by Vish Dhamija
She looked at the Internet history. Jay Desai hadn't expected visitors to find the hut and if they did, not to crack the password on his computer on their first visit. He hadn't bothered to clear the history, though a lot had been deleted due to the default setting, which on his computer — Rita checked — was 120 days. The guy had researched extensively on toxicology and microphones, used Google maps for locations, and searched the Internet for information on police officials, especially Rita. What else had she expected? That Jay Desai would have shopped for a tuxedo on the web and made the payment by American Express registered to his bona fide home address?
Nothing gave. There wasn't a location starting with 'N' that Jay Desai had searched for.
Rita looked at the time on the right end corner of her screen. It was 19:17, but it did not register in her brain. Her eyes saw the MSN icon. What if...?
She clicked to open the window.
The username was filled in: [email protected], the cursor was blinking in the password box. She looked for the paper Jatin had noted down the spelling on and found it: v-a-r-i-n-k-a, she typed and signed in. How would going through Jay Desai's contacts on MSN help? She asked herself. However, it wasn't a long list to go through: just three names. Raaj, Margaret, and — she blinked her eyes a couple of times — Jatin Singh. What the fuck was Jatin Singh doing on Jay Desai's MSN buddy list?
Her eyes rose to see the display name of angel_from_hell: Anita Raizada.
Anita Riazada? Really? Why? Did Jatin know about this? Was he an accomplice? Her mind went numb, all reasoning dissipated. Koan, according to Zen Buddhism, was a puzzle that had no solution; it was mentioned to highlight the inadequacy of human reasoning, which Rita was experiencing at this moment.
Didn't Jatin say he chatted with her on MSN the night before?
Rita waited till she could think clearly. Did Viviane have a daughter that no one knew about? Was Anita Viviane's daughter? Or younger sister who, perhaps, came looking for her later? Flashes of Anita emerged in front of her eyes. Wasn't she a pale shade of white? Rita had even asked Jatin to advise Anita to see a doctor? Or was Anita merely an accessory?
Fuck.
'Jatin.' Rita realised she had screamed Jatin louder than she had intended. But it worked. Jatin came in on the double.
'Is everything OK, ma'am?'
'Yes...no, actually...' Rita turned around to face him. 'Didn't you say you chatted with Anita on MSN last night?'
'Yes ma'am, but, she abruptly —'
'What is her MSN ID?'
'Angel underscore something...it's been a while since I added her so don't exactly remember the sign-in ID. Why?'
'Look.' Rita pointed at the computer terminal. 'You are on the buddy list.'
'What am I doing on the buddy list of Jay Desai?'
‘You are on the buddy list of Anita Raizada.'
'Why would Anita log in from here?'
'That's a good question... I don't know the answer. The ID was filled in, I just typed in the password you had received from Vikram and now I am logged in as Anita with you on my buddy list. So it fits in. It's either Anita's computer and this is her hut or she was the last person who used this PC. At any rate, she's connected to Jay Desai.'
'Or maybe because she's involved in the investigation and she was ahead of us in getting here?'
'So she follows a serial killer, finds out his hideout, breaks into his hut — I can't see signs of break-in, but let's consider she does it somehow — and she cracks his password and logs into MSN chat? And she has only two other friends namely, Margaret and Raaj — the only two people we know from our investigations who could possibly be accessories?'
Jatin's face paled. The implications were seeping into his dazed brain. How could a girl he loved and cared for be involved with Jay Desai? How could he have gone so wrong in his judgment? "I have a past." Anita had once told him. Is this what she had meant?
'I know where she lives,' he said aloud.
‘But why doesn’t she have Jay Desai on her buddy list?’ Rita mumbled, not expecting a response. They called Vikram. 'Vikram.' Rita took charge of the conversation. 'Listen very carefully.' She heard the ruffle of the paper — the nearest available paper had been torn off to scribble upon. ‘Jatin will give you Anita Raizada’s address in a minute. I want you to ask S/I Nene to proceed to the address, with uniformed police, and if Anita is there, arrest her.'
'Arrest? Arrest Anita? Why?'
'Vikram, I'll answer all your questions. But first…' Rita turned to Jatin. 'Give Vikram the address so they can get to her residence.'
Jatin took the phone; he, of course, did not know the postal address, but he gave the name of the building outside which he had dropped Anita a few times.
'Ma'am.' He gave the receiver back to Rita. 'We'll call you back.'
The two detectives let the truth sink in. In the ensuing silence they awkwardly looked at each other, at the computer, around the room. Rita wondered if Anita was the assassin; she should then be heading off to kill someone and not go to get seduced by Narang as Jatin feared. Why had Anita then told a pitiable story to Jatin? 'Jesus Christ,’ she suddenly yelled, like she had touched a live wire.
‘What happened ma’am?’ ‘Nariman Point starts with N.’
Jatin drew a blank. His eyes conveyed the emptiness behind them. Rita had always suspected if Jatin had a split personality. Sometimes he drew inferences instantly, other times his brain moved like a turtle on a treadmill.
‘Jatin…Nariman Point starts with a N. Does it not strike you that the next letter on Viviane’s grave that needs blood is also N. Narang is a filthy man, her next target?’
‘But —’
Rita was already on phone with Vikram. ‘Call up the Nariman Point police station and ask them to proceed to the office of NEWS of the DAY immediately. If they see Anita Raizada, arrest her. But, warn them to be careful, she might — rather, will be — armed.
Leave one of the Mathurs behind in Ops Room to co-ordinate, the rest of you — whoever is in Ops Room at this moment rush to Nariman Point. Two of you make sure that you get to Amit Narang — I don't care what pretext you use — but stay with him, don't let him out of your sight.' There was a pressing tone in her voice. ‘Now!’
Keeping the phone down, she looked at her watch. 7:31 p.m. She switched off the computer and hurried out of the hut. Uniformed police had scanned the car and crime scene personnel had taken over. Zulfi Khan, the inspector leading the search, stood next to a constable. ‘Inspector Khan,’ she called out.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'How far is the nearest helipad?'
'There's a helipad in Panvel at Karnala Sports Academy, it's about 15-20 kilometres, but there shouldn't be much traffic. You should be there in twenty minutes maximum, ma'am. Where do you need to go?'
'Nariman Point. The naval base in Colaba has a helipad, and that's just four kilometres from Nariman Point. Let me speak to Commissioner Saxena, special permission would be required to land at the naval base, which shouldn't be difficult if the Commissioner requests.'
She walked a few paces away and called Sexy to give a succinct account of the discovery. 'As you can appreciate it sir, I am not trying to bypass ACP Joshi, but it was important I reached you directly to save time. I need an emergency police helicopter from Panvel to the naval base to get to Nariman Point ASAP sir.'
'It will be done. Rush to the Panvel helipad.'
'Thanks sir.' Rita disconnected and called Vikram. ‘Get in your jeep and see me at the helipad at the naval base at eight-fifteen.'
'Helicopter? Is everything alright ma'am?'
'I am in a rush Vikram. Just do as I say. I'll explain everything once I board the helicopter.'
'Yes ma'am.' Vikram sensed the urgency.
For once, Rita did not hear the ceremonial scribbling of pen on paper. She beckoned Jatin to meet her in the Gypsy. 'Inspector Khan,' she instructed as she got into the jeep. 'Take control of everything, we have to leave.'
Rita trusted Jatin, but his romantic involvement meant a conflict of interest at any rate. They drove in silence for the next ten minutes; Jatin had put the red flashing light on the hood of Rita's Gypsy as he sped through the sparse traffic. Only when they were close to the helipad, close enough to see dust rising due to the recently landed helicopter rotors that were still in motion, did he open his mouth again. 'Do we leave the jeep here ma'am?'
As much as she would have liked to avoid the issue, Rita knew she had to convey. 'You're not coming Jatin.'
'Why ma'am?'
'I'll explain later.'
'But ma'am, I've been part of this investigation from the beginning.'
'Inspector Jatin,' Rita mentioning Jatin's rank, and her tone, carried enough weight for Jatin to realise Rita meant those words. 'For reasons that you should understand, you're hereby relieved of this case.'
'What?'
'You heard me Inspector Jatin, do not go back to the hut, and do not attempt to go near the Ops Room. That's an order. Drop me here, go home, and I shall see you in office tomorrow.'
'Why are you doing this to me ma'am?'
'That's an order. No more questions,' were Rita's last words before she got down from the jeep.
The helicopter took off at three minutes after 8 p.m.
Rita called Vikram to update him of her startling breakthrough. The call over, she looked down at the Elephanta Caves in the Arabian Sea. Weren't they the symbol of triumph, of justice? Right over wrong, good over evil? Mahabharata — the greatest Indian epic ever written — said that the Pandavas had built these temples. Pandavas, who despite losing their kingdom and their polyandrous wife in a game of dice, had been victorious in defeating their evil cousins in the end; even Lord Krishna had sided with them. Agnostic as she might have believed herself to be, her pleading eyes went up towards the sky to look for the ultimate power.
'Jesus,' she murmured softly.
Thoughts raged in Rita’s mind. Were the killers a brother and sister team? The only bond that could have ensured one wasn't blackmailing the other for all the help extended, for all the secrets kept? Rita recognised it was time to stop speculating and follow the evidence. The evidence was that Anita Raizada's footprints were found in the killer's secret hut. Anita Raizada was the one who was to add the dead man's blood for ‘N’ of Nariman Point to the inscription on Viviane's grave. All else was conjecture.
Would this nightmarish bloodbath ever end? Although DCP Rita Ferreira had foreseen this couldn’t have a happy ending — it certainly wasn't another opera buffa — but intuition hissed that this would end in more tears than she had envisioned.
THIRTY
2007
The serrated blade in Victoronix CyberTool 41 was essentially designed to be a saw. The four-inch blade could chop wires, cut wood, even slice steel pipes. Human flank needed even less effort. One such Swiss Army knife currently rubbed shoulders — in a secure pocket of a black crocodile leather handbag — with a Glock 26 Compact, which, though she had never required a second shot, was fully loaded to fire ten rounds.
Anita Raizada unscrewed a bottle of Smirnoff and took a large sip, gulped it down and took another swig. She could feel the liquid burning her insides as it gushed down her throat to the oesophagus. On any other evening she would have had a few more swallows, but she knew she couldn't take any more: alcohol would fuel desire, but hinder the performance. She couldn't afford to fail today.
Unless she went through metal detectors or an X-ray machine, no one with a sound mind could imagine the contents of the bag that hung from her slender shoulder. Her startling good looks, she knew, could weaken even the knees of neutered men. Dressed to the nines, in a designer fitted linen shirt and skin-tight jeans that outlined every curve, she stepped out of her one-bedroom apartment and called a cab, minutes before the helicopter carrying DCP Rita Ferreira took off from Panvel forty kilometres away.
Oblivious of his prey's intentions, hallucinating about his rendezvous, Amit Narang didn't even have as much as a vague misgiving of what was in store for him that evening. He wasn't in love, no. Neither was it passion. It was sickness, a sickness to seduce every girl who worked for him. He had no worries that his wife might ever find out about his trysts. Who would tell her? He had no qualms, he didn't care either. He provided the dinner on the table, the roof under which she lived, the expensive clothes she bought, the fancy parties she threw. Plus, what about the social stigma of her separating from a media mogul Narang believed he was? His lust had argued with reason, and lost; it questioned judgment, and prevailed. The lust was simply indomitable. Oh no, he couldn't care less if she found out.
Anita got out of the cab three blocks away and walked towards her office building cautiously. It was dark and she knew exactly where in the building security personnel would be. There should be three men on duty, she reckoned. Although there were twenty floors in the building, occupied by various business enterprises, she couldn't risk being recognised or seen sneaking into the office at this hour. Not today. Carefully avoiding being sighted, she got into the building five minutes before the troops had started arriving at the building — of which she wasn't yet aware. But she wasn't naïve. She knew Mumbai Police would be alert after she had given Rita a warning.
She took the lift to the NEWS of the DAY floor, pulled out an improvised key she had made a while ago, from her bag, and switched off the lift. Only the building security had the keys to restart the same. They, however, would need to walk up the stairs to the seventeenth floor because she called the second lift car on the opposite side and switched it off too. Good luck to anyone who might need to ascend or descend it. What were they doing in office till eight-thirty on a Friday evening in any case? Narang, she understood, had a reason: his itch, his filthy itch that he would soon regret. Or not get the chance to regret?
Anita swiped the visitor-card and got into the office. No one was around. Narang would have ensured everyone had left early. A few lights were on, enough for her to walk towards Narang's office that was brightly lit in the corner. She stopped a few strides before the door and looked into her handbag.
Glock, check. Swiss knife, check. She zipped up the bag and softly knocked at the door.
'Come in.'
She walked in and closed the door.
'I knew you'd come gorgeous. I know you long for me as much as I do for you.' Anita managed a smile. Who did this idiot think he was? Brad Pitt? Salman Khan?
The dry land had begun anticipating the chopper's landing, each shred of its being arose to receive the machine that gleamed under the floodlights. Vikram, despite it being night-time, had to pull out his Raybans to stop dust and helicopter down-lighters getting into his eyes.
Rita climbed down from the copter before the rotor blades stopped spinning. 'Did the guys find Anita at her residence?' she asked her trusted lieutenant.
'She doesn't live at the address we were given, not even in that building ma'am.'
'Good Lord...have you sent someone to see Narang?'
'Their office is closed. No one, including Narang, is taking any calls there.'
'No...no...no... The office might be closed for business, but I know he's inside.'
'How can you be sure of that?'
'Forget how I know, I know it. Let's go. We know Narang's at his office. He has arm- twisted Anita to fuck him tonight, by threatening to ruin her career.' Rita gave other info as Vikram swerved in the disorderly traffic. Red flashing light on the jeep's hood notwithstanding, the traffic was a nightmare: horns blared, vehicles traversed lanes; everyone seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere. Usual Mumbai snafu.
'We'll be there in a couple of minutes now,' Vikram said, turning left into Jeevan Bima
Marg.
A minute later, they could see the building — where NEWS of the DAY operated from — surrounded by khakis that had cleared the porch for DCP Madam. Vikram braked sharply to halt the jeep.
'Who's gone in?'
'No one ma'am,' Chota Mathur responded. 'The watchmen have confirmed there's no one in the office. Moreover, the lifts aren't working either.'
'What's happened to the lifts?' Rita wilfully ignored the first part of Mathur’s report.
She knew Narang was in. And so was Anita. 'They are stuck on seventeenth floor.'
'What floor is the NEWS of the DAY office?'
'Seventeenth floor madam,' one of the security guys of the building enlightened. Rita closed her eyes. She could picture what must have happened.
'What's the matter ma'am?' Vikram had returned to Rita's side after parking the jeep. 'We're late. The lifts have been stopped at seventeenth floor. I bet Narang is stuck there. Senior Inspector Vikram Patil, Inspector Mathur and Inspector D’Souza are going with me,' Rita addressed the flotilla. She turned to speak to the officer responsible for the assembled uniformed troops. 'ASP Rathore, please start five minutes after us with a dozen of your best officers, fully armed. Everyone else reports to Inspector Anand of Crime
Branch. No one comes out or goes into the building...and retain anyone, man or woman, who comes out. Is everything understood?'
Heads wagged.
'Where are the stairs?' she asked the security personnel who pointed towards the blue double-doors on the left at the end of the foyer.
'Want a drink?' Narang asked.
He hadn't blinked since Anita had arrived. While he knew for certain that she'd come, he was still surprised to see her. It was all coming together. A voice in his brain told him to tear off her clothes and ride her, this instant; another voice whispered to him to be patient, to devour her for hours. He decided to go with the latter. What was the rush? He might never get the opportunity again.
'Sure.'
'What would you have?'
'Whatever you're having Amit.'