Sufi - The Invisible Man of The Underworld

by Aabid Surti

  “Still, we can't call it a cent per cent secure method.” In the end Singh smiled into his scotch, swirled his glass, drank up with a flourish and commented, “Of course, the risk on the sea has been reduced, not on the land.”

  That was true too. The consignment could be dragged under the sea to Madh or Versova but it was possible it would attract attention when being loaded into the car. Moreover, if an informer gave a tip off to the customs, then there would be no way to avoid the danger.

  “We can also find a way out for that.” Iqbal paused to think and then inquired, “how many of the customs officials are on our payroll?”

  “Five.”

  “Are they loyal?”

  “More than a dog.”

  “OK.”

  He again became quiet.

  Singh became anxious., “What do you mean by OK?”

  “We will have to assign a task to one of them.”

  “Where?”

  “At the place of landing.”

  “Where do you plan to land the next consignment?”

  “At Versova.”

  “What will that officer do there?” Singh's patience had run out.

  Iqbal explained, “We will have to inform the officer in advance.”

  “About what?”

  “About the details of the consignment so that he can keep all the papers ready with him.”

  “Papers?”

  “Record of seizures with panchnama.”

  “Without carrying out the raid?”

  “Singh!” Iqbal could not suppress his laughter, “It seems today you have left your brains at home. Listen, that will be just a mock record so that if a honest officer like Khan and Rustomji should carry out a surprise raid, our own officer can tell them that it is his case.”

  Now, the whole blueprint sparkled before Singh like a Christmas tree. If it happened then the officers coming to carry out the actual raid would not be able to interfere in their colleague's affair. They would be compelled to return crestfallen. The officer on the gang's payroll could then prepare a loose case and present one or two dummy accused before the magistrate. The dummies too would be released later.

  “But what about the consignment?”

  “The consignment will remain with us.”

  “What about the consignment list recorded in the panchnama?”

  “There are several ways to deal with that. The record can be destroyed and replaced with a new one or disclose that the accused fled away with the entire consignment.”

  Singh was astonished. The teaming up of cops and robbers in a unique way could bring about a revolution in the field of smuggling. But that was not the real reason for Singh's astonishment. He was amazed by the speed with which Iqbal's fertile brain worked He thought it was a wonder of the world.

  That day, Iqbal had not even required time to think. No sooner had Singh presented the problem, Iqbal had suggested a solution. The time was now ripe to arrange his meeting with the boss.

  Iqbal had been hinting at it since the last few months and he had been avoiding it saying—the time is not yet ripe. It had heightened Iqbal's curiosity. After all, who was the DK under whose umbrella they were working? Who was this invisible man whose hands were longer than the long arms of the law? Many a police and customs officers obeyed his orders from time to time. He kept many judges of the lower and higher courts in his pocket like trump cards.

  His desire to meet the boss had not been fulfilled till date. Today, he felt that he had to make such a move as to compel DK to request him for a meeting. But for that, it was first necessary to trap Singh.

  Singh was keenly observing the changing colours on his face. He had an inkling of what Iqbal was contemplating. He realized, now the baby sparrow was testing its wings. No good.

  He cancelled the idea of arranging a meeting with DK. Suddenly, his face lit up with joy. He had yet to praise Iqbal's brilliant idea. As if suddenly recollecting, he said, “Yaar, that stuff inside your skull is a brain or a computer?”

  As if Iqbal too was waiting for such a move, he proclaimed, “You’ll know it after I get Hamid released from the hangman's noose.”

  Singh was caught absolutely off guard.

  DK had engaged Bombay's best barrister to get Hamid acquitted of the charge of stabbing to death a customs officer during crossing. He had been able to help Hamid come out on bail but had thrown up his hands about the final verdict, and this maverick inventor…

  “I don't believe it,” Singh said, recovering from the jolt.

  “Because you are Singh, not DK.”

  “Try to convince me!”

  “That won’t make a difference.”

  “Then?”

  “DK pays the barrister fifty thousand rupees a day to fight the murder case,” Iqbal conveyed with boyish relish before getting up. “Tell him to contact me if he wants Hamid free in just five hundred rupees.”

  Singh gazed stunned at the wizard leaving the room.

  Chapter 21

  After Iqbal left, Singh fell into deep thought – Could Iqbal’s claim be trusted? Could he rescue Hamid from the gallows? Was he more intelligent than the seasoned barrister fighting the case?

  His reply to all these questions was a big NO. The barrister's fee for appearing in court was fifty thousand rupees a day. Over thirty six lakh rupees had already been spent on the case. What was the result?

  Zero.

  Of course, before accepting the case, the barrister had frankly declared that the odds were fifty-fifty. That meant there was an equal chance of both, success and failure. However, as the case moved towards its final hearing, the fifty per cent chance of winning had come down to five per cent. And Iqbal had claimed that in just five hundred rupees he could legally...

  The train of thoughts abruptly ended here. Iqbal had not told him whether he would save Hamid legally or illegally. It was possible. He could push Hamid across the border into Pakistan. But that was highly risky too.

  If the plan failed, Hamid would undoubtedly be in a fix. The entire case would be ruined. The five per cent chance of success would become minus five and then there would be no option of going in for appeal. Finally, the President would also reject his mercy petition. DK would never approve of it.

  DK had that largesse. He reciprocated with equal measure the loyalty of his gang members. He would solidly stand by his smallest man in times of crisis. Else he would not have wasted lakhs of rupees on a two-penny goon like Hamid.

  Singh picked up his trail of thought once again. Iqbal had demanded only five hundred rupees for Hamid's freedom. This amount was just not enough for pushing him across the border easily. One would have to bribe the officers of security agencies like BSF on both sides of the fence. This would cost a minimum of two to five thousand rupees.

  No. Iqbal must have envisaged a masterstroke. However, it was not possible for him to fathom anything. And Iqbal would never disclose it to him. Would it be wise to discuss the matter with DK? That was his main problem. What if he mentioned it and DK dismissed the idea with a laugh? It would embarrass him to no end.

  Or pierce him with a cold look. And DK's cold look was like a dagger drawn from ice.

  No, he couldn’t venture to present Iqbal before DK. Yet he made up his mind to mention the subject casually to DK in the near future and decide what steps to take after watching his reaction.

  On the other hand…if Iqbal's idea hit bull’s eye, Singh's status would receive quite a boost in DK’s eyes. He would be applauded for grooming a promising young man like Iqbal.

  Finally, he removed a diary from his pocket. Gold was scheduled to arrive from Dubai on Thursday night. Iqbal was to leave by a launch to take the delivery early Friday morning. Singh was to meet the boss the same evening to report on the crossing. He would get a chance that very evening to present Iqbal's grandiose idea. At least, he could refer to it indirectly. He made an asterisk mark in his diary on Friday's page. He had cultivated this habit to remember important issues.

>   When Iqbal, after offering the Friday morning prayer, left Bhaucha Dhakka along with his gang, the dark of the night was thinning along with the force of the wind. He was standing on the deck of the Al Kabir launch. The new method of crossing he had introduced was to be put to test today. Yet he was confident. He was certain that he could never err in his judgment. The trial run had proven it.

  As the Al Kabir crossed halfway, the dividing line between the sea and the sky became clear. The stars had faded, following the dawn. The launch slowed down after crossing the lighthouse.

  Iqbal and his colleagues bent over the brim of the launch to search for the floating piece of thermocol. They did not have to struggle hard.

  With the first rays of the sun falling on the surface of the sea, they spotted the piece of thermocol at a distance, gleaming like a piece of diamond. Everyone saw it at the same time. The boatman turned the launch in that direction.

  Soon that piece along with the nylon string was brought into the launch with the help of a boat hook. Immediately, the string attached to the thermocol was tied tightly to the tail end of the launch. The other end of the string was tied to the bag that lay 240 feet under the sea.

  The Al Kabir was on the east side of Bombay. It started with a whirring sound and moved towards the west. The bag containing gold worth two and a half crore rupees tagged along.

  Iqbal was chuckling. His new method had not only reduced the risk factor but had also solved several other odd problems. For example, everyone had to keep awake throughout the night during the crossing. Hours were wasted transferring the jackets from one boat to another. It was, overall, a back breaking job under high tension in the middle of the sea.

  Comparatively, this felt as if they were headed to Elephanta Island for a picnic. Iqbal and all his seven colleagues looked fresh and happy.

  After about an hour, the launch completed the semicircular route and arrived at Versova beach. Here, the customs officer Bhonsle, who was on the gang's payroll, was waiting for them in his jeep with two Ambassador cars.

  Bhonsle was receiving a thousand rupees a month from the gang. His work was to ignore the gang's activities. But that day it was different. That day he was present to provide security cover to the gang. In case of an unexpected raid, he was required to announce that he had already carried out the raid.

  Moreover, in view of the special security needed for the operation, he was to pilot the two Ambassador cars for some distance in his jeep to ensure that nothing unexpected happened on the way.

  The bag was pulled up before the Al Kabir anchored ashore. In the next ten minutes, Iqbal and his colleagues were seated in the Ambassador cars. The bag was stuffed into the boot of the car. It was eight in the morning. Iqbal signaled to Bhonsle from the front seat of the first Ambassador. He started the jeep. Both the cars followed.

  The gang had never known such security till date. Everyone applauded Iqbal's intelligence. Until then, only Dagdu had called him boss. Now, they all did.

  “Boss!” Michael concluded wittily from the back seat, “Now I too will have to get admission into your college.”

  “For what?” asked Iqbal, his eyes unwavering from Bhonsle’s jeep which he was watching through the windshield.

  “To learn all these new tricks,” saying Michael pretended to lament, “But there is only sawdust inside this skull. How can I get such brilliant ideas!”

  Bhonsle looked back on reaching Andheri from Versova. Iqbal received the signal he had been waiting for. Had the officers of the DRI (Customs) been lying in wait somewhere, they would have pounced by now.

  He signaled to Bhonsle, whose duty ended here. Besides, he lived in Andheri. After having his tea and breakfast at home, he was to report for State duty. Near the railway crossing, Bhonsle's jeep turned and headed towards Andheri east. Both the Ambassador cars went towards Parle. Iqbal, instead of taking the main Ghod Bunder road, chose the Juhu-Parle bypass.

  There were two reasons for it: First, the population was thin here. There were a few scattered bungalows and dwellings. (The work to reclaim the rest of the land was going on in full swing.) Secondly, on the main road, there was the likelihood of attracting the attention of the traffic police or other hawk-eyed officials. A gridlock in traffic was the other danger.

  His speculation was perfectly right; but his luck was slightly dented. After going a little further, Iqbal's Ambassador car stopped with a jolt, tilted to one side. The car following it also had to stop. Dagdu jumped out and dashed up to Iqbal who was already standing in front of the car.

  They both realized that what the driver of the car had thought to be a puddle was, in fact, to a one-foot ditch. The front tyre of the car was stuck inside it.

  Soon, the rest of the gang gathered as well, and with much difficulty, pushed the car out from the ditch. At the same time, they saw a police jeep coming towards them at full speed. Everyone waited with bated breath.

  Iqbal took a prompt decision and asked Dagdu and his other cronies to sit in the second car. The bag containing the consignment worth two and a half crore rupees was inside that other car.

  The jeep came hurtling forward and stopped in front of the first car. “Dikra!” the inspector slipped out of the jeep and smiled at Iqbal. “We’re meeting after quite some time, isn’t it?”

  He stared at Bhesadia in amazement. He could not figure out if Bhesadia had arrived here at this early hour by accident or by design? Had someone given him a tip-off? The next moment Iqbal remembered Bali, the malevolent being who was Bhesadia's exclusive informer from the Juhu-Parle area.

  Iqbal's guess was nearly correct. Only, he did not know that Bali's apartment faced the sea front at Versova. He went jogging early in the morning to keep himself physically fit.

  As usual, he had woken up at the crack of the dawn today. He was brushing his teeth standing in the balcony when he saw the two Ambassador cars. (Bhonsle's jeep had not yet arrived.)

  He instantly knew. As the Gandhi cap had become a symbol of corruption with time, in the sixties, the Ambassador car had become a symbol of smuggling.

  He dialed Bhesadia, rousing him from his sleep. “Sir, there are clear signs of massive windfall…”

  Bhesadia sat up, “Where?”

  “There are two Ambassador cars parked on the outskirts of the fishermen's settlement near my apartment. The consignment of the crossing is likely to arrive here.”

  Bhesadia got ready in minutes and sped away in his jeep. As it was still very early in the morning, all the roads were mostly deserted. The gaslights on the footpath had still not been put off.

  A distance which took more than an hour during the rush hours, he covered in thirty-five minutes, and after crossing Mahim, came to the Ghod Bunder road that links the suburbs.

  If Bhesadia had decided to take that same road to reach Versova, he would not have come across the other party. But, to save time, he had left the main road and after crossing Lido cinema, had entered the Juhu locality.

  On reaching the Juhu-Parle scheme, his eyes caught sight of the two cars standing in the middle of the road. But, he did not know at that time that the person he was going to confront was none other than his disciple.

  Recovering from the initial shock, Iqbal replied, “It’s true, Sir. We are meeting after a long time.”

  “Where did we meet last?” he asked, crossing Iqbal and his four colleagues and peeking into the car. “Do you remember?”

  Iqbal walked behind him. His entire attention was on every move made by Bhesadia. “Anyway, let me remind you,” he continued, not getting any reply from Iqbal. “Last time, we had met at Warden Road near the Sagar Darshan building.”

  He came behind the first Ambassador car and opened its boot. It was empty. He shut it down and without looking back, walked towards the second car chatting, “But I’m sure, you won’t forget today's meeting for years.”

  Iqbal once again quietly followed him. When Bhesadia stopped near the second car, he too stopped. Now he looked at Iqbal's men s
itting inside and asked, “Are these your pets?”

  He nodded.

  “My, my... you have made quite some progress. Will you please ask them to step out?”

  Iqbal signaled to them. His men, along with the driver, came out. Bhesadia looked inside and then came near the boot.

  “Dikra, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you tell the truth?”

  “I don’t lie.”

  Bhesadia laughed out aloud. “I’ve never heard a bigger lie than this. Nevertheless, I’ll ask. Where did you do the ‘crossing?”

  “You won’t believe it.”

  “What?”

  “I don't do ‘crossing.”

  “Then from where did this manna drop?” saying which, Bhesadia gave a funny look at the sky, looked down and opened the boot with a jerk. Inside, in the bag were jackets containing gold biscuits.

  “I already told you that you won't believe it.” He quietly closed the boot.

  Bhesadia was naturally annoyed and opened it again. “How much is it worth?”