Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (37 page)

71

12th June 2008

MIT, Boston

At the executive committee meeting, president Antonio’s decisive casting vote went in favour of Cardoza. Deahl’s book,
Staring Down the Barrel
, though not completely in violation of the university laws, was against their spirit.

‘A provost is someone who has to have an impeccable track record. No one should be able to point a finger at his conduct. A provost is expected to take tricky decisions regarding the running of the institute, research, grants and so on and if there is a history to the provost’s conduct, the same may hinder his ability to deliver on the job,’ Antonio had said while announcing his decision to the group.

Cardoza was ecstatic. It was a dream come true. Wasn’t this the reason why he had given the best years of his life to the institute?

‘Thank you, Juan. I will do my best.’

The vice president of the HR team stepped up to the two of them. ‘There is some paperwork to be completed, Dr Cardoza. If you would come up to our office tomorrow, we will do the needful. We plan to announce your appointment next week. A day before Gordon Meier relinquishes charge. Please keep it low-key. As a rule, no press interviews, no TV appointments till such time that the university releases the news officially.’ Cardoza nodded. He was willing to wait. The job was his in any case.

It was a big blow to Deahl. The same Deahl who had held America spellbound with his book. Despite being unhappy, he accepted the verdict of the committee graciously, at least on the face of it.

72

12th June 2008

Internet café, Boston

After what seemed like an interminable wait, the words ‘logging in [email protected]’ appeared on the screen and then his inbox came into view. So the email ID and the password were bang on. Cirisha was right. Richard had not sent the password to her by mistake. There was a purpose to his email. The only way to know what it was, was to get into the inbox.

Richard’s inbox too was just like him. Perfectly organized. Appropriately named folders made it easy for him. Aditya read through a few emails. Nothing out of the ordinary there. He spotted the email with the cryptic message.

He clicked on the draft email folder. All the emails in the folder were written on the same day—the day that he sent the email with the passwords to Cirisha.

He opened the draft email folder and read through. The first two lines of the email that he opened confirmed Aditya’s fears. The trail that he was following was no red herring. Slowly and steadily, with fear in his heart and excitement in his head, Aditya read the first message in its entirety. He couldn’t have imagined this in his wildest dreams. Sitting in that small 3-foot by 4-foot cabin, he was sweating. How much of this did Cirisha know?

Email one

Ahmed Siddiqui wanted to place fresh evidence in front of the panel to deny me my tenure. My worst fears came true that day. Despite my best efforts they found out about my relationship. Someone from the institute had complained to the provost about my liaison with Xerxes Abidjan. Xerxes was a student in the final term, though not in my department. I met him during his fencing classes. He sought me out to help him with his footwork.

As you know, the institute rules prohibit any kind of relationship between a student and faculty.

Only God knows that my conscience is clear and that I did not use my position of authority to get him to submit to my whims. We felt for each other. We had a relationship which was beyond any logic, any explanation. But I guess it did not go down well with some students. When I look back, someone could have felt aggrieved because I rated Xerxes higher and included him in the fencing team which participated in the inter-university men’s fencing challenge held at Boston University. He deserved his place in the team purely on merit.

A clandestine investigation was launched. It did not have the institution’s sanction. I know the rules. Any such investigation into any dalliance between a student and a faculty member needs a sign-off from the president, Juan Antonio, which is, almost always, not given. The normal practice is that the parties concerned are ticked off and they decide—institute or relationship. If someone had confronted us, we would have explained. Xerxes and I had decided that he would seek admission at Boston University at the end of the term so that we could be together without any worries.

Ahmed, who was in charge of the investigation, had someone trail me and gather evidence. I guess this was done because they were worried that in case the issue got discussed without evidence, James would use his influence and scuttle it.

A private detective would wait for hours below the Academic Block and trail me everywhere I went. They thought I wouldn’t notice, but I am not an idiot. I guessed that something was wrong. I finally figured it out when I saw the same person walk into my interview and hand over a brown envelope to Ahmed. I didn’t know what the contents of the envelope were, but realized that it had something to do with me. Pepped by the evidence, Ahmed wanted to nail me that day. Thankfully, James convinced everyone not to discuss the issue.

Twenty minutes after the interview, Michael called me. He was very disturbed. Apparently, Ahmed had dropped the envelope by mistake and while picking it up, Michael saw what it contained. He told me that Ahmed had foolproof evidence, largely photographic in nature, about my relationship with someone (he didn’t know Xerxes as he had not met him). When I confessed to him about Xerxes, he confirmed the university’s stance on it. It was what he told me next that got me paranoid. He said that if word got out, it could signal the end of my academic career not only in MIT but also across universities in the USA. A blacklisted academician is never hired by any university.

I didn’t slog for a decade to give it all up. That’s when I made up my mind. I went after Ahmed. James, who was to drop me till the metro station, dropped me off instead at the Massachusetts Turnpike about a mile from the university. I got down and waited for Ahmed to pass by. I requested him for a lift. An unsuspecting Ahmed allowed me to get into the car. When we were on a lonely stretch of road, flanked by woods on both sides, I took out the paperknife and stabbed him many, many times. He kept screaming and I kept stabbing till he could scream no more. I cleaned myself up. Cleaned the spot of anything that could be traced back to me. It was easy because I was wearing the fencing sabre glove. I made sure that the brown envelope was in my custody. By the time Ahmed’s body was discovered, I was back home in the arms of Xerxes. I wish there had been another way, but I had no other option.

Aditya read the email thrice over. Richard? The one who killed Ahmed Siddiqui was Richard! And all along they thought Richard was the cleanest of the lot. How wrong they had been. And because it was a clandestine operation initiated by Siddiqui, no one knew about it, before or after the murder. And Richard was never investigated as a suspect.

Email two

Aditya looked at his watch. He was expected in the photocopier shop in fifteen minutes. But he didn’t fret too much about it. It was just that he didn’t want them to spend too much time looking at what they were printing out for him. But he couldn’t stop himself from reading the next email.

Ahmed Siddiqui’s killing played on my mind for a long, long time. Ending someone’s life changed me in ways that I couldn’t comprehend. It impacted me. I started getting distracted. I would stay at my workstation for hours together. Not talk to anyone. James noticed this change in me. He asked me to take some time off. I didn’t want to. The year was crucial for me. If I didn’t get my promotion soon, I would never get it. I have just turned forty.

Forty-five days after Ahmed’s death, I got a call from Michael. He asked me to meet him. He said it was in connection with my tenure reconsideration. Just to make sure that no one saw us, I met him in his office at 9 p.m. Late at night. The Academic Block was normally deserted at that time. When I walked in, he was alone. Cirisha, you were back in India at that time. There was no one on that floor.

So Richard had wanted Cirisha to read this email. Either he had intended to send it to her or he had hoped that Cirisha would be able to decipher his cryptic message.

That day, Michael told me that the committee had upheld the earlier decision on my tenure. I would have to wait for one more year before I could be considered for my tenure again. I broke down. It was a big shock for me. He told me that my affair with Xerxes was one of the reasons, though he said he would never put it down in writing for it would impact my future in academia. He advised that I shouldn’t create an issue about it, since it would harm my interests, more so because it involved my relationship with a student. His contention was that in case I did a song and dance, and James backed it, then there was a remote possibility that the committee’s decision might get reversed. However, if that were to happen, the relationship between Xerxes and me would come into the public domain. And that would get me sacked. The institute rules were very clear in this regard. Even if I forced my way to a tenure, it would be short-lived. I was extremely upset. My mind, which was already burdened by the impulsive killing of Ahmed, couldn’t take one more failure. I lost control. Michael helped me calm down. He made me sit down on his lounge chair and offered me a drink. I badly needed one. Michael was very understanding towards me and even dropped me home. I was touched by his actions that day.

Aditya was surprised at Cardoza’s gesture. Everyone knew that Cardoza hated Deahl to the core. The feeling was mutual. Yet he made sure that one of Deahl’s team members was taken care of at a difficult time. He was happy that Cirisha had been in Cardoza’s team and not Deahl’s.

At that very moment a pop-up appeared on his screen. ‘You have two minutes of internet usage left. Do you wish to continue?’

73

12th June 2008, same time

MIT, Boston

Windle’s car screeched to a halt in front of the office of the MIT chief of police. He got down from the car and walked straight into the cabin of Chief Nelius. They shook hands. The warmth was missing. At one point of time, they had been very close to each other, working for the same boss in the New York City Police Department. However, over time they had fallen apart. Career advancement and professional rivalry had played the villain here too. Nelius was cold but professional in his dealings with Windle.

‘What can I do for you, lieutenant?’

‘The forensic report of the campus firing has come in, chief.’

‘I thought it came a long time ago. Didn’t it?’

‘No. Based on the depositions of Gordon Meier and Michael Cardoza, and the fact that Richard Avendon owned the weapon, the coroner, Simen Munter, and the jury felt that forensic investigation might not be required. As per Massachusetts state law, if the victim is over forty years of age and there is no reason to suspect foul play, the coroner can waive the requirement for an inquest. This was an open-and-shut case. We had seized the murder weapon and also captured the site data. We had no reason to pursue it further.’

‘Yes. It was an open-and-shut case, I remember. That’s why the coroner had waived the need for an inquest and an investigation by a forensic pathologist,’ Nelius declared nonchalantly.

‘Well, not if you were to go by what I have here.’

‘Is that right? Who approved the reopening?’

‘Based on certain additional information that we had, and subsequent to Cirisha Narayanan’s death, we approached the coroner, who gave his sanction for the investigation.’