Patang (12 page)

Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, he seemed to remember something. A flash, just a flash of something he had seen earlier. He needed to look through the photos he had taken during his investigation into this bizarre case.

Picking up his flashlight, still rolling gently on the floor, Rathod began frantically searching for his phone in the dark. He looked for it on his desk, on the bedside table, on the sofa in the other room, but it was nowhere to be seen. After several frustrating seconds, he finally found it under a pile of clothes on his bed. Swiping through the gallery impatiently while muttering, ‘Come on, come on, come on,’ under his breath, he began his search for a specific photo.

Finally, he found it: it was a photo of Tony’s wall. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the picture at first glance, but as Rathod’s trembling fingers zoomed in, several small pink pieces of paper came into view, all of them identical. As Rathod zoomed in further on one of them, the crease on his forehead disappeared. The pink pieces of paper were ticket stubs! At least a dozen of them!

Rathod immediately looked up a number and placed a call. As the sleepy and irritated voice of Commissioner Mule responded from the other side, Rathod said in an excited voice, ‘Sir…this is Rathod…yes, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir…but I know where Tony Matthew is going to strike next… yes, sir, that’s right…
I know
!’

17

The giant Ferris wheel stood like a massive mythological monster against the overcast night sky that was getting illuminated every now and then, thanks to the barrage of lightning bolts. The horizon had disappeared into the heavy rains and the raging sea. Like all other businesses at the beach, the fair had been badly hit by the downpour, and there was not a soul to be seen as the sea rose and fell in turbulent fury.

Parallel to the beach stood several bungalows belonging to the high and mighty of the city, most of whose sources of income could not, in strict terms, be called legitimate. Kneeling behind the railing of the terrace on top of one of these bungalows were several combat officers, snipers and plain-clothes police personnel.

A hundred metres from the base of the wheel and under a makeshift shelter made from thatch, palm leaves and bamboo, lay a dark-skinned homeless man with dirty, unkempt hair and a beard that hadn’t seen a comb or trim in at least two years. The vagrant was making a futile attempt at protecting himself from the rain, because the low roof of his shelter was failing to keep the water out. As the droplets fell on him, he covered himself in a torn and dirty blanket from head to toe and lay in the foetal position, trembling as the cold sea breeze rushed over his wet body. As the man shivered within his puny shelter, a small green light lit up in the darkness, and a crackling voice was heard over low-volume static, ‘Alpha team in position.’ Very carefully, the homeless man raised his hand and lowered the volume on the walkie-talkie hidden near his head.

Rathod had pleaded with Commissioner Mule to issue strict instructions to the officers on this operation that he, and he
alone, be allowed within a mile of the wheel. No other officer was to accompany him. As expected, Uday Singh had not agreed and, finally, a compromise was reached. Rathod would take up position near the base of the wheel, and all other officers would be positioned on the terrace of an adjoining building to provide support and would move only on his command.

The hours passed by, and everyone waited patiently. Rathod had once read a book by Jim Corbett in which he had described how a hunter finds his senses in a heightened state when stalking his prey – and he had been right. Rathod could hear the faintest of sounds and see the tiniest of objects near him in the dark. Tonight was the big night, and his entire body was prepared for it.

Almost like a murmur from a faraway place, the walkie-talkie crackled again. Rathod held it very close to his ears and listened carefully as Harish’s voice was heard again over the sound of the waves: ‘Sir, movement to your north.’

Rathod’s breathing became faster. Very carefully, he peeped out of the blanket. Just then, a bolt of lightning shot through the sky, lending an eerie shine to his eyes. At first, he couldn’t see anything. But very gradually, Rathod could make out a faint outline of the raging waves. Rathod knew that sea water contained phosphorous, which rendered the waves visible even in pitch darkness. He could make out a shadowy figure moving against the waves to his far right, at a distance of around 100 metres. He held his breath as the figure moved rapidly towards the Ferris wheel. Just as the shadow was about to emerge into the open from behind a line of handcarts, it stopped, as if it had sensed something. Rathod waited with bated breath and, after almost a minute, the shadow moved again. As it came out into the open, a pencil-thin sliver of light fell on it from a low-power
electric bulb burning timidly near the ticket office of the Ferris wheel. The partially illuminated figure ceased to be a shadow anymore, and Rathod heaved a quiet sigh of disappointment just as Harish’s relieved voice was heard over the walkie-talkie: ‘False alarm, sir. It’s just a dog.’

The stray dog looked here and there and then disappeared into the darkness towards the south.

Rathod prepared himself again for the wait. It could be a long night. He was sure that this was where Tony would strike next. The map had indicated as much. Moreover, the top of the Ferris wheel was a perfect place to satiate his love for heights. But, most importantly, he had been scoping the place out, as was evident from the several stubs of tickets pinned on his wall. Rathod could visualize Tony entering the fair on a bright sunny Sunday morning, watching everything closely, making his calculations, taking mental notes. Had he taken a ride on the Ferris wheel himself? Rathod believed he must have, just to get a feel of what his victim would experience up there. How exactly would he kill his fourth and final victim? Rathod had no idea. He only hoped and prayed that Tony brought his victim to the place alive, and that he could stop Tony from completing his mission before the killer struck his final blow. Rathod had a strong inkling of who the final victim would be, but only time would tell whether or not his guess was right.

After a long wait, something inexplicable and completely unexpected began to happen. Not even in his wildest nightmares had Rathod ever thought that he would begin to fall asleep under such tense circumstances. He had read somewhere that an individual’s ability to sustain pressure was limited and that once the threshold was breached, no matter how tense the situation, no matter how much agility and alertness the moment
demanded, the nerves begin to give way. Rathod realized his eyelids were drooping, and he rubbed them and knocked himself on the back of his head several times to keep himself awake… and alert. But as several minutes passed, his eyelids began to close on themselves again. Rathod knew he was in trouble. He shoved his wrist into his mouth and bit as hard as he could, and it was exactly at that moment that lightning flashed and he saw the man.

What surprised Rathod the most was that he had not even realized when the man had quietly appeared. But there was no mistaking who he was. Even though it was just for a split-second, Rathod had seen enough of him to realize it was the man he had seen in the picture on Dolly’s phone.Tony Matthew scanned the place from behind an abandoned Bhelpuri stall; his eyes seemed alert, as if they were piercing through the darkness, looking for anyone who could hinder what he was about to do.

Clearly, the tactical team on the terrace hadn’t seen him yet. Rathod thought it was best to keep it that way. He waited.

For an unusually long period of time,Tony simply scoped the area around the base of the Ferris wheel. Rathod matched his own patience to that of his prey and waited with bated breath. Finally, Tony moved swiftly, pushing something towards the ticket office of the Ferris wheel. Rathod had a very good guess as to what Tony was pushing, but he waited to get a visual confirmation. As another bolt of lightning struck beyond the tumultuous waves, Rathod’s hunch got confirmed – it was a wheelchair. And on the wheelchair, fully drenched and half-dead, sat Tony’s old Scouts master Mr Francis Miller!

Rathod’s guess had been right. Tony could never forgive Miller for not believing him and not helping him. It didn’t matter to him that Miller was repenting now – his verdict of
the man who had failed his faith was final. And that verdict was death.

Rathod heard Harish’s agitated voice on the walkie-talkie. ‘I see him, sir, but I don’t have a clear shot.’

Rathod knew he had very little time.Tony was looking down into Mr Miller’s face. He could strike at any moment. He also realized that, unless Tony moved from his current position, Harish and his team wouldn’t have a clear shot at him. It was all up to Rathod now.

Very slowly and cautiously, Rathod removed the blanket from over him and whispered into the walkie-talkie, ‘I’m going in. Stand by.’ And at that exact moment, Rathod heard a sound that almost stopped his heart. A soft growl arose from the darkness just behind him. He turned sharply to look over his shoulder.

The dog!

It had come back and was growling at him – the homeless vagabond lying in the darkness. Rathod knew he was in deep trouble.

As the first bark pierced through the dark, Tony turned sharply towards the makeshift shelter and thrust his hand into his jacket’s pocket. In a flash, Rathod threw the blanket over the dog and dashed towards the Ferris wheel. In the thin stream of light that had fallen on Tony, Rathod saw that he had pulled a small claw hammer from his pocket and was now clutching it tightly, ready to claim his fourth and last victim. Rathod ran as fast as his legs would allow him while the rain lashed against his face, carrying with it sharp bits of sand blown about by the wind, obscuring his vision. With a blood-curdling scream, Anthony Matthew, the little orphan child who had grown up to be one of the scariest serial killers the city had seen, raised his hand above his head to strike his final blow. Rathod jumped…he wasn’t sure what
happened after that. All he knew was that moments later he was lying on the wet sand, and just a few metres away from him Tony Matthew was on his back as well, laughing hysterically. The sound of his maniacal laughter filled the night sky over the sound of the angry waves. As Rathod heard the tactical team apprehending Tony, his exhausted muscles finally gave up and he surrendered to the darkness.

18

In the ballroom of one of the best hotels in South Mumbai, a press conference headed by Commissioner Shashank Mule was held, where the Mumbai Police issued several statements and took questions from the media. The commissioner very graciously redirected many of the questions to his deputy, DCP Uday Singh, and praised his acumen profusely, stating again and again that under his able administration Mumbai had become a much safer city.

Mule and Singh answered all the media’s questions, delving into the killer’s motives, his love for kites, the gruesome ways in which he had murdered his three victims, and the efficiency and courage exhibited by the brave officers of the Mumbai Police that night in apprehending Anthony Matthew and saving the old man who could have been his fourth victim. After the last question was answered, everyone rose to their feet and Commissioner Mule and DCP Singh stepped down from the dais amidst thunderous applause.

As Mule noticed Rathod walking towards him, the smile on his face disappeared for a moment, but he immediately summoned it back and whispered something into Uday Singh’s ears. Uday Singh nodded understandingly and stole a quick
glance at the media surrounding them. Then he raised his hands and advanced towards Rathod with a smile. Grasping his hand with both of his, DCP Singh whispered into his ear, ‘Mule Sir wants to speak to you right now.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Rathod said.

Mule walked up to Rathod and placed a hand on his shoulder, escorting him into an adjoining room. Uday Singh accompanied them into the room and shut the door behind him. The chatter of the ballroom outside was shut out instantly.

‘Rathod, my friend,’ Mule said with a soft smile on his face. ‘I am
so
happy for you!’

A smile of genuine satisfaction spread across Rathod’s exhausted and dishevelled face. He had a small sticking plaster stuck to his cut chin. His hair was unkempt and there were grains of sand still stuck in it. He had not even had a chance to take off his make-up properly. Mule pulled out his expensive and impeccably white silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off some soot from Rathod’s forehead with the same expression that a mother has while wiping her child dry after a bath.

‘I was telling Uday on my way here how proud I am of my brightest man!’

The smile on Rathod’s face lingered. He lowered his eyes modestly.

DCP Singh stood at a distance and observed everything closely.

‘I knew you wouldn’t fail me,’ said the old commissioner, his eyes welling up with pride.

Rathod looked up at him and said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And now,’ said the commissioner, ‘you must rest. Why don’t you go on a vacation? Perhaps go to your village and spend some time with your old aunt there? I insist. You’ve earned it!’

After several appreciative pats on his back, Rathod thanked Mule, shook Uday Singh’s hand as he congratulated him, and walked out of the door. As he strode out into the rain, Mule watched him go and, very gradually, the loving smile on his face faded.

As Rathod drove through the streets, he couldn’t help but smile while rubbing the soot off his forehead with a tissue. He was finally about to meet the man who had almost beaten him – almost. His head was throbbing from a lack of sleep, but he barely noticed it. After some time, he arrived at the Juhu police station and parked his car outside. To his surprise, he was informed, quite curtly, by the officer-in-charge Ayushman Agashe that Tony Matthew had been shifted to an undisclosed location.

Rathod was confused. ‘Even you don’t know where he has been taken?’ he asked Agashe.

Agashe shook his head. ‘I was told it was confidential information and I couldn’t be privy to it.’