Predator (22 page)
‘What about the blood loss from her neck, Doctor?’ asked Derek, the anxiety clearly visible on his face.
‘We’re doing what we can, son. Her windpipe is damaged. We’re using tracheal intubation, which means that we have placed a tube into the windpipe through her mouth to keep an open airway and to administer medicine. She’s under heavy sedation, and we need to facilitate ventilation of lungs to prevent any possibility of airway obstruction. Currently, it is orotracheal, that is, through her mouth. If her condition deteriorates in the next couple of hours, we may have to switch to cricothyrotomy, which means we surgically pump oxygen into her lungs.’
‘You mentioned something about sepsis, doctor, what does it mean? Is that life-threatening?’ asked Goose.
‘I hate to say it but those bastards have really hurt her and there is a huge amount of pathogenic organisms in her bloodstream that we suspect could lead to sepsis, which primarily means a state of putrefaction and decay. Yes, it is a life-threatening medical condition and is characterized by a whole body inflammatory state. It could lead to a multiple organ failure. After all, she has been in hell for close to six days. One can only pray for the poor child. We’re doing all we can, I assure you,’ said the surgeon, knowing fully well that he lacked conviction, and deep inside he knew she wouldn’t last for more than forty-eight hours – she was hanging on to life through sheer determination. He knew that she had suffered a lot in the past five days; they had ripped her apart both mentally and physically. He had seen the marks of violence, and the wounds all over her body. He had seen the blood flow out of her broken neck. He saw the marks of brutality on her face.
Inspector Khan walked with a swagger, his job was done, he had not only brought the culprits to book, he had also rescued Grace. ‘Is she in a position to testify, Doctor? I need a statement to nail the bastards,’ said Inspector Khan plainly, seeming almost callous about Grace’s condition.
‘Is that all you care for, Inspector? Your stripes and medals? Fine, you’ve brought her back. In this state? For what? Just so she could testify?’ thundered Hound.
‘Shut up and sit down, lad, I’m doing my job, that’s all. Don’t mess with me now. I need her written statement, so get off my back. It’s finally over and I’m glad,’ said Inspector Khan sombrely. ‘I need the testimony before it is too late. Other lives depend on it,’ his tone softened, ‘it’s not just about your sister, son!’
Salmonella watched appalled as Inspector Khan stepped towards the ICU. He seemed insensitive at times and pragmatic, but the top cop was dedicated to his work.
Before entering the ICU, Inspector Khan turned around and snapped at Chief, ‘Before you guys lecture me about my methods, do you remember I asked you to do me a favour? I bet you didn’t do it.’ Chief gulped and looked at Goose. They had forgotten all about it.
‘What’s that he just said? Did he ask you guys for help?’ asked Salmonella with a puzzled expression on her face.
‘Well … er … kinda, yeah, Salmonella. It was a personal matter and we forgot. No big deal,’ said Goose, remembering that Inspector Khan had asked them to meet someone and had specifically told Chief to keep it a secret. ‘Shall we go now, Chief? Let Derek stay here with Hound and Salmonella’.
Chief nodded, squeezed Hound’s shoulder, and left with Goose. All he could do was pray for Grace’s soul.
It was 4 a.m. when Chief and Goose boarded Motormouth and headed out to meet the mysterious person who Inspector Khan had asked them to see. Goose drove silently, and as they neared the outskirts of the city, Chief ’s cell phone rang. It was Derek.
‘She … she’s dead. Grace is gone,’ choked Derek.
‘Take care of Hound, bro’, said Chief dryly and cut the call.
‘Gone?’ asked Goose, keeping his eyes fixed on the road, hands on the steering wheel.
‘Gone’, replied Chief flatly.
They had now moved out of the city, and the human habitation gave way to lush green farmlands. As the black tar road snaked through the greenery, the traffic on the road grew sparse. It was 5.15 a.m. and the humdrum of routine life began. Bullock carts and horse carts appeared on the road instead of the BMWs and Land Cruisers. Suits and stiletto heels gave way to bare-footed village folk driving cattle to pastures.
The rays of the morning sun bathed the surroundings in a golden light as Motormouth cruised on the empty road. The morons grew gloomy and silent. They had known that this was bound to happen after six days of extreme torture. They felt an empty space in their life, a space that had once belonged to a cheerful girl who had been so full of life until very recently. It fuelled their sense of purpose. They had a mission to accomplish; they had to help Khan build a watertight case and ensure justice was done.
‘So what are we going after now, Chief?’ ventured Goose. ‘The case is closed, Grace is dead; Joe, Chris and Ram Singh are in the slammer. Prince is dead. Where are we going, and for what?’ asked Goose looking out of the window and taking in the fresh aroma of the greenery, as Mother Nature tried to pacify his weeping soul.
‘I’d guess Inspector Khan knows the case is not over yet. Perhaps that’s why?’ said Chief, lost in thought. ‘I suspect Inspector Khan’s outburst was just an act to get us out of there. I don’t know why we’re supposed to meet this Dr Screwalla. He’s a psychiatrist.’
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts all on a summer’s day
,
The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts and took them clean away
;
Then came the Pawns, who were not too bright
,
With intelligence dimmer than twilight
;
Along with the Knight, they swore to fight
,
Fight the forces of darkness until the sun would shine bright
The Queen of Hearts was full of pride
,
Fed by the blood of young, innocent girls who died
She wanted it all, she had a score to settle
,
Little did she know that she would boil in her own kettle
;
In walked the Minister, nobody knew he was there
,
He walked stealthily in the shadows, no one he would spare
The kingdom burned once again; he spread an evil snare
,
The Predator is back, pretty young women, beware!.
—The Predator
A Walk On the Wild Side
After an hour of silent driving through the empty roads beyond the city limits, the GPS announced, ‘You have arrived!’ Goose and Chief looked at each other in disbelief, and then at the place where it seemed time had stood still.
‘So, we’re here. Which loony would choose to live in a dump like this?’ asked Goose, looking at the small, dilapidated cottage in front of them. The compound wall stood in sore need of repair and the wrought iron gate was locked.
‘True that, bro, it’s evident our man is a loner who hates visitors. Let’s jump over the compound wall instead. Top cop said Dr Screwalla definitely lives here,’ said Chief, slamming the door of Motormouth, their beast of an SUV.
Having vaulted over the wall, they crossed a long, narrow gravel path that hadn’t been tidied for eons. The garden seemed neglected and the plants and weeds were overgrown and wild. Goose felt certain the doorbell would not work, and pounded on the wooden door, ‘Dr Screwalla? Are you in there?’
‘Easy with the door, Goose, you might just break it with that thumping! Try knocking … we don’t want to frighten him to death, if he is inside,’ said Chief, worried that the derelict old cottage would collapse like a house of cards.
The door creaked slightly and a shrunken old face peered through and said, ‘Go away! I don’t meet strange people at ungodly hours. It’s 5.30 a.m. for Christ’s sakes! Get lost!’
‘Dr Screwalla, we’ve been asked by Inspector Khan to come and meet you … it’s entirely up to you whether you choose to talk to us or not. Grace is dead, if that means anything to you,’ said Goose pithily.
‘Oh my God! I’ve been expecting you,’ he flung open the door. ‘Do come in.’ Chief and Goose walked into a living room thickly layered with dust. Books and files covered every available surface – the couch, the dining table and the large study desk on which stood a lone table lamp which seemed to be the only source of light in the room. The posters of cross-sections of the human brain across the four walls were also covered in dust. A bowl of cornflakes and a mug of coffee stood beside an open file on the study table. They seemed to have interrupted his breakfast. Chief and Goose were mystified. Who would have breakfast at 5.30 a.m.?
In his late seventies, Dr Screwalla, was a small, slim, scholarly looking man, with strands of silvery hair combed over an otherwise bald head. He looked like someone who lived and breathed his profession. Dressed in a stained white shirt, black trousers and flip-flops, he deftly navigated the maze of books and files on the floor and sat on a large, squeaky swivel chair on the other side of the study table.
He indicated that Chief and Goose should sit on the two dusty chairs in front of him. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, ‘Inspector Khan is one of the few persons I trust in this world. I know Grace is dead. The reason you are here is because Inspector Khan can trust no one in his department. He is restrained by the rules of his profession and wants to use unconventional methods to expose this crime syndicate and trap the mastermind. However, to catch a criminal, you need to think like one … ’
Chief was taken aback and Goose was confused. But what they would learn in the next couple of hours from Dr Screwalla would make them paranoid, and suspicious of just about everybody. Donning his reading glasses, the psychiatrist filled them in with bone-chilling facts.
The Jones Family Case file
A few years ago, Joe, aka Jonathan Jones, was accused of first-degree murder, having strangled his wife. He pleaded insanity, and the court assigned his case to Dr Screwalla. A thorough investigation of the accused’s family tree revealed that Joe suffered from a rare mental condition called
folie à deux
. It is a French term that means a madness shared by two people in which the delusions of grandeur are transmitted from one person to another.
Years later, Dr Screwalla who continued to hold the case open, decided to check whether the madness had been genetically inherited by his offspring, and examined Joe’s children, namely, Christopher aka Chris and Florence aka Salmonella. His studies revealed that the syndrome, or slight variations of it, was shared by both Chris and Salmonella.
Chris was diagnosed as suffering from
folie simultanée
. His psychosis was independent of the psychotic influence of his father, but his behavioural pattern indicated that he was on the path of becoming strikingly similar or more delusional than his father. It is a subset of the
folie à deux
family.
It meant that Joe’s morbid predisposition was manifesting itself in Chris as a delusional psychosis that could be potentially more dangerous. If Joe considered himself to be ‘God’, Chris would want to become something of a ‘Super-God’ and overthrow Joe.
Salmonella, unfortunately, was found to be the
folie impos
é
e
, which meant that she would be the dominant personality or the primary inducer of such delusions.
Folie impos
é
e
is basically an offshoot of the
folie à deux
family. Her behavioural pattern was more alarming than that of Joe or Chris. While Joe didn’t show the tendencies to influence or induce, Salmonella could influence or induce psychotic behaviour in Chris for he would become the acceptor of Salmonella’s delusions. The separation of Salmonella and Chris would only benefit each other.
In a nutshell, Joe might have wanted to see his son turn into God like himself, but the dreams of his son, Chris, were far bigger. He was also a bigger threat. But since both Chris and Joe were the recipients of delusions and Salmonella, was the inducer, it made Salmonella far more dangerous than both Joe and Chris put together.
Dr Screwalla had concluded that since both Chris and Salmonella were too young at the time to be considered as threats to the society like their father, a forced separation that happened because of their mother’s death would be beneficial to them. Salmonella had walked out of the house, but as Chris continued to live with his father he was the recipient of delusions. Since both the males were recipients, the chances of induced psychotic behaviour wouldn’t be a possibility.
