ANTI-SOCIAL NETWORK

by Piyush Jha

  Naina immediately became defensive. ‘Inspector, I don’t want to spoil a girl’s life just by making a casual, half-informed statement like you are making right now.’

  Virkar’s eyes flashed with indignation. ‘I’m not half-informed. I have a first class in a Bachelor of Arts degree in psychology, which means I know what I’m talking about.’

  Naina sat back, looking a little sheepish. ‘Well…uhh…I’m sorry. I’m just worried that my statement might be used out of context and played up in the media. There is a girl’s life at stake here.’

  But Virkar was in no mood to let up. He opened his drawer and drew out a thick box file. He opened it on his desk and flipped through the photographs of the two murder scenes, pulling out those that were the most gruesome. ‘This is what is at stake here,’ he said, thrusting them at her. ‘These killings are not the work of a stable mind, but the precision and intelligence with which each murder has been carried out clearly indicates that the killer is someone extremely smart and equally meticulous or criminally insane.’

  By now Naina was gasping for breath—the photographs had done their job. Virkar rose from his chair and held her by the arm; she got up and followed him, still gasping. Virkar quickly led her to the washbasin where Naina proceeded to disgorge the remnants of her last meal. After retching a few times, she washed her face, looking embarrassed as she accepted Virkar’s handkerchief to wipe it clean. She realized that she was attracted to him—something she had felt even while he was interrogating her. He wasn’t at all what she expected a policeman to be. She wondered what he was really like and that thought gave her a little thrill. Virkar, on his part, felt a tinge of regret for what he had done. He smiled apologetically at Naina,

  As if on cue, they both looked at one another and said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  12

  If someone had looked closely at her they would perhaps have wondered why she was wearing a baseball cap over her long straight hair and dark glasses that covered half her sharp-featured face. But in malls such as the one she was in, young people were known to display a wild sense of fashion. In fact, all around her, young girls barely out of their teens lounged around wearing T-shirts that displayed their navels, tube tops that worked more as strips of strings than clothes, miniskirts and shorts that left very little to the imagination. On second thought, one would say that she fit right in, except that the slight tremble in her hand as she raised her coffee cup to her lips displayed a hint of nervous tension that seemed a little out of sync with the carefree buzz of those around her.

  Although her eyes could not be seen behind the large dark glasses, her face was turned towards the automatic doors that opened and shut periodically to let people into the air-conditioned environs of the mall. She had been staring at these doors for almost fifteen minutes now, and was almost at the bottom of her cup of coffee, but she continued to take small sips of the beverage, prolonging her stay as long as she could.

  A slight pause while putting down her cup was the only hint that something had caught her attention. Then she abruptly rose from the table, indicating that her wait was over. The sure-footed steps with which she strolled towards the shopping area after slinging her chic leather backpack on her shoulders was a sign that she knew exactly where she was going. She strode into MoJo Wear’s cavernous flagship store, with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

  The only time her steps faltered was when she reached the revolving racks of some of the costliest fashion wear for young women. But even then she only stopped for couple of seconds to pick out two slick dresses made of a fabric that resembled PVC. Soon she was on her way again, the dresses in her arms. She smiled at the salesgirls who were sipping their coffee behind the counter at the end of the store. The salesgirl in charge of the PVC dresses smiled back, relieved that the customer was self-sufficient and her evening flirtations on her phone wouldn’t be interrupted.

  As she turned into the section that housed the changing rooms, the girl in the baseball cap felt an involuntary wave of tension rippling through her body. But when she saw that there was no attendant on duty outside the changing rooms, she relaxed. A miniscule smile flitted at the corner of her mouth, signalling that things were going as per plan. She now walked through the corridor to the last stall and opened the door. Stepping inside, she bolted the door behind her and took off her baseball cap and dark glasses. She opened her leather backpack and stuffed them inside. She then unzipped one of the PVC dresses and slid it on over her T-shirt and jeans. She zipped it up and crouched on the ground. Sliding her hand inside a side pocket of the backpack, she withdrew the hunting knife that she had earlier used to horrifying effect. Then she lay down on the floor of the stall and waited.

  For almost three minutes she lay still, not moving a muscle till she heard the door of the stall next to her open and shut. She could almost hear the tension in the heavy breathing of its occupant.

  ‘Are you there?’ asked a young, female voice.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied softly.

  ‘Have you got the money?’ asked the female voice again.

  ‘Yes,’ she said again.

  ‘Slide it under the stall,’ instructed the female voice, now full of confidence.

  ‘Okay,’ she replied and, using all her strength, she slid her body through the gap between the two stalls in one smooth motion.

  Before the female occupant of the other stall could react, she had already risen to her feet, swung the knife above her and brought it down with enormous force on to the other girl’s ribcage. The young female’s answering scream was stuck in her throat as her lungs and heart where punctured by the sharp blade of the hunting knife passing through them. As the life went out of her, the young female occupant of the stall watched a spurt of her blood gush out of her body and splash on to the PVC dress worn by her long-haired attacker. The last thing the dying girl felt was the fingers of the killer fiddling with her eyelids that were drooping shut under what felt like a thousand kilos of weight.

  The girl with the long hair slipped off her PVC dress and draped it over her victim’s body, making sure to cover the face she had been working on with her knife. A quick inspection of her clothes assured her that not a drop of blood had made its way through the liquid-repellent PVC. She bent down and slid back into her stall. There she reopened her backpack and retrieved her baseball cap and dark glasses. Putting them on, she picked up the second PVC dress that she had hung on the hooks attached to the door. Then, composing herself, she walked out of the changing room area.

  Back outside in the large store area, she shrugged at the sales girl at the counter, her gesture indicating that the PVC dress didn’t work for her. The sales girl at the counter gave her an understanding smile.

  The long-haired girl in the baseball cap and the dark glasses hung the PVC dress back on the revolving rack and walked out of the store into the crowded mall.

  13

  The incessant vibration of the mobile phone that was lying under his pillow finally woke Virkar up. He groped for it and, through the half-open slits of his eyes, read the time. It was 6 a.m. Virkar simultaneously noticed that the call was from the Crime Branch Headquarters. Heaving a sigh, Virkar picked up the call. ‘Hello,’ he said into the phone and then listened silently to the breathless voice on the other end. ‘I’ll be there in half an hour,’ Virkar finally said, his voice still heavy with sleep.

  He cut the call and sat up, his sleepy gaze falling on the crazy jumble of clothes on a chair next to the bed. It was only then that she stirred next to him, perhaps disturbed by the change in his position. Virkar turned towards her and, even though it was dark, he could make out the contours of her naked body against the bright white bedsheets. Her thick hair that stopped somewhere down the middle of her back was, at the moment, fanned out over her pillow. In his mind’s eye, Virkar remembered the first tantalizing cascade of her hair down her back when she had removed the wooden hairpin that she normally used to keep them tied up
and away from scrutiny. It was at that moment that she was transformed from a scholarly young teacher to a sensual temptress. He had not been able to control himself after that and had lifted her up in his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he had returned the kiss that she had opened the proceedings with. The passionate animal that he kept caged inside him had broken out and taken over from then on.

  They had left the Crime Branch Headquarters after he had finished questioning her. As he was still feeling a little bad at having bombarded her with the gory pictures of the murders, Virkar had felt obligated to offer her a lift out of sheer courtesy, even though her house was a little out of the way for him. He thought she was still miffed with him and would decline his offer but, to his surprise, she had accepted. She had hopped on behind him as soon as Virkar had gunned the Bullet.

  As they made their way along Mohammad Ali Road, riding under the J.J. Flyover, Virkar could feel Naina’s warm arms wrap themselves around him. He had tried to maintain his studied nonchalance even though he could feel something stirring inside him. He realized that it had been a long time since he had felt the touch of a woman. He had ignored the growing yearning welling up inside him but his body seemed to have a mind of its own. The sinews of his muscles tightened wherever Naina’s arms touched. Virkar was afraid that she might become aware of his physical reaction to her, but she didn’t seem to notice at all. She held on to him through the entire forty-five-minute ride in the evening traffic.

  As they reached her two-storeyed building in a King’s Circle by-lane, she had hopped off the Bullet and walked the few steps to the entrance of her building. Virkar was politely waiting for her to enter her building before taking off in the direction of his own quarters in Bhoiwada when Naina suddenly turned and, looking straight at him, said, ‘I guess this is where I ask you to come up for a cup of tea.’

  Virkar, however, not catching on, replied, ‘Thank you, but I do not drink tea.’ In the failing light, Virkar thought he saw the hint of an amused smile at the corner of Naina’s mouth.

  ‘Then perhaps I should offer to change your bandages,’ she said. Virkar was still recovering from the bullet wound on his shoulder. Though the doctor had declared that it was only a flesh wound, he had advised Virkar not to ride his Bullet until the bandages came off. Virkar, being the die-hard biker he was, had ignored that advice. At the moment, he was considering whether it would be polite to tell her that she didn’t have to do that, and that the doctor had called him in the next morning to change his dressing, but he didn’t get a chance. Naina had decided not to wait for an answer and had turned on her feet and walked inside her building already. As Virkar watched her receding back, the implication of her statement suddenly hit him. Feeling supremely sheepish and yet excited, he quickly found a parking spot for his Bullet and made his way to the apartment whose front door was open. She was clearly expecting him to work it out in his head and follow her in at some point. As he entered her apartment, he heard her voice call out from inside the bedroom: ‘Shut the door behind you.’

  He followed her instruction only to receive another one: ‘Take off your shirt’. This time he hesitated, but only for a couple of seconds before undoing the buttons of his shirt and stripping down to the waist. A sense of anticipation coursed through him and he considered taking off his trousers, too. He was about to reach for his waistband when he stopped. Naina walked into the hall carrying a vessel of steaming hot water in one hand and rolls of cotton and bandages in the other. She stared at him as he stood bare-backed in the middle of the room, his hand frozen on the waist button of his pants. He stared back, not knowing how to react, his ears burning with embarrassment. The amusement in her eyes was now very clear for him to see, but her tone was matter-of-fact when she said, ‘Sit down on this chair.’ Lamb-like, he followed her every instruction from then on. Her touch had been soft but her hands had been sure as they had gone about swabbing his wound and changing the bandage with the deftness of an expert. Virkar couldn’t help looking impressed when she was done, and received a broad smile from her in return. Shrugging her shoulders lightly, she said, ‘First-aid training during NCC camps.’

  Virkar smiled back, but noticed that her expression had again turned inscrutable. He was still trying to figure it out when she reached for his face and planted a soft kiss on his lips. While he was still recovering, she reached behind her head and slipped out her hairpin, letting her long tresses do the talking. Her eyes had held his, and suddenly Virkar read everything that was written in them.

  They had made love. Scorching, wanton, rough love. Their lovemaking session did not seem to stop as they had melted into each other again and again. Somewhere around midnight, they had fallen back on the bed, exhausted, and drifted off into the peaceful sleep that comes to lovers who have satisfied each other fully.

  Now, pulled out of his sleep by the phone call, Virkar was torn between his duty and his desire. As he put his clothes back on, the object of his desire propped herself up on her elbows. In a throaty voice slurry with sleep, she said, ‘You don’t have to go. Stay.’

  Virkar struggled with himself, but finally let the call of duty guide his actions. ‘I have to go,’ he said firmly as he continued to dress. ‘There’s been another murder.’

  14

  This time the body was missing its eyes. The sightless holes that existed in the place of human eyeballs created a sense of horror in everyone who had looked at the girl’s sliced remains so far. Virkar felt a sense of irritation welling up inside him; he realized that his theory about Sagarika going crazy and killing Kshitij and Rajesh because they were blackmailing her had been shot to pieces. He wondered who this victim was and why she had been attacked by Sagarika. Virkar knelt in front of the bloodied body and examined the single wound on the girl’s chest. He couldn’t help but marvel at the expertise with which the knife had been jabbed between the ribs. ‘Sagarika is getting better and better at this,’ Virkar thought out loud.

  He was about to fire a question at the sub-inspector from the local police station when Naina interrupted him. ‘She’s trying to say something with these missing body parts.’

  Virkar frowned at her. Just as he was getting ready to leave her apartment, Naina had insisted on accompanying him. Virkar had explained to her that it was against regulations but Naina had reasoned that she could offer up an insight to the case as she knew the killer. Virkar, to his consternation, couldn’t find an argument to counter her logic and had relented, but not before giving her a strict warning not to say anything in front of the other policemen at the crime scene. But she clearly did not think much of his instructions as she now continued, ‘The cutting of the penis perhaps signifies sexual misdemeanour; the cutting of the tongue could mean something that was said or not said; and the missing eyes could indicate that there was something that this girl had seen or perhaps not seen.’

  Virkar and the sub-inspector stared at Naina, letting her idea wrap itself around their brains. Finally, they broke their gaze from her and looked at each other, not knowing how to take the next step. After a few minutes, Virkar opted for the easiest way out. ‘What is her name?’ he asked the sub-inspector.

  Relieved at being asked something that he had an answer to, the policeman pulled out an ID card from a girl’s wallet and read: ‘Nayantara Joshi. Aged twenty. Resident of Mandaar Society, Lalbaug, Dadar. Student of Kanti College, Prabhadevi.’ Virkar raised his hand, signalling the sub-inspector to stop. It wasn’t making any sense to him—how was a girl from a middle-class family in Lalbaug connected to Sagarika?

  The sub-inspector tucked away his diary, ready to leave, but Virkar stopped him in his tracks. ‘I would like to see all the CCTV footage from the mall.’ The sub-inspector sighed and led Virkar and Naina through the corridors of the silent mall to the security room. There, on a bank of monitors, a security attendant played back the footage of the girl wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses going into the changing room of the MoJo Wear store and coming out a few minutes after
Nayantara was seen entering the adjoining stall. As Virkar and Naina watched the monitor, Virkar suddenly noticed a thoughtful look on Naina’s face. ‘Is there something you see?’ he asked hopefully.

  Naina stared at the screen as she said, ‘It is Sagarika, I think, but a different version of her.’

  ‘Yes…the schizophrenic, psychotic version,’ the sub-inspector who had been listening in on their conversation quipped.

  Virkar shot an irritated look towards him. ‘Have you made sure that all the staff and mall employees have been interrogated?’

  ‘Saheb, the murder was reported only in the evening. By then, the shift had changed and most of the employees had left for the day.’

  ‘And why has it taken you until this morning to inform me? And what was the mall security doing? Couldn’t they have held them back?’ Virkar’s voice was biting.

  The sub-inspector remained stoic. ‘Saheb, this is a big mall. We cannot stop its functioning and shut it down. And we were waiting for instructions from the senior inspector of our police station who is out of town right now. We could only get in touch with him this morning and which is when he told us to call the Crime Branch.’

  Virkar’s voice was raised now. ‘Then how the hell do you expect to catch this serial killer who is obviously smarter than you, me and everybody in this room?’

  ‘Saheb, we have called all the employees; they will be reporting to us in the next few hours.’

  ‘I want a full report by tomorrow afternoon.’ Virkar turned on his heels and walked out.

  Once outside, he saw that Naina had followed him without a word and together they walked out of the mall. Just before they reached the spot where he had parked his bike, they spent an awkward moment staring at each other until Virkar finally said, ‘I have to change and shower and head to my office.’