Then he pulled up a chair in front of the bed, spread out and took a nap till Patil’s muted cries woke him up. It was almost dawn.
Stretching, he reached into his satchel and removed his gun, watching Patil’s eyes widen in terror. He pulled his chair closer to the bed.
‘I know what you did,’ he said.
Patil shook his head violently.
‘I also know you’re going to deny it,’ Daniel went on. ‘And I am all too familiar with this game. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to leave you here and come back with some friends of mine. Till then, you can decide how you want to play this. Just know that I am not a very patient man.’
Patil started struggling. Daniel stood up in one swift movement, transferred his gun from his right hand to his left and punched Patil hard on the side of his head. Patil fell back on the bed, passed out.
Daniel drove home to Andheri, where Vaishali was waiting for him.
‘Your phone was switched off,’ she said, looking like she hadn’t slept all night.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ he replied, taking her hand in his. ‘I was working on something that required me to be out in the field, and my phone ran out of battery.’
On the way home, to make his excuse sound genuine, he had played music while keeping multiple apps open in the background and downloaded a movie till his phone switched off. Now, he removed his phone from his pocket and connected it to his charger.
Vaishali looked as if she was about to say something but shook her head.
‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she said, sounding tired. Hating himself, Daniel went over and took her in his arms.
‘Do you have to go back?’ she asked, resting her face against his chest.
‘In a couple of hours,’ he said. ‘Have you eaten anything?’
She nodded.
‘Good. Sleep now. I’ll freshen up and wake you before I go.’
He led her to the bedroom, tucked her in and went to the bathroom, where he took a long cold shower. It was like being in the army again, working secret missions in civilian areas, switching off the part of the brain that recognizes lack of sleep and exhaustion.
It was afternoon by the time he made lunch for Vaishali and woke her up. They ate together, and then he kissed her and got ready to leave. She came with him till the gate.
‘Is that an office vehicle?’ she asked as he unlocked the car. He nodded.
‘Need to return it and file a report.’
‘Will you be home for dinner?’
‘I’m not sure yet, love. I’ll call you.’
He drove to the hotel that Mirza and his team were working out of and walked into the lobby, leaving his satchel with his gun under the driver’s seat of the car. Sitting in the lobby, he sent four pictures to Vikrant.
The first was of the truck, that he had taken the previous day. The second was a still of the same truck from the CCTV footage of the accident. The third was of Sopan Patil, bound and gagged, in the trunk of his car. The fourth was a picture of Sopan Patil’s driving licence that the police had obtained from the RTO.
Upstairs, just as Mirza was debating on whether to tell Ben Solo the truth about Ayyub, Vikrant received the pictures.
‘Shit,’ he said.
Mirza looked at him questioningly and Vikrant passed his phone to him. Mirza took a look the pictures and turned to the others in the room.
‘Excuse us, please,’ he said, and he and Vikrant went into the bedroom. Mirza used his phone to call Daniel.
‘Where the hell are you, lad?’ he asked.
‘The hotel lobby,’ Daniel replied calmly. ‘Don’t bring anyone else.’
Mirza and Vikrant went out and told the others that they had to leave.
‘I know how important this is,’ Mirza told Solo. ‘But something personal has come up.’
‘If it’s personal,’ Solo said, standing up, ‘I understand.’
Mirza shook hands with him. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy working with the MOSSAD spy.
‘Everything okay?’ Mankame asked Vikrant.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Vikrant replied.
Mirza and Vikrant raced to the lift and made their way down. Daniel saw them, stood up and turned around without a word. They followed Daniel to his car and got inside as he started the ignition.
‘What on earth have you been up to, Dan?’ Vikrant asked.
Daniel brought them up to speed during the short drive to Naidu’s house.
Together, they entered the house and went towards the guest bedroom.
Daniel unlocked the door. As they walked into the room, Sopan Patil was sobbing through the duct tape around his mouth. Daniel ripped it off. Patil sobbed for another minute before he calmed down. Daniel got a glass of water and helped him drink it.
Then he removed his gun from his satchel and held it loosely by his side.
‘We’re not cops,’ he said. ‘There are no rules here. You don’t get a lawyer, you don’t get to call anyone. All you get is one chance. If you blow it, I start breaking your bones one by one. You’d be amazed at how much pain your body can take before you die.’
Vikrant and Mirza exchanged looks. They were thinking the same thing. Madman Dan is back.
‘You want to start talking?’ Daniel asked.
Patil took several deep breaths before he spoke.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked.
Daniel sat on the chair.
‘Everything,’ he said.
18
DCP Jaiswal was sitting at a corner table in a café in the Lokhandwala complex in Andheri.
It was late afternoon and the place was filling up. Jaiswal was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt, with sneakers. A pair of sunglasses hung from the pocket of his shirt, of which he had left the top button open. A pendant shaped like a bullet hung from a thin silver chain around his neck.
Half the café was filled with young men and women in trendy clothes, ‘Bollywood aspirant’ written all over them. The café seemed to be some kind of informal recruiting spot for small assignments in the TV and modelling industry. The other half of the clientele was a mixed group. There were a few teenagers, three couples who had no time for anyone but each other, and a man with long hair and glasses tapping away at his laptop.
Jaiswal had eyes only for one man. The man was dressed like the actor-model wannabes but was clearly older. The way he carried himself indicated that he had seen the ways of the world and was not just some starry-eyed young man from rural India.
Jaiswal observed silently, pretending to be busy with his cell phone, as the man moved from table to table, shaking hands, patting shoulders, talking, whispering, smiling. Only someone who was looking carefully would have seen that half of the handshakes were covers for the exchange of money or small, slim pouches. It was smooth and quick, Jaiswal thought admiringly.
The man went on for about half an hour before he finally turned towards the exit.
‘He’s coming,’ Jaiswal texted Police Inspector Sushil Kadam, who replied with a ‘K’.
Jaiswal chuckled. God knows I’ve given him enough reasons to dislike me, he thought.
He waited for a full five minutes before he stood up. He’d already paid for his order. He walked unhurriedly towards the door and stepped out, putting on his sunglasses. The man was nowhere to be seen but Jaiswal was not worried. He walked over to where he had parked his car and waited near the door.
Sure enough, within the minute, his phone buzzed.
‘Nikam here, sir.’ Constable Nikam was calling from Kadam’s phone. Jaiswal had forgotten for a minute that Kadam always liked to drive himself. ‘Suspect is on a bike. We’re following.’
‘Where?’
‘Moving towards Vile Parle, sir,’ Nikam said.
Jaiswal kept the call going as he got into his own car and started up the ignition.
He plugged in a hands-free device and slid one earphone into his ear before putting the car into gear. The last thing he needed right now was to be pulled up by a traffic cop.
For the next ten minutes, he drove patiently while Nikam guided him. At the Irla junction, he accelerated and caught up with Kadam’s car, which fell back. They reversed positions, with Jaiswal now taking the lead in following the suspect and relaying his location to Nikam, while Kadam’s car followed at a safe ten minutes’ distance.
They played this relay game all the way to Kalina, where the suspect turned into a narrow lane just before the Air Force station. This time, Jaiswal was once again bringing up the rear.
The suspect turned into one of the numerous residential buildings that had sprung up over the last few years to accommodate the inflow of young corporate jobseekers. The flats in them would get lapped up at cheap rates and then given out on rent, without any conditions about job timings, food habits or lifestyle choices. Most of the people in the building were youngsters sharing a flat. There were very few families.
The cops waited across the lane from the gate and let the suspect park his bike before getting out. Then Kadam got out of his car with Nikam and two other constables, while Jaiswal got out of his and joined them. Jaiswal, Kadam and Nikam, without breaking stride, jogged straight towards the entrance where they had seen the suspect enter, while the others stayed at the gate. To no one’s surprise, the security guard’s cabin was empty.
The suspect had just finished a call and was about to enter the lift when the three cops hurried into the lobby.
‘Boss!’ Jaiswal called out. ‘Just a minute, please!’
The suspect smiled and held the lift doors open. All three cops squeezed inside. He pressed the button for the fourth floor and looked enquiringly at them.
‘Same,’ Kadam said with a small smile.
Jaiswal slowly slid close to him, while Kadam and Nikam went to the rear and quietly put their hands behind their backs, their fingers closing over their pistol-butts.
The doors to the lift slid open and the suspect got out and turned to his right. The three cops stayed in the lift for a couple of seconds before following. The deliberate delay allowed them to exit the lift just as the suspect reached his door. The three looked around. The lobby was otherwise deserted.
Just as the suspect slid his key into the latch, Jaiswal drew his pistol, came close to him in two quick strides and pressed his weapon into the man’s spine.
‘Police,’ Jaiswal breathed into his ear. ‘Open the door and get the hell in.’
The man went rigid but managed to unlock the door. Jaiswal, Kadam and Nikam crowded in behind him and pushed him into the living room.
It was a standard one-BHK flat, but spacious. Jaiswal pushed the suspect towards a sofa and made him sit down, while Kadam and Nikam started searching the place.
‘Name!’ Jaiswal snapped.
‘Roshan Lall,’ the suspect said. His hands were trembling.
‘Who do you work for?’
‘I … I have … no idea what you’re…’
Lall stopped talking as Jaiswal raised his 9mm pistol. He gulped a couple of times before he managed to speak again.
‘Mahmood Fazal,’ he managed to say.
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You lie to me one more time, you bastard…’ Jaiswal snarled.
‘I’m not lying! I swear I’m not! I only deal with his brother Junaid!’
Just then Kadam came out of the bedroom bearing a bag with a kilo of cocaine in each hand and with a satisfied look on his face. He nodded at Jaiswal; he didn’t like his boss enough to smile at him, no matter what the occasion.
Jaiswal pulled up a chair and sat as close to Lall as he could.
‘I’m only going to ask you once,’ he said menacingly. ‘Where’s Junaid?’
There was a silence as Lall weighed his options. Jaiswal let him evaluate before he reached the inevitable conclusion; he was finished.
‘I was supposed to meet him near the university tonight,’ Lall said resignedly. ‘Give him his cut from today’s earnings. He personally handles collection for Mahmood.’
‘Where near the university?’ Jaiswal asked.
‘Sarang Hotel.’
‘What does Junaid look like?’
‘Short. Wiry. Full beard. He drives a Bolero with his name in large letters across the back. Wears an amulet around his neck.’
Lall, after realizing that he was trapped, seemed to have given up the will to resist and was spouting information like a tap.
‘Call the others upstairs and get some backup,’ Jaiswal told Kadam, who pulled out his cell phone.
Nearly five hours later, the team finished all the paperwork pertaining to Lall and Junaid’s arrest. It was close to midnight, and Jaiswal, Kadam and Nikam were the only ones at the Unit XII office who were not officially on the night shift.
Nikam, who stayed close to the unit, left on his bike. Kadam came out of an inner room after collecting his bag to see Jaiswal sitting at a table, going over the paperwork. He kept standing, shifting from one foot to another, before Jaiswal noticed him.
‘Something you want to say, Kadam?’ he asked.
‘That’s the third drug dealer in this area that we’ve gone after this month, sir,’ Kadam said.
Jaiswal put the file down on the table.
‘Isn’t that the job?’ he asked with a slight smile.
Kadam waited for a long moment before he finally took a deep breath and spoke. ‘Why are we protecting Dhanraj Shetty and eliminating his competition, sir?’
The question was followed by another long silence.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kadam,’ Jaiswal said finally. ‘And you should be careful of what you imply.’
Kadam clicked his heels, turned around and walked out of the unit.
19
The meeting began at 9 a.m. in the suite in the Bandra hotel and was ultra-secret. Not even NSA Pradeep Singh knew about it.
In attendance were Mirza, Vikrant, Mankame and Daniel. Even Shaina was excluded, and there was no question of Ben Solo or Joseph Samuel being told about it.
‘Where do we start?’ Vikrant asked.
‘Sopan Patil’s confession,’ Mirza replied.
Daniel nodded and cleared his throat.
They had grilled Patil for the better part of the day before they finally believed he was telling the truth. The reason behind their conclusion was simple: his story was the same every time. Anybody who made up a story would have had at least three or four discrepancies while repeating it. In Patil’s case, there was not a single detail missing, no matter how many times they made him repeat it.
When the grilling was finally done, Mirza, Vikrant and Daniel looked at each other with disbelief.
It was late in the night by the time Mankame came to Naidu’s house in a vehicle with tinted windows. Patil was bundled inside it and driven to the ATS headquarters in Nagpada, while Mirza brought Mankame up to speed.
‘With all due respect, sir,’ Mankame finally said, ‘does anything normal ever happen with you both?’
Patil was now lodged inside a lock-up room at the ATS HQ with two of Mankame’s trusted men watching him round the clock.
They agreed to call it a day – it had been quite eventful for all of them – and start early the next morning. None of them could really sleep, but the sheer shock of what they had learnt gave them the adrenaline rush to reach the hotel suite on time the next morning.
‘Okay, so according to Patil, he gave up a life of crime around six years ago and started driving a truck on a contractual basis. He’s been earning an honest living since then. Till out of the blue, he was kidnapped while on a delivery exactly two weeks ago. He was waylaid by an SUV, forced inside and blindfolded while one of the kidnappers took over his truck, an
d driven somewhere.’
Daniel reached for a bottle of water and took a swig before continuing.
‘Once he reached the destination, a nameless masked man told him that he had to run over Naidu uncle’s car at a designated time. They knew about his criminal background, including the fact that he has a double murder case against him back home in Amravati, and threatened to turn him in if he didn’t comply. Which means that they selected him carefully.’
Vikrant nodded.
‘He’s taken a life before. Easier the second time. Had they picked any small-time thug for the job, he’d either have refused to kill Naidu sir or messed it up badly. Plus, he has no family who will miss him. Perfect recruit for a one-time job,’ he said.
Daniel went on.
‘Then, one week later, he gets a call at night and drives to Bandra. Follows Naidu uncle, rams his car at the exact spot they tell him to and speeds away. Throws away his cell phone, drives to Gujarat and lies low for another week at a spot provided by his paymasters, guarded by a burly man whose name he does not know. Then things go off-script for the first time.’
Vikrant picked up the narrative.
‘He panics. He realizes that killing an ex-prime minister might not be that easy to get away with. It’s all over the news. He’s hearing stuff about how there are CCTV cameras all
over the city now. How it’s easier to trace hit-and-run accused than earlier. He loses his shit, gives his guard the slip and runs away the next night. He was probably slated to be killed that night.
‘He pulls in a favour, starts working at a friend’s garage in Goregaon. It’s tucked away in a corner and doesn’t receive much footfall. Mostly regular clients. He was planning to give his truck a complete makeover in a couple of days. Had shaved his head to avoid being recognized,’ Daniel finished.
There was a moment of silence as the information was digested. Then Mankame spoke up.
‘Why not kill him right away?’ he asked.
‘If I had to guess,’ Vikrant answered, ‘it’s because whoever planned this had other things on their mind at the time. Something happened, something that put Patil’s killing on the back-burner.’
The Endgame Page 9
