The COMPLETE Siya Rajput Crime Thrillers (Books 1 to 4)

by UD Yasha

  Siya Rajput had gotten him twice. That’s why he had decided to be more cautious round the clock since he had escaped from prison. Despite being on the twenty-first floor, he didn’t use the elevator to get to the apartment he had rented using some fake papers. Even though he had visited it every week without fail for the past two years, the air inside always tasted stale. He didn’t care though. Once inside, he rushed to the large floor-to-ceiling window of the living room.

  Watching the city from high above was a calming experience. He needed that stability before doing what he had planned. It was as if feeling calm made his anticipation leap higher. He closed his eyes and took a moment to prepare himself for the adrenaline and oxytocin that was about to race through his mind and body. Zakkal smiled again. This time it was wider. He felt his body quiver. Gratitude was flowing through him.

  Once ready, he set up the telescope, aiming it at a house that was not more than three kilometres away. But the strong lens made it seem like he was inside the house.

  And then he saw her.

  The curls of Naina Rajput’s hair first caught his eye. His heart thudded against his ribs as he thought about how he had stroked it every night for ten years while she fell asleep. He inhaled deeply again, almost as if he could smell her despite being so far away.

  And if that was not enough to make Zakkal’s day, something even better happened. Siya was sleeping right next to her mother. She opened her eyes when he focused on her. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she knew he was watching both of them.

  Even from afar, he marvelled in the gaze of her green eyes. The distance made him appreciate her even more. She was so sweet and had the most beautiful eyes he had seen, even better than her mother’s. He had lost his breath when he had first seen her all grown up two years ago—the day she came to visit him at Yerwada. Every day since then, he had longed to look back into those eyes.

  To feel even closer to her, Zakkal’s hand rummaged inside his pant pockets for a gift that Siya had given him. It was one earring from the pair that she had given him in exchange for information on her mother. The earring itself belonged to Siya’s mother. Siya had carried it into Yerwada Jail in her underwear.

  This way you’ll smell us both, she had said to him while taking it out from her pants.

  A few months ago, he had sent one earring from the pair back to Siya as a gift on her birthday. He held the other under his nose and inhaled as he watched Siya now, playing out various scenarios in his mind—all that he hoped would come true.

  Very soon. I know that day isn’t far.

  But he knew he had to wait.

  The best things happened to those who were patient. He knew this better than anyone else. He had waited two years for this moment ever since escaping from Yerwada. And all the training he had put his mind through by not harming his lover and learning self-control was going to be useful.

  He watched Siya for another hour even after she closed her eyes and fell asleep. As the first rays of sunlight poked through the cloudless sky, he retreated back into the living room, knowing it was time to act.

  Chapter Two

  One hundred and ninety-seven days. That's how long it had been since Zakkal had sent me an earring from the pair I had given him. With every day that had passed since I had received it, I had not been able to stop thinking about what Zakkal was planning. I had a nagging feeling that he had been watching us.

  I had made sure that the security at our house had been upgraded. Four more security cameras had been added and all the locks had been changed. But still, somehow, I always felt that Zakkal was not too far away.

  Maybe I was overthinking it. But from what I knew of Zakkal, sending me the earring was not just about reminding us that he was somewhere out there. It was more than just a taunt. It seemed that the act was a mere warmup for the bloodshed he had planned. I hated to think about this because I knew Zakkal wanted me to feel this fear. He was a master of playing mind games. But I also knew that that was also the way I would get him eventually. That’s how we had safely gotten Maa back.

  My mind shook back to the present moment when a bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

  ‘Are you all ready, everyone?’ Maa said, sounding excited as she walked out of the kitchen. ‘I’m bringing out our most loved rainy-day food.’

  That moment served as a reminder of everything right. I smiled. Our family was finally together. If someone had told me two years ago that my mother would be with my sister Radha, her fiancé Rahul, and me after all these years and we would all be having a cosy meal in the evening, I could have not felt happier.

  Yet, somehow, it felt like something terrible was just around the corner, waiting to disrupt the semblance of normalcy that our life now held. I was not used to feeling happy, because of what had happened to all of us.

  I took the plate of bhajis from Maa as we stepped out onto the veranda. I could not stop myself from putting one in my mouth. The first one always tasted the best. We settled on the chairs in our veranda that overlooked a small garden.

  Almost on cue, the sky roared and the pattering of raindrops echoed on the awning of our veranda. Then, the smell of the bhaji—an Indian delicacy of different vegetables mixed in a batter and fried to be served hot—wafted in the air. Mixed with petrichor, it was the perfect fragrance. Our dog, Shadow, a stray we had adopted almost three years ago, ran inside as the rain got heavier and he smelt the bhaji.

  In the past six months, Maa had taken up gardening as a hobby. That’s why our veranda now had flowering plants hanging from the awning. They had added to the charm of the entire place. More than anything, I was happy to see Maa getting more normal by the day which seemed like a miracle as she had been held captive for sixteen years by a serial killer.

  There were few places on earth better than our home’s veranda in the Monsoon. Even when Maa had been kidnapped, the veranda was the place where Radha and I would talk endlessly about everything that made us happy. It had been with us through all the tough times. Now that our family was finally together, what he had been through almost seemed unreal. I took a moment to think about dad. He was no longer with us. But we knew what had happened to him and that had played a huge role in all of us finding some sort of closure.

  I set the plate of bhajis on an empty chair as I remembered I had to strain the tea on the stove. By the time I got out, the rain got heavier and was soon a constant buzz.

  Of course, all of that made the tea and the bhajis taste even better. All of us sat silently, taking in the atmosphere. I loved the early phase of the Monsoon when the rain was still not harsh. By the fag end of the rainy season, I would always get tired of the muddy outdoors and the damp air. But late-June was a wonderful time to enjoy the rains.

  ‘Check this out,’ Radha said with a wide grin on her face as she leaned forward while holding out her smartphone.

  We had been discussing matters related to her and Rahul’s wedding for the past couple of months. The wedding had been scheduled for the last week of December, and with less than six months to go, the preparations were in full swing.

  ‘Yeah, I love what the designer has done with the sleeves,’ I said. Radha was showing me the lehenga she was going to wear for the sangeet—an event where both the bride and grooms’ sides would dance and sing songs.

  ‘Believe it or not, that’s my choice,’ Rahul said and winked.

  Radha punched his shoulder, letting out a laugh. She said, ‘The pattern—‘.

  The bell at our main gate chimed.

  The breeze bringing in the drops of rain suddenly felt colder. I noticed I was tightly gripping the seat of my chair. A thin layer of sweat coated my hands. I inhaled sharply.

  Stay in the world of crime and hang out with dark minds long enough, and you start developing an intuition for when everything is going to come crashing down. At that very moment, I felt like my intestines were being tied up in a knot. Because of my constant fear that Zakkal was going to come for us, I had r
ecently been trying to squash that intuition. But right then, as I sat in the silence that followed the chime of the bell, I knew all those times had just been my fear acting up. This is the real deal.

  I pulled out my smartphone and opened the app that let us check the feed from the various CCTV cameras installed around the house. I checked the one at the main gate.

  ‘Who’s it?’ Rahul said, getting up from his chair.

  ‘Don’t go, wait,’ I said as the app refreshed.

  ‘Who is it?’ This time it was Radha. There was an edginess to her voice. Zakkal really had us in his grip.

  ‘It’s a woman. I don’t know her,’ I said in a low voice, looking at the female figure on my screen.

  I pressed a button on the screen that let me activate the microphone on the camera.

  ‘Who are you?’ I said.

  The woman looked confused for a flash, wondering where the voice was coming from, before realizing what was happening.

  ‘I’m here to meet Siya Rajput,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Meena Kiran.’

  The tone of her voice sounded strange but the name seemed familiar. Where have I heard it before?

  ‘What’s this regarding?’ I said. ‘I’m Siya Rajput.’

  ‘I’d rather speak to you about it face to face,’ Meena said.

  Through low-resolution images from the camera, I watched Meena look both ways towards the road to check if anyone was following her. We lived in a housing society that had a private road. The main city road of Baner was about seventy metres down the slope that led to the society. So, when Meena checked behind her, she should have gotten an exact idea of what or who was behind her.

  ‘Can you please let me in?’ Meena said. Her voice was softer this time.

  ‘Alright, give me a minute,’ I said and then turned to everyone.

  I muted the microphone.

  It was as if Radha read my mind. ‘You don’t know her,’ she said.

  ‘I know, and that’s why I’m going to meet her in my garage office,’ I said, throwing a hand to my right at the garage that occupied a large part of our garden. ‘You guys stay inside. I’m right across. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  Meena Kiran. I kept trying to remember where I had heard the name as Radha, Rahul and Maa stepped inside the house along with Shadow. Once they were indoors, I walked to the gate and unlatched it.

  Meena smiled as if she was meeting a very old friend. Up close, she seemed even more familiar although I was sure I had not met her before. She was almost as tall as me, which put her at about five feet seven inches. Her hair was tied in a bun at the back and her face bore no makeup. A small purse was hanging on her right shoulder.

  ‘Siya, I’m so glad to see you,’ she said and then turned around again to check the society road.

  It was empty but for the cars parked on either side.

  ‘The rain is getting heavier,’ I said. ‘Let’s go to my office.’

  Meena followed me in as I pulled up the garage shutter. I had not used the office much in the last six months, except to read in it every week. So, the air inside was fresh.

  Only one thought occupied my mind as we sat on chairs opposite each other: How do I know this woman?

  ‘Thanks for letting me in,’ Meena said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Please go on,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know how to say this. I guess there’s no right way,’ Meena said and then kept her purse on her lap.

  As she finished her sentence, I remembered how I knew of Meena Kiran. The surname was what had initially rung a bell in my mind. Then seeing Meena at the gate, the familiarity had only grown. This cannot be happening. The realization hit me in my gut. Meena was the daughter of one of Zakkal’s early victims.

  ‘You’re Sakshi Kiran’s daughter, right?’ I said, my voice unsure of what this would mean.

  Meena looked up from her purse. She nodded just as a tear streamed down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. I knew what was going to come next.

  ‘He’s back, Siya’ Meena said. ‘Zakkal’s back.’

  Goosebumps spiked across my body as the words kept echoing in my mind. I tried to maintain my sanity. This day was going to come. We all knew it. Then, Meena answered the second question I had in my mind.

  ‘You must be wondering why I’m here or how I know Zakkal is back. He was in my house and has asked me to deliver you a message,’ Meena said and then broke down.

  Chapter Three

  Across town, Senior Inspector Kapil Rathod was excited to be back in the game. He had resumed duty three months ago but had been assigned menial work like clearing the ever-growing backlog in paperwork and training new police officers that had joined the CID. His original suspension was supposed to last for six months so he did not complain when ACP Shukla had let him back after three.

  As much as he hated doing paperwork, sitting at home was worse. He had liked training new officers to some extent, which blunted the monotony of paperwork. But still, nothing could compare to the thrill of working on a real case.

  Rathod stepped out of his house with a spring in his step. Just a minute ago, he had received a call from his partner, Mahesh Bhalerao—who had been recently promoted to the post of Senior Inspector.

  ‘Hello, partner,’ Bhalerao had said on the call. ‘From what I hear, it’s like Yamraj, the God of Death, has personally planned your welcome party. Even I don’t know what to expect but I was told that I’d need to see it with my own eyes to believe it. I’ve sent you the address of the crime scene. I’m reaching in thirty minutes as well.’

  Rathod laughed. He had missed working with Bhalerao in the field. Bhalerao’s humour was at times downright objectionable but it had carried them through the dark times.

  As Rathod got in his car, his mother came running down the staircase of their apartment building.

  ‘You forgot your prasad,’ she said.

  Rathod was not religious like his parents. But he knew how difficult it was for the families of those working in law enforcement to see their loved ones put themselves in harm’s way every day. So, he had a smile on his face as he accepted the prasad, which was the food offered to Gods after praying to them. This time, it was simply a small piece of an Indian sweet called a milk cake.

  ‘You’ll do well, beta,’ she said. ‘Take care.’

  As he bid farewell to his mother, Rathod pressed his foot on the accelerator, feeling the same level of excitement he had experienced before his first-ever case.

  At the start of his suspension, Rathod was striking down dates on a calendar. But the act had seemed too depressing after the first twenty days so he had stopped. Being a police officer was all that Rathod had known all his adult life. Being back in the field now was like he had been reborn.

  The address that Bhalerao had texted him was in an area called Mulshi, which was at the outskirts of Pune city. In the increasing evening rush coupled with the steady rain, it took him about an hour to reach the place.

  The raindrops flashed blue and red on his windscreen as he pulled over outside the barricaded area. The place was a large farmhouse with vast open areas on all sides. Stepping out of the car, Rathod unfurled his umbrella. A junior hawaldar rushed to him.

  ‘Bhalerao sir is waiting for you,’ the hawaldar said. ‘He has asked me to take you to him.’

  Rathod gave a firm nod of his head. He took a moment to look around. Driving down there, Rathod had observed that the locality was quiet and on a usual day, there would have been no sign of human life anywhere close to the farmhouse. It was remotely located with the nearest highway at least fifteen minutes away. The tree cover was also moderately thick. While he was eager to be back in the field, a part of him was restless, knowing what was in store for them inside the farmhouse. Along with the hawaldar, he walked to Bhalerao’s car. A small white van with a strobe light on top was parked next to it.

  A woman who was sitting inside the van handed them plastic over
alls. They both slipped into them and took off for the entrance of the farmhouse. Usually, Bhalerao would have given Rathod a bear hug to greet him. But Bhalerao was silent. They followed a small walkway that was surrounded by a garden. Most of the small saplings in it had dried up while the larger trees were still standing strong.

  ‘What do we know so far?’ Rathod asked Bhalerao.

  The expression on Bhalerao’s face told Rathod to be prepared to hear the worst. Usually, that meant multiple murders in their world.

  Bhalerao said, ‘This farmhouse is called The Green Estate. Its owner is an Indian guy who has been living in the UK for the past twenty years. From what I hear, he’s from a wealthy family. Farmhouses, buildings, penthouses…the entire deal. But the owner passed away two months ago. Heart attack, nothing suspicious. His empire was based on borrowed money. And as it so happens, it turns out the guy was borrowing more than he was earning. When he died, his business collapsed. His family could not pay back any loans, including the one on which this farmhouse was bought. A legal mess but we have bigger problems. The bank sent its people over earlier today and they found dead bodies inside.’

  ‘How many?’ Rathod asked.

  ‘No idea. But the bank’s employee who reported the bodies has not been able to speak for the past two hours. The hawaldar who reached the crime scene said and I quote “it’s a fucking slaughterhouse”. Our team is on its way. You’re the first member to reach.’

  Rathod and Bhalerao walked through a garden of flowers for about four minutes before they reached the actual entrance of the farmhouse. A large staircase with high pillars on either side signalled its entrance. The farmhouse itself seemed large like everything else on its premises. It was two-storeyed and the construction spread over at least four thousand square feet.