In the Name of God

by Ravi Subramanian

  ‘But what?’ Kabir asked, and then fell silent as he listened. ‘One hundred per cent!’ he blurted suddenly. ‘The bank funded the full value of the car, when their norm is eighty-five to ninety per cent! Is that normal? . . . Hmmm, I didn’t think so. Then what made them do it in this case? All right, can you find out for me? . . . Okay. Let me see what can be done. Thanks a lot, Patil . . . Hey, hang on! . . . Yes, yes, I am a pain! I know! But I need some more help, Patil, and only you can help me,’ he said and went on to explain what he wanted done. ‘You got that? Thanks, man! . . . Yeah, bye!’

  Kabir disconnected the call, and immediately dialled another number. He didn’t like pulling strings normally, but in this case, he had to.

  ‘This is Additional Director Kabir Khan, CBI. Can you connect me to Mrs Sharma’s office?’ He kept the phone on the table and put it on speaker so that Krishnan could also hear the conversation.

  A brief bank jingle played while he was transferred, and then: ‘Mr Khan! What a pleasant surprise!’

  ‘How are you, Mrs Sharma? I always only seem to remember you when all my other options have failed and I am desperate.’

  ‘Not at all, Mr Khan! Tell me what you need. I don’t require a preamble. Least of all from you.’

  ‘Patankar, loan number LA468923401. Bought five cabs and put them for use with Ola Cabs in June or July this year. Axis Bank funded him. You guys gave him full funding for the on-road value of the car.’

  ‘Did we? That’s surprising.’

  ‘I’m sure you had good reasons for it. I want to know what they were.’

  ‘Let me check.’

  ‘Do you want me to send you the forms?’

  ‘Come on, Mr Khan!’ Mrs Sharma laughed. ‘You got the forms from us, and you are asking if you need to send them to me?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Sharma!’ Khan smiled and disconnected the call. Mrs Sharma and he went back a long way—she had been his relationship manager at one point in time. And he had helped her out in a case of domestic violence.

  Mrs Sharma called back within half an hour. ‘I think I know why we did that.’

  For the next five minutes, Khan didn’t utter a word. He quietly heard what Mrs Sharma had to say. With every passing moment he could feel his heart beat faster.

  ‘Are you there, Mr Khan?’

  A shocked Khan could only whisper into his phone, ‘I think you have just managed to complicate the entire scenario for me. Thank you for everything.’

  He hung up.

  ‘What do we do?’ he asked Krishnan after explaining everything that Mrs Sharma had told him.

  ‘Vikram Rai and his team have gone back for the long weekend. Let them come back. We will do what we have to on Monday morning.’

  97

  MUMBAI

  The next morning, a Friday, Kabir Khan travelled to Mumbai for a day. He had some unfinished business with ACP Patil.

  ‘Did you file the charge sheet?’ Khan asked him the moment he saw him. ‘I need to take a look at it.’

  ‘What is the matter, Khan? What’s playing on your mind?’ Patil asked, gesturing to his team to bring the three-thousand-page charge sheet in the Mumbai blasts case.

  ‘Nothing,’ Kabir replied distractedly. ‘Let me see it. Maybe I will be able to tell you what I think.’

  Four cartons full of the paperwork that had gone into the charge sheet were brought in. Khan went through them in a very cursory manner. It didn’t take him longer than forty-five minutes.

  ‘Can we meet Lakshmi Narain Sharma? The old guy?’

  ‘Sure. When? Now?’ Patil asked Khan.

  ‘If you’re free, we can go now. Else we can leave in fifteen minutes.’ Khan smiled.

  ‘You are impossible.’ Patil grinned. He picked up his cap and his service revolver from the table and walked out to his jeep.

  ‘Do we know where Patankar is hiding?’ Khan asked Patil. He knew that Patankar was an important cog in the wheel.

  ‘Dallu Driver?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Not yet, but soon, ’ Patil replied. ‘It is just a matter of time.’

  Khan nodded.

  At the jail, Khan talked to Lakshmi for about half an hour. Afterwards, Khan made one more request, one that Patil was not prepared for.

  ‘I want to meet the families of everyone who died in the Mumbai blasts. Seven people died right? I want to meet all their families, if possible.’

  ‘What?’ Patil was shocked. ‘Khan, everything we have done thus far is on the basis of my personal equity. If we go out and meet the public at large, someone might call the press. We will be in a soup for having spoken to them without mandate.’

  ‘Leave that to me. You line up the meetings. I’ll meet all of them between today and tomorrow. I have a late night flight to Thiruvananthapuram.’

  ‘Okay, let me try,’ Patil said.

  Khan was back in Thiruvananthapuram by Saturday evening. When he landed, he saw a WhatsApp message from ACP Patil. ‘Patankar in custody.’ While the message brought a smile to Khan’s face, he rued the fact that he was not in Mumbai to interrogate him. ‘Possible to bring him here for a few days?’ he typed.

  Within seconds, his mobile beeped. ‘I know you will not take NO for an answer,’ Patil had replied.

  98

  THIRUVANANTHAPURAM

  On Sunday morning, much to Khan’s and Krishnan’s dismay, the home secretary of the Government of Kerala arrived at the police headquarters to secure the release of Nair. No one had a choice. Instructions to release Nair had been issued straight from the state home ministry.

  ‘Damn, this only proves that there is something fishy going on with Nair,’ Khan complained the moment the home secretary left. ‘There is only one way to take him out of the equation. For our satisfaction.’

  ‘And that is?’ Krishnan asked.

  ‘We have to raid his construction site. I know the chief minister ordered us to leave that day, but that was then. Is there an option now?’

  ‘You need to relax, Khan. Let’s not rush this.’ Krishnan was worried because he had received specific instructions directly from the chief minister. Despite wanting to get to the bottom of this, his hands were tied.

  ‘I’m not rushing anything. But I need to put this issue to rest before we head down any other path. I need to know. The fact that the home secretary himself came to have Radhakrishnan Nair released shows that he is an important cog. They couldn’t have let him stay here. They had to pull him out before he told us something.’

  ‘And we need to know what that something is.’ Madhavan understood what Khan was saying.

  ‘Ideally, before they smarten up and succeed in hiding whatever it is they are up to,’ Khan said. He was pleading now. ‘We need to raid the site. And we need to do so before activity resumes at the temple tomorrow.’

  ‘Kerala Police won’t be able to support you in this without adequate permission. We’ll be getting into a direct conflict with the administration if we were to do it.’ Krishnan sounded adamant.

  ‘So you are saying there is no way we can do that.’

  ‘If information is all you need, then you don’t need Kerala Police. Do you?’ Krishnan winked at Khan. ‘Besides, who can prevent a stranger from Tamil Nadu Police innocently loitering on to the site. People do get confused and lose their way, right.’

  ‘But where is the iss—’ Khan started to protest and then abruptly stopped. He looked at Krishnan who was innocently poring over the papers on his table, a small smile on his face. ‘Seriously!’ he exclaimed and looked at Madhavan who was looking confused. Khan took him aside and explained what was expected of him.

  Later that evening, shortly before sunset, Madhavan, dressed as a local, pushed the barricades aside and walked on to the construction site opposite the Kuzhivilakom temple. A few hand-picked officers, dressed in regular clothes, who were loyal to Krishnan, kept watch from a distance to make sure there was no trouble.

  The only risk Madhavan was running was
finding Nair there, for he was the only one who could have recognized him. To make sure that Nair did not show up at the site, Krishnan was sitting in Nair’s office in Attingal, trying to sweet talk him into believing that the police didn’t mean him any harm when they had dumped him in the lockup.

  99

  On Monday morning, when Nirav and Vikram walked down to the hotel lobby to board their transport from the hotel to the temple, there was a Kerala Police team waiting for them. From the hotel, they were led straight to the Thiruvananthapuram police headquarters, where Kabir Khan and DGP Krishnan were expecting them.

  ‘Mr Rai, how are we today?’ Krishnan asked when they walked in.

  ‘Good . . . very good,’ said Vikram. There was a touch of irritation in his voice. ‘What is the meaning of bringing us here in this manner?’

  ‘My apologies, Mr Rai.’ The DGP brought his right palm to rest on his chest and inclined his head to the right, as an apology. ‘But I couldn’t have done it in any other manner.’

  ‘So Mr Choksi,’ Kabir began the interrogation. ‘Do you normally advise banks to provide loans to certain underprivileged people or was there a specific reason you did so a few months ago?’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Have you ever recommended to your bankers that they sanction loans to certain individuals in the past?’

  ‘I don’t remember any specific instance where I might have done that.’

  Kabir Khan threw down a loan application on the table in front of him. It was an Axis Bank loan application, and along with it was an internal credit memo signed by the person approving the loan. An email from a relationship manager was attached with the credit memo. Nirav read through the entire document. Slowly and carefully. And when he looked up, his eyes were red. Whether from anger or embarrassment, Khan couldn’t tell. ‘What does this have to do with you, Mr Choksi?’ he said. ‘Why did you recommend to your relationship manager that the bank approve a loan for five Maruti Dzire cars, to be run as Ola cabs, for one Mr Patankar?’

  Nirav Choksi didn’t respond. The paper dropped out of his hand and fell to the ground. Krishnan bent and picked it up.

  ‘Tell us, Mr Choksi, what did Patankar do for you to earn such a recommendation?’

  ‘What does this Patankar have to do with anything?’ Nirav asked finally. Almost in a whisper. He turned and looked at Vikram, who appeared to be equally clueless.

  ‘Well, Mr Choksi?’ Khan asked him again.

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  ‘ACP Patil from Mumbai Police is here,’ Krishnan’s PA informed them.

  ‘Why don’t you take this time to think about what you are going to tell us?’ Kabir suggested. ‘We’ll be back.’

  Nirav’s cell phone was confiscated and Vikram Rai was allowed to leave. However, he decided to stay till the discussion with Nirav ended. He knew how these conversations could get messy.

  As Khan left the interrogation room, his phone rang. ‘Kabir Khan,’ he said, taking the call.

  ‘Officer, what kind of joke is this?’ It was a woman’s voice.

  The abruptness of the tirade took him by surprise. ‘Sorry, who is this?’

  ‘Divya Choksi. Nirav Choksi’s daughter. Mr Rai just informed me that you have detained my father. May I know under whose authority you’ve detained him?’

  ‘Well, Ms Choksi, we have been having some discussions with him, that’s all. Don’t worry. He’ll be home this evening.’

  Kabir knew this was a flimsy answer, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to let Nirav Choksi go till he had answers to his questions.

  ‘I am coming there with our legal counsel, Officer. My father is an influential man. He knows everyone around. If anything inappropriate has been done to him, I will haul you over the coals.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting you, young lady,’ he said and hung up.

  Kabir pushed open the door to Krishnan’s cabin and walked in. ACP Patil was waiting for him. In the corner of the room were two men. Khan had met one of them on his trip to Mumbai and had seen pictures of the other.

  100

  ‘So, Patankar,’ Khan said to the person who had come with ACP Patil. The man didn’t respond. His face was swollen, and his knees were buckling. He struggled to stand straight. It looked as if he had spent the night in prison, being thrashed. ‘Patankar, right?’ he asked.

  The person nodded.

  ‘So, who asked you to get Subhash Parikh picked up from the airport?’ Khan came straight to the point.

  He looked at Khan with eyes open half their normal size. He folded his hands and brought them up to his forehead. ‘I just got a call, sir. I am an ordinary taxi driver. I got a call and I organized a pickup.’

  Kabir looked at him, his eyes shooting fire. ‘Ordinary taxi driver, my foot!’

  Whack!

  Kabir’s hand rose above his head and came down swiftly, connecting with Patankar’s cheek. Patankar landed on the floor and rolled to his right. ‘I want the truth, Patankar! Tell me, why did you send this guy to pick up Subhash Parikh. Who asked you to arrange for a taxi to pick up Parikh? As per the information we have, Subhash Parikh had spoken to Travel House for a cab. How did you come into the picture?’

  Patankar kept silent. Blood oozed from his split lower lip and his body was wracked by pain. Still he didn’t speak. This was the first time he was being brought face-to-face with Lakshmi Narain Sharma.

  ‘You called your contacts at Travel House, found out who the driver was and got him drunk the night before. You sent Travel House an SMS from the driver’s phone saying that he couldn’t go, and that Lakshmi Narain would go in his place. Isn’t that the story?’ Kabir demanded. ‘That explains why Travel House sent a message to Subhash giving him Lakshmi Narain’s details.’

  Patankar had a horrified look on his face. He didn’t know what hit him.

  ‘Actually, we don’t need you to confirm that this is what happened. The Travel House driver has already given a statement. He is filing a case against you for spiking his drink,’ Patil said. He had done the homework that Khan had requested him to do.

  Sharma looked at Patankar, scared. He then turned to Kabir and said, ‘This is the second time this has happened to me.’

  ‘What?’ Krishnan said.

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what happened before the Mumbai blasts. He’—Sharma pointed at Patankar—‘called and asked me to come to Thani’s Bar in Dharavi. There he showed me a drunk man lying on the floor and told me that fellow was supposed to drop someone at the airport and asked if I would go instead. I thought it was an opportunity to make money and went. We were near the airport when there was a blast in the car. I thought it was a terrorist attack. The passenger died. I nearly died.’ His hand came up to cover his mouth. He looked genuinely taken aback.

  Kabir looked at both of them and then focused on Patankar. He was the key. He knew a lot more than he was letting on. The story was now becoming clear.

  ‘So who were you working for?’ Kabir asked. Patankar shrank into a corner. He was down on all fours. Beaten and scared, he began to fear for his life. ‘Who called you?’

  ‘Look, Patankar,’ Patil said. ‘You were a pawn; you were used. All of us know that. The more you shield the people behind this, the more you will suffer. I have all the time in the world. So has the DGP. We can sit with you till you die of the pain. Do you want us to do that?’

  The look of fear in Patankar’s eyes intensified. Kabir’s mentor had once told him, ‘Almost all the criminals in this world are foolish. Driven by greed, they commit a crime. They assume that the crime is a harmless one, for invariably they don’t know the full story.’ Kabir realized that Patankar wouldn’t know the entire story, but the fact that he was a crucial cog in the wheel made him an important riddle to solve.

  ‘If you tell us the entire story, we will request the courts to be lenient with you.’ He walked up to Patankar and placed his hand on his shivering shoulder.
‘And,’ he said, increasing the pressure of his grip on the shoulder, ‘if you don’t, then you will be arrested and held responsible for the murder of seven people in the Mumbai blasts. Being called the mastermind is not as sexy as it sounds, is it?’

  Patankar panicked. Mastermind of the blasts was too serious a crime. He started sobbing. ‘I didn’t do anything. I just followed instructions.’

  ‘Whose instructions?’

  ‘I don’t know his name. We just called him Saheb.’

  ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘Many times.’

  ‘He’s the one who helped you get the loans for the cabs that you run.’

  Patankar nodded.

  Kabir crossed to his table and rummaged through a few papers kept on it. He grabbed a photograph and shoved it under Patankar’s nose and asked, ‘Is this that person?’

  Patankar squinted at the photograph for several moments, and shook his head. ‘No, this is not him.’

  ‘What?’ A surprised Kabir looked around the room. Visibly embarrassed. ‘Look carefully,’ he insisted, waving the photograph in front of Patankar.

  ‘No, sir. This is not the person. I have met him many times.’

  Kabir turned and looked at Krishnan. The latter came up to him, took the photograph from his hands and looked at it.

  ‘If the person is not Nirav Choksi, then who is it?’ he muttered as he dumped Choksi’s picture back on his table.

  From the corner of the room a scared Patankar said, ‘Give me my phone; I will give you his number.’

  101

  ACP Patil fished out Patankar’s mobile phone from his bag. He had confiscated it from Patankar when he had arrested him.

  Patankar hurriedly took it from him and keyed in his password. He opened the contacts and began tapping on the screen.

  Madhavan walked in at that moment. ‘Did these bastards speak?’ he asked. ‘Our friend in the other room is really worried. He seems to be sweating a lot,’ he said, referring to Nirav Choksi.