The Case of the Vicious Vampires

by Ketaki Karnik

  “As for opportunity, well that there was plenty of. The Boot Camp was a wasteful, boring day and a half. A video-conference with a bunch of clueless people masquerading as scientists, who had barely heard of swine flu.” Neither Reddy sir nor Moshin sir contradicted her. In fact, I suspect, for the first time ever, they actually agreed with her on the usefulness of the Boot Camp. “All of us stepped out of the conference room for generous amounts of time, to retain our sanity. Also long enough to nip across to the Lab.”

  “I left the room only for visits to the washroom,” muttered Moshin sir. That was a big, planet-sized mistake. I would have thought he would know Lakshmi ma’am by now.

  “Only to visit the washroom, did you say?” Lakshmi ma’am cawed again. “They seemed much longer to me. More than enough time to stroll over to the Lab. Like Reddy’s supposed calls. Or so, he claims. I have not seen either of you on such long calls before or after the Boot Camp. And we do have quite a history together. We’ve collaborated on research projects many times before. Remember? So I would know.”

  An awkward silence. Reddy sir and Moshin sir stared into their salad plates, avoiding eye contact with anyone. An old style tring-tring came to their rescue. Lakshmi ma’am picked up her handbag from the floor and opened it to answer the phone. She checked the caller name on the screen and snapped “Not now.”

  Venky sir immediately took advantage of the few seconds of lull in Lakshmi ma’am’s monologue to change the topic. “Is this the first time you are working with Sunil? By the way, where is he? He usually is late for lunch, but, today, we’re starting on the main course and he’s still not here.”

  “That’s correct Dr. Venkataraman. This is indeed the first time we’re working with Sunil,” Reddy sir’s expression loosened up like releasing a stretched elastic band. “That’s possibly because he’s much younger than us.”

  “Rubbish. It’s because he’s not as competent as us,” Lakshmi ma’am declared with a wave of her hand. The grilled fish in lemon butter sauce was heaven. For once, why couldn’t Lakshmi ma’am focus on the food? “Sunil Mahapatra. Dr. Sunil Mahapatra – who had heard of him before?

  “He was a last minute replacement. Dr. Khare, who was supposed to be part of the team, preferred to take on a research assignment in the Pasteur Institute in France. That’s how Sunil came to join our team. Extremely shady, if you ask me. There are a number of other researchers, with much more experience and far better known, who could have filled in for Dr. Khare. The only reason Sunil was chosen was because his uncle is PharmaGlobal’s Legal Head. Sunil doesn’t know a thing; we may as well have brought in one of those dumb undergrad students on our team. Sunil was another one taking long calls during the Boot Camp. Like now. Claims he needs to get onto an important call and so will have lunch in his room. Hah! That man can’t be trusted.”

  “Lakshmi, sometimes people do get busy during lunch-time,” said Venky sir calmly but forcefully. I think he wanted to shut her up. Hopefully, she would! “Take Aruna and NL, for instance. Both of them are getting lunch sent to their rooms today. Aruna called to say there’s a fascinating paper she’s come across. And NL messaged that he needs to prepare for an afternoon meeting.”

  Raima, Varun, Sid and I glanced knowingly at each other.

  “Did you notice that Lakshmi ma’am was desperately trying to implicate Sunil Mahapatra?” I said as the four of us ambled out of the Professor’s dining hall. Sarla had gone into town to meet a detective colleague and Anna would arrive only two hours later.

  “Yup, she bluntly accused Sunil Mahapatra,” said Sid.

  “Makes me wonder why she was so keen to blame Sunil? To deflect attention from herself, perhaps?” I mused. “And she conveniently excluded herself from the list of suspects. Not organized enough, she said.”

  “That, I don’t believe at all. You remember she opened her purse to take out the phone? I managed to glance inside. It was like Mom’s handbag.” Raima didn’t have to explain further. Raima’s mother is psycho. Totally, completely, utterly psycho, when it comes to being organized. The house, her schedule, Raima’s schoolbag, the way aunty served lunch – everything had to be a zillion times better than perfect.

  “When someone tries too hard, you know something is wrong.” Trust Shakespeare Sid to transform a simple suspicious situation into philosophical mumbo-jumbo.

  “Then there’s Aruna ma’am and NL sir, who didn’t turn up either.”

  “Well, we know what kept them away,” said Varun. “Aruna ma’am is probably reading the files she stole from NL sir, and he must be preparing for his mysterious 3:30 meeting.”

  “The meeting sounded more like summons to me,” I said. “This Sunil guy, too, seems like a fishy character.”

  “I’ve seen him around a few times. Quiet sort of person, but that may be because of Lakshmi aunty and the other PharmaGlobal researchers. Can’t blame him,” said Sid.

  “Let’s walk past his room.” Raima gave me a here-she-goes-again look, but was smart enough not to argue.

  “Well?” said Raima, crossing her arms, as we stood in front of the VIP guest house.

  We knew Reddy sir’s room, so Sunil sir’s room would have to be one of the others. Except, one of the others was one of the remaining nine rooms.

  The two-storey VIP guest house building had five rooms on each floor. Each room opened into a corridor - either on the ground floor or first floor. Four steps, wide enough for an elephant-sized alien to saunter in (I figured ISIC would be prepared for such events!) led to the centre of the ground floor corridor. A little way in, another set of stairs led to the first floor. One window of each of the rooms overlooked the lawn on which we were standing.

  So much for sneaking upto Sunil sir’s room. He’s probably seen us and is smirking at our stupidity.

  I surveyed the rooms. Which was Sunil sir’s room?

  “Let’s try that one,” I said, pointing to the second room to our right, on the ground floor. It was the only room with the curtains drawn and that intrigued me. Varun and I tiptoed along the corridor, with Sid uncertainly following us and Raima reluctantly trailing behind. Varun’s eyes darted towards Raima and then me. Varun and I exchanged a suppressed smile.

  We stopped a few feet before the window. I stepped forward, closer to the window. Through the tiny gap between the curtain and the window, I could see the bed but not much else. A MacBook Pro laptop and an iPod lay on the bed. A pair of blue Hawaii chappals paced up and down the room. I beckoned the others. The window was unlatched, leaving a tiny crack.

  “It does need to be transported out of ISIC. You realize that, don’t you? Can’t risk keeping it in ISIC for long.”

  “I think it’s him,” mouthed Sid. He hadn’t been around Sunil sir much to recognize his voice. Logically, this had to be his. It wasn’t Moshin sir’s or Reddy sir’s voice, so it had to be Sunil sir’s.

  The Hawaii chappals stopped moving.

  Silence. Had he seen us?

  The Hawaii chappals slowly walked to my end of the room. A wiry man, with a disproportionately large round face, lowered himself on the edge of the bed. An image of a lollipop appeared. Sid nodded. This was Dr. Sunil Mahapatra.

  My senses tingled; he was not a scientist. Dressed well – not Raima or Varun ‘well,’ but normal smart - in a pale blue shirt neatly tucked into corduroy trousers, clean-shaven and hair in place, he reminded me of a salesman in a posh shop. Nothing out of the ordinary or shady. Except, in this scenario, he seemed all wrong. What was he doing as a PharmaGlobal researcher?

  He listened attentively to the caller through white ear phones, all the while playing on his Kindle.

  “I found it. I’ll mail this section to you. Meanwhile, I better get going. Everyone will be suspicious if I’m missing for too long or enter the Lab late. Ciao.”

  Ciao? Venky sir is an insanely ultra-cool scientist and even he doesn’t say Ciao.

  I leaned to one side to see Sunil sir open the wardrobe adjoining the bed. He bundled th
e Kindle between the folds of a shirt, lifted a stack of trousers from another shelf and placed it on top of the pile. Sunil sir started slipping on his socks and formal brown shoes.

  I gestured wildly to the other three. We had to disappear. Now.

  Click. The faint sound of the door lock being opened. Or did I imagine it? Sunil sir would be out in a few seconds. Running away from the building was crazy. He’d see us. And sort of hanging about – a disaster. We’d never be able to come up with a plausible explanation for being at the VIP guest house.

  “Upstairs,” I whispered. The four of us turned the bend of the staircase halfway to the first floor. A door creaked open. Soft footsteps. We leaned over the solid parapet to see Sunil sir walk down the four steps leading to the lawn.

  “Much as I dislike Lakshmi ma’am, she was right,” I said, as we flopped on the stairs.

  “Sunil sir looks nothing like any of the researchers or professors at ISIC,” said Raima.

  “He’s clearly the thief. We should get him arrested,” said Varun, standing up.

  “Sit down Varun. We have no evidence, only snatches of a conversation,” ordered Sid.

  “Then let’s tackle him ourselves.” Sid didn’t bother responding. Sometimes, Varun goes ballistic. What was he thinking? That this is like a football game where you surround the guy from the other team? He did have a point. We couldn’t ignore what we’d witnessed.

  “Did you notice the way he hid his Kindle?” continued Varun.

  “Maybe he thinks it’ll get stolen,” said Raima.

  “In ISIC? Okay, I realize Appa said the same and Reddy uncle’s jewels were stolen. But that was an exception,” said Sid. I pictured the scene – Sunil sir stuffing his Kindle under and between layers of clothes.

  “We have to get hold of the Kindle,” I cried. Raima, Varun and Sid gave me a questioning look. “He had a MacPro and an IPod on his bed. Both way more expensive than the Kindle; at least the MacPro is. But he didn’t bother hiding those. Which means, he’s not scared of theft. He’s hiding something on his Kindle.”

  “And how are we going to find that out?” Raima regretted her words the second she uttered them. Varun and I looked at each other wordlessly, a glint in our eyes.

  “Absolutely not!” Raima enunciated each syllable distinctly and emphatically, sounding like the lash of a whip.

  “Hey, hey guys. This is serious stuff. Appa will disown me for this. And I mean, totally disown me,” said Sid.

  “Sid, I agree you shouldn’t be seen with any of us. It would be incredibly embarrassing for Venky sir. Let’s meet in our room in ten minutes,” I said.

  “Both of you have lost it! I am not going to be part of this ridiculous ploy. I’m going back to our room,” Raima stomped down the stairs.

  Sid gave a faint smile. I think. “Hey, wait up Raima. I’ll walk back with you.”

  I shook my head. “No Sid, don’t hang out with even Raima till Varun and I are done.”

  “How are we going to enter Sunil sir’s room? We don’t have a key and we definitely can’t smash the lock,” asked Varun, after Raima and Sid had left.

  “I think the window is unbolted. Otherwise, we’re stuck. Varun, you do realize, don’t you, that we are breaking-in. If we get caught…”

  “Well, then at least we’ll have each other,” said Varun. Warm darts flooded my cheeks, my forehead, my chin. I quickly turned my face away from Varun to prevent him from seeing me going all sloppy. Of course, he didn’t mean it that way, I chided myself. You know Varun – he’s like a brainless bull.

  I took a deep breath and looked around. No one. Just the occasional faint sound of a bird. Instead of being comforting, the quiet felt spooky. A mild shudder passed through me. I extended my hand and gently pushed the window. It was open. And wide enough for us to climb in.

  “Last chance,” I muttered.

  “Game on, Kavya.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Raima is attacked

  Entering Sunil sir’s room was surprisingly easy. The drawn curtains shielded us from any casual gaze from the outside. Or, so I hoped.

  I clutched Varun’s arm as he was about to pull out the Kindle. I took note of the shirt and even the exact folds between which the Kindle was hidden. What seemed like random stuffing to me may well be an elaborate set-up. Anyone who’s watched even a single spy movie can tell you that.

  Varun literally snatched the Kindle from my hands and turned it on. It opened on page 134. The lower half of the page was highlighted in yellow. The title of the section: ‘Transporting vaccines over long distances.’

  Neither of us said anything. The final nail in the coffin.

  As we shut down the Kindle, I took a look at his other books: Elementary Microbiology, Microbiology for Beginners, Introduction to Virology, Compendium of Microbiology - this man is totally psycho. Does he even know that books on other subjects exist?!

  My phone beeped. I pulled it out of my pocket. Varun’s phone buzzed as I unlocked mine.

  It was Raima.

  Some1 in room. Hurry

  Raima had sent the message to Varun and me.

  I lifted the pile of clothes as Varun stuffed the Kindle in. I upset the neatly ironed fold of a shirt. Forget it – if Sunil sir figured out, well, then he does. Right now, Raima was in trouble and nothing else mattered.

  Varun and I jumped out of the window and raced across the lawn towards our room.

  “Call Sid. He might be closer,” I yelled between bouts of panting.

  “He’s not picking up his phone,” responded Varun.

  From a distance, I could see our room door had been thrown open. And no sign of Raima.

  Varun and I stormed into the room. Raima sat on the floor, rubbing her ankles. “Are you alright, Raima?” Sid was saying. He had reached a few seconds before us. “What happened? But first, let’s make sure you’re okay. Do you have a crêpe bandage?”

  I dug a crêpe bandage out of our medical kit. Between my mother and Raima’s Mom, we were a travelling hospital. I helped Raima rub her arm as Varun and Sid tied a crêpe bandage around her ankle. Varun was an expert at this given that he constantly injured himself in football.

  Raima narrated her story.

  As she neared our room, Raima saw, through the window, the back of a man inside the room. “I thought it was the cleaning chap. Although our room had been cleaned earlier, I assumed there must be some confusion and another guy had been sent to clean it again.” Raima pushed open the door and the man swung around.

  Raima shuddered. “A monster with one of those twirling moustaches glared at me.” Obviously, he was no cleaner.

  Raima froze. “What…”

  “Stupid girl. Had to enter now. Terrible timing.” He shoved her onto the bed. “Now that you are here, you may as well make yourself useful. Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” stammered Raima.

  “Don’t pretend, you silly girl,” said the man gruffly, twisting her arms.

  Raima squealed. “If you’re looking for the vaccine, we don’t have it. We don’t know where it is.”

  “Vaccine?” the man snorted. “What you think of yourself? Why would I or anyone come searching for that?” Raima’s response threw him into a rage. His face puffed and reddened. He grabbed Raima and threw her on the floor, injuring her ankles.

  Turning around, he rummaged through our cupboard. Raima tried to stand. She couldn’t move. In the few seconds that his back was turned, Raima messaged Varun, Sid and me, praying that at least one of us would check our phone.

  Suddenly, it struck Raima. “Are you searching for the Nizam’s jewels? We don’t have them.”

  The man laughed. “Nizam’s jewels? Who cares about them? There’s something else I’m interested in. Something far more valuable.”

  In the distance, came a faint “Raima, Raima.” Sid was rushing towards our room.

  Monster glared menacingly at Raima. “I’m leaving, but if I find out that you’ve been hiding it…” He
ran his forefinger along the base of his neck.

  He opened the window at the back of the room and disappeared.

  “That was very brave Raima,” said Varun. No sarci tone, no teasing. Only genuine concern. Oh well, Varun did have his moments.

  I hugged Raima. “What was he looking for?” asked Varun.

  “Definitely not the vaccine. He didn’t even seem to know what it was, let alone that it was the stolen. And he wasn’t interested in the Nizam’s jewels,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me something else was stolen in ISIC,” moaned Sid.

  I shook my head. “In that case, we would have heard about it. By the way, do you realize that our room is nearest to the conference facility?” The others looked quizzically at me. I didn’t understand the implication, except that it seemed a significant fact.

  “We have to find that man. Did you notice anything else about him?” I continued. No one hurts my BFF and gets away with it.

  “A tattoo on both his wrists. One of those dragon designs that goes around the wrist.”

  We looked at Sid. He stared blankly. “Can’t think of any such person in ISIC.”

  Who was that man? Dragon tattoo sounded like he was part of a savage crime gang.

  “Sid,” I cried, “there are security guards at the gate, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you can’t recognise this man, then, most likely he’s come from outside. Which means, the guards should have a record of him entering the campus.”

  “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that earlier?” Sid grabbed his phone. “Gate security has strict instructions to keep a record of all visitors and who the guest is meeting.” Listening to Sid converse with the guards, it was clear that he had quite a reputation in the campus. Everyone seemed to know him. For all the wrong reasons, I suspected!