Fear Is the Key

by Juggi Bhasin

  *

  Fredo removed the cover of the cistern and touched with a sense of reassurance the stapled plastic bag lying under the water. He thought for a moment and then took out the bag and carefully removed the staples. The cellphone looked good and ready to use. He switched it on and opened the folder containing his private stash. He flicked through the images and stopped when he came to a set of images that really mattered. His thumb caressed the image of a girl taking off her clothes and changing into office wear. Then he switched off the cellphone and debated his next move. This set of pictures were a prized possession. He was obsessed with them. But he was desperate for money and knew that he would have to part with them. He could almost feel that the bearded man had developed proprietary rights over these images.

  The doorbell rang shrilly, and he jumped. He quickly put his stash back into the cistern and went up to the door.

  ‘Yeah, who is it?’

  ‘Courier,’ said a voice from the other end.

  ‘Fuck off,’ he said decisively. ‘I deliver things to people. Nobody sends anything to me.’

  The bell rang again and Fredo, slightly agitated, opened the door a little. This was good enough for the person on the other side to force it open and allow four men to barge in. One of them pinned him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth. They forced him down on a chair. The gang leader took out a switchblade and motioned to him to keep quiet and sit still. He watched with widened eyes as two men carried in a thirty-three-inch silvery white umbrella, CFL light, tripod and a dated Sony handycam that could be mounted on the tripod.

  The leader of the gang gave a signal. One of the men went to the door and whistled in the corridor outside. Fredo watched as moments later a tall, thin girl walked in wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans. She wore cheap sunglasses, and her hands were heavily hennaed.

  One of the men set up the handycam on the tripod, tilted the umbrella and set up the CFL light. The cameraman looked into the lens and told a man standing opposite him.

  ‘Give me white balance.’

  The man took out a piece of white paper and held it before the camera. The cameraman made his adjustments and looked towards the gang leader once he was satisfied.

  ‘Good to go.’

  Meanwhile, the girl had begun to take off her clothes. Fredo could not believe his eyes as she quickly stripped and walked up and down, admiring herself before the camera. The gang leader slowly took his hand away from Fredo’s mouth and placed the switchblade on his neck.

  ‘So, here’s the deal, Fredo . . .’

  Fredo heard himself speak in terror and wonder. ‘You know me?’

  ‘Everyone does. You are the pervert who looks into bathrooms and clicks pictures. You are kind of famous on the Internet,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘What . . . what is it that you want from me?’

  The gang leader drew himself to his full height and walked up to the naked girl preening before the camera. He pressed her breast, but unmindful, she continued to make faces at the camera.

  ‘This is Miss Daisy. We want you to bang Miss Daisy in all positions. You see, we are making a porn film called Miss Daisy aur Fredo ki chu . . . I promise you, this film will be an Internet sensation. It will be the toast of B-town India.’

  Fredo scrambled from the chair and made a bid to run. The gang leader shouted and one of his men tackled Fredo at the door, raising a fist to smash his face. The gang leader shouted.

  ‘Don’t do that! He’s the fucking hero! He can’t be fucking Miss Daisy with a dislocated jaw!’

  The men dragged Fredo towards the gang leader. Miss Daisy put a restraining hand on the gang leader.

  ‘Let me deal with him.’

  The gang leader nodded and stepped away. Two men pinned Fredo to the floor and Miss Daisy came and sat on his face till he could hardly breathe. Fredo’s face contorted in disgust but there was little he could do about it. Miss Daisy kept on squishing against Fredo’s face till he was ready to throw up. She then moved away and forced Fredo to stand up.

  ‘Forced sex is no fun, Fredo, right? Now that you have tasted my pussy, you know it for real. Forced sex is brutal, violent and disgusting. But you have been doing worse. You prey on unsuspecting women for pleasure and profit. So, after having tasted your own bitter medicine, here’s the deal. We will make this film because we want to make money off you the same way you made money off others. If you don’t comply, this man here will cut off your pecker and balls and then carve your face. You want that?’

  Fredo, sobbing uncontrollably and shivering, shook his head.

  ‘That’s a good boy, Fredo. You understand the situation so well. But you will be no use to me in the state you are in. I will dim the lights and charge you up in that corner. Think of all the women you preyed upon. That should be good enough to give you a rise. We want that pecker of yours fighting fit for the next three hours. Now smile and do exactly as I say . . .’

  For the next three hours, Miss Daisy encouraged, teased, handheld, motivated, whipped and brutalized Fredo to do what he had only seen in the worst of porn films. After the shoot, they left him naked and quivering on the bed, half out of his senses. They searched the room and found a couple of hundred-rupee notes in the cupboard, which they pocketed. Miss Daisy was the last to leave. She blew him a kiss as she closed the door behind her. Then she said in a whisper, ‘See, that wasn’t so bad after all! On second thoughts, Fredo, we might change the title of the film. I am inclined to call it Men Can Be Raped After All.’

  CHAPTER 26

  Rahul took the parking ticket at the entry to the Select City Mall basement and drove in. He parked in a vacant spot next to a column and looked at his watch. It was close to the appointed time. It was a weekday and there were not many vehicles in the basement parking. The guards standing near the escalators were chatting and sipping tea from styrofoam cups. Rahul looked at his watch again. He was not sure if he would be able to pull off his indifferent, cool act if Fredo came up with something of interest to him. In any case, he was glad the basement was near empty. One never knew how the situation could turn.

  In the distance, he saw Fredo walk towards him, shoulders bent, head down, the walk of an old man. He lifted his head, and Rahul was shocked to see him. He looked undernourished and ill with bags under his eyes, as if the breath of life had left him. He walked up to Rahul’s car. Rahul opened the door to let him in.

  ‘You all right? You don’t look too good.’

  Fredo sat immobile without saying a word. Rahul reached for a packet in the back seat and offered Fredo a burger he had picked up from outside the mall. Fredo gratefully accepted it and ate as if he had been famished for ages. He even picked off the crumbs from the plastic wrapper and then balled up the cover with regret. He wiped a trail of ketchup from his mouth and reached in his pocket for his second cellphone. He opened the relevant folder and handed it to Rahul. He told him.

  ‘I am giving you the best of the stuff I have. There are many sets of pictures, but there is one you would certainly be interested in. I am done with this kind of work. You can keep the cellphone and everything there is on it. I just need enough money to buy a one-way ticket to Mandi and some essentials for my aged parents.’

  Rahul opened the folder and skimmed through the pictures. His heart nearly stopped when the first of many pictures of Simone popped up on the screen. She was taking off a T-shirt he had seen her wearing so many times when he was at her house. The camera, with unerring precision, had captured the entire process of her taking off the T-shirt, wearing a bra, then a petticoat and tying a saree for work. The final lot of pictures showed Simone giving last minute touches to her make-up and pinning her saree in front of a full-length mirror.

  Rahul felt an emotion that he could not describe. It was like he was being propelled towards a huge doorway, and through the crack, he could make out a gigantic column of intense, hot, white light in which it was no longer possible to hide anything. There was a part of him that kicked
and screamed at being dragged into this new life experience. All the force within him was pulling him back, stretching all the muscle and sinew to breaking point. He stood before the doorway, body twisted and arched horribly like a rubber catapult about to be released. Hundreds of rivulets of sweat broke all over him, and he shook like a leaf. He could barely hold the cellphone. It was Fredo’s turn to be concerned.

  ‘You all right, Boss? You look as if you have come down with fever.’

  ‘I might have,’ answered Rahul tersely.

  The feeling passed and with supreme effort, he willed himself to return to a normal state of being. He looked at the pervert sitting to his left.

  ‘These pictures are good. Probably your best work. I will pay you well for them. The girl interests me. I want to know more about her. What is your relationship with her? You are . . . you . . . well, you are certainly not of her class. How did you manage to come close to her and take these pictures?’

  Fredo shook his head. ‘It was a one-time thing, Boss. I can brag and tell you a tale that I befriended her and took these pictures. But that would not be true, would it?’

  ‘So, how did you manage to come close to her?’

  ‘Why are you interested? You have the pictures. Give me the money, and I will be on my way. You might not believe me when I tell you that I am disgusted with all this now. At some point or the other, such work catches up with you.’

  The complete unreality of what was happening to him caught up with Rahul. He could not recall the last time he had been consumed with so much anger. The hypocrisy of the pervert—an understatement for creatures like Fredo—infuriated him. He reached across to the window behind Fredo and flung the door open, pushing him out of the car. He stepped on the accelerator and raced down the cavernous hull of the basement. Fredo, stunned by Rahul’s move, recovered quickly. He ran after the disappearing car.

  Rahul stopped at a point where the driveway dipped into the lower basement. Fredo caught up with the car, and Rahul raced again. Fredo stumbled, got up and ran behind him again, wailing loudly, begging Rahul to stop.

  Rahul drove the car up and down the basement till Fredo collapsed near an exit point. Rahul glided the car next to him and stopped. He got out and collared Fredo and proceeded to slap him a number of times.

  ‘You are a fucking pimp, don’t you forget that. Don’t put on this pious, long-suffering act with me. I have patience but in limited reserves. I am making a transaction, not giving you absolution. You will tell me each and everything about this girl or else I will ensure you starve in this city. Open your gob and speak now!’

  Fredo, whimpering with pain, covered his face with both hands and nodded his assent. Rahul dragged him near the boot of the car and stood waiting for answers. Fredo looked up and told him how he had done it.

  ‘I know I have an innocent face. I have been told by a number of people. I use my boyish face to my advantage. This girl, Simone, is a big shot in some company. I know that because she drives a BMW SUV. I had been tracking her for days.’

  ‘Tracking her? How . . . how did you zero in on her?’

  ‘It’s quite simple, really. I, and many others like me, keep track of people by their consumption habits. It’s like this. All the drivers, maalis, press wallahs and even the colony grocery shopowner know the high fliers in the colony. We collate this information by the flashy cars these people drive, the hotels, bars and restaurants they frequent, and the retail outlets where they shop. This girl Simone loved fast cars. She also liked to eat pizzas in the evening. People like that have no patience with home food after a hard day at work. I saw her as a fit. I would manipulate calls at the pizza delivery service to deliver pizzas to her. In due course of time, she began to recognize me. I would flash my good, sweet, innocent boy look and slowly gained her confidence. I gave her my number and told her that I would be happy to run errands for her for a nominal fee. I lied and told her that I lived in a lal dora one-room tenement next to her building, so it would be no problem. Slowly, she began to trust me. That is the operative word you know . . .’

  ‘Trust?’

  ‘Yes. Trust with a capital T. We all wear masks, so we look for that one person who we think we can trust, someone who does not wear a mask. The problem with a lot of high achievers in this city is that they have no clue or understanding of human nature, especially in its devious form. They are constantly looking for a “chottu, mundu, mera bachha” kind of innocent village bumpkin boy trying hard to survive in the big, bad city. They probably have no idea that this deprived innocent “bachha” is even more cunning and devious than known villains.’

  He continued. ‘So, to cut a long story short, I would run errands for Simone. I would be in and out of her apartment. One day, she asked me to water the plants in her balcony. She was changing in her room, getting ready for office. I took her snaps in the nude courtesy a hole I had drilled in her bedroom a while back. I abused the trust she had in me . . .’

  ‘Trust?’ said Rahul laconically. He had a sense that trust and betrayal were often two sides of the same person. It was no longer a simple world.

  Rahul pressed Fredo for more information. ‘The next question is very important, Fredo. So, think before you answer. I am deeply interested in this girl. These photos are not enough. So much more can be done with her. Where can I find her?’

  Fredo looked quizzically at Rahul. ‘How would I know? I went back to her place several times. She was not there. There are rumours in her apartment complex that she has disappeared.’

  ‘You . . . did you have something to do with her disappearance?’

  Fredo looked around wildly, hoping someone would come to his rescue. ‘Boss, I might be a pervert and a person who betrays trust, but I am no kidnapper. Do I look like the kind of person who could kidnap anyone?’

  Rahul stared him down. ‘But you are the kind of person who could assist someone in kidnapping her. You are the perfect, deviant peeping tom who spies on women and knows their whereabouts. Maybe you helped her get abducted, and then she was raped and you filmed her. Maybe she was killed after that and her body dumped . . .’

  Fredo got up with surprising speed and began to walk away. ‘Fuck you, fuck you, mister! I am bad, but not evil! Don’t you dare pin things on me I haven’t done. Who are you to question me anyway? You think you are the police? Fuck you and fuck your money . . .’

  Rahul again had the sense that the doorway leading to the column of light was opening. Something was going on, and he was being pushed to it. But he resisted and pulled back. A moment of revelation regarding Simone’s disappearance was near at hand, and yet, it eluded him. It frustrated him that the last pieces of the puzzle were within his grasp yet not in his control. He ran after Fredo and caught up with him.

  ‘Hey, hang on. Wait! My bad. I pressed the wrong buttons. But I am not to blame completely. Anyone else would imagine you to have those links after what you told me.’

  Fredo was the picture of despair. ‘I have no energy to argue with you, mister. Please give me my money, and I will be on my way.’

  Rahul put his hand across Fredo’s shoulder and walked him back to the car. ‘If there is one thing I know, Fredo, it is that people don’t change in life. Right now, you are under the pump and want to go back. You want to turn your back on what you have done so far. But this feeling will pass. Your predatory instincts will claim you again. Your fingers will twitch for the shutter to trap innocent women taking off their clothes. That is your core competence. You cannot run away from it.’

  Fredo shrugged off Rahul’s hand from his shoulder and looked at him in fear. ‘Who are you, mister?’

  Rahul came up close and whispered in his ear. ‘I am a talent scout. I bring out the best in what people do. Forget Mandi. You were born for a bigger market. You are good at what you do. I am giving you fifty thousand bucks to rent a new place and set yourself up away from your tormentors. From now on, you will work exclusively for me. I will give you assignments of women you ha
ve to capture in your camera. Are you game?’

  CHAPTER 27

  Tanya pushed a bowl of candy towards Rahul, but he politely refused. She gave her rationale for the rather odd icebreaker she had just attempted.

  ‘I always find a sugar rush does wonders for my clients. It relaxes them and somehow helps them open up more quickly.’

  ‘That’s a rather odd argument.’

  ‘Well, I am not your usual, next to a fireside, carelessly-unbuttoned-sweater kind of psychiatrist. I believe in getting into the trenches with my clients to stamp out the blaze.’

  ‘By offering them candy?’ suggested Rahul.

  ‘That too. But I can see that the icebreaker backfired today. You seem to be upset about something.’

  ‘On the contrary, I am silently elated. The fog is beginning to clear.’

  ‘That’s good. So, as usual, let me summarize what we had talked about in the last session.’

  She briefly and expertly ran through the gist of the last session.

  ‘Any questions about the last session?’

  ‘No’ he replied firmly.

  ‘Great. You mentioned you are feeling silently elated. Can I ask what has brought this change?’

  ‘I am making progress in my own investigations into Simone’s disappearance.’

  ‘I see. Would you care to tell me what these investigations are all about?’

  He debated long and hard before answering. He popped a candy into his mouth and chewed on it. Then he summed up for her how he had tracked the three men, and his progress in eliciting information about Simone from them.

  She watched him carefully and said, ‘It could be a dangerous option. You are aware of the risks in continuing along this path?’