‘Sir.’ Aditya’s string of thoughts was interrupted. It was Merissa. ‘Do you want any other information to be printed out?’
‘As in?’
‘The file size, the time it was printed, the file name … Obviously there wouldn’t be any file names for the photocopied files, but they would be there for the files whose printouts were fired from the computers.’
‘That will be lovely. Thank you.’
‘Sir.’ Merissa nodded and went inside to give instructions, while Aditya went back to his phone.
He went over it line by line, word by word, letter by letter. He didn’t want to miss anything in the email. He flipped the image and looked at the top of the page. And that’s where he saw something.
The first mail containing the cryptic words was from Richard’s MIT email ID. But the second mail was different. While it was from Richard’s MIT email ID and was sent to Cirisha’s ID, there was a small variance. A minor addition, which would not have caught a casual observer’s eye. But Aditya wasn’t one; instead, he was trying to spot contradictions everywhere. While sending the second email to Cirisha, Richard had also copied himself in on his personal Gmail address. Why would someone do that? Was that a normal thing to do if the first email was genuinely a mistake?
When you are information starved, any additional bit of it seems like a gold mine. Aditya’s mind started working at a furious pace. ‘If I were to send a message to someone by mistake, I would just forward the message to the same person and tell him that I had sent the message erroneously. Worst case, I would do a “reply all” and send it back to the same group, stating it was an error. I’d definitely not add another email ID to it,’ he said to himself. ‘There has to be a message in it. Surely Richard didn’t add the second email ID without reason.’
‘Sir, it will take another forty-five minutes,’ Merissa’s voice broke his trance.
‘Is there an internet café nearby? Might as well do some work while I wait.’
‘There is. Not the best of places, but functional. Adjacent to the third building to the right is a small lane. If you go down the lane, you will find a café on your right. It might be a little shady-looking but it is safe.’
It took him three minutes to walk down to the address Merissa had given him. There was no one else in the café at that time. He took the cabin towards the end with just a wall behind him.
He settled down on the chair and looked at the watch. He was expected back at Merissa’s in thirty-five minutes. Not knowing where to begin, he googled the two cryptic codes but not the locker code. Google threw up nothing of significance. He tried various permutations and combinations. Nothing helped. He didn’t know what to do. Just to give his mind a break, he logged into his email. Nothing of significance there either. After he left GB2, his email traffic had come down tremendously. No one felt the need to be in touch with him.
He logged off. The screen in front of him was the Gmail home screen. It asked for an ID and password. He was staring at the screen blankly when a brainwave struck. He looked at the image on his phone. Richard’s personal email address was a Gmail ID. He keyed in the ID. From the same image he keyed in one of the codes, the third one from Richard’s email. He moved the mouse to bring the cursor to the ‘sign in’ button and clicked. His breathing became heavy as he waited for the hourglass cursor to disappear.
71
12th June 2008
MIT, Boston
At the executive committee meeting, president Antonio’s decisive casting vote went in favour of Cardoza. Deahl’s book, Staring Down the Barrel, though not completely in violation of the university laws, was against their spirit.
‘A provost is someone who has to have an impeccable track record. No one should be able to point a finger at his conduct. A provost is expected to take tricky decisions regarding the running of the institute, research, grants and so on and if there is a history to the provost’s conduct, the same may hinder his ability to deliver on the job,’ Antonio had said while announcing his decision to the group.
Cardoza was ecstatic. It was a dream come true. Wasn’t this the reason why he had given the best years of his life to the institute?
‘Thank you, Juan. I will do my best.’
The vice president of the HR team stepped up to the two of them. ‘There is some paperwork to be completed, Dr Cardoza. If you would come up to our office tomorrow, we will do the needful. We plan to announce your appointment next week. A day before Gordon Meier relinquishes charge. Please keep it low-key. As a rule, no press interviews, no TV appointments till such time that the university releases the news officially.’ Cardoza nodded. He was willing to wait. The job was his in any case.
It was a big blow to Deahl. The same Deahl who had held America spellbound with his book. Despite being unhappy, he accepted the verdict of the committee graciously, at least on the face of it.
72
12th June 2008
Internet café, Boston
After what seemed like an interminable wait, the words ‘logging in [email protected]’ appeared on the screen and then his inbox came into view. So the email ID and the password were bang on. Cirisha was right. Richard had not sent the password to her by mistake. There was a purpose to his email. The only way to know what it was, was to get into the inbox.
Richard’s inbox too was just like him. Perfectly organized. Appropriately named folders made it easy for him. Aditya read through a few emails. Nothing out of the ordinary there. He spotted the email with the cryptic message.
He clicked on the draft email folder. All the emails in the folder were written on the same day—the day that he sent the email with the passwords to Cirisha.
He opened the draft email folder and read through. The first two lines of the email that he opened confirmed Aditya’s fears. The trail that he was following was no red herring. Slowly and steadily, with fear in his heart and excitement in his head, Aditya read the first message in its entirety. He couldn’t have imagined this in his wildest dreams. Sitting in that small 3-foot by 4-foot cabin, he was sweating. How much of this did Cirisha know?
Email one
Ahmed Siddiqui wanted to place fresh evidence in front of the panel to deny me my tenure. My worst fears came true that day. Despite my best efforts they found out about my relationship. Someone from the institute had complained to the provost about my liaison with Xerxes Abidjan. Xerxes was a student in the final term, though not in my department. I met him during his fencing classes. He sought me out to help him with his footwork.
As you know, the institute rules prohibit any kind of relationship between a student and faculty.
Only God knows that my conscience is clear and that I did not use my position of authority to get him to submit to my whims. We felt for each other. We had a relationship which was beyond any logic, any explanation. But I guess it did not go down well with some students. When I look back, someone could have felt aggrieved because I rated Xerxes higher and included him in the fencing team which participated in the inter-university men’s fencing challenge held at Boston University. He deserved his place in the team purely on merit.
A clandestine investigation was launched. It did not have the institution’s sanction. I know the rules. Any such investigation into any dalliance between a student and a faculty member needs a sign-off from the president, Juan Antonio, which is, almost always, not given. The normal practice is that the parties concerned are ticked off and they decide—institute or relationship. If someone had confronted us, we would have explained. Xerxes and I had decided that he would seek admission at Boston University at the end of the term so that we could be together without any worries.
Ahmed, who was in charge of the investigation, had someone trail me and gather evidence. I guess this was done because they were worried that in case the issue got discussed without evidence, James would use his influence and scuttle it.
A private detective would wait for hours below the Academic Block and trail me everyw
here I went. They thought I wouldn’t notice, but I am not an idiot. I guessed that something was wrong. I finally figured it out when I saw the same person walk into my interview and hand over a brown envelope to Ahmed. I didn’t know what the contents of the envelope were, but realized that it had something to do with me. Pepped by the evidence, Ahmed wanted to nail me that day. Thankfully, James convinced everyone not to discuss the issue.
Twenty minutes after the interview, Michael called me. He was very disturbed. Apparently, Ahmed had dropped the envelope by mistake and while picking it up, Michael saw what it contained. He told me that Ahmed had foolproof evidence, largely photographic in nature, about my relationship with someone (he didn’t know Xerxes as he had not met him). When I confessed to him about Xerxes, he confirmed the university’s stance on it. It was what he told me next that got me paranoid. He said that if word got out, it could signal the end of my academic career not only in MIT but also across universities in the USA. A blacklisted academician is never hired by any university.
I didn’t slog for a decade to give it all up. That’s when I made up my mind. I went after Ahmed. James, who was to drop me till the metro station, dropped me off instead at the Massachusetts Turnpike about a mile from the university. I got down and waited for Ahmed to pass by. I requested him for a lift. An unsuspecting Ahmed allowed me to get into the car. When we were on a lonely stretch of road, flanked by woods on both sides, I took out the paperknife and stabbed him many, many times. He kept screaming and I kept stabbing till he could scream no more. I cleaned myself up. Cleaned the spot of anything that could be traced back to me. It was easy because I was wearing the fencing sabre glove. I made sure that the brown envelope was in my custody. By the time Ahmed’s body was discovered, I was back home in the arms of Xerxes. I wish there had been another way, but I had no other option.
Aditya read the email thrice over. Richard? The one who killed Ahmed Siddiqui was Richard! And all along they thought Richard was the cleanest of the lot. How wrong they had been. And because it was a clandestine operation initiated by Siddiqui, no one knew about it, before or after the murder. And Richard was never investigated as a suspect.
Email two
Aditya looked at his watch. He was expected in the photocopier shop in fifteen minutes. But he didn’t fret too much about it. It was just that he didn’t want them to spend too much time looking at what they were printing out for him. But he couldn’t stop himself from reading the next email.
Ahmed Siddiqui’s killing played on my mind for a long, long time. Ending someone’s life changed me in ways that I couldn’t comprehend. It impacted me. I started getting distracted. I would stay at my workstation for hours together. Not talk to anyone. James noticed this change in me. He asked me to take some time off. I didn’t want to. The year was crucial for me. If I didn’t get my promotion soon, I would never get it. I have just turned forty.
Forty-five days after Ahmed’s death, I got a call from Michael. He asked me to meet him. He said it was in connection with my tenure reconsideration. Just to make sure that no one saw us, I met him in his office at 9 p.m. Late at night. The Academic Block was normally deserted at that time. When I walked in, he was alone. Cirisha, you were back in India at that time. There was no one on that floor.
So Richard had wanted Cirisha to read this email. Either he had intended to send it to her or he had hoped that Cirisha would be able to decipher his cryptic message.
That day, Michael told me that the committee had upheld the earlier decision on my tenure. I would have to wait for one more year before I could be considered for my tenure again. I broke down. It was a big shock for me. He told me that my affair with Xerxes was one of the reasons, though he said he would never put it down in writing for it would impact my future in academia. He advised that I shouldn’t create an issue about it, since it would harm my interests, more so because it involved my relationship with a student. His contention was that in case I did a song and dance, and James backed it, then there was a remote possibility that the committee’s decision might get reversed. However, if that were to happen, the relationship between Xerxes and me would come into the public domain. And that would get me sacked. The institute rules were very clear in this regard. Even if I forced my way to a tenure, it would be short-lived. I was extremely upset. My mind, which was already burdened by the impulsive killing of Ahmed, couldn’t take one more failure. I lost control. Michael helped me calm down. He made me sit down on his lounge chair and offered me a drink. I badly needed one. Michael was very understanding towards me and even dropped me home. I was touched by his actions that day.
Aditya was surprised at Cardoza’s gesture. Everyone knew that Cardoza hated Deahl to the core. The feeling was mutual. Yet he made sure that one of Deahl’s team members was taken care of at a difficult time. He was happy that Cirisha had been in Cardoza’s team and not Deahl’s.
At that very moment a pop-up appeared on his screen. ‘You have two minutes of internet usage left. Do you wish to continue?’
73
12th June 2008, same time
MIT, Boston
Windle’s car screeched to a halt in front of the office of the MIT chief of police. He got down from the car and walked straight into the cabin of Chief Nelius. They shook hands. The warmth was missing. At one point of time, they had been very close to each other, working for the same boss in the New York City Police Department. However, over time they had fallen apart. Career advancement and professional rivalry had played the villain here too. Nelius was cold but professional in his dealings with Windle.
‘What can I do for you, lieutenant?’
‘The forensic report of the campus firing has come in, chief.’
‘I thought it came a long time ago. Didn’t it?’
‘No. Based on the depositions of Gordon Meier and Michael Cardoza, and the fact that Richard Avendon owned the weapon, the coroner, Simen Munter, and the jury felt that forensic investigation might not be required. As per Massachusetts state law, if the victim is over forty years of age and there is no reason to suspect foul play, the coroner can waive the requirement for an inquest. This was an open-and-shut case. We had seized the murder weapon and also captured the site data. We had no reason to pursue it further.’
‘Yes. It was an open-and-shut case, I remember. That’s why the coroner had waived the need for an inquest and an investigation by a forensic pathologist,’ Nelius declared nonchalantly.
‘Well, not if you were to go by what I have here.’
‘Is that right? Who approved the reopening?’
‘Based on certain additional information that we had, and subsequent to Cirisha Narayanan’s death, we approached the coroner, who gave his sanction for the investigation.’
‘It would have been nicer, though, had I been kept in the loop. We were handling the initial leg of the investigation, weren’t we, lieutenant?’ There was a look of frustration in his eyes. Much to Windle’s relief, Nelius did not dwell on the point. ‘Now that it has been done, what does it say? Does it confirm what we all know or are there any surprises?’
‘Surprises! You need to read this, chief, before we talk any further.’ He pulled out a file from the bunch of papers he was carrying and handed it over.
Nelius began reading it. Years in law enforcement had taught him to maintain a poker face when surprised or shocked, but this time his eyes gave his changing mood away.
Nelius looked up. ‘Holy shit! You can’t be serious about this!’
‘That’s why I came to you first. To figure out what we should do next.’
‘This is terrible. We need to talk to the president.’
74
12th June 2008
Internet café, Boston
Aditya hurriedly pressed the ‘yes’ button. His internet access was extended by thirty minutes. He continued reading Richard’s email.
That was just the beginning. Michael Cardoza’s interactions with me began to increase. He would talk to me almos
t every day. Call me to his workplace when no one was around and talk about all and sundry.
It was around this time that James took on the project on the Second Amendment. Irrespective of what name he calls the project by, it was a gun control vs gun rights research, with a presupposed result. Michael was very upset that James had taken up something that he had declined. The attention that James was receiving probably disturbed him more.
My relationship with James started going through a turbulent phase. He was not happy with my work. I was the only person in his team who questioned his principles. He wanted the team to get him the research data, manipulated in the manner that the sponsors wanted. Everyone else obliged. I didn’t. We were going through an intense data-gathering phase.
As a part of the data-accumulation process, we wanted to interview felons and understand if they would have committed the crimes had guns not been available. I fixed up meetings, took permissions from the law enforcers to interview prison inmates, even went ahead and interviewed them in three state prisons—Vermont, Florida and Phoenix. The data from these interviews suggested something which was very different from the result that James wanted. He was not happy about it. Rather than tweak his research results, he calmly took me out of the data-gathering process, and put Caroline and Philip in charge. They were two associates completely in awe of him. He could play them like a puppeteer.
They went through the process of data gathering. The papers came to me for my analysis. They couldn’t have done it any other way, else it would have attracted attention. When I saw the data, I was surprised. The names of felons who were interviewed in Boston differed from the names I had picked during my interaction with the Boston Police Department. This got me curious. I asked around. That’s when I figured out that while they were doing the interviews in most of the prisons, the responses were being fudged and altered in our offices. James was preparing a backup paper in case someone questioned his survey or wanted to tally it with the raw data. So along with Caroline and Philip, he created the entire data. James even got the research for the three centres where I had done the prison interviews done again. When I saw it, I put my foot down. I refused to change the findings for the three centres that I had researched. James was unhappy but he didn’t say anything. But when Staring Down the Barrel came out, I was surprised. James had manipulated the data for Vermont, Florida and Phoenix too and brought it in line with what the research demanded. I confronted Caroline and Philip and asked them for the research papers for these three centres. They only smiled in response. Didn’t say a word. It was then that I actually realized the extent to which the data had been compromised.
Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) Page 25
