Bhendi Bazaar (27 page)

Read Bhendi Bazaar Online

Authors: Vish Dhamija

BOOK: Bhendi Bazaar
12.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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.'

The inspector gave a salute of acceptance.

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.'

So she wasn't playing hard to get. Good. 'I'm drinking vodka.' Narang pulled out the drawer and took out the bottle.

'Come on Amit, don't be a hoarder. You're getting a new doll, at least open a new bottle.'

'You don't think I've mixed Rohypnol or some club drug in it...?' Narang pointed at the half-empty bottle he had in his hand.

'Oh no. Why would you do that when I'm here willingly?'

'What would you
willingly
do today?'

'Whatever you ask for.'

Narang replaced the bottle in the drawer and fetched two unopened ones. 'Smirnoff or Absolut?'

'Absolut.'

'Good choice.'

Anita smiled. You'll know that in a few minutes, you mother-fucking prick.

Narang freehandedly dispensed liberal portions of Absolut in two tumblers and looked at Anita with raised his eyebrows to check if it was enough.

'Enough for me. I have a tiddly liver.'

'You're petite too, I like that,' Narang said with a lecherous glee, his eyes meandering all over Anita's body.

'You should take twice the quantity you give me,' Anita uttered innocently. 'Why not?'

Narang poured another helping. His glass was almost one-half full now.' Cheers.' He raised his glass and took a sumptuous sip. Anita raised her glass to her lips, then kept it back and stood up suddenly, like she had remembered something.

'Is anything wrong?'

'Not at all, Amit.' She moved out of her chair and walked around the desk towards Narang. 'I just want to be close to you,' she said putting her hand on his chest. She unbuttoned the shirt and removed it. Next, she unbelted him, unzipped his trousers and slipped them from beneath him to let them drop to his ankles. 'Let's unleash the monster now.' She snapped the elastic of his underpants. The rutting moron raised his bottom and took off his briefs himself.

'My turn now.'

'Yes, of course. Strip me.'

She picked up his glass and raised it to his lips before he could get up. The pig guzzled; he wanted the drink to get over quickly for him to start uncovering his quarry. As he revolved on his chair to look at Anita, a faint dizziness enveloped him. He couldn’t work out why a little rotation on his usual office chair would cause that. He blinked a few times.

The last thing Amit Narang, the crowing media mogul, the CEO of NEWS of the DAY, saw was a blurring image of Anita. And it seemed to be evanescing from his vision, like she was being pulled back into some kind of an unlit tunnel. Then she faded completely. The hunter slumped buck naked in his chair.

Chloral Hydrate wasn't called
knockout drops
for nothing.

'There could be two assailants,' Rita briefed the inspectors as they ascended. They were passing the eighth floor now.

Another nine to go, their lungs were counting.

'Two of them?' someone asked. Rita wasn't sure whom, as she was ahead and the panting voice from behind was hardly discernible.

'There is a possibility Jay Desai and Anita might both be there. That's the reason I wanted four of us to go up. Four against two should be fine and ASP Rathore should be on his way soon with enough police if we need. I didn't want everyone to travel together on this narrow staircase, just in case...'

'What if there's no one at NEWS of the DAY office? What if they're somewhere else?' The speculation wasn't totally unreasonable. It was nearly twenty-four hours since

Jatin had last chatted with Anita on MSN. There had been no communication post that. There was every possibility Anita might have changed the location. If she had known about the break-in at her safe house, she surely would have. However, it had only been a few hours since police had stormed into her hut and there wasn't any way the news could have got to her, particularly if she had been planning this kill. Unless… No, Rita did not wish to go into
the unless
scenario. She trusted Jatin. 'You have a point, but the coincidence is too much to ignore. The location Nariman Point, as I said, has been chosen for
N
; the lifts have suddenly stopped at the seventeenth floor,' she elucidated as they passed the thirteenth floor.

Thoughts in her mind were, now, racing faster than her fatigued legs could carry her up the stairs. Why, if Anita was the killer, had she assayed to the police that the killer was a female? Was it that she deliberately made it so conspicuous that no one would believe it and only look for a male? Or was it that she acknowledged that the police would eventually get to the bottom of the pit and discover Jay Desai's nameplate, and when they did they might discredit him from being a suspect, as they were seeking a female?

They whisked by the fifteenth floor. 'What is her connection with Jay Desai?'

Once again Rita failed to distinguish who had spoken. The pants and gasps crescendoed with every floor. 'Don't know. She could be his sister or half-sister.'

'But Viviane had only one child —'

'That we know of, from the files,' Rita chiselled in. Sixteenth floor.

Rita looked at her watch. 9:09 p.m. They had been on the stairway for over ten minutes now, their bodies exhausted, their legs worn out. 'Stop,' she called. 'Let’s stop for a moment. Take a few deep breaths...breathe in, breathe out. Give your body some oxygen. It's only one floor now. As soon as we get there we split into two teams. I lead and Inspector Mathur provides cover. Inspector Patil leads and Inspector D’Souza provides him cover.

Understood?'

More rest, though desired, wasn't affordable.

'Move,' Rita ordered and ascended the last flight of stairs.

The foursome went through the double doors and made it to the vestibule that housed lifts on both sides and a glass entrance on the other end, which had a card reader terminal that provided access into the office. Handguns in positions, the teams gingerly moved. Rita marched forward, Mathur walked right behind her in reverse, his back touching her back guarding the double doors they had just walked through. They made it to the lifts. Rita got in. It didn't take her long to figure that someone had switched them off with a key. She got out immediately and walked to the lift opposite. Ditto.

'Call Inspector Anand on ground floor and ask him to send a couple of people up with the lift keys — the building security should have them,' she told Mathur. 'We're going in. Join us after you've messaged Anand.'

'Who'll cover you?' Vikram asked. 'Don't worry about me. Come on.'

Vikram withdrew the card he had been given by the building security personnel, from his pocket, and swiped it. A faint click announced the main doors had been unlocked. The trio walked in.

In the heightening tension of the moment, none remembered that they had locked one of their team members outside.

The faint click the police officers heard, at the entrance of the office, was amplified in Narang's office. Someone had entered the office. Who could it be at this hour?

Other books

The Dark Glamour by Gabriella Pierce
Rhythm and Blues by Samantha-Ellen Bound
The Sky Fisherman by Craig Lesley
On Something (Dodo Press) by Hilaire Belloc
The Child Inside by Suzanne Bugler
The Tears of Elios by Crista McHugh