by RV Raman
‘Somebody is trying to sabotage MyMagicHat,’ he whispered to Vibha, as if afraid that the walls had ears. ‘It’s not just a matter of doing away with Puneet and Moin. It’s also the engineered cash crunch, the bugs and the espionage. Meticulous, planned sabotage.’
‘Who could it be?’
‘I wish I knew.’ Nilay shook his head dejectedly. ‘Whoever it is, they know that we’re running out of cash and time. All they have to do is delay the Kantoff deal by a few weeks and we’ll be dead in the water.’
‘Nothing better than murder to sabotage the deal – is that what you’re implying, Nilay?’
‘Yes.’ He took her hands and pressed them against his cheeks. ‘Someone…somewhere…is trying to kill MyMagicHat.’
■
Early in the morning, Dhruvi walked into the small nursing home near the mosque and found Najeeb sitting up in bed. His face was drawn, his eyes bloodshot. At the mention of Moin’s name, fresh tears welled up in his eyes.
‘Moin was such a good human being, Inspector,’ he mumbled, wiping his eyes. ‘I can’t believe that someone could actually want to kill him. Every month, he would donate a part of his salary to the NGO we ran at the mosque. He hardly had any savings. He always said MyMagicHat’s stock options would be enough and, if they weren’t, God would provide for him. He didn’t have an enemy in the world.’
‘Why do you think the man attacked him?’ Dhruvi asked gently.
Najeeb shook his head helplessly.
‘I just can’t make sense of it, Inspector. I’ve been racking my brains to find a reason.’
‘The men who attacked the mosque were from the neighbouring colony,’ she told him. ‘You’ve had trouble with them before.’
‘Yes, but they are small-time goondas, all bluster and threats. We were stunned that they actually went so far as to smash our computers. Basically, they are cowards, Inspector – they wouldn’t dare knife someone, especially Moin.
‘Besides, I saw the man who killed Moin and slashed me with his knife when I tried stopping him. He was not from their gang. I’m sure of that. Richard and his goondas fled as soon as they saw the intruder stabbing Moin and attacking me. They were as shocked by the incident as we were.’
‘Can you describe the man?’
‘Oh yes! His face is burned into my memory. He was dressed the way Muslim men usually are when they go to a mosque to pray – kurta and pyjamas and a white crochet prayer cap. His beard was similar to Moin’s, but thicker – he had a trimmed beard covering his cheeks and jaw and a clean-shaven upper lip. I couldn’t see the hair on his head because of the prayer cap. Black eyes and thick eyebrows.’
‘I would like you to work with a police artist to create a sketch of the man, Najeeb. Can you do that?’
‘Of course! Anything to catch Moin’s killer.’
‘Now, Najeeb,’ Dhruvi laid her hand on his and spoke softly, ‘do you think that this man came to the mosque for the specific purpose of killing Moin?’
‘Yes.’ There was no hesitation. ‘He came in, knifed Moin and ran away. He slashed me because I tried to prevent him from fleeing. He was there for no more than a minute and had absolutely no interest in anything else.’
‘Okay. Now I want you to consider possible motives. Can you think of anyone who wanted Moin dead?’
An expression of frustration appeared on Najeeb’s face again and he shook his head in exasperation.
‘I really can’t! The only people who may have been angry with Moin were the data thief and his agent. But they were released, weren’t they, Inspector? Moin said that MyMagicHat had decided to drop the matter. Then why would they kill Moin? That would only get them into deep, deep trouble.’
‘Do you know that Harry threatened Moin?’
‘Yes, Moin told me about it. But murder, Inspector? Unlikely. They, too, are small-time crooks. I could have understood if one of them pulled a knife in the heat of the moment while involved in a fight. But this seemed to be a premeditated affair. The killer waited for the attack on the mosque to get under way and used it as a cover to kill Moin.’
‘Okay, Najeeb. Who else might have had a motive?’
After five minutes of hard thinking, Najeeb couldn’t come up with any names.
Dhruvi changed tack.
‘What had Moin talked about in the last day or two before he died?’
‘Oh, mostly about the computer literacy classes we were going to launch. There was so much work to do!’
‘Apart from that?’
‘We talked about the data theft, about how Harry had called my marketing guy, who then passed on the information to me. He talked about how all of you had trapped Harry and Manoj.’
‘Anything else?’
Najeeb frowned, trying to recall his last few conversations with his friend. He had just begun shaking his head for the umpteenth time, when a thought struck him.
‘Oh, he also talked about the data that had been retrieved from Manoj. He said there was something fishy about it, something he couldn’t understand.’
‘What exactly did he say? Think carefully, Najeeb. This may be important.’
‘I don’t remember his exact words, but it was something like this: “I’ve figured out where the data on the tape came from and why it’s only a part of the September transactions. But there is something funny about the transactions – they were extracted from MyMagicHat’s systems.” I may have got the words wrong, but that is essentially what he said. He seemed troubled by it.’
‘I see…someone extracted data, eh? Does it mean that a hacker broke into MyMagicHat’s systems?’
‘Could be; Moin didn’t elaborate. He said something else too – something about how they had made an incorrect assumption about the tape cartridge.’
■
Leaving the nursing home, Dhruvi headed for her office where she found that Alex had put the night to good use. Harry and Manoj had been rounded up a mere 24 hours after their release. Manoj’s bluster was no longer in evidence and Harry was positively terrified. Murder, they had realized, was a very different proposition from peddling stolen data.
Alex had separated the two men after their arrest so that they couldn’t communicate with each other. What’s more, he had promised to send them to the ‘right’ jail, one with a reputation for never failing to ‘extract’ confessions. Earlier, one of the policemen had fed them chilling stories of that jail and the jailors there.
By the time Dhruvi saw Harry, he had gone to pieces. He offered no resistance to her interrogation and confessed to everything about the data theft that he had earlier denied. But of Moin’s death, he claimed to know absolutely nothing.
‘You expect me to believe you?’ Dhruvi asked incredulously, staring at him through the bars of his cell. ‘You had denied everything about the data theft too. Now faced with a murder charge, you change your tune and confess…to a lesser crime, thinking that by doing so, you’ll get away lightly.’
‘Madam, madam! Please!’ Harry wailed. ‘Please believe me. I know I did wrong. I did something illegal. It was a mistake, madam. A huge mistake!’ He wiped the tears that were streaming down his face and continued brokenly, ‘I…I lost my job last year and couldn’t find another one for several months. I couldn’t pay my rent and my bike’s EMI. I got into the clutches of a moneylender. The only person who offered me a job was Manoj and I took it. By the time I realized I was doing something wrong, it was too late. I was already deep in it.’
‘You are the only person with a motive to kill Moin,’ she said indifferently, apparently unmoved by Harry’s pleas and tears. ‘And your motive was strong. I heard it myself.’
‘Yes, I did threaten Moin, but that was out of momentary anger. I would never have killed him. Please, please, believe me.’ Harry sniffed loudly. ‘I was angry at him because…because thanks to him, I would be back on the street again, without a job. Because of what he had done to me.’
‘Exactly!’ Dhruvi smiled grimly. ‘Because of what he h
ad done to you. Just one day after you’re released, Moin is murdered.’
Harry broke down again and swore repeatedly and tearfully that he knew nothing about Moin’s death. He was innocent, he pleaded over and over again. He was not a murderer.
He had already accounted for every minute of his time from the moment he had been released on Wednesday till when Alex had picked him up the previous night. For the period they had been together, Harry’s claims had matched Manoj’s independent version. Alex’s men were already verifying the two men’s movements and initial impressions were that they were speaking the truth. It appeared that they had really had nothing to do with Moin’s death.
But Dhruvi kept that information to herself during the interrogation. She let out a long, dramatic sigh, shook her head and took a step back.
‘Only God can help you,’ she said to a shattered Harry. ‘I had hoped that if you were reasonable, I would intervene and send you to a less…er, uncomfortable jail. But as long as you continue lying, there is nothing I can do. Well, you seem to have made your choice. Go to the jail they have picked for you; I don’t know how long you will last there.’
Dhruvi turned and began walking away from the cell. Hardly had she taken a step when a piteous wail rose from Harry, followed by a thud. Dhruvi spun around.
Harry had prostrated himself on the floor of his cell, with his arms stretched out through the bars and his palms joined together as if he were supplicating a god. His joined palms were pointed in her direction and his body shuddered with heart-wrenching sobs.
Seeing a grown man weep, that too in such an abject manner, was a little too much for Dhruvi, who was far from being a hardened police officer. She felt an instinctive flicker of pity flare within her.
‘Don’t…don’t…don’t send me there, madam.’ Harry’s broken voice, muffled as he lay with his face buried in his arms, reached her. ‘You are younger than I am, I think. But I implore you – have pity on me.’
Dhruvi returned to her previous position outside the bars of the cell and stood there, looking down at Harry in silence. Alex stood a pace behind her, watching. In a while, Harry’s sobs abated and he raised his tear-stained face to look at her.
‘I’m speaking the truth, madam,’ he moaned in Kannada, ‘I swear I am! Let God strike me down if I’m lying! Just to prove my sincerity, I’ll tell you something I hadn’t disclosed so far.’
Harry slowly raised himself from the floor, until he was kneeling. He paused for a long moment, as if gathering strength, and rose unsteadily to his feet, taking the support of the iron bars that incarcerated him to heave himself up to an upright position.
‘There was another buyer for the data from the tape,’ he revealed in a soft voice. ‘I am volunteering this information…as a token of good faith. That buyer bought the entire data.’
‘Who is this buyer?’ Dhruvi asked.
‘Tau Squared Analytics. It’s a market intelligence firm that specializes in Indian e-commerce.’
‘What do they do with the data?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that it is a shady company with dubious credentials.’
‘I see… Is this the first time you sold data to them?’
Harry shook his head.
‘Tau Squared is a regular customer, madam. Manoj gets stolen data from three or four sources. Tau Squared is always interested in data, irrespective of its source. And they pay a good price.’
Chapter 17
Nigel Tammer had just authorized the transfer of $140 million to FVG Tech, when the call from Vikram Deswani came through. The share transfer agreement between FVG Tech and Kantoff Capital had been signed on Wednesday and payment had just been made. Kantoff was now the owner of 26 million MyMagicHat shares, held through a complex structure that enabled MyMagicHat’s shares to be bought and sold in Singapore, without attracting Indian taxes.
Nigel was justifiably pleased that morning, for he had bought FVG Tech’s stake at the dollar equivalent of ₹355 per share, while the valuation agreed to by the consortium for Project Iskan was ₹386 per share – a good 8 per cent higher.
‘Good afternoon, Vikram,’ Nigel said. ‘How are you?’
‘Pretty good,’ Vikram replied. ‘And you?’
‘Couldn’t be better. We just clinched the FVG Tech deal at ₹355 per share.’
‘₹355! How did you manage that?’
‘Well, Han is an old friend. I guess we know how to do business with each other.’
‘Congratulations, Nigel. That’s brilliant. That gives us what…7 per cent returns straight away?’
‘8 per cent.’
‘Even better! What remains is for us to finalize the rest of the deal.’
‘We will, Vikram. Any word of Puneet?’
‘Nothing after they found his laptop and phone.’
‘It’s been a week since he disappeared, Vikram. Any hopes left?’
‘We must be realistic, Nigel.’
‘They haven’t found a body, have they?’
‘No. There are any number of places a body could be hidden. But there is some good news. We’ve managed to retrieve the latest DD report from the laptop hard drive.’
‘Latest version?’
‘The file time stamp says 10.02 p.m. on last Thursday.’
‘That’s the day he disappeared! A little before he left the MyMagicHat office that night.’
‘Exactly. We have the latest DD report, even if it isn’t physically signed off by Puneet. It seems more or less complete to me and Puneet has expressed no concerns about the deal or about MyMagicHat. The DD is all clear. We should now go ahead with the deal.’
‘Send me the report, Vikram. I’ll call you once I’ve been through it.’
‘Sure. Please remember that our exclusivity ends next week. My information is that there are at least three PE firms waiting to commence discussions with MyMagicHat, if we don’t proceed.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘We shouldn’t miss this opportunity, Nigel,’ Vikram persisted. ‘This is exactly the investment we’ve been waiting for. We’ve already delayed it enough. It would be a disaster if it slips through our fingers now. We must act on Monday.’
‘Don’t worry, we have exclusivity till Thursday. Anything else?’
‘One minor matter. Just for your information. One of MyMagicHat’s employees died last night. There was some sort of communal conflict and a man died in the violence that ensued.’
‘Who is this employee?’
‘Their IT guy. Not a key employee, I believe. Moin Aziz is his name.’
‘Anything for us to be concerned about?’
‘I wouldn’t think so.’
A frown had gathered on Nigel’s brow as he hung up. Vikram had always been keen on the MyMagicHat deal. And, in all fairness, it was his persistence that had given Kantoff the virtual first right of refusal. But there was an element of haste too; something that always raised a tiny red flag in Nigel’s mind. Why was Vikram so eager? Was it just the fact that MyMagicHat was the best candidate for Kantoff to venture into the Indian e-commerce sector? Or was there something else?
An old hand in the finance industry, Nigel was well aware that greed was as much in abundance in his profession as morals were in short supply. Handling other people’s money brought its own temptations. When you handled billions, a couple of million here or there didn’t seem to matter very much. It was not unheard of for individuals in venture funds and private equity firms to benefit personally from deals. Even at the cost of the firm. Partners weren’t immune to this temptation.
His phone beeped, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at it and saw that Vikram had sent Puneet’s DD report. Nigel strode into his room and opened the report on his laptop.
Half an hour later, he sat back and contemplated what he had just read. Vikram was right; there was nothing negative in the report. If anything, it confirmed that MyMagicHat’s financials and other parameters were in line with what the company had
claimed.
However, the report ended abruptly and without the customary section on potential concerns. Either Puneet hadn’t had any concerns or had not yet articulated them. Nigel had no way of knowing what the truth was.
There was no point in asking Vikram about it; Nigel already knew what his response would be. As he thought about Vikram, his mind went to the last update he had shared – the news about the death of MyMagicHat’s IT guy.
As he dwelled upon it, he began to feel uneasy. First Puneet and now this IT guy. Was it just a coincidence? Vikram had said that the person who died was not a key employee. How true was that? From what he knew, technology was critical in e-tailing and, potentially, a differentiator. Amazon and Flipkart prided themselves on their IT.
On an impulse, he picked up his phone and called Gautam.
‘Good morning, Gautam,’ he began. ‘I just heard the sad news that one of your guys had died under tragic circumstances. I’m really sorry to hear that. Thought I should call you and offer my condolences.’
‘Thank you, Nigel. It’s been a huge shock to us. Moin was a very well-liked guy. Very friendly, very helpful. We’ll miss him.’
‘I can imagine. How has his family taken it?’
‘They’re devastated, Nigel. We’ll do everything we can, of course – financially and otherwise – but nothing can replace what they have lost.’
‘Indeed. I’m told it was an unfortunate communal incident. Is that right?’
‘Well…’
From long experience, Nigel instinctively picked up the slight hesitation.
‘A gang from the neighbouring community attacked the mosque Moin was in. He was killed in the violence that followed.’
‘What an unfortunate way for a young man to die, isn’t it? Was he a key employee for you, Gautam?’
‘Well…yes.’ Again a hesitant pause. ‘Given the size of our team, everyone is key. But I’m confident of bringing in a replacement soon. The one thing India doesn’t lack is IT talent.’
