Dead in a Mumbai Minute

by Madhumita Bhattacharyya

  ‘Don’t you think it is a better idea to anchor for the night?’ I suggested.

  ‘Did I ask you?’

  ‘There is no need to be rude. You clearly don’t know what you are doing here.’

  ‘I’ve made a call. Help should be on its way.’

  ‘You’ve lost contact with them, haven’t you?’

  Rishi didn’t answer, but when he cut the engine and looked around listlessly, it told me what I needed to know.

  ‘Your bosses weren’t happy with the way you did things, were they? When it became clear that the charges against Shayak wouldn’t stick, you suggested your latest, messy fix by way of this abduction drama. And then you were saddled with a bum boat with bum GPS and bum instructions. To get rid of both of us in one go.’

  ‘Shut up!’ he screamed.

  It was just a theory, but his anger told me I had hit close to home. ‘Rishi, you can either let me help or you can screw this up all on your own.’

  ‘Do you know how to sail this thing?’ he asked, surly yet rapidly approaching desperate.

  ‘I know a little about navigation.’

  ‘At sea?’

  ‘Not specifically, but the principles are the same.’

  ‘We don’t have reliable maps.’

  ‘You have a satellite phone. We can find our own maps.’

  ‘That might not help. Something seems wrong with the wheel,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem to be responding.’

  ‘Why don’t you have a look below?’

  ‘I guess I’ll have to.’ He gave me a long glare before disappearing into the cabin.

  I couldn’t hear anything but when he came up ten minutes later, Rishi was even paler than before. For a good minute or two, he sat and stared out before coming to some sort of decision. ‘You have two choices: either we both make it out of this alive, or only I do,’ he said.

  ‘Didn’t I volunteer to help just a few minutes ago?’

  ‘We need to get to shore. Something is wrong with the wheel, but the rudder thingie below deck seems to be responding. You’ll have to navigate while I manually steer.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He got ready to go below.

  ‘If you want me to help navigate, I will need my hands,’ I said.

  ‘No you won’t. This is where we need to go,’ he said, pointing to a location on the map on the southern coast of Goa, close to Palolem.

  ‘I’ll untie your legs so you can come up here and use the onboard compass, since the GPS seems to be malfunctioning. Try anything funny and I’ll know.’

  I waited till he was gone a few minutes before setting to work. I kept shouting directions to Rishi as, with my back to the laptop, I used what minimal functionality I had in my fingers to unplug the satellite phone and dial Shayak’s number. In his panic, Rishi must have forgotten it was there, for I didn’t think he’d knowingly leave it within reach.

  It was slow going as after pressing each digit I had to turn around to make sure I had got the right one. But I finally made it, and hit ‘dial’ before squatting to the ground so I could press my face up against the device.

  Then I heard footsteps – Rishi was on his way back up. I quickly stood up. But he was back on deck before I could get into position.

  ‘What do you think you are doing?’

  ‘I was having some trouble and I was going down to call you.’

  He took a step forward suspiciously before he noticed the phone. He lunged towards me.

  In that moment, the world slowed down. I looked for his gun. It was not pointed at me, and that was all that mattered. This was the only chance I would get.

  I took a step back and scissor-kicked with all my might, hitting him square in the head as he reached out towards the phone. Both of us went down hard. As I slammed against the deck I heard, rather than felt, a bone give way. The pain was intense but I couldn’t, in that moment, identify its source. It was with a far greater sense of horror that I watched the phone skid towards the railing. Even before I heard the ominous plop into the darkening waters, I knew there was nothing I could do. My hands were, quite literally, tied.

  I looked over at Rishi at my feet. For one moment, I thought I had killed him. But as I calmed down, I saw he was still breathing. I didn’t know how long I had before he came to. I gritted my teeth through the pain, struggled to my feet and saw the knife sticking out of his back pocket. I turned around and picked it up with my bound hands, every movement excrutiating. I didn’t think I would be able to cut through my restraints without aggravating the injury, but I had no choice. I realized the pain was originating in my right arm, somewhere up near the shoulder. I carried the knife over to the front and positioned it on the driver seat, pointing towards the rear of the vessel. I sat on the handle to anchor it, manoeuvring my hands into a position to cut through the ties. It was slow going and a few nicks were unavoidable, but I finally felt that release of pressure that told me I had worked my way through at least one part of rope.

  I tugged frantically, ignoring the agony. I had, I hoped, enough adrenaline racing through my body to keep me standing, keep me fighting.

  Without a phone, there was little I could do. But at least I was alive.

  I grabbed the rope Rishi had removed earlier and first bound his legs. I had to hunt around for the rest of it to tie his hands and, when I got back, he was stirring. I dealt with his arms as quickly as I could. I stood up and he looked up at me, pained and angry.

  ‘You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you overboard,’ I said.

  ‘How will you get out of here without a phone?’

  It was time to think low-tech. The compass on the dash told me which way was East. I knew if I headed anywhere towards the mainland, I’d eventually catch sight of a fishing boat or some other vessel that could help us. But with the malfunctioning steering wheel, that would involve letting Rishi go below deck or leaving him here on his own, and I didn’t know if I could take that chance, given that the knots I had managed to make with my diminished capacity were hardly rock steady.

  I went below to see what I could do, and it became clear why Rishi had left me on deck. There were all manner of sharp corners with which to cut through restraints. I made some effort at navigation, but between my arm and lack of experience, I was soon frustrated. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing in an attempt to clear my head and battle the rising fear. And then I heard a noise.

  I ran back up on deck. In the distance, I could see a helicopter. Whether my people were in it or his, it was all over.

  EIGHTEEN

  As it drew nearer, I saw that it was a Titanium helicopter and Shayak was hanging out of it, gun trained at us.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ I screamed above the whirring of the blades, certain he couldn’t hear me. ‘I have him in restraints!’

  Whether he heard or saw what he needed to, he put the weapon away and threw a rope ladder down to me.

  I had climbed one of these before, and it required more upper body strength than I could muster at the moment. I pointed at my arm and hoped that he’d be able to see me, and guess the rest.

  It seemed he did, for he quickly began the descent, a harness dangling from his hip. Once on board, he first tightened Rishi’s restraints.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ he said, turning to me.

  ‘My arm – I think it is broken.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  I shook my head.

  He put the straps around my waist and tightened the buckles. He then lifted my good arm around his neck and put one of his around me in an iron grip. ‘Hold on,’ he said.

  Using his one free arm, Shayak got us both up that ladder. As soon as we made it to the top another man headed down, and I watched as he cut through my clumsy knots and escorted Rishi up to the chopper.

  ‘He’s had a nasty blow to the head. He passed out briefly too,’ I told Shayak.

  ‘All the better,’ he said, glaring at Rishi.
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br />   ‘He needs medical attention.’

  ‘As do you – and maybe a psychiatric evaluation as well.’

  Hours later I was still in a hospital bed, much against my wishes. ‘I don’t see why I have to stay here,’ I said.

  ‘You have a broken arm and a minor concussion. Either you stay here or insurance won’t cover it,’ said Shayak.

  Which was bollocks invented to get me to shut up. ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘then it is your job to entertain me.’

  ‘You need sleep.’

  ‘I need to know what happened,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve been locked up in a cell for the last few days. Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?’

  ‘First tell me how you got out.’

  ‘It all happened this morning – and I believe I have you to thank for it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘That’s all Ajay had to say to me. He looked rather put out about it as well. Care to tell me what happened?’

  I told him about the fingerprint on the impossible surface which could not have hosted one. ‘But Ajay didn’t look convinced when I showed him.’

  ‘He can be prickly when he is wrong but he eventually comes around.’

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘That is the wonder of Neeraj. He realized my e-mail account had been hacked and found the mail asking you to come to the factory. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I set out. When you called from the satellite phone we were able to trace the call and get the coordinates.’

  ‘How is Rishi?’

  ‘Alive. Soon to be incarcerated, I hope, for a very long time thanks to you. How did you put it all together?’

  I told Shayak about the string of electronic evidence; the stowaway Lalu Prasad, the signs that all pointed to an insider; my initial suspicions about Adlakha; and, finally, my encounter with George Santos which pointed me in the right direction.

  ‘George was the connection between Afreen’s murder and Dhingre’s,’ I said.

  ‘Rishi told the cops she was one of George’s most fervent disciples. George merely helped Afreen out as a favour – and then expected her to spy on the investigation on Maaya Island.’

  ‘Which she refused to do.’

  I had all the essential pieces, but questions still lurked. ‘I really would like to speak to Rishi.’

  ‘You’ve earned that right,’ said Shayak. ‘Soon.’

  ‘What’s wrong with now?’

  ‘The police are in with him.’

  ‘We still have nothing to connect George to these crimes. If what Rishi says is true, he was at the very least complicit.’

  ‘You can have a go at him too – he’s on his way here now.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Threatened with arrest from the ashram or a trip to Mumbai, he chose wisely.’

  When I finally came face to face with Rishi again, I was pleased to note that he looked far worse than I did. He had a couple of broken ribs and compound fractures to his leg, both inflicted by me.

  ‘Reema, it’s almost nice to see you after the ugly mugs the police have been throwing at me,’ he said.

  ‘Why, Rishi? And don’t give me all that soul-of-a-hacker crap again,’ I asked.

  ‘Must we really do this?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘The whole grand reveal? Try to humanize the sociopath? So melodramatic, don’t you think?’

  ‘Is that what you think you are, Rishi, a sociopath?’

  ‘Hell, yeah. Don’t need a psychology degree to figure that one out.’

  The smile on his face told me I should believe him.

  ‘You can’t choose your ending,’ said Shayak. ‘This is a double murder investigation. So we’ll need those answers, whether or not it suits your idea of a good story.’

  ‘I’m done for anyway, so why should I tell you anything?’

  ‘Cooperation can only help you at this point. Tell us who wanted to take Titanium down, and you’ll be doing yourself a favour. I don’t think you were acting alone.’

  ‘I think I liked her question better,’ said Rishi.

  ‘So let’s start there,’ I said.

  Rishi looked bored as he began. ‘Alright. Cue tale of terrible childhood. I come from a long line of military men. My father could imagine no other future for me. He thought my passion for computers was a juvenile obsession, and he pushed me to take the UPSC exams, to join the NDA. I got through, but I refused to go. And he gave me the thrashing of my life. After years of watching him do the same to my mother, whenever he was on furlough, and to me, I had had enough. I took off for Goa.’

  ‘Where you met George.’

  ‘He was disgruntled ex-army himself, so we had something in common. And he had work for me. My mother died soon after I left, and there was nothing to bring me back here till I heard about this opening in Titanium, and I thought it was the chance to come back to Mumbai and do the sort of work I always dreamed of doing – hacking.’

  ‘It was also your shot at revenge,’ I said. ‘You knew Titanium was working on defence contracts.’

  ‘I’m sure it was one of my father’s rages that brought on the heart attack that killed my mother. So yes, revenge did cross my mind.’

  ‘If you have stolen any information pertinent to ongoing military operations, you’re looking at a death sentence,’ said Shayak.

  ‘I could have if I just had a little more time. But the man I was working for first wanted to take you down, Shayak. Whatever you did to piss him off, you shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Shayak.

  ‘Never met him. Contact was made a few months after I joined. Communication was through a different person every time, some low-level operative who knew nothing more than what he needed to. The brief was simple: compromise Titanium without making it clear that the organization was the target.’

  ‘How did you learn about the connection between Kimaaya and me?’

  ‘Soon after I got started, a couple of years ago, she came to your apartment. There was something in the way she looked at you, when she was leaving.’

  Shayak’s jaw hardened. ‘That footage was not meant for your eyes.’

  ‘Yeah, well. Go figure.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I found out about the safe Titanium had installed for her, and decided to go on a treasure hunt. The certificates were just sitting there, waiting to be discovered.’

  ‘In a secure vault.’

  ‘Secure is as secure does. Remember, Reema, what I told you about notions of unhackability. Not even at Titanium,’ he said, with a look of pride.

  ‘You thought a personal scandal like this would be enough to take me down?’ Shayak said with a sneer.

  ‘To hurt you long enough to deliver the fatal blow.’

  ‘Which you hoped would involve blowing Titanium’s most senstitive operations.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘But it wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, leading to two senseless deaths,’ I said.

  ‘The plan was a good one. But that Dhingre was a busybody. Afreen was unfortunate, yet unavoidable given that she wasn’t cooperating. It seemed a convenient way to deal with her and frame you.’

  ‘Why was George sending her messages to provide information about Dhingre’s death when you were around?’ I asked.

  ‘I guess trust has just gone out of style,’ he said. ‘They wanted to corroborate my version of events.’

  ‘How did you lure her to Viraat’s flat?’ I asked.

  ‘Much like I got you to Paras Foods. A fake SMS about a date. I knew Viraat would be out because the first thing he did when he got out of the hospital was call his dealer. I had his phone tapped just in case he knew more about Dhingre’s death than he was letting on, having been within earshot and all.’

  ‘And you had tapped Prashant Parashar’s cell, too?’

  ‘Long before I sent him that pen drive.’

  Shayak and I returned to my room and awaited Ge
orge’s arrival. Vinod came bearing coffee that thankfully didn’t taste like dishwater and a tiffin box filled with homecooked food. I nursed my cup with worshipful reverence.

  ‘So Rishi went from one mess to another in an attempt to clean up after himself, all to make me one of the most notorious faces in the country,’ Shayak said.

  ‘At the behest of someone with enough influence to have a trumped-up murder charge hanged on you.’

  My mind had already raced far ahead. ‘It all connects with your Goa case, the drug hauls and Daanish Alam’s death. The answer is hidden in George Santos’ extended universe. And I guess that’s as good a place to start as any.’

  ‘Not so fast, Reema. You have a lot of healing to do. Your arm will take at least a month of complete rest.’

  ‘But this isn’t resolved – not really.’

  ‘You’ve solved two murders and cleared my name.’

  ‘Only to open a bigger can of worms.’

  ‘We’ll move on to that in due course. Don’t worry – none of it will magically go away.’

  But I already had an idea. ‘George will be here soon. If he really isn’t an accessory to these crimes, we might be able to use him to our advantage.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I ran my thoughts by him. His instant answer was a vehement ‘no’. I had as long as it took for George to arrive to change his mind.

  He walked in to my room, clad in white kurta and pyjama, the same worn chappals on his feet, beard neatly trimmed. He gave Shayak a nod. ‘You’ve got to know I didn’t have a clue about this, boss.’

  ‘A little difficult to believe, George.’

  ‘You two know each other?’ I asked.

  ‘We’ve met once, at a party. I wasn’t sure George would remember me.’

  George gave a nervous laugh, as if to assure Shayak he was unforgettable. And then he turned his attention to me.

  ‘Wait a minute – you’re that girl from the film set!’

  ‘Right. That’s when I figured out there was some connection between you and Afreen,’ I said. ‘It was you who brought her in to the Adil Khan project. That is why you were demanding her loyalty in the form of information on the investigation into Dhingre’s death.’