Mr President

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 riot boot knife from his left boot leg.

“You are a soldier” mumbled the prey in between his deep gasps for breath. He could never mistake a Winchester knife which was the primary weapon of every soldier in the army. He himself has used it a couple of times when battling the 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 stay in the stomach for a few seconds before replacing it back to the holster in his left leg.

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. ” replied Singh.

“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. The Indian constitution was also formed here.

“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”

                                                                                            to be continued......