Ten Days

by Leena Nandan

  This was right up the fellow’s street. He smirked even more and whispered, ‘You seem like a nice guy, so I’ll speak with my special friend. But I can’t use the hotel phone. Management’s instructions, you see. Can I borrow your cell phone?’

  Jadhav couldn’t risk having a call from PHQ come in while the guy had the cell phone, so he pressed two hundred bucks into the guy’s hand and said, ‘Why don’t you call her up from the booth outside? I’ll wait for you right here. In any case, you manage the place so efficiently; there’s nothing that can’t wait while you make a call with a cold beer in hand.’

  The clerk hesitated but Jadhav had learnt early not to push too hard, so he waited with a patient look till finally temptation won. ‘Keep an eye on the security camera; it helps us in maintaining control over the situation,’ the clerk said and moved off at a brisk trot.

  This was an unexpected stroke of luck. The camera no doubt was used to spy on the guests and ensure a healthy side business by way of blackmail. Without wasting a second, Jadhav rewound the tapes to focus on the occupants of 114 in the past one week. It had been occupied for only two days—by two couples on 4 February and a single man on 5 February. There were only two shots each of all the five people—while entering and leaving. Jadhav clicked pictures on his cell phone of all the five and tried in particular to memorise the single guy’s features. He seemed to have a scar on his face, but otherwise was of average height and build.

  Looking up to check the clerk’s movements, Jadhav saw him still on the phone. He seemed to be fixing up things for himself, judging by his animated expression. Quickly, he flipped through the register till he came to 114; again there were three scrawls which probably would have no resemblance to the real signatures of any of the people in question but he clicked them all the same on his cell phone and replaced the register. He sat down to watch the match just in time to see his new friend walk in, but with a downcast expression.

  ‘I’m very angry with her because she said she has no time. I told her what a fine person you are, but you know women. I suppose you want the deposit back…’

  ‘Oh it doesn’t matter,’ said Jadhav cheerfully. ‘I’ll leave the money with you for next time. Only don’t forget me!’

  ‘No question!’ he was assured and he left, glad that he had something to report.

  Inspector Patel did not waste time applauding him on coming back with a reasonable amount of information.

  Briskly, he asked, ‘What next?’ as though it was now entirely his subordinate’s responsibility to work out the case. Not that Jadhav resented the attitude. The inspector was a fair man and one who respected his juniors simply by acknowledging that their wealth of experience gave them an intuitive flair which superior education and rank could not entirely match.

  Jadhav was silent for a moment then offered, ‘If the single man is the killer, he might have taken bus number 42 because it begins from Sea View Road and its last stop is the beach. They must have met late at night and he would have killed her when no one is around even for jogging. Since his room key fell out, he would not have gone back to the hotel, but would have left the city by train or plane. We don’t know where he could have gone, but if we know who she is, we’ll be able to narrow down the city he may have come from.’

  ‘Obviously, knowing her identity is key to the whole thing,’ said Patel, irritated that Jadhav was being so obtuse.

  ‘I mean, she must be a stranger, because no one has recognised her by her clothes or pursued her disappearance as a missing person, so then she would have come to the beach by taxi and not taken a bus like a local person would have.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘In that case we should speak with the taxi drivers of National Union because all the others were on strike on the 5th of February.’

  Inspector Patel looked at him with new respect. ‘That’s an excellent inference. Proceed.’

  Jadhav went to the office of National Union and explained the background. He could not detect an overabundance of enthusiasm about helping in a police inquiry, but they put him in touch with the taxi drivers who had been on duty that day. He was lucky the third time round. The driver remembered being flagged down by the doorman of Golden Globe at around ten in the night, for a lady with a small travelling case who answered to the general description put out by Jadhav. Yes, he had left her on the beach and she had said she didn’t need him again.

  At Golden Globe, a three-star hotel, they first looked down their noses at him. But when gently informed that the general manager might have to go to the police station to make his statement, they fell over themselves in being cooperative. On 4 February, a lady by the name of Dr Natasha Grewal, carrying a small travelling case, had booked a room in the hotel. She hadn’t gone out all day and had ordered room service, emerging only when she checked out, late in the evening of the 5th. The doorman had flagged a cab for her and that was the last they saw of her. No, they had no reason to suspect anything strange because she had paid her bills in cash and looked quite at ease. There were no incoming or outgoing calls—presumably she kept in touch with people on her cell phone.

  Armed with Jadhav’s inputs, Inspector Patel could act and he did. He filed a complete report for the Superintendent and then sent a message to the Delhi Police. The coded message was encrypted by the police station for onward transmission to Future Insights, on whose project Dr Grewal had been working.

  The report was perused—and shredded.

  EIGHTEEN

  New Delhi, 6 February

  Commissioner of Police Goyal had descended on Vasant Kunj police station for a surprise inspection. He arrived alone because ACP Naveen Kumar was on leave. Inspector Khanna’s stomach would have churned at the prospect of handling the Commissioner all by himself. Luckily for his physical and mental well-being, a VIP movement had necessitated his being stationed near the airport.

  Khanna’s second in-charge Patrick Noronha fumbled for a while, unsure about how he should proceed. Initially, he busied himself with shuffling the papers each time the Commissioner looked piercingly in his direction. They started with the status of traffic offences and then Goyal directed the others to leave. Without preamble he asked about Dr Maken’s death and why the police had decided to close the case. Noronha opened his mouth to reply when the Commissioner looked at the next report regarding the murder of Celia Martin, and his brows drew close in a frown. He said nothing, waiting in silence. Noronha was feeling uncomfortable now. He could not decide whether to be diplomatic or forthcoming. He had no idea how much the boss knew; what was clear was that the Commissioner was a singularly impatient and highly intelligent man. He decided to speak up.

  ‘Sir, Ajay Menon, an SI in this police station who has since been shifted to the pension section, has a different view of the Celia Martin murder case from the official line.’

  ‘Shut up,’ hissed Khanna, who had just walked in. He was appalled to find Commissioner Goyal, who he was mortally afraid of, having a heart-to-heart with his bête noire. In fact he hadn’t yet made up his mind whether he disliked Ajay Menon more or Patrick Noronha.

  Goyal stared unblinkingly at Khanna till the latter began to fidget.

  ‘Do I take it I have your permission to continue, Mr Khanna?’

  he asked in the icy tone he was renowned for.

  Inspector Khanna almost had a heart attack. ‘No sir, I mean yes sir,’ he bleated. ‘DSP sir has declared himself thoroughly satisfied with the conclusions I have come to. It’s just that I don’t want these fellows to waste your precious time, sir,’ he added ingratiatingly.

  ‘You are welcome to carry on with your own important work and not waste your precious time here,’ said Goyal courteously and now Khanna was a mass of nerves.

  ‘Sir,’ he began, ‘Don’t go by what Ajay Menon has been saying. He is an undisciplined man, sir,’ he added virtuously, ‘and a bad influence on others.’ This, with a dirty look at Noronha.

  Goyal wasn’t listening. ‘Speak up,’ he
thundered at Noronha, who hastily marshalled his thoughts and began voicing them.

  ‘Sir, Celia Martin was the private secretary to Vikram Batra, who was inquiring into a cyber theft case in 24x365, a call centre.’

  ‘Vikram Batra?’ questioned Goyal. ‘Isn’t he the CRPF chap on deputation to the cyber crime cell who I forced into investigating the fraud?’

  Khanna saw his clue and jumped in. ‘Yes sir and I think it’s shameful that he has given up his noble policing work for a desk job, while people like you are serving the country night and day.’

  Noronha continued as if Khanna had not intervened. ‘Celia Martin was strangled while Vikram Batra was away from the office, and the caretaker of the building has been arrested on the charge that he was trying to molest her and ended up killing her when she resisted.’

  ‘Sir,’ interrupted Khanna. ‘This was definitely a sex crime. The caretaker lives alone and he didn’t go for his walk that evening because he knew that the girl would be there alone. She used to do a lot of make-up and wear tight clothes in bright colours, so naturally…’

  ‘Was she usually there so late in the evening? And what forensic evidence have you gathered about her resisting rape? Any scratches on the man, any skin tissue samples under her nails…what?’ asked Goyal.

  Khanna was struck dumb. Noronha, heartened at the interest taken by his superior, added, ‘No sir, there was no evidence of this kind. The caretaker was asleep when Khanna sir arrived after receiving the message about the murder sent by Mr Vikram Batra. If he had been guilty, surely his actions would have been different. According to Mr Batra, he left the office suddenly and normally his secretary would never have been in the office so late.’

  Khanna brightened up. ‘Sir, maybe Mr Batra was also part of the conspiracy and they had planned a gang rape. Mr Batra must be a pervert and…’ he faltered when Goyal slammed his fist on the table.

  ‘What utter nonsense is this? Are you trying to show me the wanderings of your feeble mind? Shut up now, and let this boy continue.’

  Noronha, all of six feet and eighty-nine kilos in his socks, was delighted to be called a boy. He decided to move in for the kill.

  ‘Sir, Ajay is so vociferous about our line of investigation being all wrong, because Mr Batra’s office was ransacked and only CDs of the cyber theft case are missing. Why should the caretaker have taken them? I agree with Ajay that there is no evidence of attempted rape either. The other interesting dimension is that the call centre 24x365 is the parent company of Future Insights where the scientist died suddenly. But Dr Maken’s case has been closed on the basis of natural death due to heart failure.’

  Commissioner Goyal looked at Khanna without a word. Khanna was almost in tears now. He’d been a perfect subordinate, never questioning his orders and here he was being made to feel like the village idiot.

  ‘Sir, we have seen the post-mortem report. Dr Maken died of heart failure brought on by acute stress.’

  ‘What does his company have to say about it?’

  ‘They insist that he was working on some top-secret report to find out who was double-crossing the company, and that the report has mysteriously disappeared. I’m sure,’ and a note of confidence had crept in now, ‘Dr Maken is the one who was betraying his company and he was so ashamed that he died when he was being discovered.’

  ‘Maybe he killed Celia before he induced his own heart attack,’ suggested Goyal. Khanna perked up visibly at this unexpected validation till he saw Noronha’s massive shoulders shaking and realised that Goyal was mocking him.

  Goyal had a knack of focusing his thoughts completely on one issue and then taking it apart bit by bit, almost like a child with a new toy. He did it today with his characteristic single-mindedness, determined not to be thrown off track, even by his own officers. He asked for the case files and started poring through them, looking at all the names of the persons employed in the call centre, cross-checking facts, his frown growing darker…

  Tina’s spat with Shelly and Deepti had upset her, despite her effort to take things lightly. The events of the previous night and this morning were flitting through her mind all day and every now and then she found herself fighting off waves of panic. She was waiting for Jeet to come with his police friend and wondered who the gentleman was. He hadn’t ever mentioned the guy, but then there had been no occasion for the subject to come up. Fervently, she hoped the policeman would find it all ridiculous and exhort her to laugh it off as nothing more than a mean mind’s nasty outpourings. But she wanted, above everything, for it to end. She decided that rather than wait for Jeet and his friend to turn up, she might as well stroll outside, from where she would take them to the cafeteria for a long chat. She stepped out on the porch, breathing in the clean sweet air.

  Suddenly, Raghav was at her elbow, looking unusually serious. ‘Hey, partner, what’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Management has decided on the promotions. You’re now the boss here in place of Neil, who moves on to Finance. Congratulations!’

  He broke into a smile and waltzed her around till laughingly she gasped, ‘Let me catch my breath, Reggie!’

  ‘I will, but only if you promise to give me a very special treat.’ He was very close and she could feel her heart beat faster. Just then the gate buzzed and the guard called out, ‘Miss Tina, visitors for you.’

  Reggie set her free. ‘Remember, I’ve taken a rain cheque on that special something.’ He looked at her visitors and his face lost all expression. Without a word, he went back in.

  Jeet and Ajay had seen them from outside. Jeet had clamped his mouth shut but a muscle worked in his jaw. Tina swung around as they entered, her face still flushed.

  ‘Sub-Inspector Ajay Menon—Tina,’ said Terry.

  ‘Jeet, do you know I’ve just been promoted? I’m now the senior process manager! Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘Does it change anything with respect to your problem of the stalker, ma’am?’ asked Ajay and saw the colour drain out of her face. He felt guilty, but also a perverse sense of satisfaction—the pain on Jeet’s face had made him angry enough to want to wound her.

  He continued, ‘Is there any place we can sit and talk without being overheard?’

  ‘Let’s go to the cafeteria. There’s always so much noise that no one can hear a thing.’

  The cafeteria had whitewood furniture complemented by vibrant upholstery. The framed pictures and potted plants made it bright and informal, and there was music in the background to add to the overall cheerful atmosphere. They ordered milk shakes—Tina’s excitement had kindled her appetite—and as they sipped, many employees came up to shake her hand and congratulate her. It was only to be expected, Jeet thought, considering what a warm and lovable person she was. It was as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. He did not only enjoy her company. He wanted to take care of her, cherish her, keep her happy because he loved her—had done so for years, in fact—and realised it only now when it was too late. She and Raghav seemed to have become a couple while he had been busy convincing himself she was only a friend.

  With difficulty, he made himself pay attention to what she was saying. She was telling Ajay when the calls had started and he was meticulously taking notes. Jeet noticed that Ajay had not asked a single question. Perhaps he thought it would interrupt the chronology of events or maybe he wanted to indirectly get Tina’s version without actually influencing her thoughts. It was a clever technique, he felt, because it brought out very clearly that someone knew Tina’s movements very well.

  Ajay said, ‘Now tell me about your office. Who likes you and who doesn’t?’

  Tina suddenly looked uncomfortable. ‘Can’t you talk to them individually and come to your own conclusions?’

  ‘Ma’am—’

  ‘Oh, please don’t be so formal. Call me Tina,’ she said with a dimpled smile and Ajay could see now why she had that effect on everyone—on Jeet, on her colleague who had made Jeet so miserable and even on that bloody stalker.
There was something so charming about the smile; it made you catch your breath.

  ‘No formal complaint has been filed so far and I’m here only in an informal capacity, so I can’t ask people questions,’ he said.

  Jeet intervened, ‘Tina, how well do you really know your colleagues?’

  ‘Well, not beyond the office interaction. We’ve been to off-sites and have had a great time in picnics and parties, but if you ask me what they are like deep down, you’ll draw a blank. I know Shelly is forever in and out of love, so she alternates between fantastic moods and deep depression and has a vicious temper as well. She’s quite mixed–up, actually. Reggie is loads of fun but he’s never serious about anything, including any of the girls who have a crush on him. In fact, he should have been gritting his teeth right now about my promotion, but he has that devil-may-care attitude, you know.’

  Jeet hoped his face didn’t betray the anguish he felt whenever she took Raghav’s name in that endearing, half-teasing tone.

  Tina continued, ‘There are some new entrants like Priya, Rita, Deepti and Pranay but we don’t know each other all that well. Oh, I forgot Tony who is very hostile because of his friends Vijay and Aakash, but I think that’s all in the past now.’

  They looked at her questioningly, so she elaborated.

  ‘Two of our office personnel were involved in a serious fraud case. I knew their routines, individual responsibilities and the work pattern, so I was able to help the cyber crime division narrow down the list of suspects—one Vikram Batra interacted with me at length and they finally caught the guys. Vijay and Aakash were arrested and Vijay committed suicide. Many people here blame me for it, but I stand by my views, which may appear to be rigid and unforgiving.’ Her face, which had unexpectedly become stern, relaxed a bit. ‘I can’t think of anyone who has very strong negative feelings, though,’ she said.

  ‘There is someone else who doesn’t like you and you’ve not told me his name. I can see it from the way you’re being evasive.’