Dead in a Mumbai Minute

by Madhumita Bhattacharyya

  I didn’t say anything. I found that I couldn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry. None of this should have happened. Not now, not when I haven’t even begun to …’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘The pressure is getting intense, Reema. If something were to happen to me, there are things you need to know.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Shayak?’ I interrupted. ‘Why would something happen to you?’

  ‘The police are coming for me.’

  ‘I know. But I thought we could fight it. Clear it up.’

  ‘They have enough to get me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I might not be able to help it. Ajay has stalled it as long as he could.’

  ‘What’s going on?

  ‘I don’t know how much I can tell you. There might not be a lot of time, Reema, and you are going to be on your own soon.’

  ‘All the more reason for you to be honest with me.’

  ‘First tell me you are equipped to handle this on your own.’

  ‘Go rogue? I thought I already had.’ I told him about shifting base from office to home, enlisting the help of Terrence. On my part, it was no sacrifice. It was Shayak who had kept telling me that we should try to work within the system. My own experience with authority hadn’t always been good, and I chose to operate at its fringes.

  ‘It is going to get far lonelier before this is through,’ he said.

  ‘But why are the police after you on these ridiculous charges, all of a sudden, if you always work together?’ I asked.

  ‘I have made things a little uncomfortable for some people in power in the past few months,’ he said.

  ‘Still not making sense. I need you to start at the beginning.’

  ‘I don’t know where that is.’

  ‘What is the source of your influence with almost everyone who counts, and what is the cause of the sudden animosity?’

  Shayak stared me straight in the face, and did not look inclined to share.

  ‘If this is in any way pertinent to the investigation into these murders, I need to know, Shayak.’

  He closed his eyes. ‘It’s a long, complicated story and there are no shortcuts.’ He poured us both some more water, biding his time, collecting his thoughts.

  ‘So much goes under the radar of the common man in this city. Outside the realm of politics, there are forces within the administration that want things to be handled quietly, efficiently. Titanium is the natural choice.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Our low profile helps no end. And generally, I was one of their foot-soldiers for long enough to know how they like things done.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was an intelligence agent.’

  ‘RAW?’

  He shook his head. ‘It was a clandestine wing of the military that was set up before my time. The closest equivalent I could give you was the National Security Group. The task was to do whatever was required in whatever situation was presented to us. I grew to lead it and, on many occasions, that meant I reported to none but the highest offices of the country.’

  That explained his deep web of contacts. ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘I can’t really tell you the operational details, you have to understand that.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘It was my first ever job. When I began, I was green and willing to do whatever it took to prove myself. Eventually, what they were asking got to be too much. I believed I could do more actual good – and less harm – outside the establishment.’

  ‘It was an amicable parting?’

  ‘Amicable enough that Titanium’s bread and butter are government – often military – assignments,’ he said. ‘Very few people know what I have just told you within or outside of the company; I trust you will keep it to yourself.’

  ‘Of course, but there must be plenty of talk.’

  ‘Till they have a confirmation, it doesn’t really matter.’

  I could see I would get nothing more specific out of Shayak yet. And still it explained so much. Everything, in fact, about Titanium. The secrecy, Shayak’s long disappearances. And why putting Shayak Gupta’s face in every newspaper in the country could have devastating consequences.

  He took a sip of water. I waited for him to continue and, at last, he did. ‘You remember the shootout at the warehouse?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your journalist friend was right: I was there. Titanium was called in to investigate, as the police suspected a connection to a case we had worked on some time ago.’

  ‘Tell me about the old investigation.’

  ‘No one inside Titanium has heard what you are about to hear. Remember the blast in Worli two years ago?’

  How could I forget it? It had been a powerful explosion. Fatalities had been low because it had occurred in a deserted building, but two policemen and three civilians who had been passing were killed. The strength of the device had sparked fear and, with the spectre of serial blasts always looming over the city, it had caused panic.

  ‘What no one knew was that the bomb was made from explosives from the Ordnance Factory. The police decided to bury this piece of information and, when a terrorist outfit took responsibility for it, things played right into their hands. An investigation was launched, the usual suspects rounded up and a suitable fall guy obtained.’

  ‘Any explanation of how the explosives were acquired and by whom?’

  ‘Before we got that far in the investigation, I was stopped by the then commissioner from moving ahead. By the time Ajay was appointed, the trail had gone cold. But from what we saw, this was someone we hadn’t dealt with before. It was not the Mumbai gangs or any of the other terrorist groups that Titanium or the police were familiar with.’

  ‘Motive?’

  ‘The building was being used as a temporary hold for seized drugs. About 250 kg of drugs had been found in a succession of lorries coming in from Goa, and the entire consignment disappeared following the blast.’

  ‘A high-intensity explosion to steal drugs? That hardly seems efficient when a bribe in the right quarters would probably have sufficed.’

  Shayak shot me a smile. ‘Exactly what was bothering me about it. More so, because one of the officers killed, Ajay’s predecessor Daanish Alam, was one of the brightest to have entered the force in some time. He was moving up fast, had a reputation for incorruptibility and was taking the gangs head on.’

  ‘So the drugs …’

  ‘Merely an added perk. In all likelihood, Daanish had been the real target, and the bomb and drugs served to diffuse that.’

  ‘What did Daanish know?’

  ‘That’s the problem. He knew too much about almost everyone in Mumbai. He was relentless. But the methods, the explosives – it all pointed to someone we weren’t familiar with. That, coupled with the drugs haul, led me to believe that whoever was behind those shipments must also be involved with the blast. But then we were called off the case.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The commissioner said they had caught the people behind it, who belonged to the terrorist outfit that claimed credit.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I didn’t buy the story and couldn’t let it go. Daanish was a good man, and a friend. I knew that if someone had taken such a risk to kill him, what they were hiding was a serious affair. But I got busy, and it was only earlier this year that I started following up on leads.’

  ‘What have you learnt?’

  ‘I matched the explosives to an ordnance factory in Goa. The lorries smuggling drugs were coming from there, and I was able to confirm that they were loaded in Goa itself. But as soon as I started asking questions, I got another call. This time not from the police, but from a minister. The message was clear: Back off, no conditions.’

  ‘But why were you called in after the recent shootout in that case?’

  ‘Special request from Ajay. No one was supposed to know. But of course, it got out. As what I am now considering direct fallout of t
hat, one of our most sensitive operations in the Middle East was cancelled, and I have been overseas bringing our team back to safety as soon as I could.’

  Thus his dropping off the grid. ‘And how is any of this related to Afreen’s murder?’

  ‘It may not be connected at all – I think they found a good way to get rid of me.’

  ‘But someone chose this moment to get scared enough to go through all this trouble to frame you.’

  ‘Yes, but we have too little to establish why.’

  ‘Your sources can’t tell you who it is that ordered you off?’

  ‘No, and that is what frightens me.’

  ‘So how do you suggest I proceed?’

  ‘I am at a loss. I have been working with extreme caution, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so as not to precipitate this situation. But now the die has been cast. All I can suggest is that you concentrate on solving the cases you have.’

  ‘That includes Afreen’s murder?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Since I am the prime suspect,’ he added with a smile. ‘I was wrong about that.’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll need the material on the shootout as well.’

  ‘No. I won’t burden you any further, and there is no evidence of a connection. Besides, there isn’t much material that’s not in my head.’

  ‘How useful.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll be out in time to be of some real help.’

  ‘Out of where?’

  ‘Lock-up. Jail. Wherever they stash me.’

  ‘You can’t go to jail!’

  ‘And maybe I won’t.’

  ‘Why don’t you run?’

  ‘That will achieve nothing apart from creating an illusion of guilt. And don’t forget that I am hardly a friendless, anonymous Mumbai man. I’ll be dealt with quickly and fairly.’

  ‘How can you be sure when you don’t even know whom you are up against?’

  ‘Ye of little faith.’

  ‘What if you are wrong?’

  ‘Then I have you on the outside. You’ll find the real killer and get me out.’

  Shayak smiled and I felt the panic rise to choke me. He didn’t miss the fleeting fear, and he reached out to run his fingers across my cheek.

  ‘I’m asking a lot of you.’

  ‘Too much.’ I stood up and I turned away. I heard the chair scrape the floor as he stood up.

  ‘I know you,’ he said, his mouth dangerously close to my ear, hands on my shoulders.

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘I know what I need to know. You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re independent. You don’t need me for this.’

  He turned me around. There were barely six inches between us. He was still too far. But the anger I felt was like a wall between us.

  ‘Break it down to its littlest pieces,’ he said.

  ‘And then it is as easy as pie?’

  ‘The more I tell you, the more occluded it will all get.’

  I shook my head, and took a ragged breath. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Attagirl. Now quickly,’ said Shayak, ‘tell me what you know.’

  I told him about clearing Viraat, nailing Raj for the theft of the watch and even the progress I had made in the Pratap Puri affair.

  ‘How about that,’ he said. ‘You’ve already solved three cases.’

  ‘Don’t patronize me,’ I said. ‘You still haven’t heard about the Afreen business.’

  He didn’t seem surprised that I had pursued it.

  ‘I only went as far as I needed to establish her identity.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Shayak said dryly.

  ‘She ran away from home in Calcutta to make a name for herself in Bollywood. Work was impossible to find, and she became a call girl. However, her luck was turning, thanks to a sugar daddy of some kind.’

  Then I heard the door open and the sound of footsteps on the hard cement ground. I stepped back but didn’t turn around to look; I already knew who would be standing there.

  ‘Ajay,’ said Shayak.

  ‘Sorry to have to do this,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s get it over with.’

  Shayak moved towards him as I stood rooted to my spot. When I finally turned around, my eyes met Ajay’s and I saw surprise there, and a hint of something else. He didn’t handcuff Shayak but simply led him away, a constable trailing in their wake.

  I waited till I heard their car pull away before I exited, turning off the light and closing the door behind me as though I was doing nothing more than leaving office for the day.

  And then, with terror in my heart, I walked into the night.

  FIFTEEN

  In a fog, I got out of the lift in my building to almost stumble upon Terrence squatting on the ground, back against my door. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said.

  ‘I’ve been trying to call you for an hour,’ he said.

  I had switched off my phone on entering the warehouse, and had forgotten to turn it back on. ‘What about?’ I said, fishing through my bag for the keys.

  ‘I may have learned something about Afreen that could be of help.’

  ‘Come in.’ We walked in and I threw my bag on the sofa, collapsing beside it.

  ‘I wanted–’

  ‘Shh. Just wait.’ I couldn’t think yet. I put on a pot of coffee and ordered Chinese from a nearby restaurant. Then I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I watched myself in the mirror till I felt emptied of emotion. Then I went back out, poured the coffee and took a seat. ‘Now talk,’ I said.

  ‘Afreen recently wrote to her parents.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘My guy met them.’

  I had no idea Terrence was still pursuing that angle. ‘She apologized for what had happened, and said that she was working in films, thanks to her new friends, and had seen the way to her truth. Used those words over and over again.’

  ‘Strange.’

  ‘Hindu girl adopting a Muslim name, quoting what sounds to me like scripture,’ said Terrence.

  ‘I’ve heard that phrase before.’

  ‘Been hanging about in church of late?’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Where had I come across those exact words? It couldn’t have been so long ago. The more I tried to remember, I knew, the harder it would be. ‘Anyway, go on.’

  ‘Well, her parents were thrilled to hear from her at all. They wrote back, asking her what she was doing and when they could visit. She replied to say that she didn’t have a place for them to stay but after this new film she was working on, she should be able to afford a nicer flat, so they should wait awhile.’

  ‘Did she say anything else about these friends of hers?’

  ‘No. Couldn’t you ask the crowd at Maaya Island?’ Terrence suggested.

  I shook my head. ‘None of them know her very well. She was so out of place there.’

  And then it came to me, the mention of Maaya Island jolting my memory. ‘I have heard that expression before! In a conversation at Kimaaya’s place between two women. It sounded like one was giving the other a message from someone else. Something about remembering the way to the truth.’

  ‘Which women?’

  ‘That’s the thing – I didn’t see them.’

  ‘Any guesses?’

  ‘I think it is safe to assume one of them was Afreen.’

  ‘Spreading the good word?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that was it. It sounded like a veiled threat almost, and most likely it was Afreen being intimidated.’ She had seemed so scared, so uncertain during our conversation that day after the lunch with Bindu Bisht. ‘It sounded like someone was reminding her about a debt of gratitude.’

  Any idea what it could have been about?’

  ‘No.’ I ran a tired hand through my hair and gave it a tug.

  ‘Coincidence?’

  Shayak believed in coincidence, I did not. ‘I don’t think so. We need to find out where these two cases overlap to make sense of any of it,’ I said.

  But befo
re I came to any conclusions, it was time to pare it down to just the facts. ‘The journalist Prashant Parashar definitely had made contact with Dhingre, and now in all probability has disappeared himself. Let’s start there,’ I said.

  ‘Right.’

  I grabbed a piece of chart paper and started to write in big block letters. ‘Dhingre was not at the island to blackmail Kimaaya – he was there to warn her. The journalist was the source of the information that came from a person I believe may be the killer.’

  ‘What about motive? To destroy Kimaaya’s career?’ said Terrence.

  ‘Why? She was hardly a threat to anyone at this stage. And if it was about putting her out of commission, why not attack her instead of her has-been agent?’

  ‘What about her stalker guy? He could have unresolved issues.’

  ‘He has an alibi for Dhingre’s death, and has no connection to Afreen.’

  ‘So who else could it be? Nothing else makes any sense.’

  In the light of Shayak’s latest revelations and his being framed in Afreen’s murder, there was a possibility that needed to be considered: What if none of this was about Kimaaya at all? What if it had nothing to do with secret marriages and divorces, or blackmail and extortion or Bollywood? What if it was about bringing down Shayak?

  The marriage data was leaked. Not to harm Kimaaya but to put the spotlight on Shayak. To make him India’s most famous face. To expose him and thereby to compromise the covert operations that depended on his anonymity. Dhingre was killed only incidentally, to stop him from going to Kimaaya with what he knew, which could potentially have prevented the scandal.

  Then why kill Afreen? She must have known something. But not about Kimaaya – about Dhingre’s killer. About Shayak. Was it something she had seen?

  I was suddenly certain. ‘None of this is about Kimaaya,’ I said, telling Terrence what I could about Shayak’s arrest.

  ‘Well, that changes everything,’ he said.

  ‘But I can’t figure out how Afreen fits.’

  ‘What do we know about her?’

  ‘Call girl who wanted out. Starlet just making it in Bollywood. One of her clients, or perhaps a boyfriend, got her a big break.’

  ‘Who is he? A producer? This is Bollywood we are talking about. This guy could be all kinds of criminal.’