Where Angels Prey

by Ramesh S Arunachalam

  “Sir, she is Ramaiyya’s wife.”

  Just as the local inspector warns Vishal, the woman cuts through the cordon around him and throws herself at his feet. Vishal moves back instantly while one of his subordinates barks out a harsh rebuke.

  The woman starts weeping loudly, begging him for justice.

  “Please stop crying, Amma. I understand you have suffered a loss, but you cannot obstruct police procedure. The corpse needs to be taken for a post-mortem.”

  Vishal appeals to the woman, hoping to make her see reason. But her weeping only gets louder.

  “Sir, please don’t cut my husband’s body to pieces! Let him go in peace.”

  “Amma, the post-mortem has to be conducted if we are to determine the cause of his death.”

  At this, the woman stops sobbing and draws a deep breath before spitting out her words.

  “You don’t have to cut him to find out how he died. I will tell you...he was killed!”

  “Amma, you cannot make wild allegations like that. We cannot conclude anything without proof. Only the post-mortem can reveal the actual cause of death.”

  The woman’s eyes flash in anger.

  “These are not wild allegations. It is nothing but the truth. Bhava Reddy killed my husband because he had become a liability. He was going to turn approver in the kidnapping case!”

  Vishal looks at the local inspector for clarification.

  “Sir, she is referring to the kidnapping of the minor girls that happened a few days ago. But there is no evidence of any sort…”

  “The case that has to do with the SAMMAAN loan recovery agents?”

  The inspector nods reluctantly.

  “Sir, the parents had borrowed from other sources too. So we cannot confirm it was to do with SAMMAAN.”

  “Any evidence to prove that it had nothing to do with SAMMAAN?”

  The inspector breaks into a sweat and shakes his head.

  “No sir, no evidence.”

  Vishal turns to the woman.

  “Amma, I think you are extremely distraught at the moment. Come and meet me at my office in a few days, after all the rituals are done. I promise you I will conduct a fair investigation and if there is evidence to prove your allegation, the guilty will be duly punished.”

  “Sir, a poor woman’s good wishes will be with you if you ensure that justice is delivered. My husband has been murdered because he would have turned approver. I had promised DM Amma that he would give evidence!”

  Vishal is surprised by this disclosure. She knows DMVeena Mehra?

  “You’ve met the DM?”

  The woman nods vigorously.

  “Yes sir, a few nights ago, I went to her bungalow...you can ask her. She will vouch for me. Please help us, sir, I will give evidence in any court of law.”

  Vishal looks thoughtful as he assures her of his support.

  Veena Mehra is in a meeting with the district block development officers, discussing the feasibility of implementing an international donor funded watershed programme over the next fourteen months. Her intercom buzzes, leaving her irritated; she had left specific instructions not to be disturbed. Although her PA Nilanjan knew her well enough to not bother her unless it was something very important. She picks up the receiver and greets him brusquely.

  “Madam, SP Vishal Kumar is here to meet you.”

  Veena frowns as she tries to recollect if they have a scheduled meeting or if she had summoned him on some count.

  “Have we given him an appointment?”

  “No, madam, but he says the matter is very urgent and cannot wait.”

  The creases on Veena’s forehead deepen. What could have possibly happened for him to be so insistent?

  “Please have him take a seat in the ante room, I will be there in a few minutes.”

  After replacing the receiver, she politely excuses herself for the next ten minutes.

  As she enters the ante room, Vishal rises from his seat and salutes her smartly.

  She nods in greeting and indicates for him to take his seat as she sits on the sofa across from him.

  “Yes, Vishal, what was so important that you had to tear me away from my meeting?”

  Without explanation or apology, Vishal gets straight to the point.

  “Madam, do you know a woman from Parichemam village, Vijaya?”

  Veena closes her eyes, trying to put a face to the name. A tear-stained face with imploring eyes, dishevelled hair and a thin frame wrapped in a faded synthetic sari come to mind.

  “Of course, she barged into my bungalow a few nights ago, told me her husband was a henchman with Bhava

  Reddy.”

  “He was found hanging from a tree this morning, madam...a case of suicide, on the face of it. But I have my doubts.”

  Veena’s eyes widen in shock.

  “Vishal, she told me he was involved in the recent kidnapping case involving SAMMAAN and promised to get him to make a confessional statement, and begged for lenience in return.”

  Vishal sighs loudly.

  “This is such a pity, madam. We have not been able to lay our hands on Bhava Reddy so far simply because there hasn’t been strong enough evidence to seek his conviction. No one has been willing to testify against him.”

  Veena shakes her head.

  “It is not just Bhava Reddy, it is also the powers behind him. Ramaiyya’s testimony could have really helped, particularly in the SAMMAAN case. The crisis in the microfinance sector is proving to be a huge problem for the government—the suicides, the coercive debt recovery methods...”

  Vishal nods in agreement.

  “Things have been getting out of hand for a while now. Bhava Reddy’s nephew, Chiranjeevi is backing SAMMAAN’s coercive practices. His relative, Gopal Reddy works with SAMAAN.”

  “I think there is more to it than mere support, Vishal. There must be a transactional relationship of some sort. Bhava Reddy is no fool. And I won’t be surprised if the trail extends beyond him.”

  “Ramaiyya would have been very useful, madam. He could have provided answers to a lot of questions—clearly why they did away with him!”

  Veena looks at him sharply.

  “Is that what you think it is?”

  “I strongly suspect foul play. There were bruise marks on his body. We will have to wait for the post-mortem report, of course. The wife is convinced, though.”

  Veena considers his words.

  “I think you should talk to her once she is more composed.”

  “I think she could be a possible witness; her inputs could help us in our investigation.”

  “I need to update MR on this.”

  Veena notices Vishal’s puzzled look.

  “The Principal Secretary, Maruti Rao. He heads the committee constituted by the CM to look into the crisis. He has instructed all the DMs to keep him constantly updated on any news related to the sector.”

  Just then, the door opens and Nilanjan enters.

  “Madam, the Warangal District DM Subba Rao’s PA is on the line. The DM wants to speak to you. I told them I would check with you and call back.”

  Veena frowns.

  “Is there a pending issue with them, Nilanjan? Why are they suddenly calling?”

  “No, madam, no pending issues that I know of.”

  “I’ll take the call here. Put him through.”

  Nilanjan nods before leaving the room.

  Veena looks at Vishal.

  “Any Naxal-related issues?”

  “I really doubt that, madam.”

  The phone rings.

  Veena picks up the receiver and greets Subba Rao warmly.

  “Hello Subba, hope all is well. I heard you wanted to speak to me?”

  As she listens, her eyes widen.

  “That is a big step! Have you discussed this with MR?”

  Vishal wonders at the air of suppressed excitement about her. After a while, Veena finally ends the call and smiles broadly at Vishal.

  “Subba Rao is
getting an arrest warrant issued for Kumudini Potluri.”

  Vishal resists letting out a whistle.

  “That is huge, Madam! I mean…Kumudini is extremely well connected. They would need some very hard evidence before making such a move.”

  “Apparently, someone related to one Mylaram Kavala has testified against DevEx. The accusations range from coercion to threats of sexual abuse, all of which allegedly contributed to Mylaram’s suicide. And this information was brought to them by Chandresh Rajan.”

  “The journalist?”

  “Yes, it seems he is collaborating with a journalist from The New York Post on a story on the Indian microfinance sector. He interviewed Mylaram’s daughters and facilitated their meeting with the DM. There was an IT raid on a school that DevEx seems to have links with.

  As Vishal processes the information, Veena continues speaking.

  “Vishal, I want you to go to Parichemam. Meet Vijaya, ask her to talk to the family of the girls abducted by Ramaiyya. If they testify and we manage to dig up some dirt on SAMMAAN’s links with Bhava Reddy, and the possible murder of Ramaiyya, I think we should be able to secure a warrant for the arrest of the SAMMAAN boss?”

  Vishal’s jaw drops.

  “You mean Prasad Kamineni? He is really big fish, madam!”

  Veena looks determined.

  “All the more reason to get him. After all, nobody is above law!”

  Vishal looks sceptical, but decides not to express his doubts.

  “I will do my best, madam. That lady, Vijaya, will surely do her best to get us what we want, and if the evidence is strong enough, then we can move ahead with our plans.”

  Veena nods.

  “I am going to discuss this again with Subba Rao. If we manage to bring in the head honchos, it will certainly provide the microfinance sector with a much needed shakeup!”

  “True, madam. We still need to put together a collective body of evidence, cutting across districts, on their operations and tactics.”

  Veena looks thoughtful.

  “Vishal, remember that woman standing next to Prasad Kamineni in that photograph that was plastered all across the press...where she is hitting the gong at BSE? I can’t recall her name, but isn’t she from our district?”

  “Yes, though I don’t remember her name either. But I do know another woman from the picture: Gangamma, one of the senior field workers at SAMMAAN. She is related to one of our drivers—I remember him bragging about her with the newspaper article. Should I find her?”

  “Yes, it would be interesting to find out what happened to her after the stock issue. Meanwhile, I am going to call Chandresh Rajan. Let’s try and set up a telephonic interview for him with this woman. It’ll be good to get some media support on this. We need as many allies as we can get. Like you said, we are after big fish; so our net must also be stronger and spread wider!”

  CHAPTER 16

  HYDERABAD, 5 OCTOBER 2010

  Bob quickly scans his mail. The response is predictably defensive along with being a tad pompous in drawing attention to the bank’s track record of exemplary commitment to equitable growth, financial inclusion and sustainable livelihoods for the poor and unbanked. He picks up the cup of tea from the bedside table and sips from it absently. It is cold and flavourless; he wrinkles his nose in distaste, thinking fondly of the numerous cups of tea that he had consumed at roadside stalls, thanks to Chandresh. Tea had been their energy tonic and pretty much what kept them going as they travelled around the countryside to try and understand the causes of the rot that had set into the microfinance sector in Andhra Pradesh. Paperwork, account books, individual accounts, families, intermediaries—they had examined them all, and as they did so they were left feeling increasingly cynical about the growth story that had been bandied about in the media over the last many years.

  He rubs his eyes tiredly and considers calling for a fresh pot of tea. He checks his watch and decides to put the thought on hold until Chandresh joins him. Chandresh had left to meet someone in the agriculture department regarding a fertiliser scam story that he was working on, promising to return in time for the scheduled Skype call with Maarten. Bob’s colleague, Ron Whitewood had proved useful in tracking down information on KPK Enterprises, the Singapore-based firm that held majority stake in Tejasvi Enterprises. The firm’s managing director was an Indian by the name of Kushal Prakash Rayudu. Bob was not too surprised to hear that KPK Enterprises was itself a subsidiary of KPK Ad Valorem, a company incorporated in Luxembourg. He already had a gut feeling that the trail was going to extend far; clearly, someone had gone out of their way to cover their tracks. Bob had passed on the information to Maarten, who agreed to continue further investigation. A day earlier, Maarten wrote to him, his tone a mix of mystery and suppressed excitement, and asked to schedule a Skype call, hinting that someone else might be joining the conversation.

  Bob checks his watch yet again and realizes that there is still another hour to go before the scheduled call. He hopes Chandresh will make it. If Maarten’s source proves useful, then Chandresh may be able to coax out more information from him. Just then, the doorbell rings and Bob hurries to answer.

  “Hi, hope I am in time for the call?”

  A harried looking Chandresh walks in and plonks himself down on the couch.

  “Yes you are, I was beginning to wonder if you’d make it at all.”

  Bob walks over and takes the chair next to the couch.

  Chandresh looks mildly irritated as he shrugs his shoulders.

  “I wasted an hour waiting for an informant, who eventually proved useless!”

  Bob calls room service and asks for a pot of tea along with some sandwiches.

  Chandresh gives Bob a grateful look.

  “So, have you heard from Ram Madhav?”

  Bob’s eyes twinkle.

  “Just got done reading his response to the questions I had shot off. You were right, of course. It was the classic defence, along with impassioned declarations of commitment to the cause.”

  “Wasn’t too hard to guess. I mean, what else would he say? That the banks spurred the MFIs on? And his bank, JBS, in particular, has the largest microfinance portfolio and they have been completely irresponsible and indiscriminate in pushing MFIs to keep lending without a thought to the absorption or repayment capacity of clients. Either there were multiple loans extended to the clients by the same MFI, or all of the MFIs split up the week amongst themselves to go and issue loans to the same clients. Why would the banks care as long as their targets are met? Or if a few clients have their lives snuffed out by the sheer burden of indebtedness. None of that shows up on financial statements anyway!”

  Bob senses the deep bitterness in Chandresh’s words, his disillusionment with an idea that had the potential to reshape the poverty paradigm. While he has known that things were not going quite right, he is taken aback by just how wrong it has all gone.

  Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of tea and sandwiches. Chandresh bites into the sandwich hungrily while Bob contents himself with a fresh cup of tea.

  “By the way, I have a bit of interesting news. I got a call from the DM of Ranga Reddy district, Veena Mehra. She wants me to help them take the case against SAMMAAN further.”

  Bob waits for him to elaborate.

  “Veena is one of the best IAS officers in Andhra Pradesh. She is particularly famous for the strong stand she took during an earlier microfinance crisis in the state in 2005. You might have read about it, we call it the Krishna crisis.”

  Bob nods.

  “I think Subba Rao, the Warangal collector whom we met, has been in touch with her. Looks like they are working on a joint strategy to tackle the MFI bosses. There has been a spate of suicides in her district, and recently, the death of a potential witness who was to testify against the strong-arm tactics adopted by MFIs. They are trying to put together a strong case and she wants me to talk to the woman who became the face of the poor woman clients in the SAMMAAN IPO...
you know, the woman who features in that historic photograph with Prasad Kamineni?”

  “How will we track her down? Remember how the SAMMAAN staff fobbed us off when we asked them for her contact details?”

  “The district SP is on the job. Veena wants me to talk to the woman and see if there is any possibility that the investigation would benefit from some publicity...all of the MFI bosses have clout after all...so it would help to influence public opinion! Besides, I would really like to know what difference this whole IPO has made to her life. And what she thinks of the suicides that have followed.” Bob looks thoughtful as he nods and adds, “I get where she and you are coming from.”

  He then checks his watch again and exclaims.

  “Oh, it’s time.”

  While Bob calls Maarten, Chandresh tries to tidy up. Maarten greets Bob with great cheer.

  “Bob, I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten. Tomas here is a busy man!”

  Bob apologizes and introduces Chandresh.

  “Maarten, Chandresh and I go a long way back, just like you and me. And obviously, given that we’re on his home turf, you could say he is the boss on this one!”

  Chandresh laughs.

  “Maarten, Bob is just being polite. But let me tell you that I have followed some of your stories and it’s a pleasure connecting with you.”

  “Likewise, Chandresh. Now, let me tell you more about Tomas, the star of the hour. Tomas Lindquivist, gentlemen, is something of an expert on the subject of money laundering and the international trafficking of money.”

  Bob and Chandresh exchange glances. Where is this conversation going?

  “We are in Tomas’s home in Brussels. I flew in this morning, and we have had a rather enlightening conversation.”

  Bob is intrigued. If Maarten took time off his busy schedule at the BBC studios in London to fly to Brussels, there must be a very good reason.

  Maarten continues, “Tomas used to be part of the European Union core group that framed the anti-money laundering legislations. He’s been retired for some time now, but he’s still the go-to guy for several agencies because of his well-known expertise in unearthing hawalatransactions. What really made him famous, though, was when he managed to crack the Al Qaeda’s methods of transferring monies across continents and discovered how they shared information on such transfers. He was the first to reveal how they operated several email accounts but never sent a message about the money transfer. You see, the same account was accessed by various operatives across the globe and they would communicate with one another by typing messages and saving them in the Drafts folder. So no e-mail had to be sent. This simple but effective trick had kept the international investigators at bay for a long time before Tomas Lindvquist miraculously cracked it.”