by Deva,Mukul
‘Whatever? But check them out thoroughly . . . the bloody subversives,’ Karunakaran muttered angrily. However he did not appear eager to dwell on this topic. ‘Do you think we should take their threat seriously?’
‘The RIP threat?’ The question appeared rhetorical but Vinod took it on. ‘I would, sir. They certainly seem to mean business. There is no doubt that all three hits . . . err . . . murders were executed after meticulous preparation and planning. So we can safely assume that they’ve also charted out their next three murders equally carefully.’
‘What are they trying to prove?’
‘I think they’re trying to drive home the fact that they are in control, sir. That they can strike at whoever they wish to, whenever they wish to . . . just so that we take them and their demands seriously.’
‘I see.’ Karunakaran looked deeply troubled. ‘So who do you think are the next three targets?’
‘We cannot be certain, sir, but the threat they have given is quite precise and certainly narrows the field.’
Vinod marshalled his thoughts, deciding to focus on the easiest one first.
‘They have threatened to kill an arms dealer who has betrayed the country. The first one who immediately comes to mind is Afzal Hassan, the chap in Mumbai who was involved with the Scorpene submarine scam. Another strong possibility is Nahata, the guy in Delhi who was allegedly involved in the Bofors scam. Or it could be General Ray or Colonel Mangat, the two officers charge-sheeted in the Kargil coffins scam . . . one lives in Gurgaon and the other in NOIDA. I know there are many other likely candidates, but these are the obvious ones. They have all been in the news recently and immediately come to mind.’
‘You certainly seem to have done your homework, Bedi.’
‘Didn’t need to, sir.’ Vinod splayed his hands. ‘We have open case files on all four. The investigations in all these cases are ongoing . . . most awaiting clearance from either your . . .’
‘I know, I know. No time for all that now.’ Karunakaran hurriedly brushed him off, knowing exactly where those files were stuck, three with him and the Bofors one with the PMO. He also knew that they were not likely to get cleared any time soon . . . not in this century for sure . . . there were too many others who would go down. ‘Who else?’
‘The second one . . . the judge is a bit more difficult. There are quite a few cases where politicians and judges have been involved . . . allegedly involved,’ Vinod added hastily, then paused, hoping the minister would come out with a few names and make it easier, but the wily politician was a past master at these games and just continued to glare at him. ‘So, we have the judge who acquitted that Haryana state minister’s son . . . the one who shot the model . . . or the other one who killed his sister’s boyfriend. It could also be the ones who acquitted those ministers from Uttar Pradesh in the Agra and Greater NOIDA land scams or the Bihar minister accused in the fodder scam . . . or also the cases where some politicians were charged with having wealth beyond their means. There are many others, but once again I’m picking the ones that have been in the news most recently.’
The pause this time was longer. Vinod sensed Karunakaran would not have anything to say, but kept quiet, unsure how to go to the third set of likely targets . . . the corrupt politicians.
Both were aware that the home minister himself was a potential target; he had carried the ‘home’ portfolio a bit too far when he got involved with the homes for the Kargil martyrs and allotted quite a few of them to his kith and kin. For several months now, the home minister had been skating on thin ice. It was almost certain that Karunakaran would have gone down if it had not been for the fact that the NDC needed the support of his party to maintain a majority in parliament. Then, of course there was also the 2G-Spectrum scam in which Karunakaran’s cousin, the current Tamil Nadu chief minister, and Kantimala his niece, the CM’s daughter were involved. As was their party mate, Rajappan, the telecom minister. All three were also involved in dozens of dubious land deals.
As for politicians involved with land scams, there were simply too many to count. However, most recently in the news were the current and previous chief ministers of Uttar Pradesh.
And the one in Mumbai, Vinod reminded himself, the one referred to as the power centre. Then of course there is that guy in Bangalore who was supposed to be involved with the mines. And that one in Goa who . . .
‘Yes, yes,’ Karunakaran broke his chain of thought. ‘I know what you’re going to say . . . there are many possibilities as regards politicians allegedly involved in scams, but . . . anyway . . .’ he veered away. ‘Do some more homework and put together a list of possible candidates for all three categories. Run it by me and then take action to secure all of them.’ Karunakaran waved an agitated finger. ‘Do whatever you have to, but make sure that whenever these criminals make their next attempt you catch them red-handed.’
Vinod nodded.
‘I want them taken out.’ Karunakaran stressed the last word, watching carefully to see if Bedi got the hint and his reaction to it.
Vinod frowned. A trifle uncertainly. Unsure if the choice of words was unfortunate or if the minister was actually implying . . . suddenly his brow unfurrowed. Let the bugger imply all he wants, I’m not playing these games. He nodded decisively. ‘Don’t worry sir. We will definitely bring them in.’
Karunakaran noticed the stress Bedi had placed on the last word. It irritated and angered him, but he controlled most of it. ‘Don’t just stand there nodding your head, Bedi. Remember we don’t have much time. Only twenty-four hours, if we are to take the RIP seriously. So get cracking. No more innocents should die.’
Innocents!
The word was still humming in Vinod’s head when finally he got free and exited the minister’s office.
‘Office.’ He instructed his driver. ‘As fast as you can.’ As his driver reversed out of the South Block parking lot, Vinod got out his mobile and began to activate his task force.
Two seasoned investigators were dispatched to each of the three crime scenes; that’s where they would find the clues.
There are always clues. Vinod knew. No matter how smart the criminals were, there would always be some clues . . . one just had to look hard enough.
And get lucky of course.
Marshalling his thoughts Vinod got his deputy Nandakumar on line and briefed him. Though not agile mentally, and often prone to being misled by others, Nandakumar was extremely hard-working and always willing to put in the long hours. Vinod liked him. Perhaps that’s why he tended to rely on him far more than the others.
‘Call in half the team to the office and put the other half on standby. They must be ready to move at short notice. And go over the RIP’s demands word by word and put together a list of possible victims. The home minister wants me to discuss it with him. We also need to place a protective cover on all of them. Yeah. I know manpower is going to be a bitch. But I have the minister’s approval to pull in whatever we need from the locals. Get started Nanda, I am on my way.’
He was about to ring off when he remembered.
‘And Nanda . . . have someone get in touch with the NIA (National Intelligence Agency) and MOD (Ministry of Defence). Try and put together a list of intelligence operatives and Special Operations types . . . yeah . . . it has to be someone from the trade . . . succinylcholine is not your run-of-the-mill hit man’s cup of tea. I’m suspecting ex-army people since this whole thing reeks of that kind of planning and execution. Even if you look at the wording of their threats and demands . . . it’s all so precise and so . . . fauji. So see if you can get someone to put together a list of possibles.’ Even as he gave the order Vinod knew it was a long shot, but sometimes long shots paid off. Besides, what else do I have to go on?
‘Look for people who may have quit recently . . . or been fired . . . people with a gripe against the establishment.’
Ending the call Vinod was about to put down the mobile when he remembered. His wife Namrata had been really miffed w
ith that call from Karunakaran’s office earlier on and he had had to send her on for the wedding alone.
Their marriage was still new. They had yet to get used to each other’s lifestyles, professional demands and personal quirks. Victims of the high-performer-high-achiever syndrome that afflicts many of their generation, both had been caught up in their careers and only just realized that their bio-clocks would soon be catching up with them. Perhaps that had been responsible for their undue haste.
Introduced to each other by one of her cousins, the two had not taken long to decide the other was just the kind of person they were looking for. The instant recognition of similar values had added to it. The biological attraction was undeniable; both were good-looking and well-maintained. Perhaps it was a combination of all these factors. Either way, both were somewhat surprised when they found themselves getting married a few months later.
All told it was going well. Though there were days when Namrata’s acutely short temper caught him by surprise. Without knowing he was doing so, Vinod’s lips pursed in a dubious moue.
This evening’s outburst had been unusually severe. It had shocked Vinod, even though by now he was aware that Namrata did not like going for family functions without him. The fact that it was his cousin’s wedding, someone she had yet to meet, had added to her angst.
Though not looking forward to it, his forehead creased in a thoughtful frown, he began to dial her mobile.
Vinod would have been even more perturbed if he had known what Nandakumar, his deputy, was doing just then.
*
‘Don’t worry about it sir, I will keep you posted on a daily basis.’ Nandakumar spoke softly into his mobile. Seeing the calling number he had stepped out of his office to take the minister’s call.
‘What do you mean, don’t worry. I am worried Nandakumar.’ Karunakaran did not bother to contain his irritation. Bedi’s recalcitrance still irked him. ‘I don’t just want daily feedback. Speak to me at least twice a day. And whenever something important comes up.’
‘Right, sir,’ Nanda replied plaintively.
Satisfied that Bedi’s reluctance to bypass the CBI director and report to him directly notwithstanding he would now know everything as it happened through his deputy, Karunakaran moved to the next troubling item on his agenda. ‘How likely is it that these guys will be captured alive?’
That brought Nandakumar up short. He grimaced, knowing what the minister was implying. Reporting about the investigation behind his boss’s back was one thing, but . . . Nanda almost rebelled, but then checked himself . . . mindful that he had to be very careful. Karunakaran was not only the home minister, he also had him by the short hairs . . . ever since that time in Chennai when . . .
‘So? How likely is it that these guys will be captured alive?’ Nandakumar’s thoughts scattered as Karunakaran repeated the question.
‘Who can say, sir. A lot will depend on how events unfold.’ Nanda was careful to keep the distaste out of his voice. But not careful enough. Karunakaran picked up on it.
‘I see.’ This time the pause was longer. Once again, knowing he needed Nanda to keep him up to speed on the investigation as it developed instead of waiting for the routine reports, Karunakaran decided not to push it any further. Instinct warned him that despite his hold over Nanda, the man would baulk at . . . suddenly his face brightened as Karunakaran realized he may have found a way out of the conundrum. ‘Tell me. Do you have any idea where Bhagat is? That guy who . . .’ He trailed off.
Both were keenly aware that he did not need to complete the sentence. Bhagat was not a person either of them was likely to forget in a hurry. Especially not Nandakumar.
Captain Raghav Bhagat of 11th Para Commando had been the ADC to the governor of Tamil Nadu when Karunakaran had been the state’s chief minister. And Nandakumar had then been a rising star in the state’s Special Crimes Division.
Despite the passage of so many years, Nanda could remember the handsome, flamboyant army man vividly. Every inch of that cold, calculating face, especially those icy, penetrating eyes, was indelibly etched in Nanda’s head.
And that damn smile . . . Nanda always thought of it as the ‘Raghav Bhagat smile’. A cold, sardonic smile, which never reached the eyes . . . derisive . . . challenging . . . that seemed to mock the world . . . as though daring life to wipe it off his face.
Nanda suppressed the cold shiver that inadvertently ran through him. And that sharp jolt of hate. It hit him every time Bhagat’s name came up. It was because of Bhagat that he was being forced to toe the line laid down by power-crazy pimps like Karunakaran. All because of one tiny indiscretion, which Bhagat had talked him into.
Much younger and more easily swayed back then, Bhagat had caught Nanda in a moment of weakness.
‘It’s hundred per cent safe, Nanda.’ Bhagat had laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘Trust me. Nothing can go wrong. Everyone is involved. The governor and the chief minister himself.’ Even today Nanda could remember Bhagat’s encouraging laugh, ‘in fact half the bloody state assembly is in on it. Why the fuck should you be the only one left out?’
Why indeed?
‘All you have to do is get these files and police verifications cleared. Leave the rest to me.’
In the end, egged on by his greed and lulled into a false sense of security by Bhagat, Nanda had succumbed. Two weeks later he was amongst one of those allotted a plot of land in Chennai; land that was supposed to be given to the heroes of Siachen; soldiers who had laid down their lives for the nation.
A few months later the lid was blown, courtesy of an intrusive journalist who was smart enough to ferret out information from the hardest rock, a tenacious ex-army chief who would stand for no nonsense, and a lawyer ballsy enough to take on the establishment.
The governor resigned, citing political machinations and an unwarranted witch-hunt.
Captain Raghav Bhagat, his ADC, took the fall for him, and was court-martialled and cashiered from service. The pay-off must have been huge since Bhagat accepted this ignominy quite happily.
Behind the scenes more deals were cut and Karunakaran, the wily chief minister, sacrificed several lesser ministers and civil servants, but managed to save his hide and of those dear or valuable to him.
Then, almost alone at the deep end, Nanda found himself going down and had no option but to drive a Faustian bargain. He threw himself at Karunakaran’s mercy and managed to save his skin. His soul of course was no longer his. Karunakaran now owned him. And over the years had extracted the price many times, in many ways. The last decade saw Nanda, now a dedicated SCD man, heading dozens of investigations into a variety of scams. Not surprisingly, the ones that pertained to Karunakaran or one of his cronies never led anywhere, certainly not to any convictions in court.
‘Nandakumar?’ Karunakaran’s sharp tone again nudged him back to the present. ‘You there?’
‘Sorry, sir. Must be the signal strength,’ Nanda dissembled, pulling his head out of this poisonous cloud of memories.
‘I asked if you know where Bhagat is now.’
‘Not really, sir, but I can find out.’ Nanda lied. He knew exactly where ex-Captain Raghav Bhagat was. In fact, on a good day, he could have even told you the details of his last credit card transaction and the colour of the undies the bastard wore. So deep was his angst that Nanda kept track of him without conscious thought.
But damned if I’m going to admit it. Especially to this arsehole, Karunakaran.
‘Do that. Immediately. And shoot me his mobile number.’
‘Right, sir.’ He was dying to ask why the minister wanted to contact Bhagat, but knew it would be futile. Karunakaran was not the type to confide in the hired help.
And that is just what I am . . . Nanda’s lips twisted into an angry smile. What the hell? One day I will get these bastards. But he could not help wondering why Karunakaran wanted Bhagat? Can’t be anything good . . .
As he ended the call and began to walk back to his off
ice, Nanda wondered how long he should wait before sending the rogue army man’s number to Karunakaran.
Finally, realizing that it would make no difference either way, Nanda picked up the phone and re-confirmed Bhagat’s whereabouts. A few moments later he passed on the details to Karunakaran.
THREE
AND VINOD WOULD have been more than perturbed if he had come to know what the home minister was up to.
After finishing his call with Bhagat, Karunakaran did not bother to put down the phone. He dialled another number. The call was answered instantly.
‘Give me a minute,’ Karunakaran said when the chief minister of Bihar came on the line. ‘Let me get SK on the line also.’ Putting Lalit Yadav on hold Karunakaran dialled Sharad Kamble’s mobile. It took much longer for Kamble to answer. However, soon all three were on a conference call.
‘This is not good,’ Kamble began in a whiney tone.
‘Tell me about it,’ Yadav chipped in, not seeming very upset with the loss of his brother-in-law. ‘Wife’s been bitching about it non-stop ever since her brother . . .’
‘Stop it, both of you.’ Karunakaran took charge sharply. ‘This is not the time for such crap. We need to do some serious damage control. My gut tells me this RIP thing is going to escalate. Soon. Very soon.’
That got their attention. Despite their personal and political differences, and the fact that they belonged to different political parties, all three shared that camaraderie and brotherhood that Ali Baba’s forty thieves must have shared. And also, both Yadav and Kamble had a healthy respect for Karunakaran’s instincts; they knew the wily old fox was a hardcore survivor.
‘What do you suggest?’ Kamble recovered first.
‘The way I see it, we have three major worries right now. Firstly, we need to cover our tracks. Who all knew about the money transfers from the spectrum scam?’
