ANTI-SOCIAL NETWORK

by Piyush Jha

  Naina nodded. ‘Yes, don’t worry about me. I’ll catch a taxi.’ Virkar didn’t say anything as she hailed a cab. She sat inside and threw him a last glance that Virkar managed to return with a small, tight smile. He started his Bullet and rode off in the direction of Bhoiwada, his mind jumping between his personal and professional life, with each thought contradicting the other as they tumbled together in his brain. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. Half expecting it to be Naina, Virkar stopped the Bullet on the side of the road and fished it out of his pocket. Glancing at the dial, he was disappointed to see an unknown number. He picked up the call nevertheless and listened as the voice on the other line said, ‘Inspector Virkar, I am Inspector Kamble from the Jagtap Circle lock-up. Usman Teacher wants to meet you. He says he has some information on your current case.’

  15

  ‘Anti-Social Network, that’s what they call themselves,’ said Usman Teacher through teeth gritted in pain. Two days of the ‘third degree’ treatment at the Jagtap Circle lock-up had him keeled over in pain. His bluff-and-bluster attitude was gone, replaced by naked fear. The man had too many secrets that could hurt too many people in power. He knew that he had perhaps just a few days left before someone decided to shut him up forever. The end would perhaps come as a random custodial death or perhaps as an encounter at a court hearing. Usman had realized that his only way out was if he traded some information with his captors. The situation was too dire to use the normal ‘sweetening agent’—hard cash. So he decided on the only other thing that he could use as leverage—information.

  Hence, as soon as Virkar arrived at the lock-up, Usman wasted no time. He had offered what he called ‘crucial information’ that would help Virkar make a breakthrough in his serial-murder case. Although Usman Teacher had a strong khabri network, Virkar doubted he could have anything worthwhile connected to this extremely odd case, but he decided to wait and hear what Usman wanted in exchange. Usman told Virkar that he feared for his life and wanted to get out of Mumbai, and so he wanted his case to be handed over to the CBI in Delhi. Virkar, of course, knew that he didn’t have the authority to pull off any such thing, but he hemmed and hawed, promising nothing and yet conveying to Usman that whatever action he took on his behalf would depend entirely on how good the information was. After almost an hour of back-and-forth, Usman Teacher finally realized that Virkar would not budge from his position. The pain of the third degree was draining his energy and he had very little time left to maintain his coherence. He decided to take a leap of faith based on what he knew of Virkar’s reputation.

  ‘Anti-Social Network,’ repeated Virkar. ‘Is this some kind of a joke?’

  ‘Not if I tell you what these kids are capable of,’ said Usman Teacher as he pushed himself back into a comfortable position, for the first time feeling like he had the upper hand. He felt the familiar tingling of nervousness buzzing in his ears as he began to part with precious nuggets of information. In the past, the nuggets had bought him a good life. He hoped that this particular one could save what was left of it.

  ‘Six months ago, a group of computer-savvy college students connected together through the Internet. They came together to program…uh…something called…computer malware that is undetectable by the anti-virus software sold in the market. This malware is disguised as links to video or music, which young people normally download. Inside this malware were remote-access tools. Through these tools, this “Anti-Social Network” group hacked other people’s computers.’

  Virkar interrupted him mid-speech. ‘How is Sagarika associated with these people?’

  Usman Teacher allowed himself to cough and spit out the phlegm that he had been suppressing for some time now. Virkar couldn’t help but notice the flecks of blood in the coughed-out spit.

  ‘I thought you were an experienced man, Inspector Virkar. You are reacting like an impatient new recruit,’ he remarked. ‘These youngsters came up with an excellent idea. They created a computer programme that could hack into the e-mail accounts or social network profiles of a person, and pretend to be them’. Usman Teacher paused, enjoying the tension of the moment. ‘They would then request sexually explicit photos or videos from their victim’s respective boyfriend or girlfriend, as a mark of loyalty, love, lust etcetera. In many cases, they were successful in obtaining such photos. Once they had a photo or video in their possession, a member of the Anti-Social Network would then contact the boy or the girl in the photo or video to demand money from them by threatening to distribute the photos to family and friends if the police were contacted.’

  Virkar let Usman Teacher’s words sink in. He had just remembered the sex video on Rajesh Chawre’s iPod. His pulse quickened. What he had just heard was plausible, but he still needed to check a couple of things. ‘And how is this related to my case?’ he asked, trying not to let his excitement show.

  ‘That’s your job to figure out, Inspector. I can only tell you that both your victims, Rajesh Chawre and Kshitij Bhatia, were members of this group.’

  Virkar took a deep breath. Knowing that Usman Teacher would not have got the news of Nayantara Joshi’s murder yet, Virkar asked, ‘Are there any more members that you know of?’

  Usman Teacher nodded. ‘A couple of girls and another couple of guys, I think. But I don’t have their details.’

  Virkar’s face did not give anything away. ‘Is that all you have?’ he asked.

  ‘Is that all?’ Usman Teacher exclaimed incredulously. ‘I’ve just given you key information on the murder spree you are investigating!’

  ‘Calm down,’ Virkar said as he raised his hand. He then realized that he hadn’t asked Usman Teacher the most important question of all. ‘How the hell do you know all this?’

  Usman Teacher smiled a toothy smile through his pain. ‘A khabri is always looking for information. Information is power. Information is money. Information is my life.’

  Virkar now sounded annoyed. ‘Yes, yes, I know all that bakwas, but tell me exactly how you know.’

  Usman Teacher smiled despite Virkar’s display of irritation. ‘One of my khabris is a waiter at an Udipi restaurant who also works part-time at a cyber café. He overheard a guy and a girl from this group talking about their plan. No one ever thinks that a waiter at an Udipi restaurant could be educated or know anything about computers, but they forget that this is Mumbai,’ he laughed.

  Virkar’s palms were sweating. Everything that Usman Teacher had said could either be true or could have been cooked up by his wily brain. He needed to check things out for himself. ‘Where is this waiter? And where is this Udipi restaurant?’

  ‘The waiter has gone to his gaon, where he shall remain until I call him back.’ Usman Teacher’s eyeslids narrowed.

  ‘Where is his village? Tell me; I’ll go and talk to him personally. I promise that no harm will come to him,’ said Virkar, in all earnestness.

  ‘Bas kya, Inspector, apun ko chutiya samjela hai kya? You get me the transfer orders to CBI custody first, and only then will I give you the waiter’s address.’ Virkar could see the beady shine in Usman’s eyes through the thin slits of his eyelids.

  It was the classic quid pro quo situation. Virkar knew there was a ring of truth in Usman Teacher’s story, but also knew that it was not very much to go by. He needed to think things over carefully before he took the next step. ‘Give me twenty-four hours,’ he said as he turned on his heels and began to walk out of the cell.

  Usman Teacher then started to lose the composure that he had maintained till now. ‘Inspector, no more than twenty-four hours.’ Virkar turned his head and nodded. ‘One last thing,’ said Usman Teacher in a pleading voice, ‘please, can you place one of your trusted men outside my cell? Until you get back.’ Virkar gave him a long look; the snake-like suspicion was gone and fear was back in Usman Teacher’s eyes.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Virkar curtly, as he left the cell.

  16

  It was a moonlit night, just the kind Virkar loved
whenever he was out on the Koli Queen. As he sat on his preferred seat at the back of the deck aboard his favourite fishing boat, he felt the tension in his muscles dissipating. He was looking forward to the few hours of alone time that the boat ride would give him. He could hear Peter Koli’s shouted instructions mixed with the phut-phut-phut of the boat’s engine as it made its way out of the harbour. Soon, all sounds receded into the background and Virkar was alone, accompanied by his three favourite things: millions of stars in the sky above him, a kilogram of Jinga Koliwada and four bottles of Godfather beer by his side.

  The day had been rough. He had left Usman Teacher without a clue as to how he was going to make good on his promise to get Usman’s case transferred to the CBI. He knew that he couldn’t ask any of his colleagues or his superiors for the fear of getting himself embroiled in an inquiry or becoming the target of interdepartmental rivalry. There were too many people gunning for Usman Teacher and Virkar did not want to get caught in the crossfire. In times like these, Virkar had found that there was only one person that he could turn to—retired Justice Joseph D’Gama, who had lent him a helping hand and extricated him from a couple of prickly situations in the past. Justice D’Gama had a soft corner for policemen and his number of years in the legal field had given him the knowledge that well-meaning policemen sometimes needed to do some fancy footwork to get their jobs done. He was also an expert in finding legal loopholes that policemen could jump through to reach their goals.

  But as he was parking his Bullet outside Justice D’Gama’s ancient house in Matharpacady, Mazagaon, he received a call from Sub-Inspector Naik, his trusted subordinate whom he had sent to watch over Usman Teacher. Naik had dropped a bombshell: Usman Teacher had been taken ill and moved to J.J. Hospital before Naik had even reached the Jagtap Circle lock-up. Virkar had barked instructions to Naik, asking him to rush to J.J. Hospital. He himself had turned his Bullet in the direction of J.J. and had made it there within fifteen minutes. But when he reached the hospital, he had come to know that Usman Teacher was in the ICU and was being given emergency revival treatment as he had suffered a massive cardiac arrest. Virkar’s own heart had sunk really low, knowing that he would not see Usman alive again. And sure enough, after three hours of waiting, Usman Teacher was declared dead.

  Virkar had found out that after he had left that morning, Usman had had his breakfast, immediately after which he had asked to be taken to the bathroom. But halfway there, he had crumpled and fallen to the floor. At first, the constable accompanying him had assumed that Usman had just fainted but he soon noticed that Usman wasn’t breathing and his face was drained of all colour. The doctor called on the scene had found that Usman had a blocked coronary artery that had spasmed, causing his heart to go into ventricular fibrillation. The thought of asking the doctor to conduct a post-mortem of the contents of Usman’s stomach to check the presence of any sort of poison that could have brought on the heart attack crossed Virkar’s mind, but he checked himself in time. There was no bringing Usman back. The thing to do now was to disassociate himself from the situation, unless he wanted to meet a similar fate.

  Virkar had headed to the Crime Branch Headquarters with a story ready, in case he was brought in to the inquiry that would follow. He would now have to watch every little step of his, knowing that he would come under the scanner since he had met Usman just a short while before he had died. As he entered the office, he decided to take the bull by the horns. He walked straight into ACP Wagh’s cabin and told him everything that Usman had said. He just left out the small part where Usman had insisted that his case be transferred to the CBI, as he was scared for his life. ACP Wagh was a veteran at handling such situations and had asked Virkar to write a full report and file it immediately so that everyone was aware that Virkar had met Usman Teacher before his death. This report would ensure that Virkar, through his actions, had nothing to hide, and even though people might suspect that Usman Teacher had given Virkar some information that could be potentially harmful to them, Virkar was only interested in his own case. Virkar would be seen as a team player and a potential crisis would be averted.

  Virkar had spent the day writing out the report and filing it, all the while making sure that he avoided answering any questions that came his way. He had even avoided Naina’s calls during the day, knowing that he needed to focus on saving his skin rather than indulge in thoughts of sex. As he had left that evening, though, he had called Naina and told her all that had transpired. She had asked him to come over, but he had decided against it—the Anti-Social Network needed his urgent attention, as did Sagarika. Making an excuse, he had headed towards Ferry Wharf after picking up his favourite food and alcohol.

  Now out on the open sea, as he lay on the bench on the deck of the Koli Queen and gazed up at the stars, a plethora of thoughts rushed through his head. By now, Usman’s waiter khabri would have got the news of Usman’s demise and would have dropped off the face of the earth. He was back to square one, but he had something to go by—the mysterious Anti-Social Network Usman had mentioned. Who were the two girls involved in the group along with Kshitij and Rajesh? Were they Sagarika and Nayantara? Who was the boy in the video on Rajesh’s iPod?

  Somewhere between the hundreds of thoughts swimming about in his head, Virkar began to drift into sleep, his tired body now begging for rest. But not before the final question of the evening popped into his mind: Twinkle twinkle little star, kyon meri lagti hai baar baar?

  17

  ‘You’re joking, right?!’ Richard exclaimed, looking at Naina incredulously.

  They were back to the high-ceilinged classroom at Willingdon College, having resumed the counselling session for the first time after the hostage drama that had ensued there. Richard had disappeared again for a few days after the incident and Naina had let him be. She had felt that he needed a break since he had undergone a harrowing experience. But then she had come to know that Richard had been seen lurking around the street where drug dealers plied their wares. She had immediately decided to tighten the screws on him once again and had summoned Richard back to their sessions. Richard had been reluctant but had, once again, given in to her threats of discussing his situation with his parents.

  Now, seated in front of Naina, he had been tuning out her voice until he heard her say, ‘I think you and I should help the police in their investigation of this serial-killer case.’ This got Richard’s undivided attention. His jaw had dropped in shock as he stared at Naina, still reeling from her outrageous suggestion.

  Naina, on her part, was only thinking about engaging Richard’s energies towards more positive pursuits. The alacrity with which Richard had responded to the threat posed by Usman Teacher had impressed Naina to no end. Virkar had expressed his team’s inability to establish a connection with the college students who could perhaps provide important information on the case. The youth were either wary of the police or downright scared, and it was difficult to establish any useful connection in such a scenario. Also, the fact that Richard had computer hacking skills was something that went in his favour. As soon as she had heard about the existence of the Anti-Social Network from Virkar, she had realized that he was out of his depth and needed a young ‘inside man’, so to speak, and she believed that Richard would fit this role beautifully.

  Richard, of course, came up with the standard excuse that his age group was known to use while trying to avoid an important task. ‘My nerves are fried; I need to go to Goa to chill out,’ he said, trying to sound stressed.

  But Naina was not one to back down easily. She tried to spin an elaborate scenario where he was being lauded by the top authorities of the Mumbai Police for capturing miscreants who were blackmailing people. Richard, however, laughed at her suggestion, saying that he had no belief in authority and did not trust the police. After all, he hadn’t even got any credit for helping to capture Usman Teacher. Naina countered his argument by saying, ‘You should learn to appreciate the joys of altruism—helping out others without b
eing selfish.’

  Richard continued to laugh. ‘Don’t do Gandhipanti with me, ma’am. I’ve helped out enough number of people to know that there’s no joy in it.’

  Naina was about to say something when Richard continued, ‘Naina ma’am, I think you have your heart in the right place, but not your head. Have you even considered the dangers of getting mixed up in police investigations?’

  ‘I just want to help Sagarika because my biggest fear is that the police will be ham-handed in their investigation, causing further harm to the fragile psyche of the girl,’ Naina said in all seriousness. ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m ready to do anything towards this end, even if that involves some harmless arm-twisting. After all, how dangerous could a few interactions with Virkar be?’ She fixed a determined eye on Richard and finally threw down the ace that she had kept up her sleeve. ‘I’ll get you off these faltu counselling sessions and will take responsibility for any trouble that you might get into with the authorities.’ From the look on Richard’s face, she knew that she had got him, but she waited for him to say it out land.

  After a couple of minutes of considering her offer, Richard rose from his seat. ‘Okay, done. Just call me when you want me.’ He turned and walked towards the door of the classroom.

  Naina, who was taken by surprise by his abruptness, called out behind him, ‘Where are you going? The counselling session is…’

  ‘…over,’ said Richard, cutting her off mid-sentence. Then, without another word, he walked out of the room, down the staircase and out of the college premises. Somewhere out on the street, a thought suddenly struck him. ‘Shit, man, I won’t be able to snort with the cop around. What did I just sign up for?’

  18