Special 26

by Gabriel Khan

  Ajay looked up quickly, searched his face for a moment, then nodded. ‘Sure. Take your time, Sharmaji. Be careful,’ he said, and went out, to Joginder’s room.

  From the phone there, he made a call to Priya.

  It had been a while since they met. The last time had ended in a fight. He had explained to her that there was one last job he had to do, one last game. And after that, he would give it all up. But she hadn’t been happy about it.

  Priya answered the phone almost immediately. ‘Ajay?’

  ‘Hello, darling. I told you I’d call.’

  ‘I know, I was just afraid you wouldn’t.’

  ‘You can forget it now.’

  ‘Did you see the wedding card? Priya weds Badrinath – I wish it was your name.’

  ‘I know, darling, I know, have faith.’

  ‘I will.’ She paused, and said, ‘Ajay, is this really the last time?’

  ‘I promised you, Priya. I keep my word. This is the last time.’

  ‘Badrinath is an adamant guy. I don’t like him much.’

  Ajay chuckled. ‘Then it’s good you won’t marry him, isn’t it?’

  ‘You’ll come for me? Promise?’

  Ajay checked his watch. It was time. The packet should have reached her by now. ‘Check your verandah,’ he told her.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Go to your verandah, darling.’

  He imagined her putting down the phone and walking out to the verandah, picking up the envelope, then tearing it open to find a flight ticket and a single red rose. She picked up an envelope, which she tore open to reveal a flight ticket and a single red rose.

  ‘I promise, my love,’ he said into the phone.

  Sharmaji left the room, then went straight down to the lobby and out the door of the hotel. It was pleasantly cool outside. He stood there for nearly a full minute, undisguised, looking around him, deciding which way he would go. Then he abruptly turned and began walking to his left.

  It was only when he arrived at the end of the alley that he saw the three men who suddenly accosted him. One of them hit him lightly on the head, from behind, and another shoved a black mask over his head, its eyes and mouth sewn closed. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a gun tucked into the belt of the man in front of him.

  Sharmaji had once been a cop. He knew a police revolver when he saw one and he registered this just before he went blank.

  The three men bundled his massive frame into a van, slammed the door shut, and drove away. The whole thing was over in twenty seconds.

  Twenty minutes later, Sharmaji opened his eyes. The pain in his head had dulled to a throb. They’d taken off his mask, and his eyes prepared to adjust to the anticipated bright light. But no, it wasn’t the room which was brightly lit. In fact, the room was in total darkness. There were two men standing on either side of him, holding flashlights which shone directly into his face. In the glare of that light, he could see nothing beyond. he had no idea where he was.

  Suddenly, the darkness in the centre became more solid, and formed into a man. He came forward, put down the chair he was holding in front of Sharmaji, its back facing him, and sat down directly between the lights. His features weren’t clear, hidden in semi-darkness, like those of the men who held the powerful flashlights. All he could see about the man in the middle was that he was in his mid-forties, well-built, with close-cropped hair and an almost stereotypical moustache. There was a small scar on his forehead. For a moment, Sharmaji wondered how the man could have managed a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt, then realized it was just a wound that had been stitched up badly.

  But the man’s eyes were his most fearsome feature. They shone through the darkness, and held Sharmaji petrified in their calm gaze. They were bright and determined, and were full of an energy that seemed to be barely tamed. Right now, they were focused on him.

  Then the man spoke. ‘Hello, Mr P.K. Sharma. How have you been? My name is Waseem Khan.’

  16

  The Game Is On

  A name. Call me old-fashioned, but I needed a name to put to that babyfaced bastard.

  On Tuesday afternoon in Worli, I sat with my able trio of Solanki, Rahul and Ranveer around me and we soon came to the unanimous decision that Sharma’s phone needed to be tapped. My informer had told us that Sharma was still in Chandigarh, but if the ad had indeed been put out by his gang, he would have to come to Bombay before Thursday. Which left Wednesday.

  Which meant that with a whole day remaining, there was a chance that some of the gang might contact him before he left. And if they did, it would be perfect, because I had just spoken to Singh and got him to bug Sharma’s phone.

  Singh was not even sure how wire tapping was set up. He kept asking if it happened the way we had watched it in that movie Inkar, where Vinod Khanna played a cop and tapped a phone to trace the kidnapper, Amjad Khan. I assured him that we had made lot of technological advances in the last decade.

  I could see the scenario playing out as it always had, though: the cop going to Sharma’s place, pretending to fix the telephone line because of a complaint he’d received. It was routine stuff, and shouldn’t excite suspicion at all. And presumably it hadn’t, because a call came through in less than two minutes. Bombay and Chandigarh were both listening in on the conversation.

  ‘Hello? Singh here. Can you hear me?’ He was doing a pretty convincing job.

  The police operator to whom the call was made sniggered. ‘Yes, I can hear you.’

  ‘Listen to this, sir,’ Singh said. There was a scrabbling sound, and a deeper voice said, ‘This is P.K. Sharma. What’s wrong with my phone?’

  The operator was clearly expecting this. ‘Nothing, sir. Singh has fixed it. Don’t worry, the sound is clear now,’ he rattled off in a mechanized drone that spoke of utter boredom.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Sharma, and then Singh was back on the line again. ‘Everything all right there?’

  ‘You bloody idiot!’ hissed the operator. ‘Hang up and get the fuck out of there!’

  ‘Will do, sir,’ Singh said and hung up.

  All of us listening in heaved a collective sigh of relief. ‘Your man certainly has a weird sense of humour,’ I said wryly to Singh, who was still listening in from Chandigarh.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said apologetically. ‘Fellow never learns. He’s the best we have, so he does what he wants.’

  ‘Anyway, he’s done it. Fingers crossed now,’ I said, and hung up.

  We hit pay dirt within three hours. The boredom was just settling in when Sharma’s phone – and simultaneously, at least another twenty phones in Bombay and Chandigarh – rang. Instantly, there was a mad scramble to find headphones to listen in on, and I pictured the same happening elsewhere too. Well, at least we were closer to where the action would be. Probably.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was a flat voice, completely undistinguishable from a million others.

  Sharma’s deep voice answered. ‘Yeah, Ajay, what news?’

  Beside me, Rahul started scribbling frantically.

  ‘Did you get the ticket?’ the first voice said. It was impossible to place his accent, and I was sure the others were also finding it as hard to put a face to that voice. Could it be the same man in the photographs? Mr X?

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got the ticket. Spoken to Joginder or Iqbal yet?’

  ‘Yes,’ the voice said, and with that, I made up my mind. This had to be the leader. There was too much authority in that voice. No wonder Sharma followed him.

  ‘The two of them will meet you at Delhi airport,’ the voice continued.

  ‘What’s the matter, Ajay? You sound tense.’ Sharma’s voice had an unexpectedly kind ring to it.

  The other man sighed. ‘Nothing, Sharmaji. Just a little tired, I guess.’

  ‘Hey, Ajay, you listen to me. You of all people can’t get tired. Let’s finish this last one, and then you can be as tired as you want!’

  The voice on the line chuckled. ‘Don’t w
orry. I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow evening.’

  ‘All right. You take care, okay? Good night,’ Sharma said, his voice full of concern.

  There was a slight pause. ‘I will, Sharmaji, thanks. Good night.’ Then he hung up.

  Well, well, well. So this was the famous Mr X. Finally, I have a name for you. Ajay. Mr X is Ajay.

  As the room burst into activity, Rahul directing most of the officers, I thought about the other thing that had interested me during the conversation. Sharma was clearly quite concerned about Ajay. That meant more than just a professional relationship; Sharma actually cared about this Ajay character. We could definitely use that to our advantage.

  Ranveer looked at me, but his face held dismay. He’d noticed the caring tones of Sharma too. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘this fellow will be hard to crack. He won’t give up the gang.’

  I patted Ranveer on his shoulder. The kid had a lot to learn. ‘You’re wrong. He cares for Ajay, that means he’s emotional, which again means he is a softer man than he shows. We can use that. If he doesn’t give up the gang because he cares for Ajay, he’ll definitely give it up for his family.’

  I paused to let the words sink in. Finally, before Ranveer could react, I said, ‘But it won’t come to that. He’ll break sooner.’

  Rahul came up and shoved the notepad in my face. The words ‘Ajay’, ‘Joginder’, ‘Iqbal’, ‘tomorrow evening’, ‘last’ and ‘airport?’ were written on it and circled in red. ‘The call was from a hotel in Andheri, sir,’ he said, and turned to another fellow who sat waiting, headphones on and an expression of self-importance on his face.

  ‘Where was the call made from?’

  The man consulted a read-out in front of him. ‘The number is 435276. Holiday Inn.’

  At last! We had him. ‘Which room?’ I shouted.

  ‘One moment, sir, I’m just checking…’ He turned a few pages and then exclaimed triumphantly, ‘Room 1453!’

  Good. Time for action. I motioned to Rahul and Ranveer. ‘Rahul, get a shadow on Sharma. I want his every movement traced, from his house to the airport to Bombay. He doesn’t get to take a leak without us knowing. Ranveer, get Solanki to send out a couple of shadows on Ajay too. Then get me all details you can on him. Nobody makes a move without my orders. I want these fellows caught only when they’ve got their dirty hands in the jar.’

  They scattered. We were ready, a step ahead of the gang, and we just had to stay that way.

  I knew exactly how the game would play out the next day. There would be at least three people in Chandigarh, shadowing Sharma and the two others. They would keep switching, so that the targets would never see the same man behind them. One man would follow Sharma from his house, on the interstate bus to Delhi, till the airport, where there would be another shadow waiting. He would then tail Sharma till he met the others and joined the queue for the flight. Finally, another one would follow them into the plane, and then to Bombay.

  Here in Bombay, things were falling into place. Within fifteen minutes of finding out where Ajay was holed up, a couple of shadows had landed up there. One of them had gone into the hotel, made surreptitious enquiries as only the police can, and called the control room from a local STD booth. I picked up.

  ‘Sir, he’s checked in as S.K. Vardhan. Been at the hotel for a couple of days. Gave a Trivandrum address in the register, it’s fake, I checked.’

  ‘Good, keep me posted.’

  I turned to Solanki. ‘I want to get as close to that hotel as possible. Can you arrange it?’

  He thought for all of five seconds before he nodded.

  In no time at all, the makeshift PCR was unmade and shifted to a building a stone’s throw away from the hotel. We commandeered a room that gave us a direct view of the hotel’s front gate. Now, there was nothing else to be done but wait and see what the foursome would attempt.

  What the hell had that ad been all about? That was something I couldn’t figure out. Why would they need fifty men, exactly how big was this job they were planning? And why the fuck would you advertise in a newspaper? That would be shooting yourself in the foot, if the cops were on to you. I lay awake the entire night with these questions rattling around in my head.

  The shadows tailing Ajay called early next morning. Too early. Every single one of us in the new makeshift PCR had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, and the phone jerked more than one of us out of our slumber.

  I checked the watch. Seven o’clock. I picked up the phone and barked a hello into it.

  ‘He went to the Jari Mari area, sir—’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The place is notorious for forgeries. They make all kinds of forged documents from graduation certificates to American passports.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Yes, sir. It was very crowded, and I don’t know if he knew he was being followed, but we lost him for around fifteen minutes before we picked him up again. He didn’t seem to be carrying anything, but I’ll bet my life he got something done there.’

  I could easily take a guess what he’d got there. Badges or CBI shields for his gang, no doubt.

  ‘Where is he now?’ I asked, stifling a yawn.

  ‘Back at the hotel.’

  ‘Okay. Keep me posted.’

  I hung up and dialled Chandigarh. I knew Singh would be asleep, and it gave me a sneaky sense of pleasure to wake him up.

  As it turned out, he was already up. ‘Sharma is on the move. Our men are on to him.’

  The game was on.

  The shadow at Holiday Inn called at four. ‘He’s on the move, sir. Looks like he’s heading for the airport.’

  I looked at Solanki, who was also listening in. He nodded. ‘We’ve got men there.’

  Nearly two hours later, we saw a hotel car pull up outside, and four men got out. I’d seen two of them before, but this was the first time I was looking at all of them together. They were all there, all four of them. It would be so easy to go over there now. End this all right here, right now! But no, it couldn’t be done. They would have to be caught in the act.

  We watched as the bellboys and porters fell over themselves, following the four men into the hotel. Ajay had them all eating out of his hand, I had to give him that.

  Within ten minutes, one of the shadows who’d just come off a shift walked into the PCR. ‘They checked into different rooms. Getting royal treatment, the fuckers.’

  ‘All right, all right. Cool it.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. Anyway, they dumped their luggage in their rooms and have regrouped in Ajay’s room.’

  Solanki gestured at me. ‘It’s okay, we’ve got it bugged.’

  Moments later, I was glued to the headphones again.

  Ajay was talking. ‘…ordered this just a minute ago.’ There was a clink of glasses. ‘So, what do you guys think of the ad?’

  ‘I can’t believe you actually did that, man!’ someone said. We all looked at the shadow. Iqbal, he mouthed.

  ‘This is huge! This is going to be huge!’ said another voice, which had to be Joginder’s.

  Ajay laughed. ‘It’s the last play after all, guys. It’s got to be huge.’

  Sharma said in his deep voice, ‘But fifty men? Why would we need so many?’

  ‘It’s a big job, Sharmaji,’ said Ajay. ‘Besides, I don’t yet know exactly how many we’ll need. Maybe we won’t need all fifty of them.’

  ‘And where’s our target?’

  Twenty-six pairs of ears perked up. But their owners were soon disappointed. Ajay didn’t say anything, but a few seconds later the room erupted in whoops and cheers. There was the sound of a chair overturning, a glass breaking, and then loud laughter.

  Iqbal’s voice came through. ‘Come on, I want to show you guys something. It’s in my room.’

  I looked quickly at Solanki, who stared back at me in horror. Clearly, they hadn’t bugged that room.

  There was the sound of a door closing.

  I took off my headphones and looked around t
he room. ‘Did anyone hear anything? Anything at all? Where’s their target?’

  Everyone was silent. Damn!

  ‘He must have showed them a photo or something,’ said Ranveer.

  I saw Rahul shoot him a dirty look. ‘No kidding,’ he said.

  Ranveer turned to me. ‘Sir, why don’t we bring Sharma in? Let me have a few rounds with him. I promise he’ll sing for you.’

  I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not an option now. Listen,’ I said, seeing the look on his face. ‘I know you’re itching to have a go at him for screwing you like he did. And you’ll get your turn, don’t worry. But not now. We’ve got to pull our punches, wait for the knockout blow.’

  Ranveer kept quiet, sulking. But I had more important things to worry about. This was bad. They were going to hold that damn interview tomorrow, and we had no idea what they were planning. Or how, or where. We needed to know. And to do that, I could see only one way.

  I turned to Solanki. ‘I want ten or twelve of your best men. They’re going to answer that ad. Maybe Ajay will pick at least one of them. Whatever it is, I want eyes and ears inside there.’

  Solanki nodded and left the room.

  Well, at least this way we might get lucky. These fellows were being careful, really careful. So we had to be less so, play it a little risky. That was the only way to get results.

  We kept up our vigil, but the gang didn’t leave the hotel that entire evening. Neither did they return to Ajay’s room. Presumably they were in Iqbal’s, so we were blind and deaf for the night.

  17

  The Countdown Begins:

  Thursday

  All the twelve men Solanki had brought with him were assembled in front of me. It was 9.45 a.m., and their interview was about to begin. I looked them over, and they did seem to be the best men Solanki had.

  ‘Keep your eyes and ears open,’ I told them. ‘Observe everything. Read the man who interviews you. Read his weaknesses and play to them. You’ve got brains, use them. I don’t care what you have to do. Get yourselves into their plan without raising any suspicions. Got it?’

  They nodded.

  ‘Good. Now get in there.’