‘So, is this sword of the cd going to hang forever over our heads?’
‘It is so as of now. We will see what can be done about it later.’
‘Jeete, I was hopeful that this Cherat fellow would give us some information about those fake cops. But nothing of that sort happened. We thought of threatening him and ended up being threatened by him.’
‘Such things are common during adverse times. But don’t be disheartened, we can still do a lot of things?’
‘What things?’
‘I will tell you later, first let’s leave this place.’
Friday: 22 May
It was near noon when Jeet Singh woke up.
He had had a restless night. It was 1.30 a.m. by the time he had got home. He could sleep only a little, that too in the early hours of the morning. All night he tossed and turned in bed agonizing about how fate had turned the tables on them at the last moment.
Wretched fate of a wretched man.
He had just finished his daily chores and was making some tea when the mobile rang.
It was Eduardo.
‘Did the call come?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Jeete,’ he heard Eduardo’s complaining voice, ‘at least say “hello” first, a “good morning” or a “good afternoon” first!’
‘Sorry, Daddy, I was just a bit …’
‘What just a bit?’
‘Why did you call?’
‘I called for the same reason that is occupying your mind too much, and unnecessarily at that. Why so, Jeete?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing of the sort. So, did the call come?’
‘No.’
‘Oh!’
‘But I managed to get an approximate number of his.’
‘An approximate number?’
‘Yes. One digit of the ten-digit number, the last one, I failed to comprehend.’
‘How did you manage to get the rest of the nine?’
‘I had noted that number on a notepad and tore off that page later. But today when I saw the notepad, I realized that an impression of the numbers was left on the next page.’
‘You noted the number on Tuesday and saw the notepad today, on Friday?’
‘Yes. There was no need to write down anything in between. I took it to write something today and only then did I notice that the impression was still there.’
‘So?’
‘When I rubbed the lead of a pencil gently over it, the numbers appeared again.’
‘I see.’
‘Jeete, the last digit is not clear, but the other nine are. You can note them down if you want.’
‘Yes, tell me.’
‘981787403, the tenth digit appears to be blurred, but I guess it could not be 1, 2, 4, 7 or 9. The remaining options are 3, 5, 6, 8 or 0. These five digits will make five numbers. Try them all.’
‘I will.’
‘You can try all ten of them if you wish.’
‘I will try only five, but if the call comes, do inform me all the same.’
‘Sure.’
The call was disconnected.
He dialled all five possible numbers from a pco. Three of them proved to be of no use to him. And he did not get any reply from the two numbers ending with 6 and 3.
He was about to come out of the pco when he was reminded of the number he and Gailo had extracted from Murli Cherat. He took out his mobile to see that number and dialled it.
The automated answering system started announcing: ‘This number does not exist’.
He had expected the same. Getting a new sim card was child’s play these days. People procured a sim card for a particular purpose, and threw it once it was served.
He called Navlani from his mobile.
There was no response.
What a day!
Jeet Singh was on his way to Crawford Market when the phone rang.
Shekhar Navlani was calling.
He received the call.
‘You called?’ Navlani asked.
‘Yes, sahib.’
‘I am very busy today. Could not pay attention to the phone. What is it?’
‘Nothing special, sahib. I just called to check if you had any news for me.’
‘Well, there is some.’
‘What, sahib?’
‘The thing you said in passing has proved to be correct.’
‘Can you be a bit more specific, sahib?’
‘Yesterday, when we met in Cobra’s office, you said the son-in-law could have been here even before Sethji’s death. And any of the two sons could also be here before that. You remember it now?’
‘Yes, sahib. Was any of them here prior to Sethji’s death?’
‘The son-in-law was here. His plane booking says he reached Mumbai from Kolkata on Monday, 11 May in the morning. The Cobra investigation found out that he took a taxi from the airport, and went straight to Pune. He was booked there in Hotel Skylark, on Connaught Road. He had a return ticket booked for Kolkata for 13 May, Wednesday evening. So, if he met his father-in-law in between, it has to be on Tuesday or Wednesday.’
‘Why not on Monday, sahib?’
‘Because it is confirmed that he left for Pune from the airport itself. If he first went and met his father-in-law, then there was no sense in starting for Pune the same day. If he comes this way on a business errand of his, reaches Pune in the evening, then how could he attend to his business?’
‘Right.’
‘But it is also likely that he didn’t meet the father-in-law at all. He was frequently here, he might not have found it necessary to meet his father-in-law on every trip or he couldn’t find time for the meeting. In addition to this, don’t forget that he was a son-in-law and not a son. Maybe it suited him to dispense with such a formality as meeting his father-in-law.’
‘Yes, sahib, it is quite likely.’
‘The younger son Ashok Changulani’s presence in Mumbai, too, is confirmed to some extent.’
‘To some extent, you said, sahib!’
‘Yes. We have come to know positively of his booking for the Thursday, 11 p.m. flight to London. But we are still not sure of his date of arrival in Mumbai. The investigation, however, is on in this matter.’
‘Fine.’
‘Cobra’s partner Adinath Ghanekar has mentioned this possibility that he might have landed in some other city here and then taken a local flight to Mumbai. He is still working on this line of investigation. He says it is easy to extract such info from an international airline. The local airlines are not so cooperative.’
‘Even then, sahib, it is certain now that he was in India, in Mumbai, two days before the murder?’
‘Yes. We are trying to get the information from the other end too.’
‘The other end?’
‘England. The younger son could have landed at any metropolitan city like Delhi, Kolkata, Madras in India but he must have taken the flight from only one place in England. We will come to know about it soon.’
‘Sahib, why did these two persons—the son-in-law and the younger son—not speak on their own that they were here in Mumbai prior to the murder?’
‘How do you know they did not speak? How do I know they did not speak? Why will they tell us this? Why will they tell you? They would have spoken to the persons concerned, how would we come to know what they said?’
‘You are right, sahib.’
‘Talk to Sushmita, maybe she knows something about it.’
‘I will.’
‘Did you talk to her about the will?’
‘No, sahib, I could not find the time, but will do it soon.’
‘ok. But for now, considering the information we have, we cannot ignore the fact that there are other people, too, and any one of them could have issued the supari for murder. It is not absolutely necessary that only the son or the son-in-law might have done this, might have committed this unbelievably cruel deed. But now, we can’t say that it just is not possible. In the light of the information we currently have, the objection
that “the sons in England, son-in-law in Kolkata, and the supari-issuer in Mumbai” does not seem to hold. Also, this establishes that Sushmita was not the only person with access to the murder weapon that was part of the fancy cutlery set belonging to the Changulani household. If Sushmita—or even you—is accused of the murder, then these things will go in their favour. If Gunjan Shah takes on the case, these things will prove to be great ammunition for him.’
‘Oh!’
‘I am trying to contact him since yesterday but haven’t managed yet. I will inform you once I get in touch.’
‘Thank you, sahib.’
‘Anyway, kudos to you, your guess seems to have hit the mark.’
‘All these things happened due to your efforts, sahib. You deserve all the compliments.’
‘I’m disconnecting now.’
Jeet Singh reached Crawford Market.
His spot outside the hardware store there was like a panwari’s shop. The only thing of some value there was an iron almirah fixed in the wall, which he used to keep his tools, key blanks and some old locks of different styles. The last item was there to make an impression over potential customers that he could easily handle any lock irrespective of its locking mechanism, type or shape. The second important role of the almirah was to keep his expensive toolkit safe.
He had reached there with the purpose of hiding his toolkit in the almirah. But he also intended to spend some time there so as to cover the real purpose.
He unlocked the almirah and opened it.
There was a special chamber in the almirah where the toolkit could be hid. He had just finished doing so when two people suddenly appeared before him.
Jeet Singh was alarmed.
The way they suddenly appeared indicated they were hanging around, waiting for him to arrive at his spot. Both were wearing decent clothes but still seemed to be shady characters because of their looks. One was tall, wearing black trousers and a blue shirt with an open collar. He had a pendant around his neck with ‘Allah’ engraved on it. The other was short and stocky. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
‘Jeet Singh!’ the tall one asked.
Jeet Singh nodded.
‘Are you the locksmith who runs this shop?’
‘Yes, what do you want?’
‘What could we want other than what you can give?’
‘Meaning?’
‘A lock has to be opened. A door with an automatic lock got closed, and the key is trapped inside. Come with us and open it.’
‘Do you just want it to be opened or you also want to get the duplicate key made?’
‘No, just open the door.’
‘Where?’
‘How does that matter? We will take you there in the car.’
‘It matters. I will be losing business if I shut the shop to go with you.’
‘So, what do you want?’
‘Two hundred rupees if it’s a short trip. Five hundred if we have to go far.’
‘ok, ok, we are going to Byculla, Mount Road. Is it far or near?’
‘Far.’
‘Fine, come.’
Jeet Singh took some tools with him, locked the almirah and went with them.
They walked to the parking and got into a Wagon-R parked there. The stocky fellow sat on the driving seat, Jeet Singh sat beside him while the tall one sat in the rear as if he was the boss and the other two were staff.
The car charged forward.
The journey was made in silence.
Their destination was a six-storey building. They entered and took the lift to the top floor. There the stocky fellow rang the bell fitted in the panel of the closed door.
A middle-aged man opened the door.
‘Where is Big Boss, Mirchu?’ asked the taller one.
‘In the hall,’ he replied.
‘Who’s with him?’
‘Mangesh Gable …’
Warning bells started ringing in Jeet Singh’s ears.
The middleman! There!
‘… And those two fellows from the vault, the manager and the clerk.’
The clerk!
‘What are our instructions?’
‘You’re to go in and show your face to Big Boss so that he knows you’ve returned. Big Boss will tell you the rest.’
‘ok.’
He went in. The stocky fellow followed him holding Jeet Singh by the elbow.
‘But … but …’ Jeet Singh said in an agitated manner, ‘that closed door … that lock …’
‘Yes, yes, we are coming to it.’
‘But …’
‘Arre, why are you so tense?’
‘Because my time is getting wasted.’
‘Don’t worry. Charge extra. Now, be quiet for a while.’
‘Who is the big boss?’
‘Enough of it for now.’
‘Tell me this much at least. I’m dying of suspense.’
‘You will wet your pants if I tell you the name.’
‘Boss, please do.’
‘Mehboob Firangi.’
Jeeta nearly choked.
Mehboob Firangi!
Good God!
He was a big gangster, a mafia don with links to the infamous Dawood Ibrahim.
‘The omens are not good,’ a worried Jeet Singh thought, ‘unknowingly I have set foot in the lion’s den.’
By now, he was certain that he had not been summoned there for a locksmith’s job. The other possible reason for bringing him there was sending shivers down his spine.
God! Mercy!
The three of them reached a hall through a door. A big man of around fifty was sitting in an upholstered leather chair behind an office table in the left wing of the hall. He had a thick moustache, heavy eyebrows, long sideburns and long hair down to his shoulders. He wore a full-sleeved, sparkling white shirt and trousers, and had a thick gold chain around his neck. A Rolex watch gleamed on his left wrist, a thick gold bracelet on the right wrist, and a sapphire ring on the index finger of the same hand. His jaw was clenched, facial expressions brutal and demeanour full of unrest. He seemed to be in a very bad mood.
So this was Big Boss Mehboob Firangi!
Three men were standing respectfully before him. Murli Cherat was one of them. He was wearing his vault uniform—black trousers, white shirt, and black tie. A clean-shaven, bespectacled man in his forties, standing beside Cherat in a similar outfit was obviously the manager of the vault. A little away from them stood a man in a red check shirt and blue jeans, who could be none else than the middleman Mangesh Gable.
The tall guy coughed respectfully.
Big Boss looked at them and nodded.
All three of them stood just inside the threshold.
‘The camera system,’ Big Boss was asking the manager, ‘why did it not record everything?’
‘It recorded everything, sir,’ the manager said in a pleading voice, ‘only one camera in the basement did not function for around ten minutes.’
‘Why did it not?’
‘It happens some time, sir—a connection breaks down, a wire goes loose or the mechanism malfunctions. But it started working properly after just ten minutes.’
‘Why did it malfunction at the time when those two fellows were there?’
‘Sir, with due respect, sir … it malfunctioned because it had some problem and it had to malfunction sooner or later. It is just a coincidence that it did so at a time when those two persons were there.’
‘The monitor also went kaput at the same time?’
‘No, sir, the monitor worked perfectly.’
‘Then why did it not show what was happening in the vault?’
‘Sir, the screen shows things only when the camera is working properly.’
‘So, if there is nothing on the screen, it means the camera is not working properly?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘When it was evident that the camera was not working, why was the defect not corrected immediately?’
‘It was done immediately
, sir, a wire had gone loose and it was …’
‘Why did it take ten minutes to know there was a loose wire?’
The manager was silenced.
‘Sir,’ he said after mustering some courage, ‘in such places as ours, nobody sits permanently watching the live camera feed on the monitor.’
‘Why is that so?’
‘Sir, no untoward incidence has ever happened in our vault. The electronic surveillance system was installed there as per the government directive. We never felt any need of that system; it was just a formality we completed to comply with the desired standards. The recording was done all the same which could be reviewed any time in future.’
‘It was not done. For ten minutes it was not done.’
‘Sir, by coincidence …’
‘What do I do with your coincidence? Such a big loss occurred. Who will compensate for it?
The manager swallowed with unease.
‘You people charge absurd rates for the locker service. But when it comes to taking responsibility for security, you talk about coincidence. Now, how will the recovery happen? By coincidence?’
‘Sir, an fir could be filed with the police …’
‘Have you gone mad? What will we tell the police? What was placed in? What was taken away? The police will ask bloody what kind of a locker you rented which got busted in just ten minutes. What will you tell them?’
‘Sir, the locker could not be busted …’
‘So it is closed properly and safely? My stuff is safe?’
‘… it was a miracle that it got opened …’
‘Who performed this miracle?’
The manager looked at his clerk.
‘Sir,’ Cherat said in a trembling voice, ‘I said it before that …’
‘Say it again.’
‘Sir, either the locker was not closed properly after being opened by your men …’
‘Whose mistake is that? Why did you not close it properly?’
The Colaba Conspiracy Page 16