Michael’s conduct on the other hand was very statesmanlike. He told me how his morals and values had prevented him from taking up the research. My respect for him only grew. We were very comfortable with each other. No one knew about this. Not even you. The day James knocked me off the data-gathering responsibility, I was very upset. I shared my frustration with Michael. He lent a sympathetic ear. And then, on the pretext of helping me relax, he came up to me, stood behind the lounge chair and comforted me by massaging my shoulders. There was a long period of silence. That’s when he said, ‘You have seen worse times, Richard. This is nothing compared to the trauma you went through when you killed Ahmed.’
I turned towards him as if I had been stung by something.
‘You should not have killed Ahmed. He was a good friend of mine.’ When he said this, I didn’t know how to react. Michael had a weird look in his eyes. Couldn’t make out if it was anger or something else. ‘I know everything about you, Richard,’ he said. ‘You and Xerxes. You and Ahmed.’
I looked at him in desperation. I was exposed. If anyone else got to know of this, I would be dead meat.
‘Don’t worry, Richard,’ Michael reassured me. ‘Ahmed’s is a closed story. When the chief of MIT Police met me the day after the accident, I did not tell him that I saw you taking a lift from Ahmed and getting into his car that evening after the tenure interview. I told him that it could have been a regular case of carjacking. Or maybe passion killing. Because Ahmed was a colourful man, you see. Interesting tastes.’ And he smiled. It was then that it struck me. It was not anger that I saw in his eyes. It was something more. It was lust. He wanted me.
‘If you are with me, Richard, no one can deny you your tenure next year. I will make sure it happens,’ he said and his hands slid down my shirt. My body responded to his touch. He saw it as a green signal. That was the first time we made out. In his cabin. On the lounge chair, at 9.30 at night.
After that Michael was quite helpful. He once asked me if I had ever experienced holding a gun in my hand. Till that day, I had never ever held a gun. He felt that since I was doing research for the NRA, I must experience this feeling. He was, for some strange reason, also worried about my safety. He was of the view that the NRA might suddenly turn against me if it found out about my attitude towards James’s research. Michael took me to a gun dealer he knew in Riverdale, forty miles from Chicago. We had gone there for a Social Psychology conference. James couldn’t go and had sent me in his place. I was surprised at Michael’s contacts. The dealer took some identity documents and said that he would deliver it within the week. I don’t know if the gun was ever delivered. I reminded Michael a few times. He said he would speak to the gun dealer and follow it up but that never happened.
My relationship with Michael stayed in the closet. Michael had a family to take care of. He also had a reputation to protect. I had a boss from whom I had to hide this fact.
Once Michael got what he wanted, he started avoiding all discussions regarding my tenure. Maybe I was becoming a bit of a pest. James too was no different. Non-committal.
Whenever I would raise the issue of my tenure with either of them, they would brush it off. I was getting restless at their indifference. Neither of them was serious about my tenure. James kept promising, while Michael kept reassuring. They kept saying that it would happen in due course. I figured the best way out of this was to make sure that I had their Achilles’ heels in my control. I clandestinely took pictures of Michael and me. I just wanted insurance for a rainy day. In any case, he was getting what he wanted from me.
The day I told Michael about this, he was furious. He screamed at me, even slapped me. It pained, but I didn’t react. And finally when he settled down, he asked me if I trusted him. I told him that I didn’t. From that day on, Michael became more careful in his dealings with me.
And then James’s book came out. I could make out that Michael didn’t like the attention that James was getting. I had already mentioned to him that the research had been fudged to suit the end result. When Michael got to know that I had the raw data with me, he asked for a copy. He wanted to use me in his game of upmanship against James. The data would have helped him prove that James was a spineless academician paid for by the NRA.
I never gave those papers to Michael. I was not an idiot. The day I would give them to him, my value, as far as Michael was concerned, would evaporate.
The next round of applications for tenure appointments was invited. I applied. Michael promised to make sure that my appointment went through. Well, he didn’t have a choice. James for the first time threw his hands up. He had enough problems of his own to deal with at that time. Staring Down the Barrel was becoming big. It needed his time and attention. I was upset. After all, it was not for nothing that I tolerated him and his idiosyncrasies for close to a decade. I have told him that if he doesn’t help me out this time and make sure that my tenure goes through, I will make public the raw research data that I have in my custody. It is a matter of life and death. It took a lot of courage to do that. Failure to get tenure this time will mean me getting the boot from MIT.
Last night, I was with Michael. His wife was out of town. When I was in bed with Michael, his phone rang. The phone was on my side of the bed. It was from James. Michael never ever spoke to James unless forced to, even when they came face-to-face. Why would James call him at 1 a.m.? It set me thinking. Michael brushed off my question and stepped out to the washroom. I knew he was hiding something. Before he could come back, I called Xerxes’s internet phone from Michael’s landline and let it stay connected. And then when he returned, I headed to the washroom to clean up. As expected, Michael quickly called James. I managed to record Michael’s side of the conversation on Xerxes’s answering machine.
When I heard the conversation later, I could figure out that these two monsters—Michael and James—had got together to fix me. Both know about the photos and the raw data in my custody. I am in a very difficult situation and don’t know what to do.
I am not giving myself too much importance, but James needs the research data back from me and Michael needs the pictures. These guys will go to any extent to protect their reputations and careers. I am scared. And that’s why I am writing this email, that too from a computer I clandestinely managed to get access to by sweet-talking a salesgirl at BestBuy. I am sure my office emails, office telephone, computers and even mobile phones will be under surveillance. I just hope no one gets to see this but you, just in case something happens to me. You have the passwords. I hope you understand the implicit message in my previous email. I am also leaving the raw research data gathered by James’s team and copies of the images of me and Michael in my locker, number C-37, in the duPont Center. I don’t know what will happen to me, but you take care.
In case all goes well in the tenure, obviously you may not be reading this. For then, all that I have done and compromised will have been worth the effort. But I am worried. Worried for myself. I am stuck between two biggies who will do anything to protect their careers, their families and their reputation.
After his clear-headed investigations that got him to this point, logic deserted Aditya once again. His mind went numb. It could only mean one thing. Richard did not take his own life. He was killed. Cirisha found out, she was silenced. Narayanan came in the way of their search and was almost eliminated. And poor Shivinder tried to help Aditya and got killed.
There was only one way out of this for him.
75
12th June 2008
MIT, Boston
Antonio was not in his office when Chief Nelius and Lieutenant Windle walked in. The two of them made themselves comfortable in the conference room adjoining the president’s cabin. They began discussing the forensic report. ‘It’s very clear, chief. The gun from which shots were fired was bought in Richard’s name. It’s a licensed weapon bought from a gun store in Riverdale.’
‘So the weapon is his, the fingerprints on it are his. The DNA traces a
ll point to Richard as the perpetrator of the crime.’
‘Yes. But as you saw in the forensic report, he was not the one who fired the gun. The gun was placed in his hand. Had he fired the shots, there would have been residue under his fingernails. Residual explosive waste.’
‘The blood on the scene and on his fingers had muddied the fingernails and we couldn’t make that out on visual examination. So all of you, including the coroner, were quick to assume the sequence of events,’ Nelius argued.
‘The more critical point to be noted is that the panellists were seated on the podium and Richard was sitting in front of them. The bullets too seem to have come from the front. From the point where Richard was seated.’
‘Yes. Richard’s gun, bullets fired from the point where Richard was sitting … Everything points to the fact that Richard killed everyone.’
‘True. The last piece of evidence that the forensic report now lays out clears the air. Doesn’t it?’
‘I saw that. It’s too damning.’
‘Chief, Richard had been shot from close quarters. The gun had been held to his head and fired. So everyone assumed suicide.’ Windle pulled out his gun and held it to his head. ‘Look. If I were to shoot myself in the temple, the bullet would enter here’—and he pointed to the right temple. ‘And would normally exit here’—he moved his right hand to his left temple. ‘When you have a gun in your hand and shoot yourself, the gun normally has a small tilt upwards and hence the trajectory of the bullet would either be horizontal or marginally upwards. The exit point of the bullet would always be at a level higher than the entry point. At best at the same level.’
‘That’s obvious.’
‘Strangely, in the case of Richard, the bullet entered through his right temple and exited below the ear on his left. The difference in height at the bullet’s entry and exit points is two and a half inches. And this can only happen if someone else fired the bullet at the seated victim.’
‘Or if Richard was standing and the person who fired the bullet was much taller than him,’ Nelius interrupted.
‘Yes. That’s right. Michael Cardoza is six foot three, while Richard was a little over five feet. Michael most likely fired at a seated Richard. Standing or sitting … it doesn’t matter. What’s of importance is the fact that Richard did not kill himself. Someone else did. And that someone else can only be Michael Cardoza. We of course have to figure out why he did that. What was the motive? This, to me, defies all logic. The trajectory of the lone bullet which missed its mark and hit the board points to the fact that the gun was held by someone standing and the gun level was over five feet above the floor, at the barest minimum. It is most likely that the gun was fired by someone more than six feet tall.’
‘We should not have waived the forensic investigation at that time. We took them at their face value. And since Michael Cardoza too was injured, we assumed he was speaking the truth. What a game he played!’ Nelius lamented.
And at that very instant, Windle’s phone rang.
‘Lieutenant, it’s me. Aditya.’
‘I’m very busy, Aditya. Can this wait?’
‘It can’t. It’s crucial. I called to tell you that Michael Cardoza and James Deahl have a role to play in the killing of Richard and the three other faculty members, and may have a hand in the killings of Cirisha and Shivinder, and the assault on Narayanan.’ Aditya then told him the entire story that he had uncovered in the emails.
‘Where are you now? I’m coming to get you.’
‘No, don’t. I will head to the institute. You come there if possible. I don’t want to be out in the open.’
‘I am already there. In Antonio’s cabin. You want me to send a police car to pick you up?’
‘No. I will be there in an hour.’ And he hung up.
76
12th June 2008, evening
Boston
It was at 6 p.m. that the president returned from his meetings. He walked into his room only to be told by his secretary that he had visitors. He didn’t know Windle well, but he knew enough to understand that if the chief of MIT Police had been waiting for him that long, it had to be serious.
‘Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do for you?’ Obviously something was wrong.
‘We have come here to take your permission,’ said the chief.
‘Permission for what?’
Finding the chief hesitant, Windle took the initiative.
‘To detain Michael Cardoza.’
Antonio didn’t react. Windle assumed that he hadn’t really understood what was happening.
‘You might want to take a look at this. There could be another big name involved too. But we will wait till we have enough evidence against him.’ Windle handed over the forensic report to Antonio, who looked at it and handed it back. ‘It might be better if you explain it to me.’
After the chief narrated the sequence of events, Antonio, in a feeble voice asked, ‘Who else is involved?’ It was as if someone had pulled the carpet from under his feet.
‘We believe James Deahl was the mastermind of the entire act and had a motive to kill Cirisha and the others,’ Aditya said as he walked in. The president recognized him and Windle offered to explain, ‘I knew he was coming. I requested your secretary to allow him to come in.’
Aditya continued from where he had left off. ‘James was as much involved in the conspiracy as Michael was. They were partners in crime. Two of your most fierce and competitive members of the academia came together to silence someone who had them by the scruff of their necks. They proved to the world that if two academic powerhouses come together, their combined ambition and intellect make them unstoppable.’
‘Aditya,’ Antonio began. ‘I understand your grief at losing someone close to you. But we cannot put down a senior member of our faculty just because you strongly feel so.’
‘It’s not about what I feel, sir. Let me show you what I have. May I request you for access to a computer? I can show you what I mean.’
Antonio led Aditya to his computer and logged in. Aditya sat down on Antonio’s seat, swung towards the computer and started working his way around. In forty-five seconds he was ready. ‘Here we go.’ Everyone looked at him and gathered around the computer. He clicked something on the screen and a hiss came up on the computer speakers. Aditya cranked up the audio.
The noise of a toilet flush could now be heard in the president’s room. It came from his computer speakers. Antonio looked at Windle, who shrugged his shoulders.
A door opened and closed in the distance. Antonio turned towards Aditya and the computer. That’s where the sound came from.
The hiss continued. Then someone spoke.
‘I need to use the washroom. Will be back in a minute.’
‘Hmm,’ someone responded.
And then the silence returned. There was no sound for a while until a whisper could be heard. Aditya increased the speaker volume a bit more.
‘What happened? Why did you call now? This late at night?’
A pause.
‘Tell me quickly. Richard is here but is out of the room now.’
A longer pause.
‘I’m trying my best to get the research papers from him.’
Silence.
‘He is not telling me where they are. The bastard even has the photos.’
No noise.
‘What did he tell Cirisha?’
Silence.
‘Hmm … Richard will prove to be a pain, James.’
A pause. The only noise audible was the hiss.
‘It’s with me. Got it last month itself. Picked it up from Riverdale.’
Silence.
‘How? How did I get it? I told you. He had given a letter authorizing the gun to be handed over to me.’
Silence.
‘No, no. I don’t need any help from your NRA contacts to get it delivered. It’s done.’
A long pause.
‘I don’t understand.’
Silence.
/> ‘You want me to do it during the interview?’
Silence, interspersed with heavy breathing.
‘I understand that’s our best chance of getting him out of the way. But what if it goes wrong?’
Silence again.
‘Bullshit!’ The voice went up and, suddenly, realizing that it would be heard, dropped to a whisper. ‘I don’t think I am ready to do it yet.’
The sound of a door opening interrupted the pause.
‘OK, I will talk later. He is coming out.’
There was a lengthy pause. And then someone else’s voice came on the line.
‘I’m going to get myself something to eat. What about you?’
‘Nothing. Tell me what you want. I will get it from the kitchen. You may not be able to find it, Richard.’
Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) Page 26
