by Vish Dhamija
And that told Rita what she sought from mentioning Veer. The animosity between Honey Singh and Veer Singh was genuine. And familial.
'Sorry Mrs Singh, my intention wasn't to bring up any unsavoury memories, but we need to find Veer Singh.'
'What does this have to do anything with my Honey? My Honey treated him like a brother. I treated him like my own son, never differentiated between him and Honey. He stayed with us for days, weekends, I did all his washing and cooking. And in the end, he just left us like we were some unwanted tramps? May he be consumed by worms.'
This was getting interesting. Not that Lucky Singh would know where Veer Singh was or if she knew she would tell Rita, but it still seconded what others had said about Honey and Veer: they were close, then they split.
'What happened?'
'I don't know. Honey never spoke about it except that they had a disagreement of dire proportions.' The fury she had exhibited in the past few minutes notwithstanding, deep down the woman was hurt; the optical waterworks were beginning to win. She wiped her moist eyes with the back of her pink sleeve.
'I'm sorry Mrs Singh,'
'It's OK. But if it is Veer you're looking for why do you have Honey's picture?' Lucky sounded sceptical now.
Smart question.
'Oh that? Our database showed Mr Honey Singh was the last one Veer Singh had any interaction with in a public place. As I said it's a very old photograph.'
'I don't think Honey would want to talk about him.'
'We still have to ask.'
'I can understand.'
'Mrs Singh, do you know where Veer Singh is these days?'
'Nah. I don't know and I don't care. I saw him last…' she looked into space like recalling something from an old album, '…three years ago, maybe even longer.'
'So no idea where he went, no correspondence?' Rita carried on.
'No, and I don't want to talk about him anymore. Is there anything else?'
'Not at the moment, Mrs Singh.' Rita got up.
Vikram took the cue.
The farewell wasn't as warm as the tea party. Rita heard the door slam behind them.
'What do you think, ma'am?' Vikram asked as they walked down the steps.
'You mean besides the part that you're my daddy?' Rita retorted.
'That was hilarious. I was about to burst out laughing.'
'I could see.'
'The mention of Veer definitely embittered her,' Vikram said when they sat in the Gypsy. Rita looked around the apartment complex. She noted again that though it wasn't subfusc or rundown, it wasn't the poshest address in the city either.
'It's extremely important that we find Veer Singh, Vikram.'
'Why this switcheroo?'
Switcheroo? Dealing with Sexy came with a cautionary; the prerequisite was that the person already had the Webster English dictionary app downloaded into their brains.
Sexy sat composed. Impeccably attired as usual, not a hair out of place. His long manicured fingers in a steeple, his eyes behind the thin reading glasses that he took off before speaking. His question, though, wasn't unwarranted. His secretary got the weekly case reports on almost all current cases, and given that Ron Jogani's murder was an international incident, it was highly likely that he had asked for a summary of it and kept himself updated. Hence, he knew the initial investigation had been to find the guy in the photograph given by the Belgians to Rita and her team. So why was Rita, then, here to seek help in tracing this other creature called Veer Singh? What had made the investigation switch tracks then?
Rita elucidated the recent developments, the discovery about other robberies in the last few days — since the last report had been sent — and the similarities that steered the team to consider other possibilities, and the revelation of an old friend-turned-adversary who had, since, gone missing.
'And he left India, did you say?' Sexy asked after ruminating on the details provided a minute ago.
'Yes sir.'
'Do you know where he has skedaddled to?'
We don't know if he has fled, Sexy; it could be only a concurrence, Rita wanted to say, but instead she responded: 'We're not sure if he deliberately disappeared or if it was purely a coincidence, but the info we have is that he had moved to the US.'
'US security won't release any info — they are a bit solipsistic as you know... unless we have something to trade with them.'
He wasn't totally wrong. The US had become a lot more insular and self-focussed after 9/11 when it came to security, and rightly so. They had largely been successful in thwarting all acts of terrorism in their country since that event.
'We don't have anything to trade, except the fact that Veer Singh could possibly be a criminal, albeit we have no evidence against him, sir.'
'I'll see what I can do. Send me all details on this guy. When are you connecting with Mr Honey Singh?'
'Today itself, sir.' Having met his mother in the morning it was best to meet Honey Singh on the same day, though Rita was positive that Mrs Lucky Singh would have already spoken to her son about the visit.
Rita took the opportunity to inform the Commissioner that she had been in consultation with the criminal psychologist her previous supervisor, Joshi had introduced without — unsurprisingly — furnishing the minutiae that the discussions between Ash Mattel and her were held wearing only their underwear. Or maybe not even that.
Rita also mentioned that the media had been looking for an update after the news had been leaked somehow. She didn't think Sexy required the how.
'The media can be directed to me, I'll handle them all. Just ask my secretary to arrange one single press conference.'
Rita knew that Sexy was the master of ambiguity. The press would be none the wiser after he spoke to them; their lexicon would indeed by tested to the limits though. Good.
'Good luck. Anything else, Miss Ferreira?'
'No sir. Thank you, sir.'
The meeting over, Rita walked out, her vocabulary increased.
Back in her room she called Victor in Brussels and put in the same request. She explained her hypothesis how Veer Singh could be connected and promised to send his only photograph for their experts to analyse. Victor and his government obviously had a vested interest in the case. He agreed to see what Interpol could swing out of US though he, too, was sceptical about the US government releasing any info.
Rita wasn't terribly optimistic about getting any info on Veer Singh but you had to go through the hoops, you had to try everything. You couldn't know how the dice would fall unless you threw the dice. She had already thrown two dice. The third, she smiled, she would throw over the weekend when Ash was back in Mumbai.
***
Rita and Vikram drove to Honey Singh's office after lunch. They had confirmed he was at the location, but they didn't call ahead. His mother would have done that part already. There was congestion as they turned on to P D'Mello Road but the Eastern Freeway was thankfully clear all the way to BKC.
Bandra Kurla Complex is a string of intimidating glass buildings that look like prisons with finer cells and better facilities for those incarcerated inside for the proverbial nine to five. Tucked away among the overabundance of analogous glass penitentiaries was another insipid building — also glass fronted but dwarfed by other bigger, newer, flashier ones — that housed Mr Honey Singh's office. She looked around to spot Mr Handlebar but he was missing from the scenery. Shoddy work. Or maybe he was so well concealed even she didn't see him. Or perhaps he knew Honey Singh wouldn't be leaving the office till evening so why waste the hours on the watch.
The security on the ground floor was non-existent. Rita looked at the placard on the side wall that listed all the offices, found Honey Singh's office listed at the top floor, pressed the button for the elevator.
Security on the tenth floor was a different matter. A runt man of five-foot-four sat at the front desk — diminutively built, middle-aged, with a bald head that brightly reflected the recessed halogen lights. A thin mousta
che like gents had in the sixties. Greasy jeans, old fake RL Polo blue T-shirt. He looked up when he saw two people approaching.
'We're here to see Mr Honey Singh, where is he?' Rita politely asked.
'Who wants to know?' Titu, the street-side barber turned office administrator, barked. He was loyal to the bone, but given his background and education politeness hadn't touched him with a bargepole.
Rita looked at him, amused: a Chihuahua pretending to be a Doberman. She decided to play along.
'We both do.' She pointed towards Vikram and herself.
'And who you?' Titu asked in his street-side English. Besides the broken vernacular the words came out scathing like there was a burnt steel blade in his mouth that made them abrasive. Rita wondered if when the short guy said “you” did he spell it as “you” or “U”?
Rita didn't respond. She looked at Vikram who picked up the cue. Towering over the little man he took out his police badge and put it right in front of his face.
The hard demeanour cracked the moment the runt saw the badge.
'Now,' Rita spoke calmly. 'Tell me who are you?'
'I myself Titu madam.' He stood to attention.
'And what do you do Mr Titu… besides trying to boss around here and scare people away?'
'I am office manager madam.'
'So Mr Honey Singh is your boss?'
'Yes madam. Any tea, coffee madam?'
'Is your boss in today?' Rita asked even though their intelligence had confirmed that Honey Singh was on site.
'Boss in, but very busy today madam. He tell me not allow visitors.'
'Tell him we are here now so he better see us.'
'Madam, he get very angry if I disturb.'
'OK, don't disturb. Tell me where his office is and we'll go there and see him ourselves.'
'No madam. You wait. I call him.' He picked up the phone at his desk and punched some numbers.
When the foul-mouthed administrator made the call to his master his tone had volte-faced into a rather benevolent one. 'Some people from police want to see you, sir.' Rita could hear the loud crackling from the other side that suggested that Honey Singh wasn't pleased to be disturbed. The intrusion wasn't welcomed. Titu nodded in acquiescence and apologised for bothering him. 'I told you, sir is busy,' he conveyed as he placed the receiver on the cradle. Rita didn't bother speaking to him. She picked up the receiver he had just put down and pressed redial. 'What is it now? Didn't I just tell you I'm in the middle of an important conference—'
'And I'm in the middle of a police investigation, Mr Honey Singh. It's my duty to let you know that there is a very narrow line between not cooperating and perverting an ongoing police investigation and both instances are criminal offences in themselves.'
'But I am actually in the middle of a client conference...'
'Ever heard of the word emergency?'
'Yes?'
'It is now. Finish the call because we're coming in.' Rita put the phone down before Honey could utter another word.'
She looked at Titu who instantly, without her having to ask, pointed towards the door at the rear-left of the reception desk.
Rita took a few deep breaths. She was a bit agitated that she had let the word “police investigation” slip into the conversation; she should have mentioned that when she could see Honey Singh to gauge his reaction. The rulebook was explicit on this. Listen. Listen to each word very carefully. Read between all the lines. Read the punctuation marks. Read the face. Any unusual or frequent scratching of the limbs, notice the eyes for any false foibles. Analyse the speech, the tone, the everything. Observe the subject.
Before opening the office door she reminded herself that everything was benign, everyone was innocent, and that's the way it should be: innocent till proven guilty. She looked at Vikram to check if he was ready; he nodded.
They walked in.
The office resembled a bouillabaisse; a fish stew might be good to taste but the sight of an assortment of fish floating in the liquid is anything but pleasant. The office, too, might have worked efficiently for Honey Singh with everything spread all over, but the place had scatterings of papers and computer chips and parts and cables and whatnot just about everywhere including the only visitor chair.
Honey Singh passed an impish smile, said hello and got up behind his desk that had four laptops working simultaneously. He stuck out his muscled arm for a handshake.
It wasn't anything less than a vice when Rita shook it, and then made the introductions after the perfunctory hellos.
Rita looked at the only chair there, which was covered with papers too. Honey Singh looked embarrassed. He walked out from behind his desk, picked up the papers and put them on the already full window.
'I'm sorry I don't normally get any visitors. I'll arrange for another chair, just give me a minute.' He walked out and came back within a minute rolling an office chair on castors.
A minute later Rita and Vikram settled into the chairs.
'How may I be of assistance in a police enquiry?' There were no exaggerated gasps, no stammer. Only pathological or practiced liars could lie while making eye contact. Was Honey Singh either one of those or was he an honest bystander in a game that had included him without his consent or knowledge? Either he had prepared well for this day and enquiry or he was a consummate liar or he was speaking the truth. It was difficult to tell.
'Do you know Veer Singh?'
'You already know that I know him. You met my mother this morning.' Honey looked annoyed at Veer Singh's mention. It hardly surprised Rita after what she had known about his relationship with Veer and because she had seen his mother raging like an injured bull facing a matador when Rita had cited Veer. If anything, it tied in: the hostility was beyond one to one.
'You have any idea where he is now?'
'No. Would you mind telling me what this is about? It's been three years since I last met Veer, so what has he done now that the police is looking for him? And how am I involved?'
'Mr Singh, please answer my questions and I promise I'll answer most, if not all, of your queries.'
'How long will this take?' Honey looked at his wrist showing off his Omega.
'If you answer without wasting time, I'd say an hour.'
'OK DCP Ferreira.' He snapped shut all four laptops on his desk.
'So tell us more about Veer Singh, how and why did you two break up?'
'It's embarrassing, and maybe you'll think I am evil. Veer introduced me to my girlfriend, Kitty. We started dating, but we didn't know he had the hots for her. Needless to say things didn't work out for all of us so we parted ways.'
Rita realised she had worked that out as one of the scenarios already.
'And you guys never met up again?'
'Nope.'
'And you have no idea where he is?'
'I came to know he had left for Silicon Valley after he was gone from India.'
Rita looked at Vikram who, too, noted that the geographical co-ordinates had been somewhat narrowed down from all fifty States to just Silicon Valley. But would that little piece of info help in any way, who knew?
Rita pulled out the candid-shot she had shown to Lucky Singh in the morning; the one taken in the elevator in Brussels, and passed it to Honey.
He looked at the picture for a few seconds, then looked up at Rita, then Vikram but uttered nothing for a full minute.
Rita couldn't discern if he was worried because he knew where it had been taken or concerned that someone and clicked it without him being aware and that someone was then following him? He maintained the bewildered look on his face. If he was faking it he was succeeding.
'Where did you get this from?'
'Is that you?'
'Looks like me.'
'Then you should be the one telling me where this was taken.'
'Is this the person you're looking for?'
'Mr Singh, that's not the answer to my question.'
'I don't know. It looks like someone's taken th
is photograph without my knowledge from somewhere over my head. I can't imagine where and why.'
'Take your time…' Rita couldn't see any signs of any prevarication yet.
Honey Singh appeared confused.
Confused because he was surprised? Or confused about how did the police get this far?
'Honestly, I can't tell you,' he said and looked up from the photograph he had been staring at. 'Could you tell me how this is connected to Veer please?'
'It's taken inside an elevator.' Rita ignored his question.
'Where?'
'That's what we would want to know.'
'No idea where and no idea why someone would snap my picture in an elevator.'
'Before you answer my next questions Mr Singh, I want you to think very carefully—'
'Oh there's more?' Honey Singh interjected, his anxiety exposed, he appeared fretful.
'Lots more. Do you know anyone by the name of Sishir Singh?'
'No. Who is he?'
'Never mind. Now listen carefully and don't interrupt me please. Have you in the past few weeks or months noticed someone following you around?'
'Following me? Why? Who's following me?' His voice was aggravated, his face flushed red with fury or frustration. Maybe both.
'Calm down Mr Singh, there's no threat to you.'
'But why would someone follow me? Is someone planning to whack me?'
'Again, that's what we want to find out. But... coming back to my question, are you absolutely certain you haven't spotted some unknown person or persons or some cars more than usual?'
'Not at all.'
Up until now Honey Singh did not even blink an eyelid or show any usual tell-tale signs of insincerity — no involuntary gulps, no loss of words. Rita had held that he had been speaking the truth. But his response to the last question—that he had missed spotting Handlebar Raja totally — put Rita in a quandary. She had been around in this job long enough to read that although he had dispensed the “not at all” with all sincerity. Honey Singh was lying. Definitely. Handlebar Raja might not have been obvious at first, but if he tailed Honey Singh repeatedly, the guy would positively register, at least in his subconscious. There was no way someone like Honey Singh could have missed Mr Handlebar and his noticeably derelict car tailing him daily — maybe even twice/thrice a day — for almost over three months. A near impossibility. The question was, why was Honey giving a false statement? Why was he misguiding the police? And as always happened if you trapped one white lie, you became sceptical of all that was said earlier or what would be spoken thereafter.