‘I told you and your CBI, she was murdered,’ Tanya said angrily. ‘The minister was using my mom. She aspired to become the RBI governor. He promised her the post and then went back on his word. I think she threatened to expose his misdeeds to the entire world, so he killed her. Even if he didn’t physically kill her, he was definitely responsible for driving her overboard.’
‘Had you ever seen your mother with the minister?’ asked Kabir.
Tanya thought for a minute. The CBI had asked her this question earlier too. She shook her head. ‘No.’ She looked at Varun. This was exactly what he had told her too.
‘Isn’t your accusation based on hearsay? How can you insinuate, without evidence, that a person of this stature would be involved in such a crime?’
‘Doesn’t matter what I think. The minister himself confessed that he liked my mom and that he cared for her.’
‘Is that what made you accuse the finance minister of being romantically involved with Malvika?’
‘He confessed to it! He visited us after mom’s death and said that he was extremely fond of her.’ Tanya vociferously defended her earlier hypothesis. ‘He said that had things gone on well for another six months, the two of them would have got married.’
‘Come to think of it, it could also be because he wanted to justify to you why he couldn’t have killed your mom, Tanya!’ Varun butted in. Tanya glared at him.
‘If I’m wrong then how do you explain those long conversations with the finance minister, sometimes stretching late into the night? On days when I was travelling, I’d find that someone had visited her at home and stayed over. One can tell what’s going on in one’s house.’
‘Yes, you can,’ Kabir agreed, ‘but you assumed that it was the minister. We have checked Malvika’s mobile history. Not a single call to the minister was made at any inappropriate time of the day. How do you account for that? And the minister has denied that his relationship with Malvika was anything but professional.’
‘He is a liar. Are you on his payroll? Why are you defending him?’ Tanya pounced on him. Kabir didn’t like the way Tanya was talking to him. ‘My mother is dead. And he killed her! Why don’t you question him?’ Tanya was getting hysterical. ‘Or at least let us confront him.’
‘I don’t think there is any need to ask the finance minister about it, Tanya,’ Aditya spoke for the first time. ‘Because . . .’ and he paused, searching for the right word, ‘. . . because,’ he repeated. ‘Because it was me. It was I who visited her when you weren’t at home. The half-empty whisky glasses that you saw were mine.’
92
Mumbai
Tanya was shocked.
She pointed at Aditya, her mouth wide open. ‘You?’
‘Yes.’ Aditya nodded.
‘Were the two of you in a relationship?’
Aditya nodded again. ‘And I’m not ashamed of it.’
‘No! No! That’s not what I meant. You are, in any case, a far superior man than the finance minister.’
‘Who are we to comment on that? Anyway, we stopped seeing each other a month ago. It was a mutual decision but it was harder on her. And as far as the finance minister is concerned, I guess I should have mentioned this to the CBI earlier. She was using the minister, not the other way around. He was always under the impression that he and Malvika were in a relationship. As far as she was concerned, the only reason she entertained him was because he was her ticket to a position on the RBI board, possibly leading to the position of governor. He was her pawn.’
‘Why did you stop seeing each other?’ Kabir asked.
‘Seeing the two of them get close . . .’ and he pointed towards Varun and Tanya, ‘. . . I told her that we needed to put an end to our relationship.’
Tanya looked at Varun. He was taken aback by this turn of events. He had no idea how to react.
‘Just imagine if we’d gone ahead with our relationship . . . What would the two of you have done? What would you call yourself? Stepbrother and stepsister? Siblings in an incestuous relationship? What? There was no option. We had to call it off. I was clear. She supported the decision. But I guess it was too much stress for her . . .
Perhaps she cracked.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us earlier?’ Varun asked.
‘What could I have told you?’
Varun had no answer.
‘This is a good enough precedent for us to assume that she committed suicide on her birthday.’ ACP Shome tried to take things to their logical conclusion. ‘A failed relationship.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Aditya was very vocal. ‘She couldn’t have committed suicide that day.’
‘And why is that?’ Kabir asked. His tone indicated that he was holding his cards close to his chest.
‘Because, that night, she planned to ask Tanya if she was serious about Varun. We had planned to go out with Tanya and Varun after the party. Just the four of us. Fifteen minutes before she died, she reminded me. If she intended to commit suicide, why would she remind me that we had plans after the party?’
Sundeep, who had been very quiet all this while, finally spoke out. ‘How come you never mentioned any of this to us, Aditya? We thought there were no secrets between us. First it was Varun who came as a surprise and now this.’ His tone was rather accusatory.
‘Neither you nor Swami liked Malvika. My relationship with her could have affected our equations. So I chose to be silent about it. And Malvika was extremely uncomfortable about me speaking about it. Wouldn’t you respect your partner’s point of view?’
‘Enough of this family drama, folks! Let’s move on with our next question. Assuming there was foul play involved, how was she murdered?’ Kabir kept up the inquisition. ‘And why?’
When no one responded, Kabir elaborated, ‘The last few people who spent time with Malvika were the minister, Aditya, Tanya, Varun, Sundeep and Swami, who is dead. All of you present here were among the last few to see her alive.’
Everyone nodded.
‘The post-mortem didn’t indicate any struggle or any other telltale signs of murder. So it was very easy to assume that Malvika had jumped off the building,’ Kabir Khan continued.
‘Which is what we did.’ Shome made his presence felt.
‘But was it?’ Kabir looked at everyone in the room and asked. Everyone looked back at him. Then he looked at Aditya alone.
‘As I said earlier, it couldn’t have been a suicide,’ reiterated Aditya. ‘But why and how she was killed, I have no clue. I do not know!’
‘What I do not know, I do not think I know,’ said Adrian, smiling at Kabir. Kabir smiled back. He had a look of arrogant authority on his face.
‘Five hundred years before Christ lived a Greek philosopher. A philosopher who changed the way the Western world thought. Who altered their mindset. He felt that wrongdoing was a consequence of ignorance and those who committed wrong knew no better. Do you know who I’m talking about?’ Kabir asked the group.
‘Socrates?’ Sundeep responded. He had read about it in school, but wasn’t sure whether it was Socrates or Aristotle.
‘Bingo!’ Adrian said, excited. ‘Socrates. 479 BC. Very impressive, Mr Srivastava, I must admit. Then you must know how he died.’
‘He was killed by the state. Sentenced to death. The charge against him: corrupting the youth of Athens and impiety—not believing in the gods of the state.’
‘Yes. He was a hero to many but a villain to a few knowledgeable souls. He was given many chances to flee, to escape death. But he stayed put and paid for it with his life,’ Kabir added stoically. ‘But my question was how he died, not why he died. You see, Mr Srivastava. How? Why? There’s a difference.’
‘What’s the connection, Officer?’ Tanya asked.
‘Wait, my nightingale. We have only just begun. We have a long way to go. Let me first complete my story, then I will sing an “Ode to a Nightingale”.’ Kabir’s voice was full of ridicule. Tanya was extremely peeved. But there was little she could do about
it so she looked the other way.
‘Ah. “Ode to a Nightingale”. John Keats. Wonderful! I didn’t know that the CBI had a poetic touch to it. I’m very impressed,’ said Adrian. He rattled off the opening verse:
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Hold on, Mr Scott, hold on! How dare you steal my thunder?’ Kabir chided Adrian in jest. He walked up to his briefcase, which was on the table, and opened it. He pulled out a plastic pouch and held it up. Inside were egg-shaped seeds. They were flat-sided, two-sectioned, greenish-brown, about quarter of a centimetre long, and thick-ridged with protuberances. Holding the pouch high above his head, he shook it vigorously. ‘This is a bonus round. Anyone knows what this is?’
There was silence in the room.
‘No one?’
Silence again.
Kabir looked at Adrian and said, in a mocking manner, ‘Either they are too smart or complete idiots. What do you think?’
‘I think they are too smart.’
‘Well, for the moment, let’s pretend they are not smart.’
‘Mr Srivastava, what were you saying about Socrates? Do you know how he died?’
‘Not sure. He was executed. That’s all I know.’
‘Ah . . . yeah, he was indeed.’ He turned to his right. ‘And Nightingale, would you know how he died?’
‘Don’t call me nightingale,’ Tanya snapped.
Kabir’s eyebrows went up. ‘Aaah! ‘My apologies, Ms Sehgal. I’m very sorry. Now you tell me, do you know how he died?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘Well, am I mad? How can I expect you to remember how Socrates died 2500 years ago?’
‘History has it well captured, Mr Khan,’ Adrian interrupted again. Much to Kabir’s displeasure. Whether it was a choreographed act or genuine disappointment and anger, one couldn’t make out. Irrespective, Adrian went on. He pulled out a tablet from his bag, touched a few buttons, looked at the screen, and started reading. ‘Well, this is how Pluto describes Socrates on his death bed in Phaedo:
The man . . . laid his hands on him and after a while examined his feet and legs, then pinched his foot hard and asked if he felt it. He said ‘No’; then after that, his thighs; and passing upwards in this way he showed us that he was growing cold and rigid. And then again he touched him and said that when it reached his heart, he would be gone. The chill had now reached the region about the groin, and uncovering his face, which had been covered, he said—and these were his last words—‘Crito, we owe a rooster to Asclepius. Pay it and do not neglect it.’ ‘That,’ said Crito, ‘shall be done; but see if you have anything else to say.’ To this question he made no reply, but after a little while he moved; the attendant uncovered him; his eyes were fixed. And Crito when he saw it, closed his mouth and eyes. Socrates was dead.
And Adrian made a face as if one of his own had passed away. He looked up from his tablet. ‘Well, 2500 years pass and the means of killing remain the same.’
Varun, who had been silent all along, finally spoke. ‘I am sorry, sir. You are wasting our time here. None of us can understand anything you are saying.’
Kabir screamed, ‘What did you say? Wasting your time? Fuck you, young man! We have wasted our time following up on this ridiculous drama and you can’t indulge us for five minutes. We have indulged all of you for so fucking long!’
Adrian walked up to him and patted his back.
Kabir shrugged him off and paced around the room like a man possessed. He was in top form now. He sniffed hard, looked up and down intermittently, and finally took a deep breath and settled down. He still had the packet in his hand. He raised it up again, pointed to it, and sniffed hard again. And then, he said, in a very matter-of-fact manner, ‘This is what killed Malvika.’
93
Mumbai
‘What is that?’ Aditya asked.
Everyone had the same question but couldn’t muster the courage to ask.
‘Hemlock seeds.’
‘Hemlock seeds?’ Aditya exclaimed.
‘A herbaceous biennial bushy plant. Largely found in Europe, Africa and parts of Asia. Seeds of the hemlock plant are extremely poisonous. A small dose is enough to kill a person.’
‘Hemlock seeds are also called conium, from the scientific name Conium maculatum. It derives its name from the Greek word konas, which means “vertigo”, one of the symptoms of ingestion of hemlock seeds,’ explained Adrian. ‘Remember what Keats said in his poem . . .
“My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk” . . .?’
Kabir nodded. ‘Socrates was killed using hemlock seeds. He voluntarily drank the poison he was administered. Malvika, however, drank the poison, or rather ate the poison unknowingly.’ He paused. He wanted to observe the reactions in the room.
‘The most important chemical in hemlock seeds is coniine. Coniine causes death by blocking the neuromuscular junction. This results in an ascending muscular paralysis, which begins in the feet and rises up, eventually killing the person when it reaches the heart. Remember Pluto’s description of Socrates death. That’s what happened to Malvika. But before it could reach her heart, she fell because of the instability caused by the paralysis of her lower limbs. The low parapet of the terrace didn’t help. You see, 2500 years have passed since the day poor Socrates was killed, but things haven’t changed even today!’
94
Mumbai
‘We’ll talk about Socrates later,’ said Kabir, and looked at Adrian. ‘You want to take it from here?’
Adrian turned and looked at everyone in the room. ‘Satoshi Nakamoto? Anyone?’
‘The bitcoin founder?’ asked Varun,
‘It is widely suspected to be a pseudonym. No one knows who he is. And, strangely, the name is a combination of four Japanese technology companies: sa from Samsung, toshi from Toshiba, naka from Nakamichi, and moto from Motorola. Obviously, someone who goes by this name has a fascination for Japanese products or technology.’
‘What has Satoshi Nakamoto got to do with Malvika?’ Aditya asked.
‘Well, nothing,’ said Adrian. ‘Over the last few weeks, a blogger going by the name “Hooker” has been creating fair bit of excitement through her Confessions of a Hooker blog. The post has the rich and famous worried that their names might be on the list. No one knows who the Hooker is, so no one knows if they are next. This weekend, the Hooker released a mega post, which linked her to three celebrities: an NBA player, a Hollywood star and a politician. One senator Gillian Tan.’
Aditya smiled with pride. After all he was the one who had pointed it out to Adrian.
‘Do you guys know him?’ Adrian asked.
‘Yeah, I heard about the assassination,’ Tanya volunteered.
‘Me too. I read about it in the papers,’ Sundeep meekly responded.
‘Gillian Tan was very close to the President of the US. Anything that affected his stature could directly or indirectly affect the position of the President. When he was assassinated, we searched his residence for clues that could lead us to his killers. But we did not find anything. This time around, after the Hooker’s confession, the President got worried and asked us to reinvestigate. We got moving quickly.’
Everyone in the room looked blank. They didn’t know what was going on.
‘We scanned Gillian’s house. His regular laptop, which we seized the first time around, didn’t contain anything sensational. But when we did a second search of his house, we found a niche in his study table. A niche wide enough to hold a MacBook Air. Tucked away under three layers of encryption in the MacBook was data that was enough to nail anyone.’
‘And what was that?’ Kabir mock-asked him. They were clearly having fun.
‘I’ll come to that soon,’ said Adrian and carried on. ‘Gillian was a visiting facu
lty at Stanford, his alma mater. He’d been teaching there for the past decade. Though for the last six months, his appearances had become less frequent. That can be put down to senatorial duties.’
Everyone in the room seemed to be following.
‘Four years ago, Gillian pulled out three top students and commissioned a secret, privately funded project without approval from the university. And what was the outcome of this project?’ He looked at everyone, building the suspense. ‘The entire plan, the paper documenting every minute detail about bitcoins, the operations, its issuance, market pricing methodology, transactions, verification of the transactions, the mining of bitcoins, etc. This project was where it all began. This group invented bitcoins.’
Everyone was shell-shocked.
‘A cryptography expert in his younger days, Gillian Tan was Satoshi Nakamoto.’ Again he paused and looked around before continuing. ‘He was the head of the classified committee on alternate currency, which was debating the value of currencies like bitcoins. We don’t know if it was sheer coincidence or whether he lobbied for that position.’
Varun countered, ‘Pardon me for saying this, but I don’t understand completely. The data that was found could also have been on his computer because he was heading this committee for the US government.’
‘Fair point,’ Adrian agreed. ‘This is where the Hooker comes in. There was something strange in the Hooker blog post that came out last week.’ And he turned towards Aditya and pointed at him. ‘Rather, he found something strange in the post.’
Varun nodded. Aditya was looking directly at him. Adrian continued, ‘According to the blog, Gillian took time to warm up to her. The hooker had a pet name for Gillian—Frosty.’ Seeing the blank look on the faces of those present, he added, ‘Quite a strange pet name. Frosty is also the alias used by someone to promote Cotton Trail.’
‘Cotton Trail?’ Sundeep asked.
Aditya quickly detailed it out for him.
‘As if cryptography and Frosty were not enough, the Hooker also explicitly described her rendezvous with Gillian and a third person, in the dorm at Stanford.’
God is a Gamer Page 23