Doosra: The Other One

by Vish Dhamija

  ***

  Teams were briefed and dispatched to Jogani fortress before Rita arrived in the office the next morning. Jatin turned out to be even more efficient than before. Essentially, all the three subordinates in her team — Rita had got Rajesh Nene signed off for the case — were competent. Good sign that no one consciously or inadvertently throttled the progress out of competitive jealousy or idiocy. Rita had been up late the night before, searching for archived news from the METROTIME.BE portal: news items available in Flemish or French, which Google Chrome effortlessly translated into English for her. She found nothing on the web that wasn't mentioned in Victor's report. Perhaps the dailies in Belgium didn't do much digging themselves and relied on whatever info the police provided them with to report or else the case wasn't significant enough to deploy their resources on a random, one-off murder in the city — a foreigner chilled during a heist wasn't exactly WW3.

  Rita wanted to bond with the guys, rebuild the sodality with them after the brief break. She gave a shout and the three men were happy to join her for lunch. The foursome walked out to a nearby pav-bhaji, nothing fancy. Jatin left for Jogani's swanky residence after lunch.

  ***

  Back in the Operations Room, Rita updated Vikram and Rajesh Nene on the interesting meeting Jatin and she had had with Anita, and that troops had now been dispatched to scour anything they could get their hands on after a significant gap of time, and numerous people that might have handled any possible evidence. In any event, a break in the chain of evidence would not be acceptable in a court. In short, counting on anything received from that search would be amateur. They should be content if they got some pointer. The two senior inspectors filled her in on the contacts they had made with several individuals. If Sishir Singh looked anything like the guy in the picture they had he should be identified soon.

  Like a kid who had just seen Santa Claus, Jatin returned in a state of excitement. His exuberance was powered by the fact that the date logs on Jogani's computer had established that it hadn't been used after the evening he had flown out of India. And thus, he sounded confident that anything and everything that Jogani had worked on — emails, accounts, bank details, and airline and hotel bookings — could be traced even though the cache had cleared after thirty days as per Jogani's computer settings. He told Rita that most computer users didn't realise that deleted history from hard drive could be retrieved in three steps even by some dubious expert: search for it, copy the .DAT file, and using a specialised reader the entire web history would be revealed unless, of course, some expensive software had been installed to break the deleted files.

  But why would Jogani have bought something like that?

  Nothing significant was discovered in the interviews of the Jogani household staff conducted so far. They were still in progress, but Rita didn't have much confidence of achieving something that might break the case. Even under ordinary circumstances, Rita knew that very few witnesses could narrate anything consequential after a critical event. It's not that people intend to lie, but they falter, and the more serious the crime the more the duress and anxiety, and anxiety was a known bitch. It frequently lapsed memory. History is packed with victims who'd seen their own attackers close and personal but the trauma dwarfed their memory; where people failed to identify the perpetrator correctly, remembering the events or their sequence was a big ask. Police largely worked through the inconsistencies in witness statements; if they found a slight gap they jumped into it and ploughed in big enough holes for lying witnesses to be buried in but what were the odds that any domestic help in the Jogani's household would remember anything that could be of any authentic value over three months post the event? But it was the procedure and it had to be done. There's nothing that bothered bureaucracy like a miscarried procedure. Do anything but don't break the rules and procedures irrespective of how ridiculous or obsolete they were.

  'So let's focus on what we know so far...' Rita began when all four were seated in the Operations Room. 'By all means Jogani had died where his body was found by police, no doubt about it. The Belgian Police investigated and documented that.' She pointed towards the red box file. 'The foremost doctrine of homicide — to look for the killer within the family — doesn't seem to hold here. Spouse. Siblings. Kids. Jogani isn't survived by any. Ex-wife, yes she is a flagrant gold-digger but this murder doesn't look like her doing. And before I forget, I need a watch put on her for at least a month. Who she calls, who calls her, where she goes, who comes visiting, everything.'

  'What about acquaintances?'

  Impatience was a virtue in investigation. It established confidence that someone else was thinking about the case too. Vikram already looked embroiled in the investigation.

  'You're spot on. Business associates. Then friends. And then all acquaintances who could have had the information regarding his travel. We'll find people to look out and provide us with a list.'

  Vikram noted it down in his usual fashion.

  'What we also know is that someone knew about the big deal happening in Antwerp, and the hotel Ron Jogani was booked to stay in. It certainly doesn't look like someone broke into Jogani's hotel room at random and found the diamonds. All evidence points to a planned heist — the adjacent rooms booked, the locks and safe tampered with, the midnight call rousting him out of the room… what we need to figure out is where did someone get on to the trail of our victim? My assumption is that someone got on to him from India itself if Sishir Singh was the person identified in the hotel, and then at the airport on the flight back to New Delhi. Are we all in agreement on that?'

  Nods.

  'So the first question on the point we all just agreed on is how did that someone know the detailed itinerary?'

  'Ma'am, we've got to figure out who knew about the travel.' Nene.

  'Many… considering that Jogani was there to buy diamonds for a cartel, everyone but everyone who he was dealing for knew about his travel. And maybe even their associates.' Jatin.

  'But, why would he have shared the exact itinerary with all?' Vikram.

  'He may have or may not have and we have no way of knowing that unless he shared it by email and we go through that when the lab breaks into his computer.' Nene.

  'However, even if he shared the travel plan there is no way he could have known the room number he was going to get allotted when he actually walked into the hotel in Brussels, would he?' Rita pointed out.

  'I have a hunch that someone from the hotel was involved.' Vikram.

  'That is, of course, one possibility.' Jatin.

  'What is the other possibility?' Rita.

  'There is always this chance that the Blackberry we saw with the killer in the picture actually belonged to Ron Jogani and he had called someone before his death that left a trace for the killer?' Jatin.

  'You have a point… though he could only have known the room number he was allotted once he was already checked-in at the hotel, and that was too late. The rooms adjacent and opposite to him were already booked at midday. So says the Belgian report.' Rita brought Jatin's hypothesis to a halt.

  'So maybe his BB was hacked into?' Jatin persisted.

  'Same logic applies, Jatin. How did the killer or killers know the room number before Jogani checked-in, when Jogani himself couldn't have been aware of it?'

  Jatin looked deflated.

  'Have you guys got your teams ready?' Rita referred to the sub-inspectors that worked for both the Senior Inspectors. The foot soldiers. Unfortunately, Jatin had no team at the moment.

  Nods.

  'So here's how we divide the investigation: Mr Nene...'

  'Ma'am, please stop calling me Mr Nene. You call Vikram and Jatin by their names, why should I be different?'

  'I'm sorry, Rajesh.'

  'I'd be happier if you called me Nene. That is what everyone addresses me as.'

  'OK. So Nene, as you know the informants best, you lead the search for Sishir Singh. Vikram — you take charge of tracking down all Jogani's a
ssociates, personal and business, and also see if you can ferret out who, eventually, bought the diamonds after the murder. It has to be one of the big merchants, and my guess is it just might be someone who was in the cartel that had appointed Jogani for the deal. But I might be totally off the mark here. And I'm not at all suggesting that these people were involved in the murder, but who knows?'

  'And me, ma'am?' Jatin asked.

  'You're responsible for breaking into Jogani's computer. And find out who was Jogani's mobile service provider. Ask them for all Jogani's calls and whatever data they have for the last six months. Make that a year.'

  Jatin felt good. Rita having given the responsibility he had asked for made him feel that his boss had ignored his past folly. He knew he had to be extra careful this time around. It was OK to make a mistake once, but a second mistake would be career suicide.

  When the guys left, Rita sat down to ponder. There was still a web of unanswered questions or rather, unknown questions. Contrary to what most people thought the police didn't merely look for answers. The foremost search was always for the correct questions. Correct questions got correct answers. Answers to non-existent questions were useless.

  It was 4 o'clock Friday afternoon and if nothing gave way, she knew she'd have to spend the weekend alone. Bored. Of course, she had the case, but in the absence of even a slight breakthrough what would she do for the next forty-eight hours? Ash was supposed to be in India next weekend. Was Mumbai in his itinerary? He usually travelled to Mumbai though.

  Ash Mattel — Ashwin Mittal originally, but Microsoft Word forced him to change his name rather than correct the spelling each time — was Rita's reunited college friend. Not her boyfriend. Not her lover. Not just a friend either — friends who were just friends didn't sleep with each other. However, there wasn't a past or future of the relationship. Heck, there was no relationship. He was a divorcee, criminal psychologist based in the UK. Rita and he had been in college together barely a year before he went to the UK for his medical studies. They weren't friends then. Years later it was a pure stroke of luck that Ash was in Mumbai, and her boss, Vinay Joshi, reintroduced them. Rita was looking for an expert to break the serial killer pattern and Ash turned out to a real blessing with his experience in the field. Of course, they exchanged more than their opinions on the case. It wasn't love. It wasn't lust. It was merely that they enjoyed each other's company and a lot more besides. Ash was tall. He was big. He was dark. The dichotomy was that he was ugly and handsome at the same time. Rustic… manly?

  Rita was sat wondering if she should call him to let him know she actually missed him and his cheesy one-liners when Nene walked in.

  'Sishir Singh has been spotted, ma'am.'

  It was not even a complete twenty-four hours since the information had been farmed to the informants.

  'Wow! That was quick. Tell me about him.'

  'His name is... Honey Singh.' Rajesh Nene chuckled as he read from the piece of paper he held. 'Facial and physical description — ditto as in the pictures from Belgium, except Honey Singh has longer hair, but they could have easily grown in the last three months. The suspect lives with his mother in an apartment complex called Takshila in Andheri East. Her name is Lucky Singh. Honey Singh has a girlfriend, Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty Varghese is a model by profession.' Nene giggled like a schoolboy, and Rita understood why. Most so-called models were also escorts, 'though that might not have been the case with Kitty if she had a serious boyfriend. 'We don't yet know where she lives. Honey Singh runs a computer repair contract business in Bandra Kurla. That's all we have for now. Should we bring him in?'

  'No. Let's think a bit. Where are the others?'

  'They must be out on their jobs, ma'am. Want me to call them?'

  'Nope. Take a seat.'

  Rita could tell that Nene was not happy about the order for inaction when he appeared hungry for it. If it were left to him he would have sprinted out and busted Honey Singh and thought about anything else later.

  'Does anything indicate that this Honey Singh has recently acquired wealth like the burglary we are investigating?'

  'He drives a Honda Accord…'

  'And lives with his mother in Andheri East. And he still hasn't fled Mumbai. All we know is a guy called Honey Singh looks like Sishir Singh. Have you seen a picture of Honey Singh yourself yet?'

  'I'll ask someone to take his picture and send us.'

  'I can't believe that this guy didn't even take the trouble of using a different family name from the one he used in his alias: Singh. Strange, don't you think?'

  'Now that you say that.' Nene looked relaxed but, only a bit. Rita could tell that he wasn't biting her logic a hundred percent.

  'OK. Let's do this: let's place him under watch for the entire weekend. Ask your guys to take photographs, log his travels, who he meets, calls, where he eats. Everything.'

  'I'll arrange that immediately.'

  'We don't have time to get any court orders before tomorrow, so let it all be under the radar.' It had been one of the rare times she was stepping over the line. Ends justified the means, didn't they?

  Nene smiled. It was understood.

  'He shouldn't even suspect a tail, but the tail shouldn't lose him even for a minute. If Honey Singh is our man he will, in all probability, be looking over his shoulder all the time. And taking into account the immaculate robbery, he should be able to spot a tail faster than most.'

  'Right.'

  'Ask everyone not to approach Honey Singh under any circumstances. Please use your best guys. Although, if this Mr Honey Singh is seen travelling towards the airport or driving out of the city, arrest him for some innocuous reason. He should not leave the city over the weekend. Not now when we're this close.'

  Making an arrest in most countries was simple. The police could find one hundred and one reasons: some error or missing documents in car registration, insurance or driving licence. Simple.

  'We need to see his picture before we start tailing him. See it to confirm it yourself. Send me a copy too. And ask someone to dig up his life history from the day he was born and email the same to me please. Encrypt it.'

  'We'll get that over to you as soon as I get it, ma'am.'

  'And… thank you Nene. I really appreciate how quickly you've cracked this.'

  ''Only doing my job, ma'am.' He looked embarrassed.

  'Thanks, and have a good weekend. Be in touch.'

  'You too ma'am, if you need anything over the weekend give me a call. My mobile is always on.'

  'Same here. Thanks.'

  Rita sat in the office for some time after Nene left. Was it just fluke or were the snitches in Mumbai faster than the person she had seen on the motorbike in the afternoon? That reminded her to prompt Jatin to find out who that reckless rider was.

  ***

  Later that night Rita poured a civilised belt of Jim and let the aroma fill her nose. She sat thinking about the case. Police work was a lot about deduction. Quite like mathematics as a matter of fact. Not plain arithmetic that everyone could add or subtract, but not unlike a complex set of equations. But here is the catch: unlike a complex set of equations the real life equations could have more than one solution, and they were ever changing so one also had to take into account the unknowns. One of the jarring overlooks in Victor's file had been that if the Belgian authorities had established when Sishir Singh left Brussels for Mumbai why hadn't they traced and confirmed when he had arrived in Brussels? He couldn't have just walked in behind Jogani. She bet he was there a few days in advance or at the very least, some of his accomplices were. He couldn't have carried the gun from India. He required tools, gun, and other help; it would have taken time to arrange those things in a foreign country. She had no doubt that there was more than one individual to carry out the task: if not physically present in the hotel, at least in the planning and in keeping a watch on Jogani?

  Finishing her small drink Rita switched off the lights. Her bedroom window was open and she could fee
l the moisture in the air. The light wind brought the promise of rain later. It was already there somewhere in the distance. A few hours away, maximum.

  But when she got up early morning to go for her run, she realised that the clouds had passed them by without obliging. Perhaps they obliged some towns and villages in Gujarat.

  When she got back her Blackberry beeped. Nene had sent the picture of Honey Singh. The picture was clear enough to exhibit that Honey Singh was a doppelgänger of Sishir Singh. Identical twins?

  Criminals don't work nine to five. They don't stay away on weekends. Ergo, the police workforce never has enough hours in a day or enough days in a week. Weekend? Well, it was a busman's weekend, and more so if you were selected, by your supervisor, to be part of a clandestine surveillance on someone who was being investigated for homicide. Even more so if it was an international case and, apparently, the nation's pride was attached, however tacitly. Four teams of two plainclothes ASIs each were deployed to tail Honey Singh. As he had been made responsible, Rajesh Nene was leading the whole undercover operation. The eight Assistant Sub-Inspectors he had handpicked were people he had worked with in the past. It was all about efficiency. And trust. He knew they could carry out the task discreetly. One team was stationed at Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport. If Honey had any plans to fly out of the country, this team would become paramount in the operation — it would have been amateur to presume any tail could keep up with the target in Mumbai traffic. There was always a chance one couldn't keep up with the suspect. It was a chance no one took. It was a chance Nene wasn't taking either. If Honey Singh flew out of the domestic airport it would a simple call to the local police in the landing city to apprehend him at the tarmac and be put back on the return flight.