by RV Raman
Despite the bad news he had just received, the MLA kept his cool. He remained silent for a long moment, his expression impassive, betraying nothing. When he spoke at last, his voice was a growl.
‘So what do you want from me?’ he asked.
‘I need to speak to the men who raided the mosque immediately,’ Dhruvi said, launching into the second part of her plan. ‘While there were several of them, only one is responsible for Moin’s death. We are talking about two crimes here – one minor and one major. Most of the men who stormed the mosque are guilty of destroying property and injuring people. Only one man who was present there at the time is guilty of murder.
‘I am primarily interested in this assassin. The local police station will handle the lesser crime. I suspect that the killer is an outsider, someone who came in from elsewhere. Someone who is not from this colony at all.’
Alex had told her that the MLA had considerable influence with the local police station. That was why the local sub-Inspector had not joined Dhruvi in the investigation. By segregating the two crimes and stating that the local police station would handle matters other than the murder, she hoped to gain the MLA’s cooperation. Especially, if the killer was from outside his constituency.
‘I need your help to interrogate the assailants,’ she continued. ‘I need to find out who this outsider was. You have influence in the local community and I believe you could help me get the men involved in the mosque incident to speak out. If the killer is indeed an outsider, as I suspect, those who raided the mosque will only have to answer for the lesser crime.
‘However, if I can’t speak to them quickly enough, the case may go beyond my control and those men will be in far greater trouble than they are at the moment. Once the news is on TV, the case may go out of my hands.’
Dhruvi pulled out a small piece of paper.
‘This is my mobile number, sir,’ she continued. ‘For the next hour or so, I will be at the local police station. If you can help me speak to those who attacked the mosque, I can help you manage this situation. You know best, of course, but it seems to me that you have an opportunity here to help the police find the killer and to reach out to Moin Aziz’s kin. If we move quickly, I’m sure the press will speak well of you.’
The MLA silently took the piece of paper from Dhruvi.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, preparing to leave. ‘Let me repeat that we know exactly where the culprits are right now.’
Dhruvi lifted her gaze and trained it pointedly through the window at the far end of the room. Alex had told her that the culprits were hiding in the rear of the MLA’s compound.
With that, she turned and strode out.
■
They had been waiting for over half an hour at the police station when the first doubts began gnawing at Dhruvi. She had been confident that once the two offences – one major, the other minor – had been distinguished as separate ones, to be handled independently of each other, the MLA would seize the opportunity to make his thugs confess to the minor crime.
From all that the witnesses had reported, it seemed that the killer had arrived separately and had been on the scene for no more than a minute, before escaping on a motorcycle. Nobody had recognized him as someone they knew, while the other goons were familiar faces. That meant the assassin was an outsider, who had used the cover of the general commotion to kill Moin and make a getaway.
But how had the killer known of the impending attack on the mosque? How had he reached the place at exactly the right time? Had he instigated the mob in some way? That is what she wanted to find out.
‘The MLA is calling your bluff,’ Alex mumbled pessimistically. ‘He hasn’t fallen for your ruse.’
‘Thanks for the encouragement, Alex,’ Dhruvi shot back. ‘What is your basis for saying that?’
‘What else could I expect with my rotten luck?’
‘Doesn’t the MLA see that he has no other option? He’s a politician; he has the opportunity to earn brownie points by proactively reaching out to a minority community. A sharp politician will see that it’s worth a lot of political mileage.’
Despite the confident words, doubts were starting to gather in her mind. Dhruvi began chewing her lower lip thoughtfully and twisting a curl of her black hair around her left index finger.
What if the man didn’t play ball? Would she be able to convince the local police to enter his compound and nab the culprits? And how would her ACP react to her bold plan? To her tipping off TV channels? TV crews were already swarming around the mosque and at Moin’s house.
She pulled out her phone and tried to occupy her mind with a Sudoku puzzle, but in vain. She was just too restless. She glanced at the wall clock. It was forty minutes since she had left the MLA’s house.
‘Have you had a look at the names of the culprits whose identities we know?’ Dhruvi said to her assistant. ‘It’s apparent that they come from three different religions. This doesn’t seem like a communally motivated attack to me, although some people would like to make it seem that way. The media will automatically jump to the conclusion that an attack on a mosque must be an inter-faith conflict. What do you say, Alex?’
Before her deputy could respond, they heard a shuffle of feet at the entrance to the police station and looked up. Two men, frightened and tentative, stumbled in through the door and stood there, irresolute.
‘Yes?’ Alex asked in Kannada. ‘What do you want?’
‘Er…our leader sent us to talk to you.’
‘Which leader? The MLA?’
Both men nodded.
‘He sent you to talk to us about the attack on the mosque?’
Again, nods. Miserable, hesitant nods.
‘Come here.’ Alex motioned them to approach the desk behind which Dhruvi sat. ‘What are your names?’
‘Ganesh,’ one of the men said.
‘Richard,’ said the other.
These were two of the seven names witnesses had given them. Richard was said to be the ringleader.
‘Ah!’ Alex smiled mirthlessly. ‘So you were a part of the crowd that attacked the mosque.’
The men shuffled their feet, staring at the floor and casting fearful glances at Dhruvi. The man called Ganesh stepped back half a pace. Small-time goons, Dhruvi thought. Forsaken by their bosses, their faces looked like pricked balloons.
‘I want to know why you attacked the mosque,’ Dhruvi said sternly. ‘Who gave you instructions to do so? You know, don’t you, that a man was stabbed to death during the attack? If you don’t want to be implicated in his murder, you better come clean.’
Richard nodded and licked his lips. The local sub-Inspector walked in and stood watching the proceedings in silence.
‘I swear to God that we know nothing about the killing, madam!’ Richard said, his voice trembling. ‘We were asked to attack the mosque and break the computers –’
‘You were the leader of the gang?’ Dhruvi interrupted.
Richard nodded.
‘Go on.’
‘We’ve been having trouble with some men in this mohalla. We wanted the kids from our colony to attend the computer classes too and asked that the classes be held at a nearby community centre, rather than at the mosque. But they refused. They said that the classes would be held only at the mosque. They didn’t want to teach our kids.’
‘So you attacked them?’
Richard shuffled his feet again and dropped his gaze to the desk. Ganesh moved half a step to his left, hiding partially behind his comrade.
‘We had only threatened them, madam. We hadn’t intended to attack the mosque.’
‘Then why did you?’
‘A man…a man offered us a lakh of rupees to do so.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know.’
Fear sprang into his eyes as Alex let out a low growl. The local sub-Inspector let out a sigh, as if pitying Richard.
‘Honest! I swear upon my mother’s grave that I don’t know who he is!’ Richard bab
bled in panic. ‘He came to me yesterday and offered me the money. “Break a few computers and come back,” he said. “It won’t take you more than five minutes.” He gave us some hockey sticks and iron rods.’
‘He gave you the money in advance?’
Richard nodded.
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At the bar next to the liquor store.’
‘Describe him.’
‘Dark, heavyset man with a beard. I couldn’t see much. It was dark – past 10 p.m.’
‘There are ways to help you remember the details more clearly,’ the local sub-Inspector growled. ‘Would you like some memory aids like the last time?’
Richard broke into a sweat and stammered incoherently for a moment before regaining some degree of composure. He beseeched them to believe that he was telling the truth, swearing repeatedly in the name of his God.
‘Richard,’ Dhruvi said, interrupting the small-time goon’s ramblings, ‘tell me what happened at the mosque.’
‘I don’t know, madam. We were just doing our job, when someone yelled that a knife had been pulled. None of us were carrying a knife. I turned to find out who it could be when I saw this stranger slashing Najeeb with a knife and then running out of the room. Moin had collapsed to the floor and his shirt was drenched in blood. I summoned my boys quickly and we ran from the place. We had nothing to do with the killing, madam. Please believe me.’
‘Was the stranger the same person who had given you the money?’
‘I don’t know, madam. Honest, I don’t.’
‘The man who gave you the money…have you ever seen him or the killer anywhere else? Before the incident or after?’
Richard shook his head. ‘I’ll inform you at once if I do,’ he promised.
‘Describe the killer.’
‘Medium height, dark-coloured kurta and pyjamas and a white prayer cap, like the ones men wear at this mosque. He had a beard, but his upper lip was bare.’
That matched with the descriptions offered by the witnesses. The killer had taken pains to blend in with the people from the mohalla. A man dressed as he had been would attract no undue attention near a mosque. Dhruvi was all the more convinced that this was a planned, premeditated affair, where the killer had first commissioned the attack on the mosque and then used it as a cover to kill Moin.
The next step was obvious – they had to round up Harry and Manoj and interrogate them. Harry’s threat to Moin was sufficient basis for an arrest.
When another fifteen minutes of questioning yielded no further leads, Dhruvi walked out of the station and left for home, leaving the two goons at the mercy of Alex and the local sub-Inspector. Once her deputy was done with them, the men would be locked up for the night. But her gut feeling was that there was little more to be extracted from the thugs.
Her thoughts had already moved on to Harry and Manoj.
Chapter 16
Daybreak found an exhausted Nilay staring forlornly out of the open hall window, drawing comfort from a steaming mug of cocoa. The night’s drizzle had subsided and a cold, wet breeze caressed his care-worn face, haggard and lined in the aftermath of Moin’s murder. In the distance, beyond the stacks of concrete matchboxes nestled amongst the last vestiges of greenery, a large dark patch was slowly transforming itself into Ulsoor Lake. The lights around it were going out one by one. Soon, the streetlights along the roads bordering the lake would be switched off too. Another day was dawning, the first one, in a long time, without Moin. What new horrors would it bring?
Inside him, cold tendrils had found their way to every corner of his being, numbing his senses and his brain. He felt wretched and empty inside. Something deep within him had changed last night as he had gazed miserably at Moin’s lifeless body – the mortal remains of the only true friend he had had at MyMagicHat.
Three years Moin’s senior in college, Nilay had been in his final year when he first set eyes on the younger man, then a diffident fresher. A meek, reedy boy, Moin had been the obvious and unfortunate target of an unsavoury bunch of seniors who made it their business to bully and browbeat timid newcomers. Moin’s shaven upper lip and the wispy beginnings of a beard that was struggling to sprout on his cheeks and chin announced his religion to all who cared to notice. His name removed any remaining doubt.
Ragging in itself was not something that Nilay took exception to on principle. It happened every year, despite instructions from the college authorities to the contrary and threats of expulsion if the rules were flouted. It was something the students accepted as a part of college life and many freshers saw it as a way of breaking the ice with seniors. As long as the ragging was kept within reasonable limits, they could live with it.
Nilay had seen Moin late at night in one of the less frequented corners of the campus, where a shack not only sold snacks, but certain banned substances as well. The bunch of seniors ragging Moin were obviously drunk or stoned, if not both. What they were trying to do to the fresher got Nilay’s goat. After roughing him up, two seniors had pinned his arms behind his back, while a third was trying to force pork and alcohol into Moin’s tightly shut mouth.
For the first and last time as the secretary of the students’ union, Nilay had pulled rank. He had rushed forward with a yell and struck the morsel of pork out of the senior boy’s hand. The inevitable had happened; the three drunks had turned on Nilay.
‘Run!’ he had yelled towards Moin, as soon as the latter’s tormentors had released their hold on their victim’s arms. ‘Go to the night canteen, get as many seniors together as you can and send them here. Say that I’m calling them. Quick!’
As Moin sprinted away, Nilay had darted about randomly, shouting at the top of his voice. Evading one drunken thug was not a problem, but evading three was a different matter. Fortunately for him, his shouts had brought students out of the shack, students who recognized him by virtue of his position as the secretary of the students’ union.
When Moin returned with half a dozen students, Nilay had taken him aside.
‘Did they manage to force pork into your mouth?’ he had asked the younger boy, examining the grease and bruises on Moin’s upper lip.
‘No, sir,’ Moin had replied. ‘They couldn’t. I had shut my mouth tight.’
‘Alcohol?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then there’s no harm done,’ Nilay had said, relieved. ‘I suggest that you not lodge a complaint. Complaining will make this a big deal and that may just make your life more difficult on campus.’
Moin had gaped at him, aghast, but his natural timidity had prevented him from arguing. Nilay had put an arm around his shoulder and taken him for a stroll, during which he had explained his rationale. Five minutes later, they were back at the shack, where Nilay had made the three aggressors apologize to Moin. Facing the threat of expulsion if Moin lodged a complaint, they had settled for the deal Nilay had brokered.
That incident, which had occurred during Moin’s very first week away from home, would leave a deep impression on him. He would begin looking up to Nilay and treating him as he would an elder brother. That his own brothers at home always took advantage of their seniority and larger physiques had made it easier for Moin to respect someone who didn’t pull rank at every opportunity. That Nilay treated him as a friend and an equal had earned him Moin’s unwavering loyalty. In the eight years that had passed since, their friendship had grown by leaps and bounds.
During those years, Nilay had grown increasingly ambitious with each success, focussing on his career to the exclusion of almost everything else. There were only two exceptions to that rule: Vibha and Moin – wife and friend. Everyone at MyMagicHat was first a colleague, then an acquaintance. School and college friends had fallen by the wayside.
So wrapped up had Nilay been in his career that it hadn’t occurred to him to make new friends. That realization had hit home as he had stood staring at Moin’s lifeless body. How much he had lost! This one loss now made him feel empty and bereft.
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A sob rose from deep within him and he shuddered. Just then, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
‘Didn’t sleep all night?’ Vibha asked, her voice tender.
Not trusting himself to speak, Nilay shook his head.
Vibha wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him close.
‘He was the closest friend you had, wasn’t he?’
Was? Was? Another surge of grief rose within him.
‘More like the only friend,’ Nilay said, his voice breaking. He turned to her with red-rimmed eyes that had a haunted look in them. His face was lined with remorse.
‘Why the guilt?’ she asked. Quick as ever, she had immediately sensed his deepest feelings.
He broke off as Vibha threw her other arm around him and hugged him. At length, he gently disengaged himself from her embrace and turned his gaze to her.
‘There’s something I haven’t told you yet, Vibha,’ he said softly.
‘What is it?’ Concern flared at once on her face.
‘There’s something fishy about the way Moin was killed. It was not merely an accident or the result of flared tempers.’
‘What do you mean? He died during the attack on the mosque, didn’t he?’
‘The attack was just a cover arranged for Moin’s killer. The man who killed him was not a part of the gang that attacked the mosque. He came separately, killed Moin and fled. He was there for less than a minute.’
‘What!’ Vibha’s face had paled. ‘What are you saying, Nilay? Then it was…’ She left the sentence unfinished, her lips trembling.
‘…murder,’ Nilay finished for her. ‘What we need to do now is find out who killed him and why.’
‘First Puneet…now Moin,’ Vibha whispered. ‘What’s happening, Nilay?’
She came close and held his hands. Nilay felt her trembling, but was in no state to comfort her. From all that he had seen and heard at the mosque last night, the inescapable conclusion was that Moin had been murdered in cold blood. Dhruvi and Alex’s questions had suggested that they too felt the same, even though the lady Inspector hadn’t answered any of his questions. Nilay, however, had not shared his suspicions about the motive with her.
