Chapter 1
“You are not making my job any easier by
wriggling. I assure you. It would all be done in thirty seconds. Your journey
is going to be short and sweet”.
In the thick pitched darkness the six feet
two figure was wriggling madly on the muddy ground. Both his hands were held
back by a coir rope and his wrists were bleeding heavily.
The stalker unleashed a Winchester
“You are a soldier” mumbled the prey in
between his deep gasps for breath. He could never mistake a Winchester Baluchistan infiltrates in
Kargil.
“Yes my dear comrade. You can never forget
this beauty right.” He moved his gaze for a fleeting moment from his prey to
admire the knife. There is no perfect hunting weapon. The right weapon will be
determined by the kind of game and hunter’s preference of materials and style
and there is certainly no lack of choice for someone who is looking for a knife
made for hunting purposes.
With a quick moment he pierced the knife in
to the left side of the belly. It travelled through esophagus then small
intestine and finally halting at the duodenum. Warm blood flowed into muddy
ground giving the surface a dark brown colour. He let the Winchester
He ruffled through the trouser packets of
the victim to retrieve a cell phone and punched a ten digit number with the
same elegance with which he had handled the knife a few moments ago.
He
had always wanted to rechristen himself as Silas after the legendry stalker of
the Davinci code. The phone at the other end went a few rings unattended before
prompting him to leave a voice message.
“Silas” he pronounced before ending the
call.
Chapter 2
“Nothing better in the world to pump you
after an early morning jog” told Velu Nayakar in exalted tone to his friends
sipping a tumbler of south Indian brewed coffee. “I may live without my wife
but not without three tumblers of coffee a day”.
“Beware your wife may well have planted
microphone under the table” retorted Tejhpal Singh. Velu Nayakar often wondered
whether the sardar was born as the Chief of Intelligence wing. He suspected
everything.
“Harrah! Won’t you ever stop behaving like
a cop and live a civilian’s life. You would even call a stray dog following you
on street as Russian spy tagging you”. Velu Nayakar spoke with an accent which
often made him a laughing stock among his friends. He was not able to shake of
his Tamil accent although he was fairly eloquent in Hindi.
“What to do yaar! You would also become a
doubting John when you get to know how many of the central minsters phones are
bugged. You would not believe that big boss asked me to bug Rane’s cell phone
yesterday”. He was referring to Prime Minister R.K.Mohan as big boss.
“But you can’t obviously bug a central
minister’s phone unless you have Presidential approval and approval from
Central Intelligence committee of Intelligence, right?”
“The President’s term is going to end in
six months from now. He doesn’t want to displease big boss in anyway. Big boss
did not have to move a finger to get the old man’s consent from Poland
“You mean he is looking for a second term
at the office and would do anything to get PM’s support for a second term”
asked Velu placing his tumbler on the table.
“Not sure. But I don’t find a reason why
the old man would not want a second term. And by the way I get to hear that our
Pres is really enjoying his tour of Europe . He
has extended his official tour by a week” with this Tejhpal got up from his
chair to take leave. His six feet five figure with the turban adding a couple
of more inches touched the roof of umbrella they were sitting under.
“You have obvious interest over the future
of our president. Don’t you Velu”.
Velu Nayakar did not find it a question fit
to reply. He flung his arms across to strike a pose of tranquillity.
After chatting with the rest of his friends
for one more hour Velu Nayakar made his way across the lawn to visitors waiting
room which could have easily accommodated ten at a time. One of the luxuries of
his job was the two storied bungalow spread across 25000 square feet.
He walked past his favourite Ganesha idol
with a fresh jasmine garland around the neck. Couple of bananas which were
pierced with agarbattis, an Indian aroma stick, were placed on the pedestal as
offerings.
The wall clock inside the hall showed half
past eight. Ample time to get ready and rehearse the lines he would be
delivering at Joint session of Parliament. He was scheduled to address the Joint
session at two in the afternoon. As the Vice President of India this address
was going to be very important for him. This was his moment of glory in
President’s absence.
He
quickly climbed the stairs to first floor to enter his study room and closed
the door behind. He had some very important things to sort out before his
address at the parliament.
Chapter 3
“Honourable speaker sir! It becomes my duty
as the opposition leader that I bring into the notice of the house this issue
which raises serious questions on the state of law and order in the country”. Bala
Maran paused to look at the Parliament Speaker and tugged his shirt collar. Somnath
Banerjee gave a dutiful nod to assure him that he had his undivided attention.
Not that it mattered much.
“I have with me the latest report from the
National commission on Law and order which I believe Prime minister is well
aware of”. Maran was clutching a bunchy report in his hand which he had already
gone through twice last night and knew every word in it by heart.
“The report gives detailed statistics on
the state of law and order in each state.” He again tugged his collar a couple
of times before continuing. “As you all might be aware that the coalition
government at the center constitutes thirteen parties with four more supporting
from outside.”
“Maran. All of us are well aware of this. Now,
would you be getting around to your question for Defence minister” interrupted
Somnath. “Of course sir!” Maran told in a tone that was somewhere between
apologetic and irritation of being interrupted.
“If you would rank the states based on the
statistics in the report it makes up some interesting reading which I suppose
our Prime Minister is not going to be too happy with”.
Prime Minister R.K.Mohan was staring at a
portrait of Vithal Bhai, the first elected President
of the Indian Legislative Assembly which hung prominently on the mahogany
walls adjacent to guest gallery. His thirty year political career had taught him how to toggle his attention. He was waiting for Maran to get to the point
which he was afraid would take at least a couple of more minutes.
“These statistics were accumulated over a
period of six months. So you could be well assured that it averages out the
spikes over short periods. And certainly there cannot be a question on the
reliability of a government appointed committee”.
“Would you mind cutting your preamble short?
We all know you could rattle on for dog’s years”. This anonymous shriek from
the treasury bench was the call of duty for usual back benchers of the lok
sabha and they wasted not a moment to get into live action.
” Who was that donkey having the guts to
brawl on our leader” came back the retort.
It was largely muffled by the sudden
commotion in the house. But it did get to the earshot of some in treasury and
in seconds there was a barrage of kurta clad netas rushing towards the center
of the house to cram the space below the speaker’s podium
Somnath anxiously looked at the antique
wall clock. In a couple of minutes the minute hand would race past the hour
hand to reach twelve. As a child he was always fascinated by the contest
between the two hands. But now he had a
different kind of a bitter contest to deal with.
“Please could the members maintain decorum
in the house. We have already wasted a dog’s years haggling over donkey issues
and I am sure that people would want us to discuss issues related to human
beings”. The quick witted remark from Somnath brought about a roar of laughter
in the hall.
“I request all the members to get back to
their seats. We don’t have much time left in the question hour and I would like
all to put every minute of it to full use”. Happy with their one minute of lime
light the members tracked their way back. It took a stern stare from Somnath to
make the half hearted ones to trudge back to their seats.
Bala Maran slipped back in to his well rehearsed
lines. Somnath could not concentrate on his word. He was already thinking about
the joint session of the parliament later in the day. Vice president Velu
Nayakar was to the address the Joint session to buy peace among the two houses
over the Quota system for Scheduled classes in IIMs. He had a feeling that the
session was not going to be an easy one.
Chapter 4
Parliament house occupies a circular area of five
hundred and sixty feet in diameter. The prime structure is the Central hall.
Along the three axis of the building are the Lok Sabha, Rajya Sabha and Library
buildings. The central hall has lot of history attached to it. Here happened
the transition of power from British to India
“Panther on his way to the fort” crackled the Walkie
Talkie in Sub Inspector Prabanjan Mishra’s hand. He was in charge of the
security force deployed at the Iron Gate in
Vijay Chowk side, which was one of the two gates which lead into the inner periphery
of Parliament house. The other Iron Gate was
at the Parliament street side. His
instructions were simple enough. Allow only vehicles with official pass sticker
to get through the gate. He had five more minutes before the Vice President’s
convoy would reach the gate.
Silas traced the outline of 0.5mm Berta rested in
his trouser packet. The flow of adrenaline fluid made him feel good. It gave
him a sense of purpose to his life which was otherwise one paced. He cherished these
instances of challenge.
At twenty five minutes to two the Vice President’s
convoy reached the Iron Gate . Prabanjan could
see the outline of Vice President Velu Nayakar seated in the second car of the
convoy. He gave a stern salute with the thud to the hard cemented floor with
his shoes. One of the constables dutifully checked the bottom of each car with
a mirror and gave a nod. Prabanjan waved for the convoy to move ahead and
raised this Walkie Talkie to his lips. “Panther on his way to den. I repeat
panther on his way to den. Over”. He toggled the Walkie Talkie back to receiver
mode.
The convoy reached gate number 11 manned by the CRPF
where it breezed through without any obstruction. It accelerated passed a
series of fountains and then took a sharp turn to the left. It finally came to
a halt outside the Vice President’s office.
Velu Nayakar stepped out of the car in his sparkling
white dhoti and shirt attire. Three black cat securities encircled him
immediately. He made a light work of the stairs to reach his office and rested
his seventy five Kilo on the plush leather chair of his office.
“Mom! You think I am going to win the running race today”
“Yes. But remember to thrust your chest forward while running. It gives you more momentum and reduces the shear force on you”
“Ya! Would remember that”.
Saira Banu waved to her eleven year old son Abhinav running towards the school gate. He was already following his mom’s advice to thrust his chest forward while running.
Chapter 5
Even the best efforts
of the air conditioner in the room could not stop him from sweating and he made
no efforts to wipe it. He turned to look at the guy seated beside him who was
starring blankly at the table in front of them.
Saira Banu was not
making them any more comfortable by starring at them.
“I am not going to
fuss around with my message”. She paused for the effect of the words to sink
in.” You know that Police don’t have enough evidence to prove you both guilty
of murder in the court. But we do have enough evidence to convict for charges
of conspiracy”.
The four digital video
recorders in the room were grabbing every minute of the interrogation. The
video was beamed live to a monitor in the lab next room. A psychologist was
keenly watching the monitor which was programmed to automatically
switch over from one camera to the other in 5 seconds giving him a view from
every angle.
“Considering these, I have a proposal which
you both might find attractive. Or I believe at least one of you might find
attractive enough”. The way Saira stressed on the second sentence giving it an
obvious importance.
“She is damn good to be a psychologist”
grunted the psychologist from the lab.
“If both of you agree to confess of being
guilty of murder we would not press the court for a life sentence and you could
well get away with five year sentence each.” The guy gazing at the table looked
up at Saira.
“In case one of you decide to keep his
mouth shut and the other confesses, which I think is quite possible, the
confessor walks away free with the other serving a life sentence”. Saira was
interrupted by the vibration of her cell phone. She never liked being disturbed
in the middle of interrogation. It must be Abhinav, she thought trying to tell
her the result of the running race. She switched off the mobile before
continuing.
“Yes, you have complete rights to keep your
mouth shut. But obviously you can’t rely upon your other mate doing the same.
In which case one of you unfortunately ends up with serving life sentences
while the other walks out free although you know he is as guilty as you”
The psychologist informed the constable
sitting next to him “that is a perfect use of game theory”.
“I
have quit playing games after I left college” replied the constable. The
psychologist stared back at him. He thought of explaining the theory to him but
stopped himself. At this the constable grew more confident and added “In
college, kabadi used to be my favourite game sir!”
There was gentle knock on the door before
it was pushed open by a constable. “Madam! Sorry to interrupt you. But
Shatrugan sharma is insisting on talking to you immediately. He is on the phone
line in the facilities room”. Saira wanted to scream back at the constable to
get away but knew he was only carrying the message from the CBI chief.
“Hello Saira! I tried to contact you on
your mobile. But you had it switched off” Shatrugan Sharma’s tone conveying
that he was tense.
“I was in an interrogation”. Saira tried to
suppress her hurt at being pulled out in the middle of an interrogation.
“Saira, you know that I dare not interrupt
you during an interrogation unless I feel it necessary. And I feel this one is.
I have a police patrol car waiting for you outside to take you to Chanakya
Puri.”
“But for what? “
In his haste the CBI chief had forgotten to
mention the reason.
“We have found a dead body in some very
interesting circumstances. I would like you to look at the crime site before
any of the vital clues gets trampled”
