Assassins (25 page)

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Authors: Mukul Deva

BOOK: Assassins
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“This half, too,” Philip added a few minutes later.

The words hung in the silence of the room.

“Right.” Ravinder rang for Gyan. “First, let's ensure it stays bug free.” When Gyan entered, “Till further orders I want this office under guard twenty-four seven. Two men in the office at all times. And I mean
in.
” He stressed the last word. “Both will remain inside … one at either end, ensuring they can keep an eye on each other also … and everyone else. Got it?”

Gyan nodded. If he was surprised he didn't show it. “And no external cleaners, repairmen, telephone men …
No one
will enter without my
specific
permission. Clear?”

Another stoic nod from Gyan. Ravinder noticed the others looked uneasy. He was thinking of the next steps when the fax hummed to life. Being closest, he picked up the sheet that rolled out. It was a list of numbers with the timings noted opposite for three separate phone numbers: Ali's home phone, his mobile, and his wife's.

“Good job, Archana.” He held up the list. “The list of calls for Ali.” She joined him as he scanned the list. His eyes stopped at the same number as her well-manicured nail.

“Thirty-four minutes.” She tapped the time of incoming call to Ali's mobile. “That's a long call.” The call had started at fifty-eight minutes past ten the previous night.

“That's the time Ali's neighbor mentioned,” Ravinder added, his excitement mounting. “That she had heard Ali around eleven.”

Reaching for the phone by the fax machine, Ravinder dialed the number the call to Ali's mobile had been made from—also a mobile, and it looked familiar. He had keyed in the last number when the door opened and Saina entered. Though his attention was mostly on the phone Ravinder noticed she seemed out of sorts. Then the phone held to his ear began to ring. From one corner of his mind Ravinder saw Saina reach into her handbag. Then the ringing in his ear ended. Ravinder realized the call had been answered. And Saina was holding her mobile to her ear.

“Hullo.” They both spoke simultaneously.

Realization hit. Hard.

“You?”
Ravinder was stunned. So was Archana. The others were riveted, too, staring first at Ravinder, then at Saina.

 

SIXTEEN

Vishal spotted the opportunity and reacted fast, aware he would be hard-pressed to find a better chance to shatter team morale, derail the investigation, and have them looking in the wrong direction. “You treacherous bitch!” His words cut through the room, stunning everyone.

“What do you mean?” Saina looked more confused than enraged.

“It's over, Saina. We know you warned Ali. Were you the one who killed him, too?” Vishal drew his pistol and leveled it at her. “Put down your handbag.
Slowly.
” The harsh snick, as he clicked off the safety, rang out like a pistol shot.

“Killed him?” Saina sagged. “Sikander is dead?” She spotted the confirmation in the faces ringed around. Her face crumpled.

Vishal saw her disintegrate. “Lose the drama…”

Ravinder hove into his gunsight, coming between Saina and him.

“Holster your weapon, Vishal.”

“But…”


Now
.” There was steel in Ravinder's tone.

For a moment Vishal hoped that Saina would do something. Anything that would give him even a remotely plausible reason to fire. Also, the desire to gun Ravinder down nearly overwhelmed him. But realizing this was a dumb idea he lowered the pistol, slid the safety back on, and holstered it.

Ravinder noted Vishal's hand was still on the butt of his weapon and gave him a filthy look. But he turned to Saina. “Why? Why did you warn Ali?”

“Is he really dead?” She looked dazed.

Ravinder nodded.

“Sikander is … was my brother-in-law.”

Vishal could see her falling apart. He also sensed the opportunity had just gotten better for him. “Is that why you warned the bloody traitor?” he interjected.

Saina's reaction stunned Vishal. She drew herself together and yelled back, “Sikander was
not
a traitor.” Suddenly she seemed bigger, even taller.

“Then why did you call him?” Vishal shot back.

“I was shocked when I saw his name on Archana's list of suspects.” Saina shrank again. “I only wanted to check if…”

“So you also thought he was the traitor.” Vishal cut her off triumphantly.

 

SEVENTEEN

Ravinder saw the situation deteriorating and knew he had to take charge.


Stop that
. Both of you.” He held up his hands, warding them both off. “Sit down, Saina.” He tensed as he saw her right hand head for her handbag. And he noticed he was not the only one. Gyan, standing directly behind Saina, had his hand on his service revolver. So did Cherian on her left. Vishal's hand was still resting on the butt of his weapon. Archana had backed off. Ravinder knew the slightest misstep on Saina's part could unleash hell. But she was only returning her mobile to her bag.

Ravinder breathed easier when she put down her handbag and sat … more like collapsed into a chair. She seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

“Why didn't you tell us, Saina?”

“I didn't know what to say,” Saina whispered. “I have known Sikander all my life. I know he was not a traitor.” She was crying now, but soundlessly. Just a steady trickle of tears down both cheeks. No sobs, no sniffs.

“Are you saying he was murdered?” Much to Ravinder's irritation Vishal hijacked the conversation again.

“There is no way he would kill Shama. Or himself.” Saina seemed to be on surer ground now. “They loved each other and were happy. Just last week they were talking about adopting a child.” She looked away, not bothering to wipe her tears. “I
know
they were happy.”

“So why would anyone murder them? Unless he was…”

“That I don't know, but he was not a traitor.” Interrupting Vishal, she turned to Ravinder. “He swore by Allah he was not.”

“Do ask Allah to pass that on to Goel.” Vishal's tone was bitingly sarcastic. “That would be such a comfort to him.”

“Don't go there, Vishal.” Ravinder was angry now. He needed to concentrate; Vishal's incendiary behavior and these distractions were not helping.

If what Saina is saying was true, then …
Ravinder turned to Philip. “Take someone and bring the other deputy—Ashok Verma—in. If Saina is right…”—he altered direction—“no harm having a chat with him.”

“Let me first check where he is.” Archana reached for her phone; she seemed relieved to have something to do. A moment later: “Verma has already left the office.” She checked his address on her laptop. “So I am guessing he would be home in about an hour … max an hour and a half, depending on traffic.”

“Where does he stay?”

“Malviya Nagar. Not far, actually, but South Block to Malviya Nagar at this time of the evening would be madness.”

“But Malviya Nagar is not far from here,” Philip pointed out.

“True.” Ravinder nodded. “We could pick him up from his house.”

Ravinder's mobile buzzed; a text from Jasmine.

We are en route. Pick you up in twenty. Max twenty-five. Okay?

Ravinder remembered he was to dine with Rekha and her parents.

Damn!

He was sure Jasmine would be disappointed if he bailed, but also knew he could not sit this one out; Ashok Verma could well be the key to catching Leon. The odds had certainly narrowed.

Best I explain to her in person when she reaches here.

Texting her that he would meet them at the gate, he refocused on Philip. “Why don't you bring him back here and we have a chat with him?”

“Sounds good.”

“I will go with him,” Vishal volunteered.

“And me,” Saina added grimly.

“Fine.” Ravinder knew that denying her the opportunity to go along would imply he did not trust her. That did not seem fair, not in light of recent events. “Let's get this show on the road.”

“Get ready, guys.” Philip checked his watch. “We leave in twenty. That should easily get us to his house before him.”

They scattered to organize.

 

EIGHTEEN

Vishal was seething. He had not expected his ruse to fall apart so fast; thanks to Saina, all the risk he'd taken to knock off Ali had gone to waste. Vishal knew he was skating on thin ice again and needed to do something quickly, before the game spiraled out of control.

What the hell is Kapil Choudhary doing? Why hasn't he …
Vishal fretted, hoping the trucker hadn't lost his nerve.

“I forgot my wallet in the car,” he told Philip, and ran out. His mobile was out and dialing when he slid into his Ford Fiesta. Parked on the far side of Ravinder's BMW it was masked from the office.

“Where the hell are you?” Vishal asked when Kapil Choudhary, the truck driver, answered.

“Right behind the women you wanted me to attend to.” Kapil's voice was faint, as though he was on a headset.

“Why haven't you done what you were supposed to?” Vishal hissed.

“I couldn't. They drove down this morning to a spa in Vasant Vihar. Traffic was so heavy that I could barely keep up with them.” Kapil sounded peeved. “It's only now they have left Vasant Vihar.”


They?
Which one are you following?”

“Both of them; the wife and the daughter. They are in the same car. The younger one is driving. They are coming down the Outer Ring Road, toward Nehru Place.”

“Oh.” Vishal was momentarily confused.

One or two, who cares?

“Excellent.”

The more the merrier. Ravinder will be so fucking devastated that Binder and the investigation will be the last thing on his mind.

Then something struck him. “How the hell are you driving around in a truck inside the city? Isn't this the no-entry time for heavy vehicles?”

“Of course it is.” Kapil sounded exasperated. “That's why I'm using the smaller one … one-tonners are allowed.”

“Is it enough for the job?”

“More than enough.”

“Fine. Then do it now.”

“Now?”

“As soon as you can, but be careful … and
don't
fucking get caught.” That done, he dialed Leon. But the call went unanswered. Stressed and eager to find a solution to the Verma dilemma, he dialed again. And then again. Still no response.

Is that bastard ignoring me?

Vishal hated that thought. He checked the time. Twelve minutes had already elapsed. Aware he had to get back, Vishal tried once more and then returned to the office, his anxiety escalating with every step.

I
cannot
allow Verma to be taken alive. If he talks, I am … No!

Unwilling to even countenance the possibility, Vishal struggled to spot a solution.

Perhaps I can goad Verma into making a run for it … that will give me an opportunity to gun him down.

He was glad he had volunteered to go with Philip. Not so glad Saina was going with them too, aware that with two pairs of eyes on him, he would find it harder to pull something off. Also, he knew Saina would be desperate to prove Ali innocent. And for that she needed Verma alive and talking.

 

NINETEEN

Leon settled himself on the bed with his iPad and opened the file Hakon had sent on Naug—five pages and about twice that many photos of Naug and his family. He paused at one with Naug in the middle, his wife, a platinum blond as tall as him and two equally blond eight-year-old girls, twins, one on either side. There was even one of his parents and his in-laws. Leon was pleased; Hakon had done an excellent job. He was halfway through the first page when unwittingly he turned and his weight landed on the hurt elbow. Leon gasped; the pain was searing.

Must be worse than I thought.

He took another look. The area around his right elbow was bright red and had ballooned to twice its size. The slightest movement made him wince.

Leon realized he could not ignore it any longer.

Kak!

He didn't realize he had lapsed into Afrikaans till he said it aloud. Not that he minded;
kak
sounded so much more elegant than shit.

Better not risk it. I need both my hands in working order.

Flipping open a new Safari window on his iPad, Leon began looking for a hospital. His previous visits to the Indian subcontinent had taught him that a government hospital would afford him the most anonymity; due to the sheer number of patients, paperwork in them was almost nonexistent, unlike private hospitals. And some money delivered into the right palms would get him past those endless queues common at most Asian hospitals.

Google informed him that the All India Institute of Medical Sciences was closest to Jorbagh. That sorted, he decided to use yet another identity for this hospital visit. Moving gingerly, ensuring he put no weight on his right hand, from the spare passports in his bag Leon picked that of Colm Honan, an Irish businessman. The change in appearance from the British identity he was using for Jorbagh was the easiest, and Leon knew he could stop somewhere and do it in the car.

Popping another Combiflam to ease the pain, he headed out. Stopped a mile away to switch disguises. But with his right hand almost out of commission, it took much longer. Even the slightest movement made him wince.

 

TWENTY

Ravinder was watching his team check their weapons when his mobile buzzed.

“We are almost there, Dad.”

“I'll be at the gate, Princess.” He walked out with the others. Philip gave him a questioning look, as though to ask if he was coming with them, too. “No. Just need to talk with my daughter,” Ravinder explained. “My wife and she are passing by.”

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