Mousebite

by Ganesh Chaudhari

  So all the strategies from the intelligence manual were tried. Good cop, bad cop. Money for the family. Meeting the family. Favorite food, books & television were offered. Trained as well as he was, Abu fell for nothing & had turned down everything. In the very first interrogation, he had said that he had not done anything that was being attributed to him. Later, he stopped answering questions. The verses of Koran were the only words that he would utter. His family too had yielded nothing. Countless sessions explaining Pakistan’s tactics & its effects on India proved useless as he would choose a point on the ceiling and keep staring at it till the session was over. It was around this time that Hormaz had suggested the unthinkable. He had proposed that Kasab & Abu should be brought together. Even observing such a meeting could yield a lead. Pretenses could drop. Kasab had identified Abu from photographs. During his interrogation in the UAE & in India, Abu had denied knowing Kasab. So bringing them together received immediate support. Abu was never aware that he was going to meet Kasab.

  When they met in the egg shaped “Anda cell” at Arthur road, Hormaz was with Abu. The surprise was total for Abu but only for a limited time. They watched each other spellbound. Kasab didn’t mind Hormaz’s presence. “Ustad, ustad…” was all he said. Abu didn’t reply in any manner but his eyes were admitting the obvious. Kasab too stopped talking realizing Abu’s dilemma. The meeting was over in fifteen minutes. But its impact was tremendous. It was hard to tell what changed, but the next interrogatory session was different. Abu admitted to some of the crimes that he was accused of. He confirmed people, places & timings that were put together by the investigators. This was helpful but many of those people had already been apprehended. What Hormaz wanted was information about the next attacks. The plans that could be foiled. Abu’s defense in that area was still strong. But Hormaz had a weapon today that could put a dent there. He walked in the small bungalow at the end of the street. A Tata Safari, a Maruti SX4 & a Ford Fiesta were parked in the porch. He was given a cursory look at the entrance by a heavyset man. The man came to attention as soon as he saw Hormaz.

  Hormaz walked into the drawing room. The windows had been boarded and the lighting was just enough. All the furniture had been cleared off barring a longish table that could have been a dining table. Abu was seated in a metal chair by the table. He was intently gazing at a boarded window. One of the officers on watch was stationed at the other door of the room. He was using a similar chair. Abu showed no signs of noticing Hormaz.

  Hormaz went straight to him but didn’t take the chair next to Abu.

  “How are you Abu?” Hormaz asked casually. Abu was fluent in Hindi, English & Arabic.

  Abu smiled wryly without bothering to reply.

  “How’s your back?” Abu asked. This was good for Hormaz. Abu was in a talkative mood today. Hormaz had shared seemingly personal things like his back problem with Abu to gain some confidence or at times just to break the ice.

  “I have seen better days.” Hormaz flashed a smile.

  “But you need to see this.” Hormaz threw 3 different newspapers on the table. Abu didn’t turn his gaze away from Hormaz.

  “It’s about you as usual. But it is not from around here. You are good at tradecraft Abu, so analyze. Disavowing is usual, almost moral for us gamers. But this, this is worse. Worst, if you ask me.” Hormaz gestured to the newspapers again. Abu turned ever so slightly to the newspapers. The headline was hard to miss. It was the latest verbal explosion from Pakistan’s foreign minister. All the newspapers had carried it today just as Hormaz had hoped. He now hoped that Abu read it to the fullest. He could not sit owing to his back & the cold morning, so he went away to have a chat with the officer at the other door, leaving Abu with the newspapers. The terrorists trained their pupils well for denials when captured. Now it was time to test if they trained people for lies from authority.

  The Pak foreign minister had issued a statement yesterday declaring that Abu Ansari was actually a RAW agent. He claimed that his government had proof to back this. He had gone on to say that the entire 26/11 operation in Mumbai was planned by the Indian government & not by groups in Pakistan. The planning part was useless for Hormaz, the first one was important for his play. He stayed with the officer long enough to see Abu go through all the newspapers one by one. He walked back slowly to Abu.

  “This is not true. You have arranged for this.” Abu stared back at Hormaz. It was Hormaz’s turn to smile. For the first time since his capture, Abu had responded without a question. The headlines had struck a nerve in the rigid, steadfast mind of Abu. The Pak foreign minister’s comment about Abu being a RAW asset had given Hormaz an unexpected handle. Now it was time to twist the handle ever so gently & continuously to break into Abu’s mind.

  “You know it is never so simple. Never. I need to show you one more thing.” Hormaz reached for the TV remote. The TV was programmed for a news channel. The first picture to come up on that was that of Kasab. He raised the volume so that Abu could listen clearly. As the news anchor finished detailing Kasab’s execution at Mumbai, Hormaz switched to another news channel which was showing the same story. He kept on switching through international news channels to make his point. Abu’s face told him that he had hit home.

  “Do you know why this has not happened to you?” Hormaz spoke in a voice that was hardly louder than a whisper. The tone conveyed a strange feeling of caring. Abu didn’t answer. He kept staring into Hormaz’s eyes. Abu’s eyes had pain, helplessness & the constant flaring of hatred.

  “Because you are one of us. You earned that right by being born in this country. This man was a foreign soldier & he hangs. You are not. You have trained people like him & caused more damage. So think. If you don’t bring anything of value, you too would go his way.”

  Hormaz took out a printout from his pocket & threw it on the table. It was the order sanctioning Abu’s transfer to Tihar jail. Abu read it. Once inside Tihar jail, there could be no doubt about the bleakness of his future. He looked up at Hormaz.

  “I can’t promise how soon that could be. If you give me something, I could return the gesture. It may not be much but it might help. That, I can promise.” Hormaz said in the same whisper like voice. He let the silence hang between them.

  “I want a pack of Wills.” Abu said as his features regained composure. Hormaz pulled a chair & sat next to Abu. If Abu kept talking, it was going to be a long session. Even with the back trouble, there was no way for Hormaz to be standing for that long. He signaled the officer to get a pack of Wills cigarettes & a video camera.

  15

  Mail From The Dead

  The news of Kasab’s hanging has brought up mixed feelings. There is a sense of closure at the punishment meted out to the killer of my colleagues. It took longer than it should have but the right thing has been done. But how did we allow this man to cause so much trouble in the first place? He comes from a different country, picks common people as targets and shoots them in cold blood. Does not spare children & the elderly, targets foreigners amongst hostages so that India is insulted internationally. Kills some of the best men on the force & with his friends, holds this city hostage for 3 days. Wonderful. Almost paralyzes the Mumbai Police, stuns the state of Maharashtra & numbs the central government. And even after knowing who was guiding these front men, all we manage to do is send dossier after dossier of proof.

  I don’t think this situation can improve unless the government decides this to be unacceptable. I am a part of the government machine that is supposed to stop this but am not sure of the ways to grasp the larger picture, the systemic changes required & about building consensus. So it is pretty simple for me. I will see to it that nothing of this sort takes place around me. Not on my watch, not till I stand. I won’t spare anyone who indulges in terrorism. With whatever capacity put into me by the constitution of my country; when it comes to these people, main dus maroonga aur ek ginoonga. I will strike ten & count it as one.

  Anyway, my requests for video footages at
the toll centers have come back earlier than expected. But they are hardly helpful. All the CCTV pictures show nothing of the driver. This can mean two things. Either the driver was too lucky or he knows the rules of the game. Luck cannot be repeated at more than 4 cameras in a span of under 8 hours. So this guy is a trained man. That is not good. It generally means that motive of the crime is not simple. When the official route has not yielded anything, I tend to move onto unofficial but effective one. It requires keeping count of the favors but I’m ok with that. The people I turn to are usually worth it. I dial a number from Aurangabad.

  “Kai ghati, tabyet thik aahe ka?” I ask Manoj Abhyankar from the plateau region of Maharashtra about his health in a derogatory way.

  “I have to say it is good. You see unlike Mumbai’s constipation issues that can cause piles, it is much better in the ghats.” Pat comes the retort that has both of us laughing. Manoj is an old friend from the Police Academy & one of the persons who I think are really sharp with local intelligence gathering. It is a talent rather than the training. Manoj has built on it with his social skills to form a formidable knowhow.

  “Bola Pandurang saheb.” He knows I wouldn’t call him without reason in office hours.

  “I have a lead on a vehicle from your area that was used in a crime at Mumbai. I need its details.” I keep it straight.

  “Can you mail me what you have? I will get back to you.” Manoj says.

  “Sure.” I send the already composed mail to him.

  “Got it. I am assuming that this case may be interesting enough to bring you to Aurangabad.” Manoj queries. We both get along well enough to have a drink or two.

  “That depends on you.” I leave it at that.

  “Does it? Let me get back to you then. And Congrats, ek drink jaast ghe aaj.” He cuts the call after advising me drink more than usual owing to Kasab’s hanging. I stretch in my chair. A look around the office tells me that people have more purpose in their stride today. There are easy & real smiles going around.

  I have been looking into the documented evidence files about Achhu’s murder for ten minutes when my cell phone rings. It is not a saved number; the display says “Restricted Number”.

  I let it ring four times & then answer.

  “Hello, Jagtap saheb?” A rough sounding voice enquires.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Sunil.” I remember him. The guy who said Achhu was a friend. The enforcer for Anees.

  “What is it?” I keep a leveled tone.

  “You have to come and meet Aneesbhai again.”

  “Nobody tells me whom to meet. Not you & not your Aneesbhai.” I quip.

  “Please, it is urgent. It is about Achhu.” He pleads.

  “What about him?”

  “Aneesbhai got an email today.” He blurts as if he wants to keep this conversation short.

  “So?” Being sarcastic is natural for me.

  “The email was sent from Achhu’s email account.” Sunil whispers.

  ***

  It is hard to believe that I am back at the Wheely. The way things panned out last time, I didn’t feel I would be back soon. Then there is the matter of the NIA watching it. But once I heard of the email from Achhu’s mail account, I had to be here. Why this didn’t dawn on me before? A computer whiz had to have an email id. I could have saved a lot of time had I realized that Achhu’s email could give me a clue. Before leaving office, I found Khan & told him about the meeting with Anees & the lead. We decided to go on with our old trick. If the NIA were to realize my poking, Khan was going to feign ignorance. It might not work this time, but it’s my best chance.

  As Khan is in the loop, I am wearing a button sized transmitter in my ear as a precaution. This is one of the advantages of working with the money related crimes. We do get to use some modern equipment of the trade as being discreet is a need. Sunil had told me to be at the Wheely ASAP & I have made it in 30 minutes. As I go through the corridors again, the same crowd of game players is visible. Some of them are jolted at seeing me & others smirk. They know that Anees is in today. When the top dog is around, a dog from outside can be less menacing. Simple Mumbai rule. I go past the floor to the same cabin where I met Dhanaji. He is now seated on the sofa. The main chair by the big table is occupied by Anees. Sunil stands behind him. Dhanaji looks like a simmering piece of coal as he realizes it’s me. I walk to the chair in front of Anees without allowing the guy at the door to frisk me & occupy it. Anees gives me a long look and smiles.

  “I was right about you. You really don’t give a damn.” He observes.

  “Where is the email?” I don’t waste any time.

  Sunil gets me a Samsung Note 2. Gmail is displaying an email. It is a two line message. The first line is an email address.

  suriyasingham@suriyasingham.com

  I read the header of the mail to confirm that the email has been sent from the same email address.

  The next line looks like gibberish.

  Agcvs3178ersdfgop^%w$#mwsqia

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “That is all that I got in the email.” Anees replies.

  “If you knew that Achhu had this email account, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know. But only Achhu could have such email address. He was a big Suriya fan & his favorite movie was Singham. Also, the site was designed by him.” Anees replies. I look at the suriyasingham.com webpage in another browser tab carefully and see “designed by Achhu” at the bottom.

  “And what is the text on the second line?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. That is why I called you. It is definitely not the password to this account. I checked that.” Anees replies. I have to admit, this guy is smart. I was about to assume that this was the password.

  “Anything else?” I pry.

  “No that is it.”Anees says.

  I take a screenshot of the mail & forward the image to my mobile via Bluetooth. I think of forwarding it to my email ids but realize that with the NIA watching Anees, it would be a bad idea to leave a digital trail.

  “Ok. I will look into it.” I stand & leave without waiting for any last words from Anees. For his cronies who might have seen him run a darbar & consider him to be their emperor, this may come as a shock. I can see Dhanaji trembling in anger. As I walk out of the Wheely, I stop by a corner to transfer the email snapshot to my mobile’s memory card. Then I switch off my phone, take out the memory card & keep it in my wallet. With the smart asses from NIA around, one can never be too careful. I return to the place where Ulhas has parked his Santro. I get into the passenger seat.

  “Let’s go.” Ulhas starts the car. There is a knock on the car door on my side. I roll down the glass to find Mr.Kumar smiling at me. See, told you!

  “Leaving early Jagtap?” He stares at me intently as he bends down.

  I don’t answer. Sometimes, letting others doing the talking is the quickest way out. Ulhas is looking at me anxiously.

  “What part of my order was not clear? Why are you here?” His smile has disappeared & he is gritting his teeth. I am so enjoying his squirming that I don’t answer. Again.

  “Answer me!” He shouts.

  “You better ask the man you are looking after. He called me here.” I answer as casually I can.

  “For what?” Kumar thrusts his head so hard it almost crashes into mine.

  “Ask him. This is beyond me. I came because he asked me to. He just made me wait & asked me to leave after sometime.” I say in a tone that seems almost apologetic, but the sarcasm is hard to miss. I make no attempt to break the silence that follows.

  “I will get to the bottom of this Jagtap. If I find that you are being smart with me, I will have you fired. Understood? ” His eyes are wide with anger.

  “Yes Sir.” I answer immediately this time.

  “From now on, you won’t come here even if he calls. You tell him that I have asked you to do so. And you will let me know immediately if he asks for a meeting.” Kumar’s forehead h
as sweat beads shining like pearls. Lovely.

  “Yes Sir.” I shout.

  “Get lost.” He bangs his head into the car door as he pulls it outside. I stifle a laugh as Ulhas drives the car ahead.

  “You really know how to get inside a man’s bad books.” Ulhas is not smiling yet.

  “Yes. I think I am getting good at that.”

  16

  Ragada patties

  This was getting too close. The initial plan had been to draw attention of the Mumbai police. That had been achieved. As predicted by his master, Sumit Patel had seen the NIA & Mumbai police getting entangled. Sumit had been trained by his master in basic surveillance. Seated in his shop across the street from the Wheely, he kept a watch. He had seen the Inspector from the other day transfer something to his wallet. Sumit had recognized him a moment earlier. He had also seen the NIA man follow the Inspector to a Santro. He was certain that they had an argument before the car drove off. The planned day was not far away & the last thing that he wanted was for the investigating agencies to find a clue that could lead to him. He saw the NIA man talk on his cell phone for a long time after the Mumbai cop had left. He hoped that his master was right about being able to get away clean. He logged onto his computer and started the process to inform his master. His master had warned him that if he wanted to send a detailed message, this was a onetime channel. Sumit felt this information was worth exhausting the onetime channel.