‘I know what you’re thinking, Russiji, but don’t jump to conclusions,’ said Inspector Vichare.
Despite the broken night before, Vichare, Lobo and Russi had all got to Dhobi Talao Police Station by 9 a.m. that Saturday morning.
‘And what is it that I’m thinking, dear Inspector?’ asked Russi, taking a big sip of adrak chai—his second cup at the station, a faster run-rate than usual, needed to overcome inadequate sleep.
‘That there was some foul play in Vasu’s death,’ said Vichare. ‘Sometimes when we are in the middle of investigations everything seems suspicious. But, Russiji, in my experience, the most obvious explanation is usually true.’
‘What is the most obvious explanation here, Inspector saheb?’ asked Russi earnestly.
‘That a lifelong drunkard drank too much and died,’ said Vichare.
Russi smiled. ‘I thought the reason for death will be known only once the post-mortem and toxicology report is out. You’re correct, Inspector saheb. Before the facts are clear, it is better not to jump to conclusions.’
Vichare laughed. ‘Russiji, you have become an expert.’
‘Actually, quite the opposite. I feel I have been very foolish—a total ghunchukker,’ said Russi.
‘Arre, now what happened?’ asked Vichare.
‘I made the one mistake no one trying to find the truth should make,’ said Russi. ‘I made assumptions.’
Vichare wondered what was bothering the old umpire. Gut feel and quick judgement made a good investigator, he thought, but he decided not to provoke debate.
‘For me, it is quite simple,’ he said. ‘With Vasu’s death, we will not be able to put Shreya’s killer behind bars. By that, I mean the man who smashed her head in. But the real killers—the people who ordered him to kill—are still to be caught. So it doesn’t matter how Vasu died. If it was not natural, meaning he was killed, it must be the same bosses who silenced him.’
‘Why would they do that?’ asked Russi.
‘Because he had gone from being a useful chap to being a pain in the pichhwada,’ said Vichare emphatically. ‘Look, he was about to get arrested a second time and had already begun chirping that he would reveal the names of those behind Shreya’s killing. So, the only question to be answered is whether Choksi and Mahadevia are responsible for one murder or two.’
Lobo had been listening attentively to the exchange between Vichare and Russi.
‘Sir, does that mean we can now bring Choksi in?’ he asked. ‘It was his voice on the call to Vasu.’
‘You know nobody wants that more than me. But we need to move carefully,’ said Vichare. ‘It’s one thing to convince the bosses that Vasu needed to be arrested. It’s a totally different matter to get permission to mess with Brajesh Choksi. We need to wait till things are clear about Vasu. If there’s anything suspicious there, then we may have grounds to question Choksi.’
The conversation was interrupted by a call to Russi’s phone.
‘Russi, have you seen the news?’
It was Justice Shankar.
‘No. I try to stay away from the idiot box and its maatha-dukhan as much as I can,’ said Russi. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Switch on Zap News.’
‘Zap News,’ said Russi, gesturing to Lobo as he spoke. Lobo hurried to search for the remote control.
When the channel was switched on, big, flashing letters in red leapt out from a blue background.
BREAKING NEWS
Murky goings-on at High-Profile Enquiry Commission!!!
Corruption-catchers turn out morally corrupt!!!
Headline after headline splashed on the screen, accompanied by loud sound effects and glitzy colours. The graphics soon gave way to a TV studio and the camera panned to an anchor bouncing on her feet in front of a desk with a dazzling neon-pink glow.
‘Stunning breaking news!’ she shrieked at the top of her voice. ‘This is Sanjana and like we have been telling you, Zap News has got exclusive information that has cast a dark shadow—yes, my friends, a very dark shadow—on the investigation into MCL match-fixing by the Enquiry Commission into Cricket Corruption, popularly known as the Justice Shankar Commission.’
Another anchor abruptly took over, his volume kinder to the eardrums but his pace more breathless than his colleague’s.
‘That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Zap has exclusively learnt that the Commission has been widely using illegal and unauthorized phone-tapping, and eavesdropping on calls of innocent people under the guise of their investigation,’ he said. ‘On your screen right now are the exclusive screenshots—I repeat, 100 per cent exclusive screenshots—of WhatsApp chats that prove everything that we are exclusively breaking on this programme.’
As he spoke, a graphic captured from a mobile phone chat exchange appeared on the screen. Its contents were not discernible, but the names of the people corresponding were Shreya Ved and Aziz Khan.
The first anchor, Sanjana, continued, her volume even louder than before. ‘In chat messages exchanged between the Commission’s lead investigator, Shreya Ved, and DSP-on-deputation Aziz Khan, the breaking of the law is amply evident! Breaking the law, ladies and gentlemen … that is the news we are breaking now.’
The camera zoomed in on the image, highlighting several messages.
‘We need to tap their phones. Can’t wait for permissions that we won’t get,’ said one from Shreya.
‘Let’s do it,’ was the reply from Aziz.
‘Zap News has also learnt that the Commission leaked confidential information to the magazine Express Today,’ said the second anchor. ‘This was a charge levelled earlier as well but was denied by no less than Justice Shankar himself. But, dear friends, we have exclusively accessed chat messages from Shreya Ved to an as-yet-unverified number revealing that not only was the denial a complete lie, but also the information itself lacked any evidence!’
Shreya Ved to <<98XXXXXX77>>:
I am giving you names for your article but don’t ask for the supporting evidence. We will deny any links with this once published.
More ‘exclusive’ graphics, purportedly from WhatsApp messages, continued to be revealed deliriously by the anchors.
Vichare drew a deep breath, his eyes still transfixed to the screen.
‘Deva re,’ he said. ‘How did they get all these private screenshots? This damages the Commission’s findings.’
‘Along with each of their personal reputations,’ said Russi.
Lobo had lowered the volume, but Shrieking Sanjana’s voice still rang out clearly. ‘The muck doesn’t end with their professional misconduct, dear viewers. Zap News has also exclusively seen chats between Aziz Khan and the now-deceased Shreya Ved, who was married. These chats establish that they were having an affair!’
‘Can a marriage-wrecker like Aziz be trusted with a principled and moral investigation?’ asked the breathless anchor, his question suggesting the answer was crystal clear to him.
Lobo flipped the channel. Another newsroom, another anchor, but the subject was the same. It was everywhere. Each channel claimed to have bagged an exclusive scoop, but in reality they were all running the identical story, with the same chat screenshots dressed up in different headlines. On the last news channel, a panel of at least twelve people had been assembled to discuss the matter. They spoke animatedly in each of their little windows on the screen, but their audio had been turned off and only the agitated anchor could be heard.
‘Shameful, I say,’ he bellowed. ‘Shameful that the people legally empowered to investigate are themselves breaking the law. Now their own misdeeds merit a serious investigation!’
He lowered his voice before asking the question that was also on the minds of Russi, Vichare and Lobo.
‘After these revelations, can we place any trust whatsoever in the findings of the Shankar Commission?’
Brajesh Choksi stepped out of his Malabar Hill bungalow, briefcase in hand, and into the bright afternoon sun. His silver Audi was parked in the driveway but there was no sign of his chauffeur.
‘Where the hell is he? All these useless people, never there when you need them,’ he muttered to himself.
His bodyguard, sipping tea about 50 metres away at the gate, was surprised to see his boss. Choksi usually left for the office before 9 a.m., but had been indoors all morning, apparently glued to the television, watching the news. Now, at 2 p.m., he had emerged without notice. The guard leapt to his feet immediately and hared off in search of the missing chauffeur.
Choksi had begun perspiring, and just as he started mopping the sweat from his brow, a face suddenly appeared in front of him. In the dazzling sunlight, he couldn’t immediately recognize who it was—until he saw the big red bindi on a glistening broad forehead.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he snapped.
‘I needed to meet you urgently, and calling is too risky because your phone is probably being tapped,’ said Kajal Banerjee.
Choksi scowled. ‘What the—’
‘Listen carefully,’ said Kajal. ‘I may have been followed, so I don’t have time. There’s bad news. The Shankar Commission report will be out in a couple of days.’
‘As soon as that? It doesn’t matter. Nobody will trust it after the news that broke this morning,’ said Choksi with a satisfied grin.
‘Do you want to risk that? You know exactly what the report is going to say,’ said Kajal. ‘As for your Navika, she’s a weak link.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Kajal. ‘Navika calls the shots and never goes down. If you do, she will find a way to extricate herself from it.’
‘Stop beating around the bush, Kajal,’ said Choksi.
He felt as if the sun had turned itself up a notch, burning hotter and brighter since this conversation began.
‘I’m telling you what I know,’ said Kajal. ‘It gets worse. The police also know that Vasu Langda killed Shreya and they have your phone calls with him about her.’
From the corner of her eye, she could see the guard and chauffeur opening the front gate on their way back to the car.
‘How do you have all this information?’ asked Choksi.
‘They wanted me to work for them,’ said Kajal. ‘But I thought I should warn you. I owe you that much. Find a way to save yourself, Choksi.’ With that, she rushed from the driveway towards the back boundary hedges of the compound. By the time Choksi’s chauffeur and guard reached the Audi, she had disappeared.
‘Sorry, sir, sorry, sir,’ said the chauffeur, holding open the rear door of the car, in full expectation of a tornado of abuse from his boss.
But Choksi stepped into the car without saying a word, shut the door himself and put his hand up firmly. He wanted silence and space, and his relieved pair of employees stepped back in obedience.
‘This bloody Shankar Commission,’ thought Choksi, trying to come to terms with the information Kajal had brought. He had ensured the ministry wouldn’t grant the Commission an extension—but if the report was submitted to the court within the deadline, there was little the ministry could do. ‘Losing that Shreya girl has done nothing to slow them down …’
Choksi gritted his teeth. Things had moved faster than he expected. Navika had also said they needed to act immediately, and the media blitz this morning was supposed to take care of that. But could he even trust her any more? Kajal was right—Navika didn’t care about anyone but herself.
But he didn’t trust Kajal either. She could be hand in glove with the cops, planting misinformation and fear in his head.
There was one, and only one, person he could count on—himself.
The morning had started well but Choksi decided that he needed to change plans. What Navika had done with the media was evidently not going to be enough. He would have to go one step further, and do it alone.
Choksi signalled, and the chauffeur and bodyguard leapt into their respective front seats immediately. As soon as instructions were given and received, the Audi sped out of the front gate.
Down the road, just out of sight from the bungalow gate, the engine of a jeep stationed there stirred to life.