Bhendi Bazaar (28 page)

'Expecting someone else, Casanova? Was I merely an appetiser?' Anita mocked the lifeless figure of Amit Narang. 'But what would you do now? I have plucked your dickie…’ She picked up the remote and switched on the television that relayed images from the main entrance. She recognised
Chota
Mathur. He was struggling to get in, gesturing with his arms, like he was trying to catch someone's attention, someone who was already inside the office. She dropped the remote, drew out the gun from her bag and swiftly tiptoed behind the door. If the police were inside, it wouldn’t be long before they found Narang’s office. But, how did they get here? This, she accepted, wasn’t the time to ponder; this was the time to act. She had to get out of this situation. She could think of the
how-they-got-here
later. There was no exit from Narang’s office.

She had to get out of here. Somehow.

Not aware of how many people were inside — armed or otherwise — Anita waited patiently. Maybe they’d not find anything and go away. It was unlikely though. The police must have figured out that the lifts had been sabotaged. That DCP wasn’t stupid, but where was she? Was she around? Fortunately, for Anita, the blinds were down, no one could peep in. Like an insidious wolf, she waited. She held her breath when she heard footsteps approaching — muffled footsteps, like someone was being cautious. They sounded like a female’s. So, she was here. DCP Rita Ferreira was here.

Anita could, now, sense the presence of another human on the other side of the glass panel. She raised her gun, prepared to attack.

Rita tried looking through the gaps in the blinds. Only a desk lamp lighted Narang’s office, the soft light washing all over the room, but she couldn’t detect any movement. Maybe no one was inside, but she couldn’t hazard a risk. Her gun still in hand, she gently moved to the door and pressed the lever. It was unlocked. Should she bang the door open to rush in or should she tenderly slip in? Why hadn’t Mathur come for cover till now? Not desirous of losing time, she pushed the door and let it slowly open.

Rita was halfway through the length of the door when she saw Inspector
Chota
Mathur doing
Bharatanatyam
on the television. Whoever was in the office was aware of police presence, but it was too late to draw inferences. Anita sprang from behind the door and kicked Rita firmly behind her knee. Rita buckled momentarily, but her handgun flew out of her hand and landed on the other side of the desk. Rita’s gaze followed the gun to grasp Narang’s naked torso. She couldn’t see anything below the waist since the large desk hid it. ‘Shit.’

‘Welcome DCP.’ Anita waved her gun at Rita and kicked the door hard. It slammed shut. She stretched her spare hand to bolt it.

‘What do you want?’

‘Isn’t it obvious that I’ve already got what I wanted?’ Anita moved towards Narang's stiff.

‘You cannot escape. There is a brigade outside this office, under this building.’

‘Shut up DCP.’ Anita waved the gun again. ‘I am in control, not you.’

‘Why have you killed another innocent man?’ ‘Innocent? Really?’

‘Who are you?’ ‘Anita Raizada.’

‘I know that.’

‘Then why do you ask?’

The sound of footsteps outside revealed that the other police officers in the office had picked up the scent of action in Narang's office.

‘How are you related to Viviane Casey?’ ‘You are the detective. What do you think?' ‘Where is Jay Desai?’

‘Dead.’ Anita, eyes on Rita, gun pointed towards her prey put her two fingers in the horizontal blinds to expand the gap. ‘Two? Just two officers? You said there’s a brigade.’

‘Believe me. The rest will be here any minute.’

‘You could be dead any minute too, DCP.’

‘You won’t kill me. If you killed me, how would you get away?’ ‘Who said I wanted to get away? You make too many assumptions.’

‘Are you Jay Desai’s sister?’

‘Jay Desai did not have any siblings. Haven’t you investigated the case thoroughly?’ ‘So you’re not even related to Viviane Casey or Jay Desai? You expect me to believe you're some vigilante who took it upon herself to kill innocent men only because they paid for sex…?’

‘Only because?’ There was a knock on the door, a solid push on the lever. ‘Ask your guys to stop acting like children. Tell your misbehaved children to hold back, mama, will you?’

‘Is everything okay ma’am?’ It was Vikram's voice.

‘Yes, your
mama
is under my control inspector. If you act cute, you might need to arrange for her coffin, you get that?’

‘Vikram…hold back.’

‘That’s like a good girl, DCP.’

Rita comprehended calling the victims innocent incited Anita. It might give her more time to make Anita divulge what made her choose this path of destruction, to stall her from taking any hasty decision. ‘If you let me arrest you —‘

‘Fuck off, forget it. You’re not getting me. Get up…I want you to escort me to the roof terrace.’

‘How will you get away from there?’

‘Though that’s none of your business DCP, but if you do as I say, I promise I'll show you how I'll get away.' Anita gave a sinful smile.

Rita stood up, dusted her clothes a bit to buy time, to think. How could she outsmart someone with a loaded gun? She’d have to wait for an opportunity. What choices did she have?

‘You walk in front of me. And tell your guys to drop their guns. I don’t want to kill you, DCP. I don’t shoot women, but don’t give me a reason. I don’t care if I die later, but I’ll ensure I’ll kill you if anyone acts cute. I am serious.’ Rita nodded. ‘Now tell your children to get out of this office. We can see that all of them get out.’ Anita pointed towards the little screen.

‘Vikram, ask everyone to leave the premises.’

‘And stand outside the office till further instructions,’ Anita yelled.

ASP Rathore arrived, with his uniformed men, in the lobby. Mathur had given up any hope of ever getting into the office of NEWS of the DAY. He looked at ASP Rathore unhappily. He had failed to provide cover for Rita; he had missed all the action — if there had been any. The men looked at each other.

‘Should we break the lock?’ ‘How?’ asked Mathur. ‘Shoot the damn thing.' ‘That’ll make a lot of noise. ‘Who the fuck cares?’

Before they could arrive at any consensus, they saw Vikram coming towards the glass doors. He pressed the button and walked out.

‘Where is DCP Ferreira?’

‘The killer has taken her hostage. We don’t know the situation, but we were told to move away.’

‘And you left her alone?’

‘Not much choice. Anita wanted us out, ma’am told us to move out too.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘We wait. I take command of the situation.’

Vikram looked at Rathore. It was rank versus the unit. ASP Rathore was senior, but he understood it was a case that the crime branch was in charge of. This, certainly, wasn’t the time to lock horns at any rate. This was the time to unite brains and resources to get the DCP out and apprehend the killer who would be caught in the act. Taking DCP captive was a grave step; something even more sinister must have provoked it.

‘Agreed,’ Rathore voiced his agreement to spell out to his team.

‘Walk, honey.’ Anita gestured towards the door. ‘And remember, no smartness or I'll be forced to pull the trigger.’

Rita looked at her captor irately.

The duo walked out of Narang’s office unhurriedly. Anita, having seen the three police officers retreat, was still sceptical. What if any one of them had decided to stay back? She wasn’t definite how many had been in the office. ‘Stay,’ she said and looked around.

When she was sure there was no one around, she nudged Rita on her back with the gun. Rita started marching again. ‘Keep your hands over your head, honey.’

Rita did as she was told.

They could both see a convoy of police outside in the lobby through the glass doors. The men could observe inside too. They despised witnessing their DCP walking as a hostage and an entire army of police rendered impotent.

‘Now…would you be nice enough to tell your comrades to back off please?’ ‘How? They can’t hear me.’

‘Yes they can.’ Anita pointed at a receiver that hung on the wall next to the glass doors.

Rita picked it up. It was an announcement device. It conveyed the message spoken to the entire floor — inside and out of the doors — in case of any emergency. Anita knew the office, and its mechanics in detail. ‘Inspector Vikram Patil and ASP Rathore, please retreat to the stairway. Leave the lobby immediately.'

‘That’s an order,’ Anita prompted. ‘That’s an order.’

Theirs was not to reason why, theirs but to do and die -
the entire force comprehended.

Rathore — surreptitiously happy that someone else had taken control of the situation that looked rather bleak now — looked at Senior Inspector Vikram Patil for direction; Vikram, either ambivalent of the ASP’s intentions, or that he didn’t care, signalled everyone to leave.

The parade marched out.

Vikram walked behind everyone else. As the double doors of the stairway closed, he kneeled to observe through the tiny slit.

‘Now, we move. Anita patiently waited till the last man — Vikram — walked out of sight.

Same sequence: Rita, gun on her back, Anita following her. Both walked out of the glass door. Anita, fully alert that anyone could spring out — from nowhere or anywhere — on her, confidently walked behind the DCP. The two women walked into the lift car. Anita took out the key from her pocket and started the lift.

‘I bet you noticed that I used the key to stop the lifts, DCP?’ Rita didn’t utter anything.

Anita pressed the button. UP. Roof terrace.

As the two walked out of the cast iron door — Rita in front with a gun still aimed at her — Anita assayed to amend the error she had made on previous occasion. If she had locked the double door entrance to the lobby from the stairway on the seventeenth floor, she would have received a little more notice about the police arrival. Anita kicked the heavy door shut.

She fleetingly peeked back to locate the latch, to fasten it. Rita sensed her captor's distraction and standing erect in her position foxily stretched her right leg back and brought it behind Anita's right leg, ramming her shoe forcefully into the shorter girl's ankle. The jerk destabilised Anita, taking her by surprise. With one of her hand fastening the door latch, the other hand lost control of the Glock, which fell only a few feet away towards their left. Rita, conscious that the danger had been averted, strived to gain control of the weapon. Before she could leap, Anita grabbed her hair and yanked her backwards. Rita — taller and bigger — stretched her arm back and tugged on Anita's hair. Both lost balance. Rita fell face down on the ground, inches away from the gun; Anita fell on top of her. The arms outstretched to take the gun in possession. Anita had the advantage of being on the top, but she was also physically smaller than her opponent. Horizontal on the paved roof terrace, the fingers clawed on the ground, like crabs crawling, to reach what could provide life-threatening power over the other. For Anita, it was the looming fear of a life sentence, if not capital punishment; for Rita, she was certain that if Anita got hold of the gun yet again, this time around she wouldn’t spare her.

Rita, her arms a little longer, got to the metal, but instantaneously found Anita's nails digging deep between her fingers. Lord, Anita was some street-fighter. Five seconds later, they jointly had the custody of the gun. Rita, still under bantamweight Anita, attempted to raise herself on her elbows by pulling them forward and scratching them against the asphalt. The blood found tiny outlets as the skin tore. She wanted to turn, to squeeze Anita under her weight, but Anita carefully diverted the assault by letting Rita turn, but without losing her grip on the gun, she artfully manoeuvred herself on top of Rita, the two facing each other now.

Both clasped the gun.

Rita’s advantage was a lighter opponent. Anita, on top of Rita, had gravity assisting her. The two locked fingers around the trigger. For stark opposite purposes, Rita wanted to avert any shooting; she wanted Anita alive, to disclose what had instigated her. Anita, with her finger striving to pull the trigger, wanted to kill the DCP. Or herself. Now.

The women’s chests heaved against each other as they fought hard to get control of the gun they both held.

That is when Rita saw Anita closely. And it was then that it occurred to Rita what had happened; like a flash of lightning in the sky, it was distinct, and obvious, but the trigger got pressed.

The gunshot must have been heard on the floors below.

The recoil of the Glock unleashed the DCP’s reflexes. Rita kneed Anita in the stomach — it was easy with the latter on top —a few paces away. In the seconds that ensued, Rita could feel blood oozing out of her left shoulder. Surprisingly, as in any accident, the gun had twisted and triggered. Fortunately, for Rita, though she was wounded, she still held the gun firmly in her right hand with Anita thrown four feet away.

DCP had regained her status. She had to make a significant effort to sit up, reclining against the wall that cased the iron door. ‘Now Anita…now that I have you at my mercy, what do you have to say?’

‘Shoot me.’

‘That would reprieve you of your sins…’

‘Crimes. Crimes in your eyes, crimes in the eyes of law, not sins. Crimes and sins are two different entities, DCP. Every crime is not wrong in the eyes of the Lord —‘

‘Stop it. Don’t talk like a preacher. You killed all those human beings for no reason.’

‘Reason? Why does one need a reason to cleanse this world of fucking whoremongers?’

‘And who are you to do that?’

‘Viviane suffered them, and it wasn’t just her. It transcended a generation.’

Anita ambled back gradually towards the parapet of the roof terrace; it was only four feet tall. No one without sufficient training and appropriate gear was allowed on this terrace — there had been an occasional case of office couples making out in the open, but that was that. There was nothing to prevent someone climbing the dwarf wall.

‘Stop moving,’ Rita burdened with the pain in her shoulder called as loud as she could. If there was more loss of blood, she could lose consciousness, she knew. She had to hold on till Vikram or any other police officer came through. But, how could anyone? The latch on the terrace door had been fastened.