Outside, it was pouring. Caught unawares in an area which was exposed to the elements, they ran helter-skelter, clutching their veshtis lest they come undone.
Nirav was the first to run up to the mandapam, where his attention was immediately drawn to the imposing statue of Lord Padmanabha Swamy. Seeing him, the rest of the team followed. Vikram Rai was first, then came the others. Subhash was last. He was completely drenched. As he rushed on to the mandapam, his foot slipped. He managed to break his fall with his hands but his head still struck the floor. Nirav reached out and pulled him up. ‘Careful. Careful,’ he muttered as he helped Subhash back on his feet.
While they waited for the rain to subside, Vikram Rai looked at Dharmaraja Varma and said, ‘We will come back tomorrow. The arrangements will have been made by then.’
Varma nodded.
‘And we have to figure out a way to open Vault B. We can’t wait for a siddhapurusha to turn up.’
As Vikram walked away, the king muttered: ‘There is a way.’
Vikram Rai stopped and turned. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said there is a way.’
‘And that is?’
‘Devaprasnam. Divine permission. We need to seek divine permission from the gods to open the vault. If we get the permission, then we will be allowed to do whatever we need to in order to open the vault door.’
Vikram Rai had heard about Devaprasnam. ‘What if the outcome of the Devaprasnam is a no?’
‘Then you would be advised not to try to open the vault,’ Dharmaraja Varma said firmly. ‘But just imagine, what if the outcome is a yes? Everything will go as per your will.’ And he smiled. ‘For the gods’ will shall be proven to be no different from yours.’
Vikram turned on his heel and strode out of the temple, followed by his team. The king remained on the mandapam, a worried look on his face. He needed time to think.
33
MUMBAI
Divya’s and Aditya’s lives were entering a critical phase. Aditya wanted to establish his career before they settled down together. All their discussions these days centred on what Aditya should do with his career. Join a leading firm as an apprentice? Start out on his own? Work with Nirav? His indecision was beginning to irk Divya.
They were having dinner at St Regis that night when Divya’s phone rang.
‘How are you, Aunty?’ she said the moment she answered the phone. ‘Hmm . . . mmhmm,’ she said, listening intently. ‘I know, Aunty. It is very tough. All of us miss him. I can only imagine how hard it must be for all of you. . . . Oh! . . . But why? You really want to do that, Aunty? . . . Hmm . . .’
Aditya waited patiently while Divya finished her conversation.
‘Sure, I will check with Dad and get back to you.’
After disconnecting the call, she turned towards Aditya. ‘Akhil Uncle’s wife.’
‘Akhil Uncle?’ Aditya asked. ‘Am I supposed to know him?’
‘Akhil Uncle! The one who owned the neighbouring shop.’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ said Aditya. ‘The one who died in the Mumbai blasts.’
‘Hmm. Yes, him,’ Divya confirmed. ‘That was his wife.’
‘What did she want?’
‘They want to move back to Rajkot. She has family there. They want to sell and consolidate all their holdings. She wanted to speak to Dad. Apparently she’s been trying to reach him, but can’t get through. She wants to know if he is interested in buying that property. I told her I would check with Dad and let her know.’
‘What do you think he’ll say?’
‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll be keen. And knowing him, he will even pay a premium to Akhil Uncle’s family. He is very close to them. He was the one who convinced Akhil Uncle, and a few of the other merchants, to stay back in Zaveri Bazaar when they were planning to shift to the BKC bourse.’
‘Do you really want him to buy it?’ Aditya asked her. ‘If he buys it, he will never feel a space crunch. All he’ll need to do is break down the wall connecting the two offices. The space will be more than enough for him. He will stay in bloody Zaveri Bazaar for the rest of his life!’
‘I know! But that’s his call. I can’t make that choice for him.’
‘Why don’t you quietly turn down the offer? In any case, he’s tied up with the temple issue for a few weeks. By the time he comes back, the property will have been sold.’
‘Aditya!’ Divya exclaimed, rolling her eyes. ‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘One thing’s certain, Divya,’ Aditya said in a firm tone, ‘I will never work with your dad if he doesn’t move out of Zaveri Bazaar. That place stinks!’
Even though Divya agreed with almost everything Aditya had said, she didn’t like the way he wanted her to manipulate her father. She too was not in favour of Nirav’s continuing to work out of Zaveri Bazaar, but she had left the decision to him. He had built his business from nothing operating from that small dungeon of an office; rather, he had built his life from there. She couldn’t trick him into giving it up. ‘Well, that’s your call. I will never lie on behalf of Dad or to him,’ she responded curtly, and then sulked for what remained of the evening.
After a tense dinner, Aditya dropped her home. He parked his car on the road outside the building and walked her to the gate. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. At the gate Divya gave him a quick hug and walked into the building without saying a word. Aditya waited outside until she got into the lift and then stomped back to his car, irritated by the way things had progressed that evening.
As he pulled out the keys from his pocket, a tap on his shoulder made him turn.
‘We need to talk. Care for some coffee?’
‘What the—’
Before he could complete his question, Aditya had fallen on the bonnet of his car. His mouth was sealed.
34
NEW DELHI
Kabir Khan was in an extremely volatile mood. He had been summoned back to Delhi for a discussion with Director Inamdar. Unfortunately, it had not gone well. Inamdar had just returned from a two-day trip to Dubai where he had met Mohammed Jilani. Obviously the Wafi Mall heist had been discussed. The repercussions of that conversation were felt in Inamdar’s meeting with Kabir.
To make matters worse, he had not made any headway in the Tamil Nadu case. In fact they had hit a dead end in the Varadaraja Perumal Temple and in Suthamalli. Madhavan and he had visited the temple, and while their hypothesis was right, and they had indeed identified where the theft had taken place, they had not got any more leads. The villagers had no idea who was behind the robbery or when it might have occurred. The last that anyone had seen the sculptures in the temple was over four years ago. The Nataraja statue and the one found in Dubai could have been stolen any time in the intervening period.
He walked back to his personal bar and poured himself a refill: single malt, Laphroaig was his favourite. Glass in hand, he walked back to his desk, picked up his iPhone and scrolled through the numerous messages on WhatsApp. He stopped at the one Inamdar had sent him from Dubai.
‘Our credibility has been seriously impacted. Wonder if I did the right thing by asking you to manage a case related to disappearance of TEMPLE sculptures. Back tomorrow morning. Please meet me.’
In his entire career this was the first time someone had reprimanded Kabir in this manner. And what did Inamdar mean by typing the word temple in capitals? Why was it that his religion always came in the way? Why did people always judge him? Inamdar was now seemingly accusing him of being a Muslim and hence not focusing on the temple sculpture case. He gulped down the large peg of whisky in one go. He was feeling a bit heavy. He had been drinking from the moment he got back from Inamdar’s office. That made it four and a half hours of drinking. Drinking alone!
Kabir set down his glass and opened his email. There were sixteen unread messages. He looked at all of them. Most were pointless forwards; a few were spam, which he deleted before he tossed his phone on the sofa. Then he staggere
d to his bedroom, fell face down on the bed and passed out.
35
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM
The rains didn’t abate the following day either. Word on the street, thanks to Dharmaraja Varma’s PR machinery, was that this was the lord’s way of expressing displeasure at what was going on in the temple.
For Vikram Rai and his team, it was a big day. The vaults were going to be opened. They couldn’t afford to be distracted by such superstition. Meanwhile, spurred by the story about the lord’s displeasure, a large crowd had gathered outside the temple, completely blocking access to it. The moment the cars carrying Vikram and the others turned into the street the crowd became violent, a few people even pelting stones at the pilot car. Thankfully, this time, the law enforcers were well prepared. In no time, they cleared the road and ensured that the team could reach the temple premises.
Everyone got out of their cars and hurried in, Subhash taking a little longer than the rest. He was limping—he had injured himself in the fall on the temple mandapam the day before.
Dharmaraja Varma was already there. He had not returned to his residence after his early morning routine.
The audit team, the temple office bearers and the king made their way to Vault A. Nirav brought up the rear with a limping Subhash, helping him down the steps into the vault area.
When they reached the vault, Vikram Rai took out the keys and handed them to the trustee. He inserted them in the slots and turned them clockwise. It took some time, but eventually the door opened with a clank. It was heavy and it took considerable effort to push it open.
Inside the vault it was pitch dark. A few technicians in moon suits with oxygen cylinders strapped to their backs went in to assess the quality of the air in the vault and set up lights. The audit team waited outside for about ten minutes before the technicians gave the all-clear. Vikram Rai closed his eyes for an instant and then raised his right foot and stepped into the vault. A silent prayer of thanks escaped his lips when nothing happened. One by one the entire team followed.
The vault was really just a large chamber, twenty feet by twenty-five feet, with no light save that coming from the LEDs brought in by the technicians. The chamber had nothing except for four walls and a roof. It was empty . . . Almost.
In the floor, to the rear of the chamber, was a small trapdoor, at best three feet by three feet. Vikram and Nirav walked to the trapdoor while the others stayed back near the entrance to the vault. Vikram went down on his knees and peered inside. Three of the technicians had gone down into the space below the trapdoor.
‘This is unbelievable!’ one of them yelled. ‘You have to see this!’
There were roughly fifteen steps leading into the enclosure where the technician was standing with a light. Vikram carefully turned and manoeuvred himself through the trapdoor and climbed down the stepladder. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lights and saw what the technician was pointing at, his jaw dropped.
‘What the hell!’
36
NEW DELHI
Kabir Khan was finding it difficult to open his eyes. It was as if something heavy was weighing down his eyelids and preventing them from opening. But the ring of the phone was persistent. He had ignored it once. Maybe twice. Perhaps even more times; he did not know.
With a sense of foreboding Kabir stumbled to the living room and looked around for his phone. The ringing had stopped, making it difficult for him to figure out where it was. He remembered checking his messages on it before tossing it somewhere in a drunken haze. But where? The ringing started up once again, painfully loud now that he was in the same room as the phone. He looked around and realized the sound was coming from the sofa. He pulled it out from under the cushions and answered it.
‘Where are you, Mr Khan?’ Madhavan asked testily. ‘I have been trying to reach you since last night. I was about to call Delhi Police and lodge a missing person’s report.’
‘Sorry . . . sorry,’ Kabir mumbled. ‘Don’t know what happened last night.’ Flashes of his conversation with Inamdar came to him.
‘I must have called your number at least thirty, forty times.’
‘What the hell was so important?’ Kabir rubbed his hand over his face wearily. ‘Maniac!’
‘Have you checked your mail?’
‘For the last ten hours that I was sleeping? No!’
‘Check your mail. Right now!’
‘Wait,’ Kabir said shortly. He put the call on speaker and tapped his way into his inbox. He quickly scanned the new messages, but didn’t find anything which seemed significant. He was about to tell Madhavan to go to hell when he remembered that he had deleted quite a few mails the night before. Those would still be in the trash folder. He quickly checked. He had deleted four mails the night before. One of them was from Flipkart, one from Urban Ladder, one from some loan company. It was the fourth which didn’t seem to belong there. It was from [email protected]. The unfamiliar ID and his drunken stupor had made him think it was spam and delete it.
‘Well?’ Madhavan’s voice floated over the speaker.
‘Yes, yes, hang on!’ Kabir opened the mail and quickly read through it. The iPhone almost slipped out of his hands. He read it again.
‘Damn. This is awesome stuff.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We have to talk to them.’ Kabir was wide awake now. ‘Maybe even go there.’ After a pause, he asked. ‘Are you scared?’
Madhavan laughed.
‘Okay, look,’ Kabir suggested. ‘I’ll write to these guys. Let’s see what they say.’
‘Not in your jurisdiction,’ Madhavan reminded him. ‘The case is still with the state. I need to talk to the commissioner about it. And remember, she has written to me, not to you.’
‘Okay. But whatever you have to do, do it today.’
‘Right away.’
‘I am taking the afternoon flight; I’ll see you once I land.’
After he hung up, Kabir looked at his screen. The mail was still there. He read it again.
Dear Mr Madhavan,
Please allow me to introduce myself: I am Monna Yates, a blogger at chariotsoffire.com. I came across an article in one of your newspapers about the theft of a statue, identified as the Lord of Cosmic Dance from a temple in south India. We are a group of bloggers who trace, track and unite stolen artefacts from across the world with their rightful owners. You could go to our blog to learn more about our work.
The Lord of Cosmic Dance is a very intriguing statue. When I saw the image in the newspaper, I was quite agitated because I knew I had seen the statue somewhere but couldn’t remember where. I mailed our group of volunteers across the globe the same day.
This morning, I got a response from one of our volunteers in Australia. The National Museum of Australia has recently acquired a statue for five million dollars. Our volunteer sent us a picture of the statue. I have attached the photo to this email. As you will notice, it bears an uncanny resemblance to the statue that was stolen.
Should you wish to pursue the matter, you can take it up with the National Museum of Australia.
With regards
Monna Yates
37
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM
Vikram Rai wore a dazzled look when Nirav joined him in the room below the vault.
‘Look!’ he said, the excitement in his eyes unmistakable.
Nirav was shocked when he looked around. Mounds of jewellery, diamonds and other precious stones, utensils made of gold, idols, weapons and gold bars covered every inch of the large room. Chains and necklaces more than twenty feet long, sacks upon sacks of gold coins, antique sculptures, pots overflowing with precious stones, jewellery and gold nuggets. Vikram Rai and Nirav had similar expressions of disbelief on their faces. They were now standing in the midst of treasure which could easily qualify as one of the richest finds in modern-day history. The thought itself was making Vikram Rai nervous. Just the treasure in front of them would be enough to make the temple
one of the wealthiest in the world.
‘Wow!’ exclaimed Nirav, struggling to take his eyes off the floor. By that time a few of the others had also come down.
‘How long will it take to catalogue all this?’ Vikram asked Nirav. The room was almost four times as large as the one above it, maybe even bigger. And it was full of gold.
‘Cataloguing will not take as long as valuing all this will,’ Nirav said. He looked up and noticed Subhash peeping through the trapdoor. ‘Hurry up and get well! You’re missing out!’ He laughed, then turned back to Vikram. ‘Are we planning to establish the worth of these riches here itself? It is going to be a tough task.’
‘What is the option?’
‘First, we ought to transfer everything to a sterile environment. Working indefinitely in this dungeon will be impossible.’
‘Security will be an issue,’ countered Vikram.
‘That can be dealt with,’ Nirav responded.
‘Even so, there will be enormous resistance to taking all this wealth out of the vault. People here are very emotional, particularly about anything that pertains to the temple. We can’t take the chance of antagonizing them,’ Vikram replied.
‘Fair point,’ Nirav conceded. ‘But to do our job, we need a well-lit place. Equipment. Manpower. And, most importantly, space to work. Can you imagine what it would be like if we brought twenty jewellers in here? The whole place will be crowded. No matter how much security you have, you won’t know if someone walks out with a pocket full of rubies.’
‘Let’s think about our options.’
Vikram Rai was not comfortable with the idea of transferring all that wealth outside the vault. He walked around the room, stopping every now and then to look at a piece of jewellery or examine a statue. He had never seen so much of wealth. It was mind-boggling.
‘Okay. Here is what we’re going to do,’ he said after some time. ‘We’ll use the room upstairs. It will be easier to light up, and will be safe too. I know it is small, but it is empty. Seven to ten valuers can fit in there. And nothing will leave the vault.’
In the Name of God Page 9