‘Thank you for coming at such short notice,’the DCP began in a crisp and confident tone. ‘I’ve invited you here today because most of you have received an anonymous letter from someone claiming that he will murder four people in various parts of the city. From the contents of the letter, it seems that the man is deranged. Let me show you the letter. Wagle, the lights.’
There was pin-drop silence in the room as the DCP’s men projected a scanned copy of the letter on a screen. DCP Singh went on, ‘I can understand that not everyone here may be familiar with this letter, even if your publication or channel has received it, because as is the usual norm with such letters, very little credence is attached to them. But this…how shall I put it…this is different.’
‘I know about this letter,’ the grumpy old man said, sounding annoyed, ‘but what makes you think it’s not a hoax?’
‘Because we found the body,’ said the DCP calmly.
‘What?’
‘Yes, renowned builder Sukhdeo Saran was found dead this morning. It seems someone tied his legs to the antenna of a tall cellphone tower and left him hanging upside down for two or three days. All the blood in his body collected in his head causing…well…his face to burst open.’
Several gasps were heard from various parts of the room. The DCP continued, ‘Now, you must understand that this is not a media announcement. I’m sure you realize and appreciate the sensitivity of the information I’m sharing with you under the assumption of strict confidentiality. Please treat this very seriously. If there’s a deranged serial killer out there, then he is dangerous. And we need to catch him before he strikes again. I have called you today, not to announce the news of the killer and his first victim, but to request you to not report on the letter or the murder. Mumbai Police requests your full cooperation in this matter.’
A heavy and uncomfortable silence fell over the room as people around the table looked at each other. Finally, a sensible-looking man, presumably in his late-fifties, sitting at the far end of the table, spoke in a calm and composed voice, ‘Mr Singh, we are all responsible journalists, and I think I can speak for all my friends here that your department will receive all the cooperation you seek from us. But I’m curious, as I’m sure my esteemed friends are as well – do you have any idea who this madman could be?’
DCP Singh briefly looked at some of the other officers in the room and then said, ‘We do know a few things about him. As I told you, from the content of the letter, it seems that he is deranged. However, he is not a fool. The fact that he carried the victim all the way up to the top of the Central Network Tower and made such a shrewd and elaborate arrangement for him to die a slow and painful death tells us that he is exceptionally intelligent. According to the preliminary reports from our profilers, it seems that the perp is a male in the age bracket of 30 to 45, and has a strong build. There were no prints found on the letter. We’re looking through our files to see if we can find a matching modus operandi, or unsolved murders, a matching handwriting, anything. Those investigations are taking place as we speak.’
‘What is that thing at the end of the letter?’ asked the same gentleman, leaning forward and squinting. ‘It looks like some sort of a symbol, doesn’t it?’
‘Some sort of a…diamond symbol,’ someone remarked.
‘Well, yes, it’s shaped like a diamond, and he seems to have used it as a signature. But to tell you the truth, we haven’t been able to fully understand what it could mean. Our experts are in the process of examining the letter.’
‘How do you know he will kill again?’ a voice piped up from the far corner of the table. All eyes now turned towards the woman who had asked the question. Maya Taneja had not spoken till now, choosing instead to keep her eyes fixed on her phone. Everyone around the table knew Maya, and how quickly she had climbed the rungs of the corporate ladder by dint of sheer industry. A year shy of 40, she was, by far, the youngest journalist in the room, and yet she exuded a calm confidence that helped create a no-nonsense aura around her. Even the most senior journalists seated around the table nodded at her question, and turned to face the DCP with inquisitive expressions.
‘That’s a good question,’ said the DCP. ‘We think our man has certain…I find it hard to say…principles. He informed us about the first murder – there was no reason for him to do so.’
‘Well, perhaps he just wants the attention of the media,’ Maya said calmly.
‘It is possible – which is exactly why I’m requesting you to not carry the news. We’ll deny him that attention and hope that he makes a mistake.’
‘But that doesn’t answer my question,’ Maya said. ‘How do you know he will kill again?’
‘Yes, and how can you be sure that this murder is connected to that letter?’ someone else asked from the other end of the table.
‘I was coming to that. The answers to both your questions will be clear when I show you this.’DCP Singh gestured to an officer who tapped a key on a laptop. The slide on the screen changed.
‘The second letter, found on the body of Mr Saran,’ announced DCP Singh, as all eyes in the room locked intently on to the screen. The similarity between the two letters was unmistakable. The same kind of paper, the same handwriting, and the same diamond symbol. DCP Singh read it out loud.
‘The rain won’t spoil my play. I won’t let it. This is so much fun. I bet you’re having fun too? Aren’t you? Please don’t leave the game. I have a fresh new body for you. Caught somewhere high up, near a place where dull boys only work and work and work, and do not play. I don’t think the sun is going to come out anytime soon. Good. Neither will the rain stop…and nor will I.’
4
As the last person left and the doors of the lift slid to a close, Karan grabbed Reena’s waist and pulled her towards himself.
‘Not now, not here,’ said Reena as she smiled and tried to playfully wriggle free from his grasp.
‘Why?’ asked an exasperated Karan. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. And now that they were finally alone, look at what the bitch was saying! It was she who had been enticing him all along, wasn’t it? Those meaningful glances, those seemingly coincidental meetings at the water-cooler, and now…damn it all…was she suddenly finding it difficult to cope with the fact that she was married?
‘Patience, my dear,’ Reena said with a ravishingly foxy expression in her eyes, and hit the ‘Stop’ button. The elevator jerked to a halt.
‘In here?’ Karan was excited and nervous at the same time. Reena was gorgeous, and if he were to give in to his raw desires, he would claw the last thread of fabric off her skin and fuck her brains out, right here, right now. But…
It would be too risky. His friends knew that he had the hots for Reena. Karan cursed his decision to tell them. What could he have done? He was drunk. That bastard Sachin even knew that Karan was meeting Reena tonight in the office canteen. If they remained stuck in an elevator for several minutes and someone found out, tongues would wag and eyebrows would be raised. Blasted luck!
‘No,’ said Reena, biting her lips, ‘I know a better place.’ She turned and Karan was surprised to see her hit the button for the twelfth floor.
‘No, no…you don’t get it…the auditorium will be locked right now,’ Karan protested.
Reena giggled. What was with girls and giggling? Karan hated girls who giggled meaninglessly. He let go of her waist and made no effort to hide the irritation on his face.
‘Aww,’ Reena purred like a cat demanding attention. ‘Is Mr Grover angry?’ She pouted and looked at him, trying hard to suppress her laughter. He was just one of those stupid alpha-male guys with a square jaw, a sharp Adam’s apple and absolutely no brains. It was so, so easy for her to make them fall for her. It was quite funny actually, come to think of it.
Reena looped her arm through Karan’s and placed her head softly on his strong biceps. She could immediately sense his tense muscles relaxing. Men like Karan Grover liked to think that women couldn’
t survive without their protection. Playing the helpless damsel always worked with them.
‘You’re ghanna lykhe whachiyu see, I phramise,’ she faked a tacky American accent, mastered through her training at work.
Karan’s heart skipped several beats in anticipation.
The twelfth floor of the swanky building housed the sprawling auditorium and media room of McArthur & Co. This building was their BPO wing, with more than 7,000 employees working across multiple shifts. The auditorium itself could seat more than 4,000, and was equipped with state-of-the-art facilities. All of McArthur’s conferences and townhall meetings were held here, and it could also relay live an event happening in any of the 196 McArthur offices all over the world. McArthur’s business was growing and they were always running out of office space. A second building was under construction less than a kilometre away.
Karan had joined McArthur two years ago. He handled the Paramax account and lent voice support to customers from the US East Coast. Reena had joined the same team less than four months ago. She was extremely attractive and she didn’t hesitate to dress accordingly. At first, Karan had been disheartened to know she was married, but when she had flirted back with him, his excitement had doubled.
‘This way.’Reena led him towards the far end of the corridor, which was pitch-dark. The low light from the flashlight apps on their cellphones barely lit the way and Karan had to strain his eyes to see where they were going. Reena finally turned to a door on her left at the end of the corridor and pushed it open.
‘Watch your step,’ she whispered.
Karan was surprised to see that they were at the foot of a staircase. Slowly, he pulled up his phone to illuminate the steps all the way to a large door with a notice painted on it that said: ‘DO NOT ENTER’.
The terrace!
Oh, boy! This woman was even more exciting than he had imagined. He knew he was in for a wild night. Tonight, Reena Sharma would be his score.
‘Come, hold my hand,’ Reena said.
Karan liked determination in women. His own pulse was racing. But…
As they reached the door, Karan pushed the handle. It didn’t budge. Locked!
Dammit. He knew it. His heart became heavy and he shut his eyes in frustration. Blasted security!
In the mysterious half-lit environment, he heard Reena giggle again. ‘You give up too easily, Mr Grover! Is this how you intend to impress me?’
A sharp beep suddenly echoed through the dark stairwell and scared the hell out of him. He held up his phone to find Reena’s beautiful face smiling at him, as she held up her access card.
‘Ta-da!’
‘But…how?’
‘Don’t ask how,’ she brought her face very close to Karan’s and whispered, ‘but I bet you’ve never been happier to discover a glitch before now, have you?’ She pushed the handle and threw the door open.
The terrace was out of bounds for employees, Karan knew. A few years ago, everyone would come up here to smoke, but then the management decided to revoke access to the terrace after a security audit. Karan had no idea how Reena’s card opened the door, but he didn’t care, because by now, Reena had run on to the terrace and was getting drenched in the rain. In the golden light of a solitary halogen lamp, she looked like a goddess as she held up her hands in the air, embracing the rain, her lime-yellow shirt and jet black business skirt clinging to her shapely body.
‘Come on, don’t be afraid!’ she shouted over the sound of the rain.
This woman is really something, thought Karan to himself. He hesitated for a moment. Was this all right? Had they covered their tracks? Was anyone around? He realized that they would get drenched to their bones, and they didn’t have a change of clothes. What would everyone say when they went back to their desks?
Reena swayed and turned in a circle. The yellow light fell on one of the most beautiful asses Karan had seen in his life.
‘Fuck it! Fuck it all!’ he muttered under his breath and dashed towards her.
They kissed. A lingering, passionate, burning kiss. Karan was almost passing out with excitement. Reena tore away from him and stood at a distance, panting. Her breasts heaved up and down under her shirt and, for the first time since he had laid eyes on her four months ago, Karan took all his time to appreciate them.
He was not ready for what happened next. Reena undid her shirt one button at a time, before dropping it on the floor. His heart was beating so loudly that he was afraid people several stories below would hear it. As Reena took off her bra and flung it into the air, a sense of wonder enveloped him.
‘Didn’t I tell you you’d like what you’d see?’ Reena’s voice had never sounded so delicate, so fragile – as if the strong woman Karan had seen minutes ago had disappeared and a soft little flower had taken her place, waiting to be touched. A million hormones were tugging at him from a billion different directions. He felt his temple throbbing. His shoulders were so tense that they ached. He lurched forward, and in the middle of the stormy night, a man and a woman found one another. They began exploring each other hungrily, throwing all caution to the damp air. They swayed around awkwardly, each going wherever the other wanted to go, all around the terrace, until they fell on the ground, clawing at each other’s bodies, hissing, moaning and panting.
In this frenzied state, Karan vaguely realized that the rain wasn’t falling on them anymore. Had it suddenly stopped? But…he could still hear the rain pounding on the terrace tiles. What had happened?
Karan looked up to realize they were now below a large overhead water tank.
A canopy! Perfect, he thought. Reena didn’t seem to notice anything other than the man who was about to have her. She ran her nimble fingers through his wet hair, clutched at it and brought his face down on to her heaving breasts.
‘I want you now!’ It seemed like someone had set her voice on fire.
Karan looked up at her wet face and marvelled at his luck.
‘I want you!’ she hissed again.
He had only dreamt of this moment under his sheets back home. He couldn’t believe that his dreams were about to come true. He extended his hands and pulled down her panties. Then, with a trembling yet determined hand, he touched her.
Reena’s back arched like a rainbow as she sunk her nails into Karan’s shoulders. Karan stared at her as a soft moan escaped her lips. He couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting himself up to undo his jeans, he knew that this would not be, by any means, their only time together. There was no fucking way he…
What was that? Karan looked at his stomach as he undid his jeans. Was that…blood?
Shit, yes! Was he bleeding? Had Reena unknowingly hurt him in her passion? He didn’t feel hurt, though. Karan looked harder. Was it Reena’s blood? But…he hadn’t even…
At first, he was scared and confused. Then, gradually, nausea overcame him, ruthlessly stomping on the desire he had been in the throes of over the last few minutes.
‘You’re having your period?’ he asked Reena, whose eyes were shut, her back still arched.
‘What? No!’ She looked confused as she opened her eyes and struggled to sit upright.
The gall of the bitch! Karan thought. He realized he was about to puke at any moment.
‘No! What are you talking about?’ Reena cried as she tried to get her bearings. Then she looked down at the floor of the terrace and said, ‘This is not my blood. Are you bleeding?’
‘Are you asking me if I am having my fucking period?’ Karan felt sick, frustrated, fooled.
‘No, you fuck-nut, I’m asking you – are you hurt? And do not take that tone with me.’ Reena suddenly didn’t seem anything like she had before – not a goddess, not a flower, not a fairy.
Karan growled, but somehow managed to keep his calm, because he had quickly taken cognizance of the situation. This bitch could easily give a different twist to the tango-on-the-terrace story. He needed to get out of here. Yuck!
As a few drops of rain fell on him, he got up hurriedly.
Where was his shirt? Damn it! Where did his fucking shirt go? He flicked out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining the thin ray it emitted below the tank to look for it. A short gasp of horror escaped his lips.
The floor was soaked in blood. They had been lying in virtually a pool of blood all along – in the middle of their passion and the rain, they simply hadn’t noticed. Where had all that blood come from?
Karan turned to Reena to ask her if she had a clue about what was going on. But as he shone the light on Reena’s face, he saw that she looked ashen. Her lips had parted and they were quivering. Her eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets at any moment. Her naked, trembling body made her look even more vulnerable. What was truly strange was that she seemed to be staring directly at him! Did she think he had something to do with the blood? Dumb broad!
A few more drops of rain fell on Karan and, suddenly, he realized how strange this was, because he was standing directly below the tank. How could rain be falling on him? As he turned the light towards himself, he heard a croaking groan come from the naked woman in front of him – his broad shoulders, his face and his neck were all covered in blood. It hadn’t been rain that was dripping on him. It was blood! With trembling hands, he extended his phone’s flashlight towards the overhead tank, and Reena and he looked up together.
Almost like a wind-chime, a rope held different parts of a human body as it hung from the base of the tank. Most parts were missing – a leg, an arm, a good part of the torso – but the head and the face were intact, showing such a fiendishly horrific expression of shock and fear that, for several moments, neither could speak. Then, just as lightning struck the top of a nearby building, Reena opened her mouth to scream even as the 22-year-old playboy collapsed in a dead faint at the feet of his ‘score’.
Patang Page 2