The Case of the Vicious Vampires

by Ketaki Karnik

“Raima, we’ve already set our plan in motion. We can’t chicken out now,” said Varun.

  “What plan, Varun? Everything depends on each of those five guards rushing into the pantry side of the Lab and then staying there long enough. Too many ifs.”

  There was no sane argument to counter Ms. Always Right Raima. And the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I’d gone insane.

  The wait was killing. I wanted to find out quickly if the plan would work or not. There was still time to get back, as Raima said.

  Maybe we should…a sudden blast of noise hit us. The guard room door flew open. Loud, panicky words hurtled out.

  The smoke bomb had erupted.

  The connecting door between the reception and the main Lab swung open and the guards rushed into the Lab. Too quickly for us to count how many. Were any still in the guard room? We had to rely on miracles continuing to hold out for us.

  The four of us barged into the guard room. No time to look around. I figured we had two minutes, at the most, before the guards realised they had been played.

  The door on the left opened into a bathroom.

  Simultaneously, Sid twisted the knob of the door on the right. It was locked.

  Frantically, I looked around the room. A key…there had to be a key. Wall-mounted TV, a PharmaGlobal watch, a PharmaGlobal calendar, a painting of snow-capped mountains, a wooden board with key chains dangling from two of its four hooks.

  I yanked a key, nearly tugging the wooden board off its peg on the wall and sending it crashing to the floor.

  Raima, Varun and I crowded around Sid as he tried the first key. Wouldn’t fit.

  The next one slid in effortlessly. I turned to jelly as Sid turned the door knob.

  In the middle of the 8x8 room, wrists tied to the arms of a chair, sat a dazed Sarla.

  “Sarla,” I cried, running towards her. With great difficulty, she managed to half open her right eye. Her strained smile was all I needed.

  Those devils had drugged her.

  “No time Kavya, we need to get out of the Lab right now,” said Sid, setting out to untie Sarla’s arms. She could barely stand even after support from the boys on either side.

  The footsteps were getting louder. I could hear one of the guards say in Hindi, “Someone has been inside the Lab.”

  Then, indistinct conversation. The men were arguing about something.

  “Hurry,” urged Raima. We rushed out of the guard room and headed straight for the main entrance of the building.

  I dared not look behind. The voices were getting louder.

  We didn’t stop once outside the Lab. We ran as fast as possible, with a hobbling Sarla, towards Sid’s house. The guards would catch up with us anytime now. I glanced around for hiding places. Tall trees, shorts shrubs and endless lawns.

  Nowhere to hide.

  The sound of our shoes hitting the stone path boomed. We may as well have put up huge billboards along the path.

  Sid’s house seemed light years away.

  An outline of his house slowly came into focus. There was a scary calm about it.

  Why hadn’t the guards captured us yet? I spied another path leading to the house.

  Venky sir was like a bubbling volcano – crazily enraged at us and at what Sarla had been through.

  “A few months ago, when PharmaGlobal started researching for a swine flu vaccine, my detective agency got a call from the bankers of PharmaGlobal. The bankers weren’t convinced that the owners fully understood what a goldmine the vaccine would be, if the researchers were successful. And, therefore, the level of security required at the Lab.” The bankers had secretly contacted Elite Private Investigators India – Sarla’s company – to provide additional security.

  Undercover, of course.

  Sarla and her colleagues at Elite Private Investigators had done a quick background check on the security team at the Lab. Manish Bhasin, they found, had a dubious reputation – a number of thefts had occurred in places he had been the security in-charge. He had, though, never been caught.

  “In short, my pristine detective record would have been an absolute no-no. So we set about inventing a new persona for me. A story about my going rogue and being sacked from Elite Private Investigators. Manish Bhasin lapped it up, and hired me immediately, but he still didn’t trust me completely.

  “Meanwhile, everyone at Elite had been instructed to repeat the story about my turning bad after initially denying my existence and then sounding like they were sharing a secret.”

  “Like the receptionist,” I said, recalling our conversation with the Elite receptionist.

  Sarla smiled, “I hope she did a good job. We made her practice the most.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you shot Kavya,” said Sid.

  Sarla settled deeper into the armchair. “Do you know about the theft of the vaccine?” We nodded.

  Today had been Sarla’s weekly holiday. So, unlike the other security guards, who had to get back to work from lunch onwards, because the researchers’ day-and-a-half long conference (or “boot camp,” as it was formally known) had ended, Sarla had the entire day off.

  “Once the theft was discovered, Manish Bhasin had to make a pretense of knowing who the culprit was. Partly to show that he was still an effective head of security, but more importantly, to cast suspicion away from himself.”

  “So, he’s the thief?” asked Raima.

  “I think so, but I have no proof. But I’m also very certain, having worked with him, that he doesn’t have the brains to pull this off. He was simply the muscle, not the mastermind. It was an inside job for sure.”

  Manish Bhasin decided to turn Sarla into the culprit. Along with his henchmen – the other four security guards – he went to the mall to arrest her.

  “If ever there was a time when my cover was critical, it was then. I realised that by allowing myself to get captured, I had a better chance to figure out the identity of the mastermind. With me in his custody, Manish Bhasin was likely to be less cautious. It was a dangerous game to play, but there was no other option. As I was being hustled into the car in the parking lot at the mall, Kavya, that’s when I spotted you. Pretty much the same time you saw me.”

  “And like a total idiot, I would have blown your cover,” I said.

  “That was the least of my concerns. Manish Bhasin is one of the slimiest characters I have met and I didn’t want him to connect you with me. So I grabbed Manish’s gun and shot at the glass panes. He thought I was doing it to attract attention and shoved me into the car.”

  Manish Bhasin informed PharmaGlobal that Sarla was the culprit and that he was interrogating her to find out where she had hidden the vaccine. He sent video recordings of the grilling to PharmaGlobal. Then, he even tried to blackmail her using us.

  “That was when I realised this charade is getting out of control.”

  “So those masked men were Manish Bhasin’s guards. Wait till I get my hands on them,” exclaimed Varun. Sarla and Venky sir exchanged a discreet smile.

  “All in good time, Varun,” said Sarla calmly.

  “What makes you so certain that it was an inside job?” asked Venky sir.

  “Only someone with an access card could enter the Lab building. No outsider apart from you, Dr. Venkataraman, has the access card. And no one reported missing their access card.”

  “Which means, it has is to be either the PharmaGlobal researchers or the security team,” completed Venky sir, his fist curling into a tight ball.

  Sarla nodded.

  “We saw the exact location of the theft,” I informed Sarla.

  “In an amateurish attempt at covering up, the culprit broke open the upper cupboard to extract a vaccine-carrying container, although the cupboard below the counter, unlike the one above, is never locked. A norm everyone in the Lab knew about and followed. Basically, the culprit was trying to point to an outsider, but forgot about the entry restriction,” added Sarla.

  “In that case, it has to b
e a researcher. Most can’t think clearly when it comes to anything other than their own field of study,” declared Venky sir. Sid looked shocked (and pleased, I think!) to hear his father talk this way.

  “Anyway, what a day it’s been! This has gone too far. My police friend Murli is coming in tomorrow morning but we can’t wait that long. I’ll ask him to send someone right away,” announced Venky sir, reaching for his phone.

  Sarla took a deep breath. “Dr. Venkataraman, I have a favour to ask of you. Please can you not call in the police?”

  Venky sir bolted upright, his eyes popping out and mouth open. “Are you crazy, Sarla? A gang of unscrupulous kidnappers posing as security guards are prancing around freely in my campus. A gang which nearly murdered my son and his friends. Then, there is a brilliant researcher cum thief roaming around. Finally, don’t forget, a jewel thief. I cannot think of one reason, even a half-baked, silly one, to not call the police.”

  “Dr. Venkataraman, I agree with you. One hundred percent. The only hitch with involving the police is that we are unlikely to solve the burglaries. It’ll simply scare the culprit. I’m certain Manish Bhasin and his gang will not try anything as daring again. They are more bark than bite. The only way this will truly end is if we capture the burglars.”

  Venky sir was adamant. Enough is enough. No more detecting.

  “How about you give me a week? Stall Murli’s visit. If I fail, call in the police.”

  “Two days. 48 hours. That’s all. Not a minute longer,” Venky sir said firmly.

  Chapter Eight

  I learn the dirty secret of the Nizam’s jewels

  “Let’s be clear about this. They are my jewels.” A frosty, curt voice.

  Leaning forward, I peeped around the edge of the building. Reddy sir, hands on his waist, faced a podgy, bespectacled, beak-nosed man. I had seen this man in Reddy sir’s room. One of the PharmaGlobal researchers, I think. Sid would know for sure.

  “Don’t forget, Reddy, the jewels were yours. Past tense. And it will stay that way unless you do as I say,” said the beak man, venom dripping from each word. He flashed a Joker-from-Batman style horribly cruel smile, metal glinting from one of his teeth.

  I couldn’t see Reddy sir’s expression since his back was to me, but I noticed his fists clenching and his body turning stiff. “That is my problem, not yours. I do not see how my decision to not call in the police is your concern.”

  “I appreciate your keeping the police away. They’ll bumble around without solving anything. But a discreet private investigator – now, that’s different. I know this excellent, no fuss chap. He’ll do everything below the radar.”

  “Moshin, as I have repeated many times before, I do not want to engage your private investigator or anyone else.”

  “There is no need to get so irritated,” Joker smiled again. My blood curdled. “I’m only trying to help. Those jewels are national treasures and I wouldn’t want you to be blamed for their disappearance.”

  “Me, to be blamed? It’s you who should be blamed. If you hadn’t doggedly insisted on my bringing the jewels to Bangalore to fulfill some silly pastime of yours, this would have never happened.” Reddy sir stormed out, stomping on the path leading to the VIP guesthouse.

  Joker looked on, narrowing his eyes and his mouth twisting into a snarl. He pulled out a phone from his trouser pocket and dialed. “It’s me,” he barked into the phone. “I spoke to him. He’s not bothered about the jewels. That’s his problem. I couldn’t care less. It’s the other thing that we need to get to safety.”

  Silence. He listened. “No, I don’t think he’s secretly engaged an investigator. Come over as quick as you can and start working.” Joker hung up.

  I stepped back quickly, tightening my grip on the breakfast tray handle.

  Sarla had moved in with us, into our guest house rooms. She didn’t want to risk being recognised by Manish Bhasin and his gang by coming into the Dining Hall. Although, I thought, her disguise as an elderly Professor visiting ISIC was super. The less Manish Bhasin saw her, the better. “Besides, they don’t know how I escaped or whether I’m still on the campus.”

  As a result, she decided to have breakfast in the room. Since it would look odd for Raima, Varun and I to be carrying breakfast back to the room for a suddenly appeared friend, the other two also stayed in the room. That way, I could pile up food and say it was for Raima and Varun.

  Not that either of them was complaining. Varun was still lounging around in bed, gaming on his PSP. Raima was browsing through the latest fashion trends, while simultaneously chatting with various cousins. “Our socialite is at it again. Cousins I don’t even know exist message her ten times a day!” Fortunately for Varun, Raima was much too engrossed in what Amaiya’s (a cousin of hers, I figured) friend wore on her birthday to overhear his remark.

  The moment Joker left, I hurried back to my room, as fast as I could, without spilling our cups of chocolate milk and Sarla’s tea.

  “I wonder why Reddy sir is so desperate to avoid any investigation,” I said, back in our room, describing the incident to Varun, Raima, Sarla and Sid (who had ambled in when I left to get breakfast, apparently bathed and ready for the day, although Varun, even in his current bedraggled state, looked less of a ragamuffin than Sid). “If I owned jewels as valuable as the Nizam’s and they were stolen, I would hound every detective in the world.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to draw attention to how he acquired them.” Even Varun sat up as Sid spoke.

  It seemed no one was quite sure how the jewels came to be in Reddy sir’s possession. When asked, Reddy sir usually avoided the question. When pushed, he muttered a vague story about being gifted the jewels by a friend.

  “I sure would love to have friends like that,” said Raima, looking pointedly at me.

  “Fat chance,” I retorted.

  “Hmm, interesting story. Throws a completely new light on Dr. Reddy’s reaction to the theft,” said Sarla.

  “Sid, what did Reddy sir mean when he blamed that Joker-smile man for the theft?” I asked.

  Joker, Sid told us, was Dr. Moshin Patel, a fellow researcher of Dr. Reddy’s at the PharmaGlobal Lab. They had worked together, for a few days, in Hyderabad – Reddy sir’s hometown – before coming to ISIC. Moshin sir, it turned out, was an amateur jewel historian. He was thrilled to hear that Reddy sir owned a few pieces of the Nizam’s jewellery, but he didn’t get enough time to study the jewels in Hyderabad. So he coaxed Reddy sir into bringing the jewels with him, to Bangalore, where Moshin sir would have longer to examine them. “Appa was hopping mad at Reddy uncle for bringing the jewels with him. Appa says, while nothing has ever happened at ISIC, why tempt people?”

  “I agree with Dr. Venkataraman. It’s stupid to be travelling with such priceless pieces. The jewels should be locked up in a bank locker,” said Sarla.

  “Do you think Moshin sir is the burglar and that’s why he’s pretending to make such a huge fuss about the jewels?” I mused.

  “There goes our conspiracy theorist,” said Sid.

  “I’m not psycho,” I said defensively. “There was something about yesterday. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s nagging me. We’re missing something.”

  “Kavya, yesterday is over and by an incredible miracle, we are still alive,” said Raima.

  “Kavya, my dear, you need a change of scenery. Why don’t you do something fun, something not connected to the thefts to take your mind off them,” said Sarla, putting an arm around me.

  “Hey, I know. Let me show you something fantastically amazing. An unbelievable view of the campus,” Sid’s eyes lit up.

  The four of us headed to the Faculty Block. Sarla wanted to stay back in the room to “research” – basically, dig up dirt about Manish Bhasin and the rest.

  “Once we get to the faculty building, we’ll have to creep up to the terrace and then the water tank on top of it. They barred entry to the terrace a year ago because some nut tried to commit suicide,” Si
d explained.

  “We seem to be doing a lot of creeping these days,” said Raima disdainfully.

  “Yeah Raima, we’re the Creepy Busters’ League,” responded Sid with a wink. I suspect Sid was the highest recipient of Raima’s jeez-grow-up look.

  Raima, Varun and I instinctively lowered our volume as we entered the Faculty Block. It’s like walking into the staff-room in school. You automatically straighten your clothes and put on your best behaviour when you enter the teachers’ area. Especially because you were there, almost certainly, for a dose of serious scolding. Face it, none of us, not even Raima, was enough of a teacher’s pet to be asked to help carry the homework notebooks to the staff room.

  Sid, on the other hand, simply couldn’t be bothered. He continued cribbing about his history teacher as loudly as before. Pretty soon I realised why. Of the fifteen rooms on the first floor, only two were occupied. The professors were on vacation and, as for the two that were there – we could have been blaring Three Days Grace (Varun’s current favourite band, which sounds like every key on a synthesizer and every note on an electric guitar being played at the same time, with cymbals clashing continuously) at max volume and they wouldn’t have heard us. It wasn’t super-human, it was alien concentration powers.

  We climbed up the winding ‘banned staircase’ leading to the terrace. A staircase designed by a three-year-old kid obsessed with drawing endless circles.

  Sid unlatched the door and let us onto the terrace.

  Wow! And I mean like, insanely wow. The dizzying climb was totally worth it. Imagine standing on a cloud and looking down on an ocean of green, in all directions. Absolutely epic. Varun gave a low whistle. “Sid, this is crazy, crazy cool,” said Raima.

  “Wait till you see this,” said Sid, scrambling up a rickety ladder between the terrace and the water tank. I didn’t need Sid to tell us that this was absolutely banned. Raima eyed the ladder with disgust as it creaked and squealed under Varun’s and my weight.

  “Come on up, Raima,” called Sid from the top of the water tank. “You’ll get a wind-blown look without spending hours at the hair-salon.”