Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (38 page)

‘It would have been nicer, though, had I been kept in the loop. We were handling the initial leg of the investigation, weren’t we, lieutenant?’ There was a look of frustration in his eyes. Much to Windle’s relief, Nelius did not dwell on the point. ‘Now that it has been done, what does it say? Does it confirm what we all know or are there any surprises?’

‘Surprises! You need to read this, chief, before we talk any further.’ He pulled out a file from the bunch of papers he was carrying and handed it over.

Nelius began reading it. Years in law enforcement had taught him to maintain a poker face when surprised or shocked, but this time his eyes gave his changing mood away.

Nelius looked up. ‘Holy shit! You can’t be serious about this!’

‘That’s why I came to you first. To figure out what we should do next.’

‘This is terrible. We need to talk to the president.’

74

12th June 2008

Internet café, Boston

Aditya hurriedly pressed the ‘yes’ button. His internet access was extended by thirty minutes. He continued reading Richard’s email.

That was just the beginning. Michael Cardoza’s interactions with me began to increase. He would talk to me almost every day. Call me to his workplace when no one was around and talk about all and sundry.

It was around this time that James took on the project on the Second Amendment. Irrespective of what name he calls the project by, it was a gun control vs gun rights research, with a presupposed result. Michael was very upset that James had taken up something that he had declined. The attention that James was receiving probably disturbed him more.

My relationship with James started going through a turbulent phase. He was not happy with my work. I was the only person in his team who questioned his principles. He wanted the team to get him the research data, manipulated in the manner that the sponsors wanted. Everyone else obliged. I didn’t. We were going through an intense data-gathering phase.

As a part of the data-accumulation process, we wanted to interview felons and understand if they would have committed the crimes had guns not been available. I fixed up meetings, took permissions from the law enforcers to interview prison inmates, even went ahead and interviewed them in three state prisons—Vermont, Florida and Phoenix. The data from these interviews suggested something which was very different from the result that James wanted. He was not happy about it. Rather than tweak his research results, he calmly took me out of the data-gathering process, and put Caroline and Philip in charge. They were two associates completely in awe of him. He could play them like a puppeteer.

They went through the process of data gathering. The papers came to me for my analysis. They couldn’t have done it any other way, else it would have attracted attention. When I saw the data, I was surprised. The names of felons who were interviewed in Boston differed from the names I had picked during my interaction with the Boston Police Department. This got me curious. I asked around. That’s when I figured out that while they were doing the interviews in most of the prisons, the responses were being fudged and altered in our offices. James was preparing a backup paper in case someone questioned his survey or wanted to tally it with the raw data. So along with Caroline and Philip, he created the entire data. James even got the research for the three centres where I had done the prison interviews done again. When I saw it, I put my foot down. I refused to change the findings for the three centres that I had researched. James was unhappy but he didn’t say anything. But when
Staring Down the Barrel
came out, I was surprised. James had manipulated the data for Vermont, Florida and Phoenix too and brought it in line with what the research demanded. I confronted Caroline and Philip and asked them for the research papers for these three centres. They only smiled in response. Didn’t say a word. It was then that I actually realized the extent to which the data had been compromised.

Michael’s conduct on the other hand was very statesmanlike. He told me how his morals and values had prevented him from taking up the research. My respect for him only grew. We were very comfortable with each other. No one knew about this. Not even you. The day James knocked me off the data-gathering responsibility, I was very upset. I shared my frustration with Michael. He lent a sympathetic ear. And then, on the pretext of helping me relax, he came up to me, stood behind the lounge chair and comforted me by massaging my shoulders. There was a long period of silence. That’s when he said, ‘You have seen worse times, Richard. This is nothing compared to the trauma you went through when you killed Ahmed.’

I turned towards him as if I had been stung by something.

‘You should not have killed Ahmed. He was a good friend of mine.’ When he said this, I didn’t know how to react. Michael had a weird look in his eyes. Couldn’t make out if it was anger or something else. ‘I know everything about you, Richard,’ he said. ‘You and Xerxes. You and Ahmed.’

I looked at him in desperation. I was exposed. If anyone else got to know of this, I would be dead meat.

‘Don’t worry, Richard,’ Michael reassured me. ‘Ahmed’s is a closed story. When the chief of MIT Police met me the day after the accident, I did not tell him that I saw you taking a lift from Ahmed and getting into his car that evening after the tenure interview. I told him that it could have been a regular case of carjacking. Or maybe passion killing. Because Ahmed was a colourful man, you see. Interesting tastes.’ And he smiled. It was then that it struck me. It was not anger that I saw in his eyes. It was something more. It was lust. He wanted me.

‘If you are with me, Richard, no one can deny you your tenure next year. I will make sure it happens,’ he said and his hands slid down my shirt. My body responded to his touch. He saw it as a green signal. That was the first time we made out. In his cabin. On the lounge chair, at 9.30 at night.

After that Michael was quite helpful. He once asked me if I had ever experienced holding a gun in my hand. Till that day, I had never ever held a gun. He felt that since I was doing research for the NRA, I must experience this feeling. He was, for some strange reason, also worried about my safety. He was of the view that the NRA might suddenly turn against me if it found out about my attitude towards James’s research. Michael took me to a gun dealer he knew in Riverdale, forty miles from Chicago. We had gone there for a Social Psychology conference. James couldn’t go and had sent me in his place. I was surprised at Michael’s contacts. The dealer took some identity documents and said that he would deliver it within the week. I don’t know if the gun was ever delivered. I reminded Michael a few times. He said he would speak to the gun dealer and follow it up but that never happened.

My relationship with Michael stayed in the closet. Michael had a family to take care of. He also had a reputation to protect. I had a boss from whom I had to hide this fact.

Once Michael got what he wanted, he started avoiding all discussions regarding my tenure. Maybe I was becoming a bit of a pest. James too was no different. Non-committal.

Whenever I would raise the issue of my tenure with either of them, they would brush it off. I was getting restless at their indifference. Neither of them was serious about my tenure. James kept promising, while Michael kept reassuring. They kept saying that it would happen in due course. I figured the best way out of this was to make sure that I had their Achilles’ heels in my control. I clandestinely took pictures of Michael and me. I just wanted insurance for a rainy day. In any case, he was getting what he wanted from me.

The day I told Michael about this, he was furious. He screamed at me, even slapped me. It pained, but I didn’t react. And finally when he settled down, he asked me if I trusted him. I told him that I didn’t. From that day on, Michael became more careful in his dealings with me.

And then James’s book came out. I could make out that Michael didn’t like the attention that James was getting. I had already mentioned to him that the research had been fudged to suit the end result. When Michael got to know that I had the raw data with me, he asked for a copy. He wanted to use me in his game of upmanship against James. The data would have helped him prove that James was a spineless academician paid for by the NRA.

I never gave those papers to Michael. I was not an idiot. The day I would give them to him, my value, as far as Michael was concerned, would evaporate.

The next round of applications for tenure appointments was invited. I applied. Michael promised to make sure that my appointment went through. Well, he didn’t have a choice. James for the first time threw his hands up. He had enough problems of his own to deal with at that time.
Staring Down the Barrel
was becoming big. It needed his time and attention. I was upset. After all, it was not for nothing that I tolerated him and his idiosyncrasies for close to a decade. I have told him that if he doesn’t help me out this time and make sure that my tenure goes through, I will make public the raw research data that I have in my custody. It is a matter of life and death. It took a lot of courage to do that. Failure to get tenure this time will mean me getting the boot from MIT.

Last night, I was with Michael. His wife was out of town. When I was in bed with Michael, his phone rang. The phone was on my side of the bed. It was from James. Michael never ever spoke to James unless forced to, even when they came face-to-face. Why would James call him at 1 a.m.? It set me thinking. Michael brushed off my question and stepped out to the washroom. I knew he was hiding something. Before he could come back, I called Xerxes’s internet phone from Michael’s landline and let it stay connected. And then when he returned, I headed to the washroom to clean up. As expected, Michael quickly called James. I managed to record Michael’s side of the conversation on Xerxes’s answering machine.

When I heard the conversation later, I could figure out that these two monsters—Michael and James—had got together to fix me. Both know about the photos and the raw data in my custody. I am in a very difficult situation and don’t know what to do.

I am not giving myself too much importance, but James needs the research data back from me and Michael needs the pictures. These guys will go to any extent to protect their reputations and careers. I am scared. And that’s why I am writing this email, that too from a computer I clandestinely managed to get access to by sweet-talking a salesgirl at BestBuy. I am sure my office emails, office telephone, computers and even mobile phones will be under surveillance. I just hope no one gets to see this but you, just in case something happens to me. You have the passwords. I hope you understand the implicit message in my previous email. I am also leaving the raw research data gathered by James’s team and copies of the images of me and Michael in my locker, number C-37, in the duPont Center. I don’t know what will happen to me, but you take care.

In case all goes well in the tenure, obviously you may not be reading this. For then, all that I have done and compromised will have been worth the effort. But I am worried. Worried for myself. I am stuck between two biggies who will do anything to protect their careers, their families and their reputation.

After his clear-headed investigations that got him to this point, logic deserted Aditya once again. His mind went numb. It could only mean one thing. Richard did not take his own life. He was killed. Cirisha found out, she was silenced. Narayanan came in the way of their search and was almost eliminated. And poor Shivinder tried to help Aditya and got killed.

There was only one way out of this for him.