The Colaba Conspiracy
Page 13
‘So you stayed there till midnight?’
‘There was no other option, he was not ready to listen.’
‘Finally he agreed to do the job?’
‘Yes, he did, but only after nagging for hours. First he asked for fifty thousand, then came down to forty and finally settled at twenty-five.’
‘Oh!’
‘I gave him twelve and a half in the morning; will give eighteen and a half later.’
‘You have eighteen and a half for later?’
‘No. I went to that moneylender in Mahalaxmi again.’
‘Why?’
‘What sort of a question is this, why will I go there?’
‘To arrange another loan?’
‘Yes, but he refused to give me more. Said he could have given me fifty or even sixty thousand the first time I approached him. But he will not give me any more money till the first deal was closed.’
‘So?’
‘Jeete, now, you’ll have to give me ten thou.’
‘ok.’
‘I must not say this but that camera thing has blown my budget.’
‘No problem, I will go bring ten thousand rupees.’
‘I don’t need it now; you can carry the money with you in the night.’
‘ok.’
‘Meet me here at your flat tonight at nine o’clock. We have to make some special preparations which will take some time.’
‘What special preparations?’
‘I will tell you later; I will go now.’
Jeet Singh nodded and opened his side of the door.
‘I will come back at nine o’clock.’
‘I’ll wait.’
It was two minutes to ten when Gailo’s taxi stopped in front of the premises of Premier Vault Service in Johri Bazar.
Jeet Singh was sitting as a passenger on the backseat. He was presently in the disguise of a Sikh. It was Gailo’s idea to do it and the material needed for it was also arranged by him. A suitcase was lying beside him on the seat, which contained the toolkit for his magical lock-breaking skills.
The uniformed security guard at the main entrance of the establishment saw an impressive sardar coming out of the taxi with a briefcase in hand. He automatically assumed that he was some high-flying businessman, though he was a bit surprised that his taxi driver, instead of staying back and waiting for the passenger, was coming with him.
Gailo and Jeet Singh entered the hall after crossing the main door. The stairs going down to the vaults were on one side of the hall. Another guard stood at the head of the stairs. He greeted Jeet Singh and opened the door which led them to the vault.
They reached the vault in the basement.
A man of around thirty-five in black trousers, white shirt and black tie stood up from behind a table and came towards them. He was clean-shaven, his complexion was fair and thick hair that shone with hair-gel.
‘This is our man,’ Gailo said under the breath.
‘Murli Cherat?’ Jeet Singh asked in a similar tone.
‘Yes.’
‘A fair Malayali?’
‘Some of them are fair also.’
Cherat came closer, had a meaningful glance at the wall clock which struck ten, and smiled an artificial smile.
Gailo took out the key of his locker and showed it to him.
‘Oh, yes,’ Cherat said.
He accompanied them to the rows of locker cabinets and got Gailo’s locker opened.
‘Is the camera switched off?’ Gailo asked, signalling towards the camera mounted near the ceiling close to the wall clock.
‘Yes,’ Cherat said, ‘I switched it off just moments before your arrival.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘Took off a connecting wire.’
‘Oh!’
‘Will join it back later.’
‘How can we know it is off?’
‘It would have been rotating if it was not off.’
‘Meaning …?’
‘It would be turning to and fro had it been on.’
‘Oh!’
‘If you need further confirmation, then come with me and I will show you the monitor.’
‘No, that won’t be needed. Now make sure that nobody comes here, or disturbs us for ten minutes.’
‘Sure! Even I won’t be here for that time,’ he said, laughing, ‘ok?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘My balance amount?’
‘Will give while going out. Don’t worry about that, ok?’
‘Yes.’
He left them there.
Gailo worked the key again in his locker the moment he heard the stairs door closing behind Cherat, and swiftly reached the row which had locker number 243 and 244 in it.
‘Start now, Jeete,’ he said in an urgent voice, ‘don’t waste time.’
Jeet Singh did not reply. He had already opened the suitcase and was taking out his tools. He started without wasting a moment.
The lockers had a double-locking system opened by two keys—one the customer’s and the other the management’s—but it could be closed by the customer’s key alone. Within the next eight minutes Jeet Singh opened locker 243 and started repacking his tools, proving once again why people used to swear by his magical capabilities of vault-busting.
‘You opened it?’ Gailo asked. He could speak only with great difficulty, the suspense was killing him.
Jeet Singh nodded.
With trembling hands Gailo pulled open the locker’s door. He seemed to nearly have a cardiac arrest the moment it opened easily with the pull. He shoved his hand inside and pulled out the briefcase.
‘It’s heavy,’ he whispered.
‘It ought to be, if it’s not empty,’ Jeet Singh replied calmly.
‘But it’s locked.’
‘We will open it later, first get out of here.’
‘Jeete, I am in suspense. What if we find later that we carried a deadweight?’
‘Don’t worry, just get going.’
‘But I am worried. We can leave this briefcase here, I have brought a similar one just for a situation like this.’
‘Leave the second one here and take this.’
‘But …’
‘Gailo, do as I say, don’t waste time standing here.’
With great reluctance, Gailo put the briefcase brought by him into the locker and Jeet Singh closed it down with ease. Locking it was a whole lot easier than opening it.
Jeet Singh took hold of his small, toolkit bag that looked like a doctor’s bag, handed over the suitcase to Gailo and both of them left the place. The door opened the moment they reached the end of stairs.
It was Cherat who had opened it.
He stole a glance at the guard and secretly made the gesture of tossing a coin.
In response, Gailo uttered just one word, ‘Outside.’
Cherat nodded, and moved towards the entrance, ahead of them.
Gailo handed him a long envelope when both he and Jeet Singh reached near the taxi.
Cherat folded the envelope, put it in his trousers’ pocket, turned back without even looking at them and went back in.
‘Shall I put the briefcase in the boot?’ Gailo asked Jeet Singh.
‘If I am the passenger, then what’s the point of putting my briefcase in the boot? Is it a trunk or some other sort of luggage?’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘Put the toolkit there.’
‘ok.’
He put the toolkit in the boot, closed it and then both of them sat in the taxi as before—as driver and passenger.
Jeet Singh placed the briefcase beside him.
Gailo started the engine, put the taxi in gear, took a U-turn, and drove in the direction they had come from.
There was not much rush, either in the market, or on the road, at that time in the night.
Gailo changed gears and increased the speed.
Suddenly a speeding jeep came from behind, overtook their taxi and stopped in front of it. Gailo slammed the
brakes and could hardly prevent hitting the jeep.
The screeching of brakes echoed in the quiet of the night.
Jeet Singh jerked forward and hit the back of the front seat. The briefcase jumped and fell to the floor.
Gailo was just about to shoot a volley of abuse when he realized the jeep belonged to the police. A constable was on the driver’s seat and a three-star inspector sat beside him. He could clearly see the pistol in the holster attached to his uniform’s belt. By this time, the constable had also taken his hands off the steering and now there was a rifle in his hand.
‘Jesus!’ muttered Gailo, touching the cross hanging from his neck.
The inspector came out of the jeep, moving carelessly, a baton in his hand.
He made a blow at the taxi’s bonnet with the baton without any apparent reason and thundered, ‘Step out.’
‘But, boss,’ pleaded Gailo, ‘I’m carrying a passenger, please have some consideration for …’
‘The passenger also has to step out.’
‘But why, what wrong have I done?’
‘So you dare disobey me!’ he said, his hand now on the butt of the pistol.
‘Oh no, boss, never. I was just asking …’
‘Come out and ask.’
Cursing the inspector and his fate, Gailo stepped out of the taxi.
Jeet Singh was also shocked by this sudden turn of events, but he thought it to be a routine check that would be over soon.
‘Where’s your license?’ the inspector said harshly.
Gailo showed him his license.
‘Show me the rc, the insurance papers!’
Gailo showed him those too.
‘Boss,’ Gailo asked in a low tone while showing the papers, ‘why such thorough checking? What wrong have I done?’
‘We have an anonymous tip that some terrorists are planning a bomb blast here.’
‘Jesus!’
‘So, we have to check all vehicles,’ he said while peeping inside the taxi and targeting the passenger with a casual glance. ‘Where are you coming from, where are you going?’
‘I am coming from Premier Vault Service, and going to Vithalwadi.’
‘What’s in the briefcase?’
‘Boss, it belongs to the passenger, how can I know?’
‘Hmmm. Sardar sahib, step out a moment.’
‘Why?’ Jeet Singh asked, attempting to make his voice authoritative to convey he was someone important, upset at being interrogated, ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Step out with the briefcase.’
‘But what’s the matter?’
The inspector placed the baton under the arm and pulled out the pistol.
‘Are you stepping out or not?’ he asked in a voice laced with violence.
God!
He came out of the car with the briefcase and confronted the inspector.
‘What’s in the briefcase?’ .
‘Some papers,’ Jeet Singh said, ‘and some personal stuff.’
‘There’s a bomb in it.’
‘What?’
‘And you are planning to plant it somewhere here.’
‘What are you talking about, sir? Do I look like a …’
‘Place the briefcase on the taxi’s hood.’
Jeet Singh did as instructed.
‘Open it.’
How could he open it?
He searched his pockets, as if trying to find the key.
‘I don’t have the key,’ he said finally.
‘And why don’t you have it?’ the inspector gave him a mean look.
‘Have lost it somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘Don’t know, but sir, I must tell you …’
‘Enough of it. Both of you have to come to the police station.’
‘Why?’
‘The briefcase needs to be checked. Sit in the jeep, both of you.’
‘But, sir …’
‘Either show what’s in the briefcase or come to the police station. I don’t want to hear any arguments here. The station is quite nearby. You will be freed in five minutes if there is nothing objectionable in the briefcase.’
Jeet Singh’s heart began to sink. It wouldn’t be long before the policemen realized he was a fake sardar. And then, the briefcase itself could have anything in it—narcotics, foreign currency, smuggled goods. They were definitely not going to come out if they went to the police station.
What a twist of fate! The main task was accomplished without any problem, and now this unnecessary issue sprang up from nowhere.
‘Move!’
‘Boss,’ Gailo pleaded, ‘I will follow you in the taxi.’
‘No, leave the taxi here.’
‘But, boss …’
‘ok, so it seems it is you who is the terrorist. Ganpat, shoot the bickering bastard!’
The constable straightened his rifle.
‘I am coming along, boss,’ Gailo said in a terrified voice. ‘I am coming along this minute.’
He locked the taxi and then got into the jeep with Jeet Singh.
The inspector also sat on his seat, besides the driver.
Surprisingly, he made no attempt to take the briefcase in his possession.
As per the nameplates on their uniforms, the name of the inspector was Govind Rao Apte, and that of the constable was Ganpat Rao Tingre.
The jeep moved forward.
‘Boss,’ Gailo said, ‘this is not the way to the police station. The police station is that way …’
‘I know, I know,’ the inspector said without turning his head, ‘a tempo has overturned on that road, it is jammed, so we are going to take an alternative route by taking a turn a little further.’
‘Oh!’
The jeep kept running.
The terrified and apprehensive eyes of Jeet Singh and Gailo met a few times, but neither said anything. Both of them knew they were totally helpless at the moment. They could do nothing other than wait for what destiny had decided for them.
The jeep came out of the market area and started running on a desolate road. As the road took a turn, Gailo felt the inspector was probably telling the truth when he said they were going to the police station.
He felt relieved of the dreadful apprehensions that had been haunting him.
Suddenly the jeep began to slow down.
Then it passed through an iron gate into a vast, semi-lit compound. There was a single-storeyed building on the far end of the compound, with a long, lit corridor.
Instead of going all the way to the building, the constable stopped the jeep halfway under a tree.
Gailo saw some other vehicles also parked around.
‘Go with the briefcase,’ the inspector said to the constable, ‘and have it inspected in the lab for explosives. Come back if there is no such thing in it, so that I can release them. And if there is anything objectionable, then tell the force there to arrest them.’
The constable nodded, got out, took the briefcase and was soon lost in the rows of parked vehicles.
‘I stopped here because I did not want to treat you harshly,’ said the inspector. ‘Had I taken you to the main building, the sho would have had you arrested first and then proceeded further. You would have spent the night in the lock-up then, even if nothing was recovered from the briefcase. And once arrested and shut in the lock-up, greasing the palms of officers becomes imminent even if one is innocent. You know what I mean?
‘Yes, boss,’ Gailo said.
Both he and Jeet Singh knew what the inspector was talking about.
‘But, boss,’ Gailo said, ‘if you were so kind to us then surely you could have done us one more act of kindness.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You could have asked us for palm-greasing back there and then.’
‘Bloody smartass! Arre, that possibility would have emerged only if your passenger had opened the briefcase.’
‘You’re right, boss.’
Ten minutes passed.
; ‘Where the hell has this bloody Ganpat gone?’ muttered the inspector. Then he stepped out of the jeep and said, ‘Let me see for myself.’
The inspector also took the trail taken by the constable, and got lost likewise.
‘Gailo!’ said Jeet Singh suddenly.
‘Yes?’ Gailo said half-heartedly.
‘Those policemen … they went away leaving us behind in the jeep!’
‘So?’
‘We are the suspects! And terrorists if there are any explosives in the briefcase!’
‘The briefcase is likely to have more objectionable material than explosives.’
‘That’s what I wanted to say. And that inspector left us alone here. Who will stop us if we just walk out of here?’
‘Nobody.’ Gailo sounded perplexed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Listen to one more thing.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Those policemen intercepted us because they had an anonymous tip that some terrorists wanted to stage a blast there and they were checking all vehicles!’
‘That’s what they said.’
‘Is such checking conducted by only two policemen? Had we been real terrorists, could only two of them handle us?’
Gailo’s eyes widened.
‘That’s correct!’ he said in an excited voice. ‘That’s bloody absolutely correct. A whole contingent of policemen reaches the spot if they get a tip about terrorists. And here, only two people came. Such a simple thing and my stupid mind couldn’t comprehend it!’
‘And then how did they do the checking? We could have been armed but they did not frisk us, nor search the taxi or ask us to open the boot. The whole bloody focus was upon the briefcase, no?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then what idiot of an inspector was he who could not sense I was a fake sardar, that too when I was standing just in front of him. Why could he not sense it?’
‘Why?’
‘Because there was no need for it. He didn’t give two hoots for who I was because, I repeat, the focus was on the briefcase. We were nobodies to them.’
‘But, Jeete, what would that mean?’
‘We were taken for a ride … and a very successful one at that.’
‘Don’t tell me that! What about the police jeep?’
‘How do you know it’s a police jeep, just because it has police written on it?’
‘But, man, it is standing inside the police station!’