‘Clean it up this time. He should not be in a position to send another disc like this.’ Rana waved the one in his hand. ‘Also, check with our IT forensic guy to see if there’s any hidden malware in this CD. The laptop on which you played the video, isolate it and make sure to format it. I don’t want to take any risks this time.’
Samba nodded and was on his way towards the door when Rana interrupted him again.
‘One more thing. Ask Ranjit and Chingappa to meet me in an hour. I want to discuss the progress of the Hyderabad Now Metro project,’ he said.
Along the Sahyadri mountain range, Kanu steered his car towards the garrison town of Lonavala. As his vehicle cut through the busy traffic, Darshu could see men in blue uniform stopping vehicles ahead of them.
‘Fantastic,’ she murmured as the vehicle came to a standstill. ‘Now we stay in this car while they track us down. I told you we should have continued to Mumbai.’
‘Look here,’ Kanu said, ‘there’s nothing to be afraid of. This area is under navy jurisdiction.’ He pulled out an ID card with the Indian Navy signage on it. ‘I’m authorized to enter this campus. Most people here know me by my name.’
‘Okay?’
‘You don’t believe me? There’s a navy technical institute about 800 metres to the left. I’ve been helping them gather counter-intelligence information from our neighbouring countries. Here, this badge is only for a privileged few.’
‘Wow! And how did you get in touch with the navy?’
‘Ah, there’s an ongoing programme to dig out information from the dark net. And we are also building our cyber-attack capabilities. It’s a long story, will tell you some other time.’
‘And I thought that your work was mostly about hacking the stock market – and attending uninvited business conferences – and getting into trouble.’
‘Very funny,’ smiled Kanu.
That evening, Samba stood near the sitting area of his luxurious suite and gestured at his guests to sit. His visitors, Chingappa Sampath and Ranjit Bhardwaj, each a millionaire in his own right, were front men for VEMAYHTAS’ ambitious new project Hyderabad Now Metro.
Chingappa was tall and lean, in his mid-fifties, with wavy black hair. He had served as finance secretary to the current chief minister before being shifted to the public welfare ministry and was considered the most influential dealmaker in the corridors of power.
Rana looked at Chingappa for a moment.
‘Chingappa, you’ve been – what do they call it – unreachable these days. How are we supposed to carry out our business with your CM if you are not interested?’ Rana said.
Chingappa gave no reply. He simply looked back at Rana.
Ranjit, sitting beside Chingappa on the couch, cleared his throat and looked at Samba standing several feet away. ‘I came here today with this document,’ Ranjit said, looking at the yellow envelope with the Nav Hindustan logo on it. ‘It contains all the leaked memos that the project director gave me.’
Ranjit tossed the envelope on the coffee table and looked into Rana’s eyes. ‘We at Nav Hindustan will do whatever you say. Everything.’
Rana didn’t bother to look at the envelope or the table. ‘Tell me, Ranjit, what would it take for the Navarjuna Group to win the metro contract? I’m not concerned about what the director says; I’m more concerned about the Navarjuna Group.’
Again, there was silence. Rana’s eyes narrowed.
‘Ranjit, I’m expecting an answer.’
‘There are rumours that the Navarjuna Group’s chairman is sweetening the deal,’ Ranjit began hesitantly. ‘He is making lucrative offers to our chief minister’s son-in-law.’
‘Great! Now it’s a son-in-law,’ Samba exclaimed. ‘These politicians just can’t keep from begging.’ He walked over to the couch and stood behind Chingappa, resting his hands on the visitor’s shoulders. ‘How many sons and daughters does this man have? No, seriously? First, it was a son. Now, it’s a son-in-law,’ Samba said mockingly.
Chingappa finally mustered up enough courage to speak. ‘Sir, it’s not like that. Yes, someone told me the Navarjuna Group is planning to start a religious channel for the CM’s son-in-law. But it’s not confirmed. Let me tell you, our technical bid for the project was well received. Now we are competing against the four pre-qualified consortia for the contract. It all depends on the financial bids,’ he said. ‘Last I met the chief minister, he was confident of our offer. But, yes, they are expecting some big rewards in return.’
‘I’m sure they know we’ll not disappoint them,’ Rana said.
‘We will be happy to make our CM even richer,’ Samba joined in.
‘Sir, it all goes to the party fund,’ replied Chingappa.
‘We are deviating from the topic,’ Rana said. He straightened and looked at Chingappa squarely. ‘Now tell me, Chingappa, we have a consortium partner from Thailand. And the Navarjuna Group has tied up with the German firm –’
‘Symons.’
‘Yes. My only concern is the technical points we lost in the overall assessment. How much more do we have to pay in our financial bid to compensate the lost points?’
Chingappa felt sweat break out on his forehead as he considered the question. He knew that a wrong answer would paralyse his future forever.
‘The chief minster is on our side. There’s nothing to worry about on that front,’ he reassured Rana. ‘Now it all depends on the financial bids. How much more should we bid for? I can’t say that now, sir. But please, let me tell you again, the chief minister is on our side.’
‘Okay, that’s encouraging. Then there are other bidders. Those guys are also on good terms with the CM. Is there any way we could get information on their bids from the inside? That way we could be assured of the contract even before the bids are opened,’ Rana said.
‘Yes, our competitor has acquired an impressive set of technology but then, there will be only one winner. And that would be us,’ Chingappa said.
Rana nodded, now growing a little more confident. ‘Chingappa, I want you to tell me what these competitors are up to. We cannot afford to lose out on any information. If the son-in-law also wants his religious channel, I’m willing to finance it. But tell me, Chingappa, what’s the current position of the government? Why aren’t they announcing the deadlines for submission of the financial bids?’
‘It’s the biggest metro rail project ever to be undertaken in the public-private partnership mode, sir. The state governments and the Centre are providing a grant of Rs 4,000 crore as viability-gap funding. Who wouldn’t want a 4,000-crore largesse from the government? There are so many interested people visiting the CM these days. What can I say?’
‘That’s not the only reason why we don’t want to let go of the project, am I right, Ranjit?’ Rana said.
Ranjit leaned forward to pull out papers from the envelope he had tossed on the table minutes before. ‘More than that, it’s the land bank in the offering that’s making people visit the chief minister’s office. As I see it, the build, operate and transfer, or BOT, model is not very complicated. What this means is we build, we operate, and the government transfers the land to us. This map has all the details. Look at all the major depots in red dots,’ said Ranjit, pointing to the map on the table. ‘All this will be built on the government land. There’s 99 acres in Miyapur, 77 acres in Habsiguda and 17 acres in Falaknuma. Then there’s 12 acres in Gymkhana Grounds, Parade Grounds and Jubilee Bus Station. In all, we get 492 acres of prime land. Then there are 63 rail stations and terminals, all at the prime locations. In thirty years, this project has potential to make anyone richer than the Nizams.’
Rana stood up, clutching the papers that Ranjit held. ‘Yes, this project can make anyone richer than the Nizams.’
Then he smiled, a rare glint of happiness visible in his eyes.
When viewed on Google Maps, the Hyderabad Now Metro seemed to be taking a peculiar route to reach territories that were linked to huge tracts of empty land with no particula
r significance. Kanu studied the narrow strip of the rail route that connected Shilparamam and Nagole with a proposed plan for future extension in both directions.
‘Look at this, Darshu,’ Kanu said. ‘If you are a true investigative journalist, this might interest you.’
Not far away, sipping her coffee inside the cozy guest cottage, Darshu mischievously eyed him over the brim of the cup. ‘Investigative? Who said I’m an investigative journalist?’ she said.
‘Come here, take a look at this.’
Darshu walked over to him. ‘I guess you’ll never leave your laptop. Ever.’
‘Never,’ he said. Then he keyed in more text in the search bar of the map. ‘This portion of barren land you see, this is where they have proposed to stretch the existing line. Forget that, look at this brown area,’ Kanu said pointing to a small patch on the monitor. ‘This is where they are taking the metro in the second phase. If the price of this land today is, say, Rs 1,200 per square foot, it will jump to Rs 15,000 just like that. And you might think, whose property is this, right? Well, these are all benami properties.’
‘Rana is bidding under VEMAYHTAS, isn’t he?’
‘Yup, on the surface of it, this looks like just another project. But look closer and you will see inaccuracies at every level. I was doing some study. It’s a rock-strewn landscape, so it’s almost impossible for the metro to take an underground route. So what will they do? They will deconstruct existing structures, monuments, everything else. Second, there’s an existing rapid transit system in the form of MMTS, connecting all major portions of the city. So now what will they do? They will reduce the number of trips, start operating these trains at odd times and then they will stop all feeder services. Which means, even if a passenger reaches the station, there will be no auto rickshaw, no buses around.’
‘That’s very inventive, politically!’
‘Yes, politically inventive it is! Now, this article from an IIM professor is very suggestive. He says that the state could have opted for monorail systems, which has potential benefits in crowded, high-density areas. But the project cost was less; less cost, less profit, less bribe money. It’s all simple maths. Then, he says, by developing dedicated bus lanes and pothole-free roads, the state can improve the infrastructure at a fraction of the cost of this project. The fraction here is 0.5 per cent. But the government will never do that because there’s no money to be made in potholes. Wow!’
‘Hmm, it’s purely a vehicle to make rich people richer.’
‘And more powerful,’ Kanu added.
‘So what are you planning?’
‘Me? It’s your work. You are the PR rep. It’s your job to create good stories about Rana’s competitors.’
‘And why would I do that?’ she asked.
‘To vacuum up Rana’s money. You can make millions from his fall,’ Kanu said.
Later that evening, Kanu sat in silence, staring intensely at the screen. While operating in cyberspace, he had the ability to move godlike through databases, get access to stashed passwords and read private messages. But on this day, he couldn’t find anything on Nav Hindustan Group or the VEMAYHTAS proposal for the metro project. Rana is being very careful this time, he thought. He must be keeping all his documents offline.
But then there were other partners in the consortium.
Kanu was soon browsing through the internal memos of the Navarjuna Group. In two hours, he had downloaded every possible piece of information available on their private systems and networks, including the technical white paper on the metro project.
One topic in particular, recurring in several internal memos, interested him enough to do a background check. Navarjuna management had been searching for a liaison officer, somebody who could lobby in the government offices.
‘Darshu?’ Kanu called out.
‘What?’ Darshu shouted back from the other room.
‘Listen, have you ever tried doing a story on Navarjuna before?’
‘Navarjuna Group of Pune?’
‘Yes. They’ve shifted their HQ to Delhi. It’s not Pune any more.’
‘No, didn’t. Why do you ask?’
‘They are looking for a liaison officer. You could apply.’
‘No, thank you very much.’
‘No, seriously. You could apply on behalf of our PR agency,’ he said.
Kanu picked up his laptop and walked over to the other room. She was sitting on a wooden chair, immersed in her own computer. He sat on the edge of the bed looking at her. ‘Navarjuna Group always keeps a low-key profile. There are hardly any interviews with the press. And the ones that have appeared are short pieces tucked away in the business pages. Someone has to help them get good press.’
‘You do that,’ she said with a smirk and went back to her laptop.
‘But it’s your work.’
‘Then, can you do that for me please?’ she said.
Kanu kept staring at her in disbelief.
‘Okay, if you want me to get rid of my laptop, you’ve got to get rid of yours first.’
‘Done.’ She slammed the lid of the laptop shut.
Kanu spent the next few hours modelling the Biz-Bazzar PR website after the world’s leading PR agency. He had linked the functions of the dummy site in such a way that it became the de-facto Indian subsidiary of an international giant.
Then he snooped into the mailbox of a certain Patrick Gray of Symons, the consortium partner of Navarjuna. Using Patrick’s account, Kanu then wrote an e-mail to the HR manager of the Navarjuna Group.
In his mail, Patrick highlighted the good work of Biz-Bazzar PR and recommended the work handled by their parent company in Germany.
Within a few days, after several rounds of telephonic discussion, a business meeting was set up between the Biz-Bazzar PR team and the Navarjuna corporate communication team in Delhi. The agenda: getting good press.
Later that week, when Darshu met the Navarjuna Group management and corporate communication team, with Kanu in tow, in a cramped conference room in Delhi, her mission was simple. She had to cut through the news clutter and start a debate about the company’s effective partnership with Symons to get good press. She succeeded beyond anything the Navarjuna team or even Kanu had ever imagined. Her contact list of journalists as friends, her idea of creating metro-rail employment drives in colleges, utilization of Web 2.0 and inserting specially authored columns resonated hugely with the Navarjuna team. In addition, the yearly retention fees quoted by Biz-Bazzar PR agency was less than the annual salary of an executive working in their office.
As expected, Biz-Bazzar PR bagged the contract.
The immediate task assigned to the agency was creating positive stories. In turn, the Navarjuna team promised to cooperate and provide leads on all their activities related to the Hyderabad Now Metro project.
A week later, news stories on the Hyderabad Now Metro started trickling in to the Afternoon Times, Deccan Courier, the Express of Hyderabad and other dailies. Mysteriously, somebody had leaked every sordid detail of the Hyderabad Now Metro project management since its inception and the way the bidding process was flawed, favouring the least technically qualified consortium of VEMAYHTAS and Nav Hindustan Group.
At the same time, a fierce debate raged among policy makers and engineers on a popular community board, skyscrappercity.co.in. The argument was on the merits of the Navarjuna Group as being the most capable engineering firm against the ill-qualified partnership VEMAYHTAS had cobbled together. The discussion, however, was indirectly moderated by Kanu, who had surreptitiously gained administrative rights.
In another threaded discussion forum – hyderabadcitybulletin.in – initiated by a devoted group of infrastructure professionals, an anonymous user had posted several confidential and genuine-looking documents detailing the Navarjuna Group’s financial bid document. Rumours abounded. It seemed almost certain that the consortium led by VEMAYHTAS and the Nav Hindustan Group would never make it to the winning list, despite getting a back-d
oor entry in the first round of the bidding process.
NINETEEN
5 January–19 July 2008
‘T
hat security guard controlling our entrance gate has everything to keep this place safe. Guns, night goggles, reinforcement, police support – everything. But he cannot stop incessant attack on this office,’ Rana said, as he turned away from the window of his penthouse to walk back to his desk. The computer monitor on his desk displayed video feeds from all the security cameras. A security man with a rifle in his hands sitting in a small, wooden cabin at the entrance could be seen in a tiny grid among several moving images.
Samba sat on the couch a few feet away, looking unsure. ‘I understand – I understand what you are trying to say …’ Samba began, but couldn’t think of anything more to say.
Rana stared for a long time at the image of the guard with the rifle. ‘How do you expect this man to protect Sathyamev? He doesn’t even know we’re under attack. We have to build a stronger fort, but are we lobbying hard enough for the metro project? No, we are not. Are we getting good press? No, we are not. Are we spending money? Hell, we are spending to the hilt. We’re leaking so much money I had to pledge almost half my holdings,’ Rana said through clenched teeth.
Rana’s outburst was not unfounded. If the news report published in the Express of Hyderabad was to be believed, the Navarjuna Group had set aside thousands of crores of rupees just to finance the Hyderabad Now Metro project.
Samba leaned forward, this time paying attention. ‘To begin with, the bidding process is structured in such a way that we will get all the information. But we don’t have any control over our competitors, do we?’
All these years Samba had done everything exactly as Rana had wanted, and now, as the final dates for submission of the financial bids neared, he was growing disheartened by his brother’s hasty assessments. ‘Chingappa still maintains we will win the bid. If you want, I can get in touch with the CM’s secretary, Jagjivan. He’s also on our rolls,’ Samba said.
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