by Vadhan
‘What in the name of Heavens are you talking about?’ Govind barked, having finally lost patience. He wished Karan was here. His uncle would know how to deal with the idiot.
‘Patience my child, patience. I will pave the way for you, I say, I am there for you.’
‘Very heartening I am sure, but I see things better when I understand them,’ Govind said condescendingly.
‘There’s been a battle between life and death itself in the little village of Gudem. Life lost but not before it curtailed death with its own magic. The magic prevented death from spreading out and that gave life respite to rebound into action, for life is nothing if it is not eternal.’
Govind shook his head derisively. Karan Kiromal had often complained that the Swamiji had a way of ranting and raving about stuff no one really understood.
‘What should I do?’ he asked finally.
The tantrik gave him a hard look, ‘Kill Surya. I say, kill him.’
That was clear, but if it was also part of the raving and ranting exercise, Govind was not sure.
‘We can gain access to the place without killing him. We’re almost there.’
The tantrik turned his furious bloodshot gaze on Govind, it made the Minister squirm.
‘Fool, I say fool. The court may not prevent you from access to the hall and so too it may not prevent Surya. However, the Agniputr can destroy you. Your uncle knows what the Agniputr can do. I say, you are too young. Do not fight me, work with me, I say, work with me. It is imperative. If Surya has been on the trail of the God for this long, I fear he might already have the means to destroy it. No, I say no, you must kill Surya.’
Govind stood stunned, ‘What do you mean destroy the God, how can Surya do that?’
‘I cannot know everything. All I know is that...Surya’s death is critical.’
Govind had already made up his mind. It would be a pleasure to bump off the son of a bitch. ‘Ok, Swamiji,’ he said diminutively.
The man inside the army base unit in one of the buildings in the guest house was a lip reader, he had been taught to read lips as part of his training as a spy. He was also good at electronic surveillance. That was why he was in charge of the receiver dish directed towards Govind Kiromal and the tantrik. He was a frustrated spy because the damned dish did not work. All that it was able to spew out was static, especially when the tonsured man was around. He most probably had some kind of a scrambling device on his person; that was the only explanation possible.
The sleuth’s field glasses came to his rescue, that and his lip reading prowess. He had to confess that there was not much he understood of what was said. The two things he did understand were that the Minister wanted to kick RAW out as early as possible and Raghuram Surya was in danger. The sleuth picked up the compact dull black mobile phone and dialled a number.
CHAPTER 30
AMIT picked up the phone on the first ring. He always did, when it was the blue phone. It was an older Nokia model, a lucky phone. Only a few people knew the number, clients Amit valued above all else. It was the primary rule of his game that he did not ever act against the interests of his clients, no matter what the cost. This distinguished him from most players in the field. It also made him less affordable, but then, the people who really mattered did not care much for money, not when it was their lives at stake. Amit never failed. At least he hadn’t, thus far. His clients would rather have him by their side than against them. However, he operated in such exalted and air tight circles that not many people knew of him.
No one really knew his last name. As a matter of fact, he did not limit himself to one last name. He adopted several. It suited him. He was anyone he wanted to be, especially dead people. Amit chose names of people who died young, probably in an accident, and had been cremated. That way, the records in India were very fuzzy, it’d take months to trace an identity and by the time, Amit would have changed to another identity just as easily.
Of average build with no distinguishing marks, Amit had placid dark brown hair that tended to curl at the ears if he let it grow long enough. His eyes, though, were sharp, catching everything relevant to his scenarios.
Amit did not kill for free and neither did he derive any pleasure from it. It was just that somebody had to do it and he figured it might as well be him because he was good at it.
Some disagreed.
They claimed he was the best.
Amit did not care for titles or ranks, all that mattered to him was the money and he had amassed a lot of it, in cash and kind. Each of his identities had a bank account, a few of them were even assessed to income tax, they did business with other aliases and earned tax accounted income. Amit figured he had to retire some day and when he did fade into the woodwork, many of his doppelgangers would die and he’d retain just a few, not more than five, some with legitimate income and others with slush funds.
‘Hello?’ he enquired gently into the phone.
‘Jackie, are you online?’
‘I will be.’
‘I’ve sent you an e-mail with an image and a few background details.’
‘Ok...’ said ‘Jackie’.
‘The money is already transferred.’
The line went dead. Amit placed the phone back in its made-to-order Kevlar holster, it was an important tool that needed protection.
He opened a Dell laptop and clicked the browser, he logged on to his e-mail service through a dedicated internet line. One of his aliases owned the internet connection. If at all someone traced the connection, his alias would simply disappear. Amit lit a Marlboro Light. By the time he had finished smoking the cigarette, the photo was downloaded. It was a scanned copy with the addresses written down at the bottom.
Raghuram Surya.
A Gurgaon address and the target’s current location, Gudem, West Godavari District, Andhra Pradesh, forty-six kilometres from the District Headquarters, Eluru. There was also a brief note in a document format. He downloaded it and read the history of the target. It was important to know the history, it told him about the man, his life, actions and reactions. Apparently the target was a fairly good shot himself and was also trained in hand to hand combat. Aikido. Amit was amused when he read that the target had a glad eye and a very active sex life.
Was the target screwing around with the wife or daughter of the high and mighty? Or worse still, was he humping a beloved mistress? Amit did not care in the least. They were just thoughts to play around with. He preferred the warmth of his own home and the arms of his wife. Two of his aliases were happily married men and he lived both their lives whenever time permitted. It was a pity one of his wives would be a widow soon when the alias died.
Such was life.
It was six in the evening when his phone rang, the display read, ‘Sci-fi’, the nickname he had given Sheila. Raghu answered it, expecting to hear her voice; instead a male voice rumbled languidly, ‘Is this Raghuram Surya?’
He confirmed that it was.
‘Sheila is with me right now and we need to talk to you.’
Alarm bells rang out. ‘Is she in danger?’
‘Not at all, just worried I think, for you.’
‘And who might you be?’
There was silence at the other end, ‘It is best we don’t discuss that on the phone. Rest assured that I don’t mean you harm.’
Raghu racked his head to recall if he knew voice.
He did.
He just could not place it.
Yet.
‘All right, when and where do you want to meet?’
‘Right away might be a good idea,’ the caller droned. ‘Eluru. There’s a bar in Hotel Manorama. Be there. Bring someone with you, armed if possible.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
The line went dead.
Raghuram parked the Xenon a short distance from Hotel Manorama at six thirty-nine in the evening. The ride had been a roller coaster, one could tell by the way a dazed Poti slid out of the passenger seat and adjusted the automat
ic pistol tucked into his trousers. Raghu started a fast paced walk towards the bar with Poti, who had crossed the road, slightly behind Raghu. It was a Thursday night at the bar room and the pre-weekend crowd had already filled the place. The smell of alcohol and deep fried meat filled the room; the buzz of conversation intermixed merrily with loud laughter.
As Raghu walked into the bar, a hush came over the place. Even in the half light of the bar room his height was a dead giveaway. A few chairs scraped closer to tables, a few of the patrons half rose and shook his hands, and some others greeted him with the traditional namastes while a few others turned away, not willing to be recognised by the Surya heir.
Raghu acknowledged their greetings and managed by and large to keep from peering at them. On the farthest corner of the room, a hand went up unsteadily and dropped the moment he acknowledged the sign with his own. He walked to the table, wary and ready for action. He was almost near the table without incident when it happened.
‘You! What are you doing here? Have you come to kill all of us?’ the voice was loud and slurred as the drunken speaker surged from his chair.
Raghu whisked around at once. He found a tall lanky individual glaring at him.
‘Do I know you?’
‘Know me? Know me? Why you...you ruined me. My family name is mud because of you. Everybody thinks we are devil worshippers.’
‘No one thinks that except you Valaneni, shut up and let him pass,’ a bored voice called out from somewhere in the semidarkness. Valaneni waved away the comment with an unsteady hand.
‘You killed my friend. Sathi was about to get married. S2’s dead too, she killed herself. She was heartbroken. Do you know how many people are dead because of you and your family?’
‘Are you Gopalam Valaneni’s son?’ Raghu asked.
‘No, I am his grandson. I have been waiting long enough for revenge, Surya scum!’
The entire bar room fell silent, no one said anything; no one moved an inch.
‘I am sorry your grandfather died, friend, my father died that night too.’
Valaneni spat on the floor. ‘Who cares? What did we get from you, a piece of land and some money, that’s it? Is that the value of my grandfather’s sacrifice? I should be entitled to half your fucking money,’ he screamed.
Raghu’s smile froze Valaneni. Dracula himself could not have managed a more vampirish grimace, had he wanted to.
‘Will you stop pitying yourself if I give you the money right now?’
Valaneni sputtered out something incomprehensible and lunged at Raghuram. Then the entire world went topsy turvy for the drunken man. One moment he was at Surya’s throat and the next, his arm started to really hurt and he was flying across the room until he landed head first on a table. In a flash, his moment of revenge ended. It was over. Valaneni was snoring gently amidst the ruins of the table.
‘Well, now he can’t complain, he had his chance,’ someone said, a few people laughed. Raghu glared at all of them as though he was about to pick his next victim. The crowd shrank from him and the laughter died a premature death.
‘Is this a joke to you people? That man has been hurting for a long time and I didn’t even know he existed. His grandfather died for my father and all you can do is laugh at him? You should have supported the man, stood by his side, for god’s sake; he’s one of you, one of us.’
The entire bar room fell silent again.
‘Ok...Surya, stop your sermons and get on with your business. Your time is past. We don’t have to listen to you,’ someone shouted.
‘Who said that?’ It was a roar.
The entire bar turned around to stare at the short man at the door.
‘Ae Musti lanjakoduku koosadu ra? Pinjari na kodaka.’
The swear words were vile. Even for Eluru. Poti was livid with rage. The gun in his hand was rock steady.
Another bout of pin drop silence followed and then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Raghu walked to the corner table, Poti pocketed his weapon and sauntered in. People went back to their affairs. Whispered conversations followed, some left and others ordered for more drinks. The manager of the establishment, who had been watching the whole thing from the side-lines, allowed his heart to recede back into its cavity.
The unknown caller and his companion were as still as statues, watching the entire drama that had unfolded. One of them wore a baseball cap. The other was bareheaded. Raghu recognised the bareheaded man as Kant, the army man. He was able to place the voice on the phone with the face he saw now. The one wearing the cap took it off for a fleeting moment and put it back again.
Sheila!
Raghu lowered himself into one of the chairs such that he was opposite Sheila and the army guy. A handsome man, strong jaw, steely gaze and a bent nose that women found sexy. An irrational pang of jealousy blazed through Raghu. He stared at the man with open vehemence for a moment, until Sheila placed a reassuring hand on his.
‘It’s all right Raghu, take it easy. This is a friend.’
‘Really? Whose?’
Sheila withdrew her hand uncertainly, which further riled Raghu.
‘A friend of Sheila’s, Mr. Surya.’
‘...And?’
‘And I am here to warn you!’
‘Yeah? You can stuff your warning up your arse.’
‘Raghu, take it easy, he isn’t threatening you, he’s here to warn you, there’s a difference, what’s the matter with you?’
‘What are you doing with him?’ Raghu asked her vehemently.
Kant suppressed a smile; he visibly relaxed as he pulled out his wallet. He opened it and drew close to Raghu.
‘That’s Krithika, my wife, those two are my son and daughter,’ he said.
Sheila realised it then, she didn’t know if she should feel glad or angry.
She chose angry.
‘How dare you?’ she blurted out, though her heart was not in it.
Raghu peered from one to the other, but most of the Dracula was gone from his stare. He smiled sheepishly at Sheila.
‘I...I am sorry,’ he said.
‘Well that settles it; you’re the man that belled the cat,’ Kant observed in a light voice.
‘That doesn’t mean I trust you enough to exchange jokes with you, Major. What did you want to talk to me about and why have you involved her in all this?’
‘Because, whether you like it or not Mr. Lawyer, I wanted to be involved with you,’ Sheila said. She realised the innuendo and hastened to cover up, ‘I mean...’
Kant said, ‘I know exactly what you mean. Now listen you two, this has gone far enough. Let’s get down to business. I’ve been sitting in this place for four hours now with the lady and I’d rather be going.’
Raghu was astounded, ‘You’ve been sitting with this man for four hours in a bar?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘What’s it to me? I will not have the mother of my children do this sort of a thing.’
‘I am not the mother of your children.’
‘Not yet you aren’t, but you will be, soon enough.’
Kant was by now laughing, ‘And this is the great Raghuram Surya that Kiromal is so scared about. Really, it’s such an anticlimax.’
Raghu scowled deeply.
Kant said, ‘People in the government are so paranoid that they tail and eavesdrop on each other all the time. Kiromal wanted me to tail Sheila, I followed her to Dr Murali Krishna’s and listened in on your conversation.’
‘Wait a minute, you weren’t in the room,’ Raghu said.
‘That’s right, the transmitter on her purse is more than enough.’
Raghu scowled at Kant, ‘Why are you telling us this?’
‘Let me complete what I have to say Mr. Surya, save your questions for later.’
Raghu remained silent.
‘I did not understand a word you guys were talking, the only thing I could make out was that it was about what you called the Sutram, it somehow involved your father, and that y
ou’re going to Tirupati tomorrow. That’s all right with me. I just want in. I think I have a better chance with you than with that bastard, Kiromal.’
Raghu was not convinced, ‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘He just asked me to pack up and leave, thanks to Sheila and her scientist friends.’
‘And?’
‘And I report to the Indian Army, not to some politician. That’s not half of it Mr. Surya. Since I am working with the government, I thought I might as well pitch in and eavesdrop on someone, so I picked Kiromal for good measure. Guess what I found?’
Raghu sighed, ‘I am waiting.’
‘He’s been advised to kill you Mr. Surya, as soon as possible.’
Raghu leaned back on his chair and stretched his legs out. ‘Why would he do that? Who advised him?’
Sheila said, ‘Kant’s given me the transcript of the conversation. Apparently, he’s brought some kind of a magician with him and...’
‘A what?’
‘We don’t know, Mr. Surya,’ Kant continued, ‘electronic surveillance doesn’t work around this guy and the sleuth had to resort to lip reading to get out this transcript,’ Kant said tightly.
Sheila said, ‘Remember, I told you yesterday about the man the Minister was with, the one with the tonsured head and black teeth. Appears he is some kind of voodoo, shaman type,’ Sheila interjected.
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, Kiromal kept addressing him as swamiji and I don’t know many men of God who run around asking for people to be killed,’ Kant explained.
‘Thought you didn’t believe in them,’ Raghu barked at Sheila.
‘I need to make a list of what to believe in, moving forward. I wish I hadn’t given SRK his goddamned leave. Life was simpler before that.’
‘Hmmm.... I am glad you gave him leave,’ Raghu said with a secret smile.
‘He’s dead Raghu and if that drunk was telling the truth, his girlfriend’s killed herself too. Vidush is dead and Priyanka may never recover again. Ramdas, your commander of Guards, died in that hall too. I don’t need to live with all this death.’