Doosra (10 page)

'OK. So Nene, as you know the informants best, you lead the search for Sishir Singh. Vikram — you take charge of tracking down all Jogani's associates, personal and business, and also see if you can ferret out who, eventually, bought the diamonds after the murder. It has to be one of the big merchants, and my guess is it just might be someone who was in the cartel that had appointed Jogani for the deal. But I might be totally off the mark here. And I'm not at all suggesting that these people were involved in the murder, but who knows?'

'And me, ma'am?' Jatin asked.

'You're responsible for breaking into Jogani's computer. And find out who was Jogani's mobile service provider. Ask them for all Jogani's calls and whatever data they have for the last six months. Make that a year.'

Jatin felt good. Rita having given the responsibility he had asked for made him feel that his boss had ignored his past folly. He knew he had to be extra careful this time around. It was OK to make a mistake once, but a second mistake would be career suicide.

When the guys left, Rita sat down to ponder. There was still a web of unanswered questions or rather, unknown questions. Contrary to what most people thought the police didn't merely look for answers. The foremost search was always for the correct questions. Correct questions got correct answers. Answers to non-existent questions were useless.

It was 4 o'clock Friday afternoon and if nothing gave way, she knew she'd have to spend the weekend alone. Bored. Of course, she had the case, but in the absence of even a slight breakthrough what would she do for the next forty-eight hours? Ash was supposed to be in India next weekend. Was Mumbai in his itinerary? He usually travelled to Mumbai though.

Ash Mattel — Ashwin Mittal originally, but Microsoft Word forced him to change his name rather than correct the spelling each time — was Rita's reunited college friend. Not her boyfriend. Not her lover. Not just a friend either — friends who were
just
friends didn't sleep with each other. However, there wasn't a past or future of the relationship. Heck, there was no relationship. He was a divorcee, criminal psychologist based in the UK. Rita and he had been in college together barely a year before he went to the UK for his medical studies. They weren't friends then. Years later it was a pure stroke of luck that Ash was in Mumbai, and her boss, Vinay Joshi, reintroduced them. Rita was looking for an expert to break the serial killer pattern and Ash turned out to a real blessing with his experience in the field. Of course, they exchanged more than their opinions on the case. It wasn't love. It wasn't lust. It was merely that they enjoyed each other's company and a lot more besides. Ash was tall. He was big. He was dark. The dichotomy was that he was ugly and handsome at the same time. Rustic… manly?

Rita was sat wondering if she should call him to let him know she actually missed him and his cheesy one-liners when Nene walked in.

'Sishir Singh has been spotted, ma'am.'

It was not even a complete twenty-four hours since the information had been farmed to the informants.

'Wow! That was quick. Tell me about him.'

'His name is... Honey Singh.' Rajesh Nene chuckled as he read from the piece of paper he held. 'Facial and physical description — ditto as in the pictures from Belgium, except Honey Singh has longer hair, but they could have easily grown in the last three months. The suspect lives with his mother in an apartment complex called Takshila in Andheri East. Her name is Lucky Singh. Honey Singh has a girlfriend, Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty Varghese is a model by profession.' Nene giggled like a schoolboy, and Rita understood why. Most so-called models were also escorts, 'though that might not have been the case with Kitty if she had a serious boyfriend. 'We don't yet know where she lives. Honey Singh runs a computer repair contract business in Bandra Kurla. That's all we have for now. Should we bring him in?'

'No. Let's think a bit. Where are the others?'

'They must be out on their jobs, ma'am. Want me to call them?'

'Nope. Take a seat.'

Rita could tell that Nene was not happy about the order for inaction when he appeared hungry for it. If it were left to him he would have sprinted out and busted Honey Singh and thought about anything else later.

'Does anything indicate that this Honey Singh has recently acquired wealth like the burglary we are investigating?'

'He drives a Honda Accord…'

'And lives with his mother in Andheri East. And he still hasn't fled Mumbai. All we know is a guy called Honey Singh looks like Sishir Singh. Have you seen a picture of Honey Singh yourself yet?'

'I'll ask someone to take his picture and send us.'

'I can't believe that this guy didn't even take the trouble of using a different family name from the one he used in his alias:
Singh.
Strange, don't you think?'

'Now that you say that.' Nene looked relaxed but, only a bit. Rita could tell that he wasn't biting her logic a hundred percent.

'OK. Let's do this: let's place him under watch for the entire weekend. Ask your guys to take photographs, log his travels, who he meets, calls, where he eats. Everything.'

'I'll arrange that immediately.'

'We don't have time to get any court orders before tomorrow, so let it all be under the radar.' It had been one of the rare times she was stepping over the line. Ends justified the means, didn't they?

Nene smiled. It was understood.

'He shouldn't even suspect a tail, but the tail shouldn't lose him even for a minute. If Honey Singh is our man he will, in all probability, be looking over his shoulder all the time. And taking into account the immaculate robbery, he should be able to spot a tail faster than most.'

'Right.'

'Ask everyone not to approach Honey Singh under any circumstances. Please use your best guys. Although, if this Mr Honey Singh is seen travelling towards the airport or driving out of the city, arrest him for some innocuous reason. He should not leave the city over the weekend. Not now when we're this close.'

Making an arrest in most countries was simple. The police could find one hundred and one reasons: some error or missing documents in car registration, insurance or driving licence. Simple.

'We need to see his picture before we start tailing him. See it to confirm it yourself. Send me a copy too. And ask someone to dig up his life history from the day he was born and email the same to me please. Encrypt it.'

'We'll get that over to you as soon as I get it, ma'am.'

'And… thank you Nene. I really appreciate how quickly you've cracked this.'

''Only doing my job, ma'am.' He looked embarrassed.

'Thanks, and have a good weekend. Be in touch.'

'You too ma'am, if you need anything over the weekend give me a call. My mobile is always on.'

'Same here. Thanks.'

Rita sat in the office for some time after Nene left. Was it just fluke or were the snitches in Mumbai faster than the person she had seen on the motorbike in the afternoon? That reminded her to prompt Jatin to find out who that reckless rider was.

***

Later that night Rita poured a civilised belt of Jim and let the aroma fill her nose. She sat thinking about the case. Police work was a lot about deduction. Quite like mathematics as a matter of fact. Not plain arithmetic that everyone could add or subtract, but not unlike a complex set of equations. But here is the catch: unlike a complex set of equations the real life equations could have more than one solution, and they were ever changing so one also had to take into account the unknowns. One of the jarring overlooks in Victor's file had been that if the Belgian authorities had established when Sishir Singh left Brussels for Mumbai why hadn't they traced and confirmed when he had arrived in Brussels? He couldn't have just walked in behind Jogani. She bet he was there a few days in advance or at the very least, some of his accomplices were. He couldn't have carried the gun from India. He required tools, gun, and other help; it would have taken time to arrange those things in a foreign country. She had no doubt that there was more than one individual to carry out the task: if not physically present in the hotel, at least in the planning and in keeping a watch on Jogani?

Finishing her small drink Rita switched off the lights. Her bedroom window was open and she could feel the moisture in the air. The light wind brought the promise of rain later. It was already there somewhere in the distance. A few hours away, maximum.

But when she got up early morning to go for her run, she realised that the clouds had passed them by without obliging. Perhaps they obliged some towns and villages in Gujarat.

When she got back her Blackberry beeped. Nene had sent the picture of Honey Singh. The picture was clear enough to exhibit that Honey Singh was a doppelgänger of Sishir Singh. Identical twins?

C
riminals don't work nine to five. They don't stay away on weekends. Ergo, the police workforce never has enough hours in a day or enough days in a week. Weekend? Well, it was a busman's weekend, and more so if you were selected, by your supervisor, to be part of a clandestine surveillance on someone who was being investigated for homicide. Even more so if it was an international case and, apparently, the nation's pride was attached, however tacitly. Four teams of two plainclothes ASIs each were deployed to tail Honey Singh. As he had been made responsible, Rajesh Nene was leading the whole undercover operation. The eight Assistant Sub-Inspectors he had handpicked were people he had worked with in the past. It was all about efficiency. And trust. He knew they could carry out the task discreetly. One team was stationed at Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport. If Honey had any plans to fly out of the country, this team would become paramount in the operation — it would have been amateur to presume any tail could keep up with the target in Mumbai traffic. There was always a chance one couldn't keep up with the suspect. It was a chance no one took. It was a chance Nene wasn't taking either. If Honey Singh flew out of the domestic airport it would a simple call to the local police in the landing city to apprehend him at the tarmac and be put back on the return flight.

Takshila wasn't an enormous housing complex like some others in Mumbai. Any rational person could take two routes out of the housing complex, and at this point it was deemed that Honey Singh wouldn't behave unreasonably. There seemed no cause to assume otherwise unless, of course, Honey Singh suspected anyone was following him or watching him. There was no reason to consider that Honey would jump out the balcony of his first floor apartment in the building and run on foot or use a camouflage. Working with the informants, Nene had figured out that Honey Singh's model girlfriend Kitty Varghese lived on Yari Road in Versova, which could well be where he might drive to over the weekend.

If he drove out of Takshila, Honey Singh could either turn right on to Mahakali Caves Road that passed Holy Spirit Hospital, and then join or cross Western Express Highway depending on his destination: if he were to go to his office on Saturday he'd join the highway; if he went to see Kitty, he'd cross it. Conversely, if he turned left, when he came out of his apartment complex, he'd take JVLR via Vallbhai Patel Marg to get to the same Western Express Highway. Obviously, there could have been another ten destinations he could drive to, but given the resources Nene had at his disposal they would have to improvise if Honey altered his route. In any event they'd follow him till the highway and then radio each other.

Though it can chase down anything that moves, surveillance can't be carried out in a Ferrari: you need a camel in the desert not a cheetah. You want anonymity and not a jarring sight that begs a double take. Or worse still, the target stopping to have a look and chat-up the driver about cylinders or BHP or fuel consumption. Team One's unmarked car — an old white deceptively derelict Maruti Omni, still one of the most inconspicuous vehicles on Indian roads — parked at the corner of Mahakali Caves Road as it curved right. Team Two was parked on the other side, in what was visually an equally hard-bitten Tata Indica. These two vehicles would spring into action when Honey drove out. Team Three, the blessed ones, had a Ford Escort from the nineties, and their task was to burn fuel, taking rounds around and broadly encircling the target location.

Of course, the Police Station at Andheri East was on high alert. If required they would dispatch uniformed patrols within minutes.

Nene had deliberated on scanning Honey's Singh's office on Friday night but gave up the idea. Surreptitiously following someone was one thing, breaking into an office was altogether another level. If you were spotted tailing someone you could very easily manipulate the situation, turn around and disappear making it look like a coincidence. How would you elucidate a break-in? And also, he hadn't come up with the idea earlier in the evening to discuss with Rita, and calling her late on Friday night for something like this? He killed the idea.

The four teams would be in radio contact with each other and with their leader, SI Nene, for procedural and tactical advice all through the weekend or till further notice. Honey Singh would only be referred to as the “Target”. The policemen and their jalopies were in their positions early in the morning by six. What if Honey Singh planned to leave his mommy's house early and take a short trip outside Mumbai?