Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (9 page)

Ahmed Siddiqui waited for Richard to finish. He was from Pakistan and spoke in an accent he attempted to but failed to camouflage. ‘Mr Avendon, I have reviewed the entire evaluation process from the standpoint of adherence to guidelines. The laid-out procedure has been followed. The decision of the earlier committee has been found to be appropriate. There have in fact been certain glaring acts of omission on your part, Mr Avendon, which cannot be ignored.’

‘I’m not aware of what you are referring to, sir.’

‘It has been alleged that you have approached two assistant professors with offers of co-authoring their research papers, just to fulfil the criteria for the minimum number of papers published. They have deposed in front of the academic subcommittee.’

‘That deposition could have been motivated. It is also presumptuous to assume that as research guides, we will allow such accommodations,’ Deahl sprung to Richard’s defence.

Cardoza argued, ‘Well, yes. But in instances like these, the university’s stance is that such contested works will not be included in the list of eligible publications to be considered for granting tenure. The issue will be investigated, and if need be, corrective action will be taken. Till that is done, according the status of a tenured associate professor to you, Mr Avendon, will be in contravention of university norms.’ Deahl was upset at the way this was panning out.

‘For a minute, even if I agree to this stance, then isn’t it appropriate that the committee place his appointment in abeyance till the issue of ghostwriting of a research paper is resolved? Declining Mr Avendon his tenure would mean that he cannot reapply for the next one year. Placing it in abeyance would mean that should he be found to be on the right side of the law, then there is hope that he will be accorded his rightful status once the clouds clear.’

‘The laws don’t permit that, James,’ Siddiqui butted in. Richard was getting very fidgety and nervous.

‘The law is silent on this, Ahmed. It’s open to interpretation and that’s why we, as seniors, are here,’ Deahl retorted. While his tone was soft, his body language was aggressive.

‘He is right,’ said Cardoza. ‘The law is silent. It might be appropriate to place it in abeyance till this entire issue is resolved.’ He looked at Richard and asked him, ‘Mr Avendon, did you proposition assistant professors Charles Boon and Obuza Gele that you would include their respective names in papers published by you, in exchange for them accommodating you as a co-author in their papers?’

‘I deny it.’

Deahl was getting very restless. ‘It’s their word against his, Michael.’

‘I agree. However, when different people talk about the same problem, it is impossible to ignore. But, as agreed, let’s place Mr Avendon’s application in abeyance and move forward.’

‘Well, Michael, that was the only point of contention. On every other parameter, Mr Avendon scores. So I would recommend that we purge the earlier committee’s recommendation and reconvene after your investigation into the allegations are complete. And instead of declining Mr Avendon’s candidature, agree that we will re-evaluate it.’

At that instant the door opened and someone walked in. ‘Mr Siddiqui,’ he addressed Ahmed Siddiqui, who hurriedly got up and walked towards him. He led him out, embarrassed that the outsider had walked into the room directly. When Richard saw him, he was shocked. The look on his face was one of anxiety interspersed with fear. He had seen the person earlier. What was he doing in the interview room and that too with Ahmed Siddiqui?

‘Why are you so late? You were supposed to have been here an hour ago,’ Siddiqui said to him the moment they stepped out of the room.

‘My car broke down. Fixing it took a while.’ The visitor was very curt. ‘I brought this for you.’ He handed over a small brown envelope to Siddiqui and walked away.

Siddiqui headed back to the room, pulling something out of the envelope and sliding it back in. The look in his eyes changed to a curious mix of distress and anger. He had been in academia for over twenty years. And now the very pillars on which he had built his career, the foundations on which the entire academic discipline had grown, were beginning to flounder. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. At least not while he was alive.

‘Ahmed! Where did you disappear? We are all waiting for you,’ Deahl began the moment Siddiqui re-entered the room. ‘Should we call it a day, or do you think we have more business to conclude?’ Cardoza nodded his head in agreement as if indicating that for once he agreed with Deahl.

‘You might just want to spend a few more minutes on what I have just received.’ Both Cardoza and Deahl looked up at Siddiqui. He was waving at them the brown envelope that the visitor had handed to him. His face had gone red with anger. ‘I would like to inform the group that allegations of certain improprieties by Mr Richard Avendon were raised by a few members of the student community, following which we conducted an investigation. I need to table these papers before the committee. Basis this fresh set of evidence, there is no need to defer anything. We can put an end to this discussion right here.’

‘What allegations?’ Cardoza was the first to jump.

‘Here you go.’ Siddiqui extended his right hand towards Cardoza to hand him the brown envelope. Just as Cardoza was about to accept the documents, Deahl butted in and snatched the papers. ‘What is this about?’

‘See for yourself.’

‘It’ll be unfair if I or anyone else does. Before we accept a fresh set of information or investigation report, I would like the committee to take note of the fact that university rules prohibit any information which was not available as on date when the first decision regarding Mr Richard Avendon’s candidature was taken from being presented in front of the ad hoc committee constituted to review the earlier decision.’ And then he paused. ‘Am I not right, Ahmed?’

Siddiqui’s eyebrows went up, his eyes focused on something in the distance. After thinking for a few seconds, he looked at Cardoza, and then at Deahl. ‘Yes, you are right. This needs to be presented separately to the core group and then, if need be, a discussion held. But it is not entirely inappropriate to discuss it right now.’

‘Incorrect.’ Deahl spoke with a fair degree of authority and confidence. ‘That’s not right, Ahmed. As per law, you have to first discuss it with Mr Richard Avendon, give him a chance to explain and respond, and in case you find his explanation unsatisfactory, you can then take action or present it to this committee.’ Then he got up. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your time.’ He looked at Richard and said. ‘That will be it, Mr Avendon. We will be in touch with you.’

As he was walking out of the room, Deahl turned. He lifted his right hand, extended his index finger and pointed it towards Siddiqui. ‘Ahmed, if this information, whatever you claim to have, is made public, you will be answerable. You don’t need me to tell you that you will be liable for charges to be filed against you for wilful defamation of Mr Richard Avendon. I’m stating it just in case you intend to share it with Michael before you let Mr Avendon take a look at it.’

‘Thanks, James. I wouldn’t have been sitting here had I not known my job. And of course the laws of academia.’

‘Well, from what I saw today, I have my doubts.’ Deahl always had to have the last word. He left the room. The door swayed on its hinges a few times before it settled into its state of inertia, shutting out the room in the process. Cardoza and Siddiqui too left almost immediately.

It was windy outside. Instinctively Cardoza pulled the lapels of his coat tightly across his chest. Siddiqui was walking a couple of steps ahead. The two of them walked briskly to the parking lot. Deahl was ahead of them. He would have already reached the parking lot.

‘Ahmed, wait!’ Cardoza called out to his colleague. When he turned back, Cardoza pointed to the pavement slightly ahead of him. Ahmed walked back towards Cardoza, who bent down, picked up the papers that had slipped out of Ahmed’s hands and passed them back to him.

‘Oh. Thanks.’ He took the papers and hurried towards the parking lot. Theirs were the only two cars there. A car crossed them as they made their way in. They knew it was Deahl’s. Siddiqui waved at him, even though the tinted windows of the Ford SUV blocked out anyone inside the car from being seen. In the next two minutes both of them were on their way home. Darkness was setting in, and the street lights were starting to come on.

Siddiqui stayed in a six-bedroom ranch, forty miles from the MIT campus. A luxury most academicians couldn’t have afforded. He was a legal professional who had made his money fighting lawsuits and compensation cases prior to joining the university, albeit on the administration side. He belonged to a wealthy family; his father owned a mid-sized moneylending business way back in the 1960s and 1970s, and that helped him get through two divorces miraculously without going bankrupt. He lived alone. It was public knowledge that he was dating someone, a cute twenty-seven-year-old lawyer who had interned with him once. Remarrying was not on his mind. He needed companionship and the young lawyer provided that in abundance. He would be home in the next sixty minutes, into the waiting arms of his young lover.

Early next morning, office-goers driving on Interstate 90 were witness to screeching sirens and an ambulance racing hurriedly past them towards Kingsley Park. In precisely six minutes from the time the call went out, an ambulance from Lincoln Hospital and three police cars screeched to a halt almost simultaneously near a cluster of cars parked by the side of the road. Cars normally don’t halt on that lonely stretch. Seeing a car with shattered windows parked there at 5.45 in the morning, a woman passenger driving by had called 911.

Local transport office checks on the car ownership, fingerprints of the deceased and the permission sticker on the car all pointed to one fact: the body in the car was that of someone working at MIT, someone called Ahmed Siddiqui. There were no fingerprints, the car had been wiped clean. Siddiqui had been stabbed ten times all over his torso and neck. It seemed like a crime of passion. There were no CCTVs because Massachusetts state law prevents monitoring of roads through CCTV cameras. It invades privacy, some would say. The place where the murder happened was also a blind stretch and one with low traffic. No clues. No witnesses.

14

July 2005

Mumbai

Nalin’s long-awaited move out of GB2’s India business finally happened. Chosen to head the wealth management strategy unit at the global HQ in Boston, he was to move in three months. A farewell befitting his stature was organized. After all, hadn’t he been one of the stalwarts of the leadership team, who had delivered for over seven years as the head of investment banking?

Aditya was given the responsibility of organizing the farewell. While deciding on the date, he had only two considerations in mind: Nalin’s availability and Cirisha’s presence in India. Cirisha was to land the night before the farewell.

Aditya was at home that night, preparing to go to sleep when his phone rang. Cirisha normally called either at this time or early in the morning.

‘Hi Ciri.’

‘Hi Adi. What are you up to? At home?’

‘I was out with Shivinder. Just got back home.’

‘Shivinder again!’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘He gives me the creeps.’ Shivinder was not the kind of guy she was comfortable associating with even if it was through her husband.

‘Haha! He is a decent chap. Don’t worry, I’m not turning gay.’

‘Rubbish!’ she yelled into the phone. ‘He is a rich guy, Adi, but to me he comes across as a con artist. You need to make a distinction between people who have a conscience and people who make con-a-science, Aditya. Mark my words, he will land you in trouble one day.’ Her instincts about people were very strong and often correct. She hadn’t liked Shivinder from day one.

‘Oww! Wow … wow. Someone is in a crazy mood today.’

Cirisha realized she was being rude. ‘Sorry, Adi. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.’

‘PMSing.’

‘Shut up, Adi.’ The long drag on the words told Aditya that something was not right.

‘OK! OK! Peace. But what happened? You don’t sound good at all.’

‘I’m extremely tired. Just couldn’t sleep last night.’

‘I figured that out. What happened?’

‘Lots of things. The MIT Police were all over the place. They were searching all our desks and workstations. A last-ditch effort to see if they find something incriminating. They have been doing this from the time Ahmed was murdered. We couldn’t get any work done.’

‘Now? So many days after Ahmed died? Looks like the cops there are quite similar to the cops here.’

‘We had a report due tomorrow. And now that’s been delayed because of these cops. I am going mad.’

‘Be careful, Ciri. Don’t get into any kind of trouble. You also have a flight to catch.’

There was a prolonged silence at the other end.

‘Ciri. You there?’ Aditya reaffirmed. ‘Hello. Can you hear me?’

‘Yes, Adi. I can.’

‘What time is your flight, Ciri? Are you done packing?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I will be able to make it to the flight today, Adi. Too much to finish. I’ll have to extend my stay by a couple of days at the very least.’