‘Been good. The media keeps you busy, much busier than banks, I guess.’
‘Haha. . . By the way, did your favourite, McCain, call you up before he left from India?’
‘No. He was not particularly fond of me. And you know that.’
‘Yeah. . .but towards the end of his tenure, he became a big fan of yours,’ Tanuja smiled.
‘Never told me that. Chal. I’m getting late for the meeting, I’ll run. Keep in touch.’
‘See you. And if you see Raymond, tell him to call me. Have been trying to get in touch with him.’
‘Cool. Take care.’ Hardly had he disappeared into the waiting elevator that Vikram arrived on the scene. ‘Has the car come?’
‘Not yet, Vikram. Sad na, this Harshita thing?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Aah. . .there.’ Tanuja pointed to her black Honda Accord as the driver brought it round to pick them up.
In the car, Tanuja looked at Vikram. ‘I should tell Indrani na?’
‘I think you should.’
‘Okay, great.’ And she dialled the CEO’s number. In no time she was rattling off all the details to Indrani, who rightfully expressed her deepest anguish but politely declined the offer to meet the parents that day. She was to attend a conclave addressed by the finance minister.
‘Bitch she is.’
‘Why, what happened?’
‘Madam has to go to a party where the finance minister is speaking and hence she can’t meet Harshita’s parents. She says if she visits Juhu today, she will be late for the conclave and the after-party.’
‘Arre, she is the CEO. She can’t be coming to meet parents of all employees who die?’
‘If I die, Vikram, I expect her to visit my parents and offer condolences.’
‘Mad woman, she will come for your funeral. Harshita is too junior for her to even be moved by it.’
‘What’s seniority got to do with it? Isn’t Harshita human, too? Isn’t she an employee of this bank?’
‘Let it be, yaar. Why should we spoil our mood over it?’
‘Hmm. . .yeh bhi sahi hai. Let it be. Forget it. Achcha, guess who I met today?’
Vikram shook his head. ‘Who?’
‘Karan Panjabi.’
‘Really?’ There was a tinge of surprise in his voice and almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘Where?’
‘I met him in the bank lobby. You just missed him. He left a couple of seconds before you came in.’
‘Why was he in the bank?’
‘I asked him. He said he had come in to meet Raymond.’
‘Strange. Why would he meet Raymond? What’s cooking?’
‘I don’t know. I asked him, though. He didn’t say.’
‘Hmm. . .They were good friends even when Karan was with the bank. In fact, Karan was the only boss Raymond got along with.’
‘Hmm.’ And Tanuja started looking out of the window, staring blankly at the buildings go by.
‘Achcha, listen. Now that Harshita is history. . .’
‘That’s rude, Vikram.’
‘Haha. Anyway, now that we are faced with this unprecedented and tragic situation, we need to put our sorrow behind us and look at what we need to do at the Bandra Branch, to take care of her accounts.’
‘Vikram, don’t be so cold. Your senior RM has just died. Can we discuss the succession plan later? And in any case, I don’t need to be party to that discussion; it’s in your remit.’
‘I know, baby. But the entire world knows that you run Retail Banking and not me.’ He winked at her and lifted her left hand, which was intertwined with his right, and brought it up to his lips and kissed it.
‘Vikram, not here. Are you mad,’ she whispered. She was worried the driver would see. Drivers are known to gossip about everything said or discussed in the car. In fact, when Vikram called her ‘baby’ earlier, she wanted to stop him, but her mind was far too slow to react.
‘Haha,’ Vikram laughed.
Both were silent for a while as the car drove on to the sea link and entered the reclamation area of Bandra.
‘Achcha, tell me. What do you think of Zinaida?’ This time it was Tanuja.
‘About what?’
‘About her big and shapely mouth. About her ability to give you a great blow job. About her sexy figure. Her ability to be an awesome fuck,’ she said tartly. ‘Obviously I am asking you about her work. What else will I ask you about?’
‘Haha. . .anything!’ And he lifted his eyebrows, moving his head to indicate the driver was listening in and so she should watch her language.
Tanuja just looked the other way.
‘Do you think she will be able to do Harshita’s role? Will she be able to manage? Should we give it to her?’
‘Ask Nikhil. Ask Anand. How would I know? All I know is that she is hot.’ Vikram was a bit peeved at Tanuja’s sarcasm.
Tanuja made a face.
‘Kidding ya. She is good, but she has been in the system for less than a year.’
‘Yes, I know. But she has done very well. Might as well give her the job and see how she performs. Unless we throw these youngsters into the water, how will we know they can swim or not? It will also serve as a shot in the arm for the entire batch of MTs.’
‘Your call. You run the Retail Banking, don’t you?’
‘I think we should bite the bullet and give it to her. As HR I don’t have any issues.’
‘Yes sweetheart. I just have to make sure there are no other sensitivities involved. And we also have to be mindful about the audit issues that have been raised in Bandra on account of her indiscretion.’
‘Yes Vikram. That’s more of a training issue. If we take care of that, isn’t she an excellent resource?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘I have, in any case, a replacement candidate in mind to take Zinaida’s job when we move her up. I’ll ask Yogesh Bhargav to formally send the CV.’
Vikram smiled. He just squeezed Tanuja’s hand to show his concurrence. They were about to reach the Bandra branch. Nikhil, Anand and the branch Customer Service Manager were waiting for them on the road outside the branch. When they saw Vikram and Tanuja, Anand and Nikhil hopped into the car.
‘Let’s follow that car,’ said Nikhil, pointing to a blue Hyundai i10 in front. ‘Kalpesh knows their residence.’ Kalpesh was the Branch Service Manager and had been to Harshita’s parents’ house a few times. No one had any clue where Siddhartha’s parents lived, but that was not too much of a concern. In any case, Harshita’s parents would know.
18
Fraud Control Unit
GB2
30th January 2012
On Monday morning, Unmukt reached office before Shankar. By then, Hemant had already replied to the case report they mailed him on Saturday.
‘Guys, is this the way a case report is filed? Half the details are missing! All I can make out is the card number and the fact that you guys went to Inorbit mall on receiving a call from the store. The person in possession of the card turned out to be holding someone else’s card and was arrested. I can’t see anything on who the customer is, what his background is, is this a good card / bad card. . .and, most importantly, your analysis. . .disappointed. Remember, Madh Island parties are secondary. If you have a job to do, that comes first. Please resend with complete details. Want it in the next couple of hours.’
It was an extremely caustic mail. He was on to the fact that they hurried things up because they did not want to miss the team party at Madh Island. By that time Shankar too was in and Unmukt told him about the mail.
‘Okay,’ Shankar sighed, pulling out his laptop and keeping the bag by the side of his workstation. ‘What a start to a Monday morning!’
This time around, the two rookie officers of the fraud control team logged into the cards system and got into the details.
‘Arre, he is a staff of our bank!’ exclaimed Shankar.
‘Of course not. The card number does not pertain to a staff card series.’
‘
Yes, Unmukt. It’s not. . .for some strange reason, it doesn’t reflect as a staff card, but the cardholder’s work address is that of Bandra Branch!’ He read out the address. ‘Pranesh Rao, Banking Assistant, GB2, Turner Road, Bandra West, Mumbai.’ He turned towards Unmukt, ‘Know him?’
‘No.’
‘Let’s call the branch and tell them about it.’
‘Cool. I’ll get myself a coffee. Need it very badly. Why don’t you call and let them know?’ Unmukt disappeared towards the pantry.
By the time Unmukt returned, a lot had changed. Shankar looked shell-shocked. He saw Unmukt and tried to say something. Words failed him. His lips were moving, but no words came out. He started coughing uncontrollably.
‘Shankar. Are you alright? What happened?’ Unmukt picked up a glass of water lying on Shankar’s table and gave it to him. ‘Settle down. Settle down. Drink some water.’
Shankar drank some water, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at Unmukt. ‘Remember the guy who died in a road accident on the Eastern Express Highway some time back?’
‘Yes.’
‘Pranesh is the same guy. This is the same guy who died. See!’ He moved his monitor to face Unmukt. The intranet page carrying an orbituary for Pranesh was open. ‘See. This is the guy.’
‘What the fuck?’ Unmukt exclaimed, looking at the screen and intermittently at Shankar. He forgot to bat his eyelids.
‘How the hell is his card with Lyndon?’
‘Don’t know!’ He typed some commands on the computer and brought up some details on the screen. ‘Look at his transactions.’
Both of them stared at the screen for a while. ‘Scroll down,’ Unmukt said, telling Shankar to go to the next screen.
‘F5,’ said Shankar, simultaneously pressing the F5 button on the keyboard.
‘Hmm. . .’ Both went quiet. They were looking at the transactions in Pranesh’s account.
‘Pranesh was a heavy user of this card. Two days before he died, he had paid the entire outstanding for the month. Nothing strange about that, since he had paid up his bill on the due date. It’s an auto-debit to his joint savings account with some woman— the name sounds like it’s his mom. Even on the day of his death there were three transactions on this card. And then. . .’ Shankar stopped and looked at Unmukt.
‘There was a lull. No transactions for a long, long time. Which can only be in case the card got stolen after he died and. . .’
‘Whoever stole the card lay low till temptation got the better of him and he started using it.’
‘Yes, Shankar. And since Pranesh was dead, no one complained about the lost card. And our cards team, like idiots, assumed he only had a staff card and hot-listed that when HR informed the cards team about his death. No one blocked this card. And when Lyndon started using this card a few days back, the transactions got authorized.’
‘Correct. But the question is, how did Lyndon get the card?’
Almost simultaneously both of them banged the table. ‘Oh fuck. . .yes!’
‘The only way Lyndon could have got the card was if he was on site when Pranesh met with the accident. And seeing him injured or dead, he quietly relieved him of some of his possessions and went his way.’
‘Or. . .’ mused Shankar.
‘Or? Or what? What could be the other option?’
‘If Lyndon was the guy responsible for the accident.’
‘Oh shit! Yes. Why didn’t I think of it? Shanks, it could get messy. I think we should bounce this up.’ Shankar nodded his concurrence.
The two of them immediately got up and walked straight to the room of Hemant Aldangadi, the Head of the Fraud Control Unit for GB2. Hemant was a very perceptive guy whose intuition was his strength. He invariably went by gut feeling, which was seldom wrong.
Shankar narrated the entire story to Hemant, from the time they got a call from Spencer’s to the cops coming in and taking away Lyndon. The cursory check they did on the system on Saturday and Monday morning and what all they found out.
‘Lyndon is not a thief. He is a murderer!’ exclaimed a horrified Hemant.
‘We can’t be a hundred per cent sure, though it seems to be a strong possibility,’ Unmukt responded smartly.
‘Possibility my foot!’ the small five-foot-one frame of Hemant seemed like a demon when he shouted at the top of his voice. ‘If he crashed into Pranesh and killed him and subsequently got tempted and stole the card, he is a murderer. If he was not involved in the accident, but found him critically wounded and didn’t do anything about saving him, but stole his card and ran away, he is still a murderer in my eyes.’ Shankar and Unmukt nodded their heads in unison. They had so much to learn from Hemant.
‘It’s not about a stolen card any more. It’s about the murder of a colleague. He can’t get away with it. Which police station did they take him to?’ Hemant asked, looking at Shankar.
‘Malad West.’
‘Let’s go.’ Grabbing his car keys, mobile phone and wallet, he strode towards the lift.
While driving to the Malad west police station, Hemant called the Asst. Commissioner of Police (ACP) of that sub-division from his mobile. He briefed him about the entire incident. The ACP promised to reach the Malad West Police Station in thirty minutes. It was quite normal for the collections and fraud control unit of banks to have cops on their payroll. It helped them when they wanted to get something done or whenever they got into trouble. But this ACP was not one of those. Hemant had helped him crack a few cases and hence the ACP was obligated to Hemant.
By the time they entered the police station, the ACP was already there.
‘We have run a background check,’ the ACP announced after they settled into the chair opposite him. ‘This guy is a bits and pieces guy. Runs all kinds of errands. Drives auto rickshaws at times. Has a family. Wife ran away a year ago. No children. Lives in the chawl near the fisherman’s colony in Khar Dhanda, on the outskirts of Bandra. He doesn’t have a criminal history, nor is he a regular charge-sheeter. And here, take this,’ he handed a bunch of papers to Hemant, ‘I’ve pulled out all the case details of your employee’s accident. Seems a regular accident only.’
‘Can’t be, ACP,’ retorted Hemant. ‘No one can be so cold-blooded that he would steal a credit card off a dead man. He has to be a seasoned criminal, a heartless person to have done such a deed.’
‘Or a dying man,’ added Unmukt, only to get a glare from Hemant. The latter never liked to be interrupted. He had his own ego, which had to be massaged at all times. He was the boss and he liked to show it.
‘I have a gut feeling that this guy killed Pranesh. For what. . .I don’t know. Only he can tell us.’
‘Hmm. . .’ the ACP smiled. It was so difficult to find cops who smile during an intense discussion. ‘Your gut has often proven to be true.’
‘Not often, ACP. Always.’
‘Yes. That’s what I meant. Always. Your gut has always proven to be true. So I will back it. Let me ask for a location report on his mobile phone. Maybe that should help.’
In India, anything is possible with a little bit of jugaad. The cops, and even Hemant, knew someone inside the cell phone company. Verbal information flow was fine, permissions were required only if something was to be given in writing. In this case, all they needed was a verbal confirmation of the location of Lyndon’s cell phone on that fateful night, and that was possible with a little bit of jugaad.
‘Let me talk to the fucker,’ said the ACP as he got up and walked towards the lockup.
‘Will you have a problem if I am with you when you are interrogating him?’
‘No, Hemant. But you can’t touch him. I will be in deep shit, if word gets out that a civilian beat up a suspect in the lock-up.’
‘I am not that naïve, ACP. Let’s go.’
Lyndon was not the normal hard-nosed criminal one would have imagined. Frail, unshaven and a man in fear, Lyndon was looking at them, hoping they would set him free.
‘So you are saying you
found this card on the road.’
‘Yes, s-s-s-sir.’ There was a stammer in Lyndon’s voice.
‘Where did you find this card?’
‘Close to my house, sir. On Khar Dhanda road, somewhere near Cotton Cottage.’
‘When was this?’
‘Many months back, sir. I think sometime in May or June last year.’ Hemant remembered Pranesh died in early June.
‘What time of the day was it?’
‘Late at night, sir. Around 11.00 p.m. I was standing by my bike, smoking, when I saw this card on the road.’
Hemant looked at the papers. ‘At 10.50 p.m. on 7th June, the card holder filled petrol in his bike and paid using this card. That was the last transaction, for a long, long time, before you started reusing this card last week.’
A smile came on Lyndon’s face. ‘Yes yes. . .maybe he dropped it after that. That’s how I found it,’ He was relieved he had the time right.
‘Asshole!’ screamed Hemant. ‘He filled petrol on the Eastern Express Highway and you claim to have found it on Khar Dhanda road, twenty kilometres away, at 11.00 p.m. Chutiya samjha hai kya? Out with the truth! Otherwise you won’t get out of this place alive!’ Hemant knew that there was the small statistical probability that someone stole the card off Pranesh and later lost it or wilfully threw it away, which was later found by Lyndon, in which case Lyndon could be telling the truth. The mobile records of Lyndon and his whereabouts on that fateful night would be the key to prove his involvement in the crime.
‘I am speaking the truth, sir. Believe me.’
Thuddddd. . .a slap landed on his left cheek. Even before he could react, another one landed on his right. Blood started oozing out of his nostrils. ‘Aww, I didn’t know criminals were so delicate,’ thundered the ACP. ‘Can’t even take two slaps. It couldn’t have been after that, because on 7th June Pranesh died. Three hours after the last transaction on his card, he died.’ Another slap landed on Lyndon’s jaw. ‘Imagine how Pranesh would have cried when he was killed.’
The interrogation went on for the next forty-five minutes. It only abated when a constable walked in with a sheet of paper and handed it over to the DGP. The DGP read it and looked at Hemant. ‘I always knew that you were right,’ was all he said before he handed the paper to him.
The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian) Page 14