Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (35 page)

Windle had never called at such a late hour. Did that mean the cops were worried he might be in danger? Was there reason to be? Numerous thoughts ran through his mind the moment he put the phone down.

He walked over to the window. Through the crack between the curtains he peered outside. A police patrol car was stationed about fifty metres away. Two officers were standing near the bonnet, chatting. Every thirty seconds one of them would look around cautiously. They were vigilant. Aditya didn’t move from the spot. His eyes were focused, though his mind wandered. He was strangely uncomfortable. There was something more than what met the eye. He thought about the incidents of the last few days. Cirisha, the documents, the hospitalization of Narayanan, the duPont Center, Shivinder joining him, volunteering help, the photocopies in the locker, the pendrive and then the accident. The events kept playing in front of him like a video on endless loop. There had to be something somewhere, which would tell him what those guys were after. Knowing that was the only way he would survive.

He went into Cirisha’s study. Something there might give him a clue. Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, he didn’t have anything better to do. He had no option but to keep trying.

Once more, he went through the contents of the box that had come from the university. The folder marked ‘David Windle’ was still there. Apart from that, nothing in the box interested him. He looked up. Cirisha’s ID card was hanging from the soft board above her table. He looked at it and then at the box. He plucked the ID card and kissed it softly. ‘I’ve made many mistakes but loving you wasn’t one of them, Ciri. I don’t know how to prove this to you. I am sorry,’ he stammered as a continuous stream of tears began to flow. ‘I am sorry, my love, that I hurt you. If you are listening to me, I really mean it. I love you, baby.’ He kissed Cirisha’s picture on the ID card once again.

At that very instant he heard a car pull up somewhere close by. Instinctively, he walked back to the window, ID card in hand. A black SUV had stopped near the two officers. The front window on the passenger side was rolled down. One of the officers had walked up to the SUV. It looked like someone was seeking directions. At 2 a.m., and when most cars were fitted with GPS devices? It surprised him. Standing there behind the curtains, he had a hunch that the SUV meant trouble.

The officer returned to his patrol vehicle. The SUV window rolled up again. Aditya couldn’t see anything inside the car. The SUV didn’t move from its position. Its engine was on, he could make out from the parking lights. They were probably waiting for someone. Aditya was wide awake now. Three minutes passed. One of the officers again went towards the SUV. The window went down again. It was a short conversation this time. The rear door of the SUV opened and the officer went in. Aditya’s heart was racing. Did the officer know those guys? Windle hadn’t mentioned any additional cover being sent for him. And the car didn’t look like a patrol van either.

And that’s when it struck him. The phone call. It was not Windle. The man on the phone had sounded like Windle, but it was someone else. Hadn’t he called him Mr Raisinghania? Windle would never call him that. It was too much of a tongue-twister for him. For Windle, it was always Adi. Or at best Aditya. He panicked. Was it Cirisha’s murderers who had called to check if their next victim was at home?

That’s when he saw the officer who had got into the SUV getting out, envelope in hand. Had he been paid off? The officer with the envelope then walked towards his colleague and within a minute, both of them got into the patrol car and drove away.

‘Run!’ something inside him screamed. He scrammed from the window. Hurriedly, he put on his shoes. Not even waiting to tie his shoelaces, he bolted towards the back door. Six steps and he was at the door. He was about to open it, when he stopped. He remembered something. He ran back to his room, opened his cupboard and from the third drawer from the bottom, pulled out a double-action Colt Python with a 4-inch barrel.

Pausing for a moment, he checked if it was loaded. It was. The discussion he had had with Cirisha a few years back, when he had forced her to buy it despite her discomfort with guns, raced through his mind.

He tucked it into his trouser pocket, picked up his jacket from the bed and tumbled through the house, snatching his backpack lying on a lounge chair on the way.

In the distance he heard the click of the SUV door.

Time was running out.

He sprinted to the back door and yanked it open. It surprised him, albeit for a couple of seconds, that the alarm didn’t go off. The intruders had disconnected it: it was programmed to go off if the door was opened between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m.

He jumped into the backyard, climbed over the fence and ran into the woods behind the house. Standing about a hundred yards away, under the cover of darkness, he could see the house lights come on. Three men were in his living room, and one person was running up and down, as if he was looking for someone. Surely they had come for him. He looked up and thanked God. And then, he turned and ran. For the next fifteen minutes he kept running till he reached the highway. For a moment, he considered going to the Boston Police station. But he decided against it. The officers at his front door seemed to be hand in glove with the intruders. He crossed the road, dodging oncoming traffic. It was easy, for the traffic at that time was thin. Only container trucks passed on that road during the early-morning hours and you could hear them rumble as they barrelled down the street.

He waved down a passing truck and hitched a ride till the 94th exit, a couple of miles from the entrance to the university. It cost him thirty dollars. He walked up to a roadside motel. He needed to be safe for the night, hoping that the next day would bring some cheer. His close escape got him thinking—maybe his luck was finally turning.

69

12th June 2008

Boston

Aditya was fully awake when the first rays of the sun signalled the dawn of a new day. He had hardly slept a wink. A quick shower followed by a breakfast of French toast and sausages in the room got him ready for the long day ahead.

He had got his clothes washed and ironed at the motel launderette. Dressing quickly, he sat on his bed, fully alert, until the clock in the room beeped eight times. Time to go. He called the university front desk. ‘Can you please put me through to Michael Cardoza?’

‘He isn’t in yet, sir.’

‘Can I speak to his assistant?’

‘Who, Louisa?’

‘Yes, please.’ Aditya knew Louisa. He had met her a few times.

‘Good morning. Dr Cardoza’s office.’

‘Hi Louisa. Aditya. Cirisha’s husband.’

‘Hey. How are you? I couldn’t speak to you that day. The president and the others had hijacked you. I had planned to come and meet you once you were more settled.’

‘Thanks, Louisa. I wanted to meet Michael.’

‘He won’t be in till late afternoon. He has been summoned to the executive committee meeting.’

‘Executive committee meeting? Sounds like a very important forum. Hope all is well.’ Aditya had no clue what an executive committee meeting meant for those in academia. He was just fishing for information.

‘The word on the street is that he is getting the provost’s job. He’s been summoned for that, I guess. But that’s a bit later. He has some other work to attend to in the interim.’

‘Oh wow! Congratulations! You will become the provost’s assistant. Even more powerful.’ And he faked a chuckle.

‘Haha! Thanks.’ And after a second’s pause, she added, ‘How can I help you, Aditya?’

‘I was missing Cirisha, Louisa. How heartless does one need to be to murder someone like her? There is no limit to human cruelty.’

‘They are still treating it like a murder? The cops?’

‘Yes. At least till the time the toxicology tests are out, they have no choice. I am really hoping that they get to the bottom of this soon.’

‘I know, Aditya. It must be really difficult for you. We are all there for you, love.’ Aditya felt horrible to be doing this to Louisa. He was lying to an unsuspecting soul.

‘I was wondering if I could come and take some pictures at Cirisha’s workstation. She has spent close to a decade there. I wanted to take back some memories.’

‘Sure, Aditya. When do you want to come over?’

‘Can I come now?’

‘Sure. Come over. I am in office. I can show you around.’

‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’

‘Great, I’ll see you soon.’

‘Could you please let the guards know? So that they let me in without any trouble.’ Aditya didn’t have his duPont Center identity card. He had given it to Shivinder.

Aditya waited for another ten minutes, and then he was on his way to the university. It was about a mile away and took him a little over fifteen minutes to get there. The guards at the gate recognized him and didn’t bother to stop him. He walked straight to the Academic Block. Louisa met him at the entrance. She gave him a warm hug and led him inside to the first floor. Aditya walked with her through the corridor till she stopped and turned towards him. A sad smile appeared on her face. ‘Cirisha’s room,’ she said, pointing to the door on the right. ‘Give me a minute.’ And she walked to the far end of the corridor. In no time, she was back with a bunch of keys.

Aditya looked at her surprised. He brought his hand up to the access control module on the door and mocked a swipe, raising his eyebrows. Louisa smiled. ‘Long story. One of Cirisha’s colleagues, who shares this room, lost her ID card a few months back. The replacement card took some time in coming. She was finding it difficult to access her workstation. So a couple of months back, the access control to this room was disabled. We use only keys now for this room.’ She smiled, opened the door and led him in.

‘This is where Cirisha spent the last six or seven years,’ she said, pointing to a workstation. Aditya looked around. There were two other workstations in that room. ‘This is where part of Michael’s team sat. Cirisha and two others.’

‘They will be coming in now?’

‘Both of them are travelling on work. In fact, they were not here for Cirisha’s memorial either. I spoke to one of them yesterday. She was very upset that she could not make it. They have been away for over three weeks and are not expected back for another week.’

Aditya scanned the room. Three workstations, each with an iMac. There were individual lockers for each workstation. In one corner was a round table with three seats, which probably served as a place for small meetings, a Xerox photocopier, a small refrigerator and a flat-panel TV, which played university videos. ‘Can I sit here for five minutes? And take a few pictures?’ His voice was barely a whisper now.

Louisa patted him on the back. ‘Sure. Take your time. I will be at my workstation. Down the alley, the last room to the left. Come over once you are done.’

Aditya looked around the room. He had orchestrated the visit to the university for two reasons. One, he wanted time to think. Even though he had kept his mobile phone switched off the whole night, he knew the motel was a stopgap safe house. He had switched it on once in the morning to call Louisa. But that would have been enough for those chasing him to figure out where he was. He could have called from the motel lines, but didn’t. With hindsight, he realized it was stupid of him. Two, he wanted to examine Cirisha’s room, just to make sure that there was nothing she would have wanted him to know. If she had had any inkling of her impending death, she might have left a clue.

The cupboards were empty. The drawers drew a blank. The computer refused to come up. He didn’t have the login ID and password to Cirisha’s account. He stood up and looked around. Helplessly. Hopelessly. There was nothing on the wall, just a solitary painting, apart from the TV, to break the monotony. A lounge chair stood guard next to the entrance.

His vision wandered over the two other workstations and that’s when he saw it. Nestled in the space between the third workstation and the wall. Though he had seen it earlier, it hadn’t registered. Taking a few steps he went closer. The machine looked old, but well maintained. Admiring it, he felt the contours, as if trying to assess its features. There was a sticker on its front with detailed user instructions. It was a monster of a photocopier. That model had not hit India yet. He had read about it, though. Quickly he got down to work.

Surveying the sides of the machine, he intently looked for a niche. A slot which, when nudged, would open up the back of the machine. He squatted behind it and patted every inch, trying to find the hollow part which would most likely contain the wedge. He found it right at the bottom. He had to remove one screw to get there. It was easy. The steel foot-scale did the job. He had found it on Cirisha’s colleague’s table. The screw opened up the panel, behind which he found the toolkit. Once he had the toolkit, the rest was easy. Using it, he took apart the back panel. He clearly hadn’t forgotten the skills he had acquired as a sales and maintenance engineer for Xerox in India before he joined the banking industry.

He kept digging. A few more layers and he was inside the machine. In front of him were several circuit boards, all fitted into their slots. Carefully he took them all out. He knew he would not be able to put them back in order. To do that, he would need time. And that was a scarce commodity.