Predator (16 page)

Inspector Khan smiled and said, ‘Not for this, Champ, you’re free to go. Thank you for the information. That’s all I needed to know!’

‘By God! I’ll be watching you, asshole. One step out of line and I’ll make you remember your ancestors,’ hissed Officer Amar Singh, and stalked out of the room.

Back in the parking lot, Officer Amar Singh gunned the Jeep to life as Inspector Khan sat beside him. ‘Where to now, sir? It’s barely 9 p.m. I suppose you’d like to catch that worm, Chris,’ said Officer Amar Singh and revved noisily, before driving out of the Police Station.

Inspector Khan paused and thought for a while and said, ‘No. Leave him be, he’ll be stoned out of his skull somewhere now. Let’s meet the master puppeteer. I want to talk to Joe.’ They navigated the busy streets and quickly reached the quiet road that led to the vineyard. A lone vulture watched the jeep move into the wilderness that surrounded the vineyard. It seemed to know what was to follow next.

Officer Amar Singh could never gauge his boss’s thinking. It was always slightly offbeat. He knew that he would never reveal his ultimate master plan. Not even to him, his right hand man.

But when Inspector Khan was after a lead, Officer Amar Singh was convinced, he would not let up.

Joe’s Quiet Evening

The cool evening breeze wafted Beethoven’s symphony from Joe’s living room. The old gramophone player looked classically resplendent in its specially designed cabinet, and was Joe’s pride and joy although it did rank second to his passion for the
vitis vinifera
. Exactly thirty-six years ago, his father had gifted him this component of music and wished him a beautiful start in his life. The music rekindled memories – his first glass of wine with his father on a quiet evening, a long, long time ago.

As the music reached its crescendo and faded away, the songbirds fired up their evening concert in perfect harmony with the sonorous wind chimes expertly played by the zephyrs.

Joe sat on the porch, the picture of contentment, with a glass of a freshly opened bottle of wine. As a connoisseur, he knew he was spot on this time. He’d waited six years for the perfect concoction that would be his sure-fire winner in the India Wine Competition.

His Silver Mountain Shiraz was precisely what the world was waiting for. Joe frowned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and scowled when he saw Inspector Khan and Officer Amar Singh walk into the courtyard and towards the porch. He took a sip from his glass and let the elixir spread into his mouth as they climbed the short flight of wooden stairs onto the porch.

Forcing a smile, Joe greeted them warmly and offered them a glass of Silver Mountain Shiraz 2012. They sat in silence for a while cocooned in the evening sounds and the tranquilizing classical music.

After a long pause and having inspected the serene surroundings from where they sat, Inspector Khan said, ‘Beethoven, eh? You have good taste, Joe’.

‘Ah! You’ve the makings of a connoisseur, Inspector Khan. It’s a pity you’re in the wrong profession! This is Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor, also known as “Choral”. It’s the first complete symphony of Ludwig van Beethoven and is one of his greatest works. Personally, I do believe, this was his masterpiece,’ said Joe, gazing into the twilight as he seemed to lose himself.

‘I didn’t realize how very knowledgeable you are on the Western classical repertoire, Joe. Do tell me more. Perhaps someday, when I quit my cop job, I’ll learn from you,’ said Inspector Khan, playing Joe’s ego like a stringed instrument.

Joe smiled. ‘Coming from you, Inspector, I will take that as a compliment. You see, this symphony was the first example by a composer of Beethoven’s stature to use voices, and so it is called a “Choral”. Four soloists and a chorus sing these words which were apparently taken from Schiller’s poem titled “
An die Freude
” which translates into “
Ode to Joy
” in English. Beethoven’s notes indicate that these compositions were made between 1811 and 1817,’ said Joe, visibly pleased and smiling.

‘So it took six years for Beethoven to compose his masterpiece?’ asked Inspector Khan, taking a tentative sip from his glass. An impatient Officer Amar Singh quaffed the wine in one gulp and made a face. He detested wine.

To him the banal conversation was in no way related to their mission – to find a missing girl. He kept his opinions to himself however, as his role today was to take his cues from his boss. Joe made him uncomfortable. Inspector Khan seemed spaced out.

‘Yes, and philistines who do not know how to enjoy a glass of rich wine can never get to understand what it takes to create a musical masterpiece, like your young friend over here’, said Joe pointedly.

‘Ignore him, Joe, tell me more about the symphony. It’s nice not to talk shop on a beautiful evening, especially after a lousy day,’ said Inspector Khan.

‘You see, the most difficult part for Beethoven during the creation of this symphony was the introduction of the vocal sections with Schiller’s ode in the fourth movement of the symphony. Rather like the wine I brew. Perfection is achieved when you introduce the right ingredients at the appropriate time.’ Joe was plainly caught up in the similes – both topics were his passions.

‘One fine day Beethoven rushed into the room and showed his notes to his friend and shouted, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Let us sing the ode of the immortal Schiller”, and then he revised and re-revised the composition until he’d created a gem of perfection with the words, “
O Freunde, nicht diese Töne
”, which means “
Oh friends, not these tones
”. The masterpiece was finally added to the United Nations World Heritage list recently in 2002.’

Inspector Khan took the last sip from his glass and rose to leave. ‘Thank you so much for the drink, Joe. I did enjoy your insights into the creation of a masterpiece I hope you win the India Wine Competition this time with Silver Mountain Shiraz 2012. Best of luck!’

Joe unexpectedly hugged Khan warmly. ‘Thank you for stopping by. I’ll keep you posted on the competition. Feel free to drop in for a drink anytime,’ said Joe and shook Inspector Khan’s hand vigorously.

Officer Amar Singh, clearly thrown by the profound inanity of the conversation, walked to the Jeep in a daze. Inspector Khan, on the other hand, was confident that his carefully measured words had had the desired effect.

Once safely out of Joe’s earshot, Officer Amar Singh exclaimed, ‘Was that it? Weren’t we supposed to interrogate this asshole? By God! It seemed as if we were getting ready to take music lessons from him.’

‘Shut up, and keep your eyes on the road, officer. I was thirsty, that’s all. Drop me off at the graveyard. I’ll walk from there.’ Inspector Khan had gotten more information than he had bargained for. Now he was genuinely scared. Not just Grace, but many young women were in big trouble.

Officer Amar Singh looked surprised, but he knew it was futile arguing with his boss, and he didn’t want to push it.

As they reached the graveyard, Inspector Khan alighted from the Jeep and said, ‘Go back to the vineyard with another officer and meet those four morons. Search Chris’s room together. I want Chris’s belongings sealed. Tell the guys I’ll meet them tomorrow. Good night!’

Officer Amar Singh nodded, and Inspector Khan made his way to the grave by which Monica’s body had been found.

He sat on the ground while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The night sky was bright with the moonlight and stars despite the scattered cottony clouds. A mild breeze seemed to welcome him to the land of the dead. The silence screamed louder than ever, as the untold stories clamoured for him to learn the truth.

The cicadas chirruped rhythmically trying to break the silent spell that was cast over the graveyard with each murder victim dumped there over the years for the vultures to feast on. An animal howled in the woods as Inspector Khan started assimilating his thoughts, hoping that somehow, the spirits of all the murdered girls would help him stop this madness. Joe had let fall some very strange clues.

Inspector Khan let his mind dwell on the strange conversation of the evening. From his years of experience, he could understand that a psychological profile would show Joe up as a megalomaniac, who equated his obsession with wine-making to the musical talents of Beethoven, and in his deluded mind he drew parallels between their masterpieces, the Silver Mountain Shiraz 2012 and Choral.

According to Joe, it took Beethoven six years to compose his masterpiece between 1811 and 1817 in his notes. In a bizarre coincidence the young girls had periodically disappeared once every six years and their bodies were found in the vicinity of the vineyard. The locals blamed it on the devil. Inspector Khan felt a cold chill run up his spine.

Things were not as cut and dried as they seemed on the surface. The spate of rape and murders held something far more sinister on a deeper level. The more he learnt, the further he felt he was from the truth.

Just as Beethoven introduced the words from Schiller’s poem ‘
An die Freude
’ into his Symphony No. 9 in D minor, perhaps Joe had something very dark and disturbing introduced into his Silver Mountain Shiraz 2012 and that somehow had something to do with the missing women.

The introduction of the new ingredient was being tested every six years. Schiller’s poem was redefined and introduced by Beethoven with the refrain, ‘
O Freunde, nicht diese Töne
’, until he was fully satisfied with his masterpiece. Joe was finally satisfied with his masterpiece as well.

The six-year cycle would be complete when Joe won the India Wine Competition, which again coincided with Beethoven’s masterpiece which finally found its way to the United Nations World Heritage list recently in 2002.

Lastly, Beethoven’s masterpiece was born when he introduced Schiller’s words sung by four soloists and then a chorus. The soloists were four men and the chorus were the dead women. They were held in captivity for six days and gang-raped repeatedly by four men. They finally slit her throat and let her blood drain out before disposing of the body where Inspector Khan sat.

Probably, his dead daughter, Celina, had also been a victim of an experiment by Joe when he was trying out various combinations of ingredients to create his masterpiece. His heart clenched as he remembered his five-year-old daughter.

Was she perhaps also gang-raped by four men? All he had left of her now was her memory and a picture in his wallet.

Inspector Khan’s hands trembled as he lit up a cigarette. He felt he could still hear her at times. He could picture her in her plain white frock, frolicking around happily. And then, suddenly, it was all gone.

He called the lab. ‘Is the lab report of the concoction in Ram Singh’s flask ready yet? I’ll need you to give me the complete report in an hour, and in confidence. Make sure not a soul gets to see it … No, not even my team! I’ll be there by midnight to collect it. Remember, not a word to a soul!’

Smoking furiously, he knew he had his suspect list right, Prince had sung like a canary about the drug supply to Chris, Ram Singh had given him a vital piece of evidence and now finally Joe had told him everything. Probably, he’d also told him where Grace was being held captive, but he couldn’t figure it out. He knew that Joe wouldn’t kill her for another two days. She would only be allowed to die on the sixth day.

Evil had taken on a whole new significance. He had to stop it. It was getting deeper and deeper into a psychotic quagmire. He was certain he had hit the jackpot with his conversation on the porch.

He had deliberately sent Officer Amar Singh and the others on a wild goose chase. He called for another jeep from the station and headed out to the forensic lab. They would have the DNA from the blood stains on the dirty laundry as well, and be able to ascertain if it was all connected to Grace’s disappearance.

Chris’s Room

Officer Amar Singh strode into the guest villa in Joe’s vineyard with his colleague. He wondered why the search was not called off in spite of having found two seemingly vital clues. The ecstasy pill and the wallet meant that Chris was involved and now probably on the run. He couldn’t quite figure out the direction of Inspector Khan’s thinking.

Chief, Goose, Derek and Hound made their way to Joe’s home and to Chris’s room. Officer Amar Singh and his colleague carried out a thorough search. They rummaged through cupboards and drawers, nooks and crannies and even ripped open the beautiful couches; in effect they literally took the place apart scouting for clues.

Inspecting the spacious bungalow, Goose said, ‘Dude, I wonder why we were supposed to accompany these jokers while they go about ransacking the place. We’re just standing around like wall flowers or lookouts.’

Chief paused, thought for a while and said, ‘I suppose Inspector Khan knew that Chris would not be around at this hour and he doesn’t want to issue a search warrant and arouse suspicion. We’re mere decoys who pose as friends of this weed head, while the cops get their job done.’

‘Wow! It would mean if anything is missing, we get blamed by Chris, right?’ exclaimed Derek, shocked by the unscrupulous methods of Inspector Khan’s investigation.

‘Whatever, bro, if it helps them find Grace, it’s all worth it’, said Hound. ‘If this bastard is behind her disappearance, I’ll butcher him myself.’

‘Right, let’s go. We’ve got Chris nailed. Just so you know, we’ve found shitloads of cocaine, ecstasy and some new pill which I’ve never seen before. We’re “borrowing” his laptop as well. By God! This is good enough to book him in. Also, we found these photographs!’ said Officer Amar Singh with three pictures.

The first picture was a semi-burnt picture of Chris and Joe taken about ten years ago. It had slash marks on it, as though deliberately made with a blade. The other picture was one of Chris and Salmonella in a pub, smiling, holding glasses of champagne.

The third picture made Hound break down. It was a colourful picture of Grace and Chris sitting under a tree on a bright summer’s day and they were both smiling happily.

Grace looked pretty in a short floral print dress and Chris looked handsome in his college sweatshirt. It was a candid picture, they were not posing for the picture, and there were books and papers strewn around them.