Cat O'Nine Tales: And Other Stories (31 page)

“Yes,” replied
Patel. “I thought you ought to know that I had a visit yesterday from someone
who claims to work for you.”

The
Commissioner raised an eyebrow.

“A Mr. Raj Malik.”

“He is a junior
filing clerk in the...”

“In a private
capacity, he was at pains to emphasize.”

The
Commissioner began tapping the armrest of his chair with the palm of his right
hand, as Patel continued. “Malik said that you were in possession of a file
that showed that I was under investigation for money laundering.”

“You were,
H.H.,” said the Commissioner, with his usual candor. “Following nine/eleven,
the Minister of Internal Affairs instructed me to investigate any organization
which dealt in large sums of cash. That included casinos, racetracks and, in
your case, the Bank of Mumbai. A member of my team interviewed your chief
teller and advised him about what he should be on the lookout for, and I
personally signed the clearance certificate for your company.”

“I remember,
you briefed me at the time,” said Patel, “but your fellow, Malik...”

“He’s not my
fellow”

“...said that he could arrange to have my file destroyed.”
He paused.
“For a small consideration.”

“He said what?”
said Kumar almost exploding out of his chair.

“How small?”
asked Deputy Commissioner Khan calmly “Ten million rupees,” replied Patel.

“H.H., I don’t
know what to say,” said the Commissioner.

“You don’t have
to say anything,” said Patel, “because it never crossed my mind, even for a
moment, that you could be involved in anything quite so stupid, and I told
Malik as much.”

“I am
grateful,” said the Commissioner.

“No need to
be,” said Patel, “but I did think that perhaps others, less charitable . . .”
He paused. “Especially as Malik’s visit came so close to your retirement
. .

.” He hesitated
again. “And were the press to get hold of the story, it might so easily be
misunderstood.”

“I am grateful
for your concern, and the speed with which you have acted,” said Kumar. “I will
remain eternally in your debt.”

“I want nothing
more than to be sure that this city rightly remains eternally in your debt,”
said Patel, “so that when you leave office it will be in a blaze of glory,
rather than with question marks hanging over your head, which, as we both know,
would linger on long after your retirement.”

The Deputy
Commissioner nodded his agreement as Patel rose from his place.

“You know,
Naresh
,” Patel said, turning to face the Commissioner, “I
would never have agreed to see the damn man, if you had not spoken so highly of
him in your speech to the Rotary Club last month. He even produced the article
in the
Mumbai Times.
I therefore
assumed that the fellow had come with your blessing.” Mr. Patel turned to face
Khan.

“May I wish you
luck when you take over as Commissioner,” he added, shaking hands with the
deputy. “I don’t envy you having to follow such a fine man.” Kumar smiled for
the first time that morning.

“I’ll be back
in a moment,” the Commissioner said to his deputy as he left his office to
accompany Patel to the front door.

The Deputy
Commissioner stared out of the window as he waited for the Chief to return. He
munched on a biscuit as he mulled over several possible alternatives.

By the time the
Commissioner walked back into the room, Khan knew exactly what had to be done.
But would he be able to convince his boss this time?

“I’ll have
Malik arrested and behind bars within the hour,” said the Commissioner as he
picked up the phone on his desk.

“I wonder,
sir,” said Deputy Khan quietly, “if that’s the best course of action–given the
circumstances?”

“I don’t have
much choice,” said the Commissioner as he began dialing.

“You may be
right,” said Khan, “but before you make such an irrevocable decision, perhaps
we should consider how this is all going to play...” he paused...”with the
press.”

“They’ll have a
field day,” said Kumar as he replaced the phone and began pacing around the
room. “They won’t be able to make up their minds if I should be hanged as a
crook
who’s
willing to accept bribes, or dismissed as
the most naive fool ever to hold the office of Commissioner. Neither scenario
bears thinking about.”

“But we have to
think about it,” insisted Deputy Khan, “because your enemies–and even good men
have enemies–will happily settle for someone who’s willing to take kickbacks,
while your friends will not be able to deny the lesser charge of naivety.”

“But surely
after forty years of service, people will believe...”

“People will
believe whatever they want to believe,” said Khan, confirming the
Commissioner’s worst fears, “and certainly you won’t be able to send Malik back
to prison until he’s been given the chance to appear in a witness box and tell
the world his side of the story.”

“But who would
believe that old...”

“No smoke
without fire, they’ll be whispering in the corridors of the law courts, and
that will be tame compared with the headlines in the morning papers once Malik
has spent a couple of days in the witness box being questioned by a friendly
barrister who sees you as nothing more than a stepping stone in his career.”

Kumar continued
to pace around the room, but didn’t respond.

“Let me try and
second-guess the headlines that would follow such a
crossexamination
.”
Khan paused before saying, “‘Commissioner accepts bribes to destroy friends’
files’ might be the headline in the
Times,
while the tabloids will surely be a little more colorful–’Bung money left
in Commissioner’s office by delivery boy,’ or perhaps ‘Commissioner Kumar
employs ex-con to carry out his dirty work?’ “

“I think I’ve
got the picture,” said the Commissioner, as he sank back into the chair next to
Khan. “So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“What you’ve
always done in the past,” Khan replied. “Play it by the book.”

The
Commissioner looked across at his deputy quizzically. “What do you have in
mind?”

“Malik,”
shouted the supervisor at the top of his voice, even before he’d put the phone
down.
“ Commissioner
Kumar wants to see you, immediately.”

“Did he say
why?” asked Malik nervously “No, he’s not in the habit of confiding in me,”
replied the supervisor, “but don’t hang about because he’s not a man who likes
to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, sir,”
Malik replied. He closed the file he’d been working on and placed it back on
the supervisor’s desk. He walked across to his locker, removed his bicycle
clips and left the building without another word. It wasn’t until he was
outside on the pavement that he began to shake. Had they caught on to his latest
scam? Not that it had proved that successful. He unlocked the chain that was
attached to the railings and began to consider his options. Should he make a
run for it, or simply try to brazen it out? He hadn’t been left with a lot of
choice. After all, where would he run to? And even if he did decide to run, it
would only be a matter of days, perhaps hours, before they caught up with him.

Malik slipped
on his bicycle clips, mounted his third-hand Raleigh
Lenton
and began to pedal slowly toward the city center. The dusty brown roads were
teeming with other bicycles, cars and countless numbers of people, all heading
in different directions. The incessant honking of horns, the multitude of
different smells, the beating down of the sun and the bustle of everyday life
ensured that Mumbai was like no other city on earth. Street traders thrust out
their arms as Malik passed, trying to sell him their wares, while beggars with
no arms ran by his side, not assisting his progress.

Should he come
clean and admit what he’d been up to?

He cycled for a
few more yards. No, never admit to anything, a golden rule that he’d learned
after long years in prison. He swerved to avoid a cow and nearly fell off.

Assume they
know nothing until you’re cornered.

Even then, deny
everything. As he rounded the next corner, police headquarters loomed up in
front of him. If he was going to make a dash for it, it would have to be now or
never. He
pedalled
on, until he was only a few yards
away from the steps leading up to the front entrance. He tugged firmly on the
tired brake handles until his bike came to a slow, unsteady halt.

He climbed off,
and padlocked his one asset to the nearest railing. He walked slowly up the
steps to police headquarters, pushed his way through the swing doors and headed
nervously toward the reception desk. He told the duty officer his name. Perhaps
there had been a mistake.

“I have an
appointment with...”

“Ah, yes,” the
duty officer replied ominously, without needing to consult his roster. “The
Commissioner is waiting to see you. You’ll find his office is on the fourteenth
floor.”

Malik turned
and began walking toward the lifts, aware that the duty officer’s eyes never
left him. Malik glanced at the front door. This would be his last chance to
escape, he thought, as the doors of one of the lifts slid open. He stepped into
a crowded elevator, which made several stops on its slow interrupted journey to
the fourteenth floor. By the time Malik reached the top floor, he was sweating
profusely, and it wasn’t just the crowded space and lack of air conditioning
that caused his unease.

When the doors
finally parted, he was on his own. Malik stepped out onto the only thickly
carpeted corridor in the building. He looked around and then recalled his last
visit. He began to walk slowly toward an office at the far end of the corridor.
The word Commissioner was printed in bold
stencilled
letters on the door.

Malik knocked
quietly–perhaps something more important had arisen, causing the Commissioner
to leave the office without warning. He heard a female voice invite him to
enter. He opened the door to find the Commissioner’s secretary seated behind
her desk, tapping away furiously. She stopped typing the moment she saw Malik.

“The
Commissioner is expecting you,” was all she offered. She didn’t smile and she
didn’t frown as she rose from her place. Perhaps she was unaware of his fate.
The secretary disappeared through another door and returned almost immediately.
“The Commissioner will see you now, Mr. Malik,” she said, and held the door
open for him.

Malik walked
into the Commissioner’s office, to find him seated at his desk, eyes down,
studying an open file. He raised his head, looked directly at him and said,
“Have a seat, Malik.” Not Raj, not Mr., just Malik.

Malik slipped
into the chair opposite the Commissioner. He sat in silence, trying not to
appear nervous as he watched the second hand of the clock on the wall behind
the desk complete a full minute.

“Malik,” the
Commissioner eventually said as he looked up from the papers on his desk, “I’ve
just been reading your supervisors annual report.”

Malik remained
silent, although he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his nose.

The
Commissioner looked back down again. “He’s very complimentary about your work,”
said Kumar, “full of praise.

Far better than
I could have hoped for when you sat in that chair just a year ago.” The
Commissioner looked up and smiled. “In fact, he’s recommending that you should
be promoted.”

“Promoted?”
said Malik in disbelief.

“Yes, though it
may not prove that easy, as there are not too many appropriate jobs available
at the present time.

However, I do
believe I have come across a position that is ideally suited for your
particular talents.”

“Oh, thank you,
sir,” said Malik, relaxing for the first time.

“There is a
vacancy...” the Commissioner opened another file and smiled...”for an assistant
in the city morgue.” He extracted a single sheet of paper and began reading
from it.

“It would be
your responsibility to scrub the blood off the slabs and clean the floor
immediately after the bodies have been dissected and stored away I’m told the
stench is not all that pleasant, but a face mask is supplied, and I have no
doubt that, in time, one gets used to it.” He continued to smile at Malik. “The
appointment comes with the rank of sub-supervisor, along with a corresponding
rise in salary. It also has other perks, not least that you would have your own
room directly above the morgue, so you wouldn’t have to bed down any longer at
the YMCA.”

The
Commissioner paused. “And, should you continue to hold the post until your
sixtieth birthday, you would also be entitled to a modest pension.” The
Commissioner closed Malik’s file and looked directly at him. “Any questions?”
he asked.