‘Who?’ Virkar asked after a long pause.
‘My bosses at the channel. You were fast asleep so I went to my office for a couple of hours. I was so thrilled with our breakthrough that I mistakenly blurted out to my boss that I had some exclusive news. They immediately forced me to break it live, even before my usual 9.00 p.m. slot. I tried to call and inform you a few times, but you didn’t pick up.’
Virkar remembered seeing her missed calls but he didn’t back down. ‘You could have sent me a text to warn me.’
‘I thought that by then you might be at your office. I had to go on air…’
Virkar cut the line, not wanting to hear any more. But suddenly he heard Raashi’s voice call out from behind him, ‘Is that how much you care for me, Virkar?’ He spun around to see her standing on the dock about twenty feet away from him. Virkar remained silent, fuming. Raashi rushed up to him but on seeing his expression, she stopped short. In the light of the fluorescent tubes suspended on the pole behind him, Virkar saw the trickle of shiny tears on her cheek. Suddenly, Virkar felt a strong urge to drop the beer and the jhinga on to the dock and wrap his arms around Raashi, but he hesitated. She had done him wrong and he was going to make her pay for it.
‘So what do you want?’ he asked instead, infusing enough coldness in his voice to freeze the air between them.
‘I… I… I want you to forgive me. I want us to get back together.’
‘Is that really so?’ asked Virkar. Behind him he could hear the sound of the Koli Queen docking at the jetty. An idea crept into Virkar’s mind. ‘What are you willing to do for that?’
Raashi swept a palm across her face, wiping her wet cheeks and revealing a cheeky smile underneath. ‘Whatever you want me to do.’ The twinkle in her eye said it all.
‘I want you to wait right here, on this dock, till I come back.’
Raashi’s smile vanished. Without another word, Virkar turned and jumped on to the deck of the Koli Queen do
cked behind him. He gave the signal for the boat to head out into the waters. Only when it was a few yards away from the jetty did Virkar turn around. Raashi looked as if her favorite toy had been snatched away from her. But she made no move to leave; she just stood there and watched as the Koli Queen made its way out into the open sea.
Virkar wrenched his mind away from Raashi and turned his entire attention to the job at hand—that of devouring the Jhinga Koliwada and chugging down the beer. A few mouthfuls later, he felt human again. A tinge of regret invaded his thoughts as the image of Raashi standing alone as the boat left the dock flashed before his eyes. But Virkar overcame this quickly as he remembered ACP Wagh steaming in his chair, screaming blue murder. He shook his head to wipe away all disturbing images and replaced them with the image of a blank blackboard. Then with an imaginary chalk he began to scribble points on the blackboard; important points related to the case on hand. He visualized the words T-r-a-c-y B-a-r-t-o-n and underneath that wrote ‘killed/strangled, Smooth Operator’. Next to it, he mentally wrote down the names of Akurle, Bhandari and Colasco. On another side, he wrote the words C-o-m-p-a-s-s B-o-x K-i-l-l-e-r and under it wrote ‘Hari Prasad, student, jail, life destroyed, used for murder, released from jail, decides to take revenge’. Then he mentally drew a line from there to the three names, completing the circle. On examining the circle inside his mind, Virkar realized that there was one link missing—the Smooth Operator. He had to be the person who had perpetrated the entire circle of deceit and revenge. He was to blame for the carnage at hand. It was not enough to catch Hari Prasad and end his killing spree; if true justice was to be served, the Smooth Operator, the man who had plotted it all, had to be brought to his knees and held responsible. He was still out there somewhere, hiding under layers of secrecy. Virkar had to peel away those layers and get to him before Hari Prasad did. Otherwise the injustice meted out to Hari Prasad would never surface. Virkar had to save Hari Prasad from himself, from his own actions. He had to save Hari Prasad from his revengeful alter ego, the Compass Box Killer.