Doosra (13 page)

'The first call to me was from a man. Subsequently, all communication is from someone who uses Mister Singh in his sign off.'

Another Mr Singh in the story.

'But that could be a fake signature.'

'It could well be, but I have no reason to doubt it.'

'When was that?'

'A little over three months ago.'

Rita mentally calculated that the spying on Honey Singh started around the same time Jogani was murdered. The date should confirm the same. Another coincidence?

'Fairly recent then. Do you remember the date?'

'Not off the top of my head, but I can give you the date from my records.'

'Could you check please?'

Raja walked into the hallway and disappeared. Rita and Vikram looked at each other in amazement.

Raja returned with the date. 'April 4th.'

Two days after Ron Jogani was murdered in Belgium someone had put surveillance on Honey Singh. A moment passed. A full moment of mental calculations, reflecting what they were up against, but neither uttered a word. Neither, it appeared, knew what to say. How uncanny was this?

'You've been spying on him for over three months now and Honey Singh doesn't know about it? He hasn't spotted you?'

'I'm good, I blend in.'

You blend in with that handlebar moustache? Talk about gloating. Sexy would have called him a cockalorum: a self-important little man.

Rita stopped herself from commenting on his blending skills.

'How does the client communicate with you and how do you get paid?'

Raja explicated that he received all instructions via email. The contract was also digitally signed. All reports that Raja gathered, including pictures, were to be uploaded to an email ID created by the client Mr Singh. Raja wrote the emails, attached what he had and saved them in the
DRAFTS
folder. Mr Singh had the password, so he would read the draft or download the stuff and then delete it so Raja would know that the message had been read. No email had ever been transmitted. The client's instructions were very clear — he didn't want Raja to keep a copy of anything. No trail.

All under the radar in case someone was watching.

The initial lump sum payment was made in cash. No, Mr Singh didn't come to deliver it. The money was left in Raja's locked letterbox one night. No, Raja didn't know in advance which night he would receive the payment. Yes, he had tried keeping a watch but he had missed whoever had come to drop the payment.

'Do you know how long Mr Singh wants Honey Singh to be followed?'

'The initial contract is for six months, but extendable if I'm required for more time.'

'Bizarre, isn't it?' Rita looked at Vikram, like she was only making a side comment.

'But I'm paid well for it.'

'Yes, I get that part. But don't you think it's a bit odd?'

'What is odd?'

'Is it too much to grasp that you don't know who your client is and why he's paying you?'

'No.'

'And that the said client might be a criminal and paying you blood money?' For some strange, unknown reason Rita believed Joginder Raja. There was no way Handlebar could have concocted this ludicrous yarn. It was someone else's brain. She shook her head in frustration. They were dealing with some real smart cookies here. 'Do you not believe me?'

'It hardly matters whether I believe you or not, but I can assure you that no one else will. Too neat and convenient.'

'I am not fibbing.'

'I didn't say that exactly but everything sounds a bit fishy, suspicious doesn't it?'

'What?'

'This whole investigation for a mysterious client.'

'Why?'

Handlebar wasn't being difficult. He was plain thick.

'Reverse the roles and think. Do you know how ridiculous it all sounds?'

'Certainly sounds ridiculous, but—' Raja blurted out.

'Like I said.'

Rita gesticulated to Vikram who took over. He questioned Raja for about twenty minutes about Sishir Singh, cleverly asked circumventing questions about diamonds and burglary, but Handlebar didn't have a clue. Joginder Raja was stupid. Not crafty. No goings-on.

Rita sat there, switched off from the conversation — she was confident Vikram would do a great job by himself — and reflected on the issue. All Raja was carrying on was an extramural investigation. Whoever his client was, he was definitely on to something. Something didn't make sense. But then everything didn't have to make sense to everyone and not every time. The client didn't want Raja to know who he was, and he was taking ample precautions not to reveal himself. Emails sent and received could be tracked. Emails left in
DRAFTS
folder were not transmitted, hence not traceable.

'We want you to carry on as usual Mr Raja. Exactly as before. There should never be any mention of this visit to your client or anyone. However, anything you submit to your client from now on has to be approved by us.'

'You can't do this.' Raja uttered pleadingly. The voice didn't sound like he believed in his own statement.

'Yes I can — ' Rita raised her hand to stop him from interrupting — 'and I'm asking you, requesting you to help us. We need to get to your client. We think he is paramount in our homicide enquiry.'

'But I am a very good investigator. I can find out who the client is if you want. I didn't do it because I didn't want to waste time and energy on it.'

Had this guy fallen on his head when he was a kid? Was he so dumb to not follow that compared to a case with Interpol he was not even enamel on a shark's tooth?

'Let me explain one last time, Mr Raja... this is a homicide investigation. Besides it being classified information it might also mean putting your life as risk. Please do as I say.'

Nod.

'How often do you submit your report?'

'Every Saturday.'

'So you submitted it last night?'

'Yes, and he had read and deleted it by the morning.'

'Did you notice anything unusual about Honey Singh's day yesterday?'

'Like?'

'Like someone else following him?'

'No. Was someone…?' Raja looked crestfallen.

'Nope. Just wanted to know if your client might have other sources too.'

'I don't think so.'

'OK. We'll be in touch. Meanwhile, as we said, carry on as this meeting never took place.'

They gave their phone numbers to Raja and told him to get in touch if he noticed anything he thought worth reporting on Honey Singh or his client, Mr Singh.

It was 2:15 by the time they drove out of the building.

'Let's grab a bite, Vikram. My treat.'

'What would you like to eat, ma'am?'

'Someplace that'll be quick.'

'OK. What do you think about the whole thing?'

'You can't believe in everything that surrounds you, or everything that you hear or see or feel but you can't ignore everything either because, they say, everything originates for some reason. No smoke without fire, right? So someone — and in this particular case, the mysterious Mr Singh — must have enough conviction about something to hire a third person to investigate Honey Singh. Agree?'

'And he started the surveillance two days after Jogani's murder.'

'Bingo. Someone knows something surely.'

Nod.

'So what it is about Honey Singh that a secretive man wants to know?'

They had a quick bite at McDonald's and started back. The conversation was strictly professional and to the point. Both minds were dominated by the case.

'Do you think the mysterious client has got what he is looking for?' Rita was surprised. She hadn't intended the words to come out aloud; she was only mentally calculating.

'It's safe to assume he hasn't. Why else would he still be prompt enough to download info that handlebar is passing on?'

'What if it's some kind of a charade?'

'For who?'

'Don't know.'

Five
PM
. Sunday was practically over by the time they got to Rita's apartment.

'Should we call on Honey Singh tomorrow?' Vikram asked.

'Let's see what others have got for us over the weekend and then take the call. I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks for the ride.'

'You're welcome. Somehow, I can't believe Honey Singh hasn't spotted a Mr Raja following him for months. There could only be two possibilities: he is either visually impaired or mentally vacant?'

'There's a third one too Vikram.'

'What might that be?'

'Handlebar blends in so well.' Rita let out a laugh as she got out of the Gypsy.

***

Rita had an early dinner at seven-thirty.

The three-quarter ascending moon provided a nice glow, the breeze was still, not a sign of any cloud in the sky. The night was clear, dark, warm and silent — a total antipode of the night before. Rita sat on the rocking chair with her feet up on the footstool, in her bedroom looking out of her window. Jim Beam sat beside her on a table along with some post dinner cheese. 13th Floor Elevators' psychedelic rock played on the turntable at moderate volume giving Jim a warm boost; Rita's mind was engrossed in the case. All other thoughts, even amorous ones, gave a wide berth. What did they have till now? Sishir Singh resembled Honey Singh. A private eye who was hired by an anonymous man followed Honey Singh. It was like a chain of loose ends, it didn't matter which link you held on to. It shouldn't be impossible to trace where the anonymous client was accessing the
DRAFTS
folder? Obviously, they wouldn't confiscate Joginder Raja's computer, they wanted to ensure Raja carried on regardless of this meeting or anything that happened in the background. The client — whoever he was — shouldn't get suspicious. Finishing her small and only drink of the evening, Rita retired for the day.

M
onday, research has proved, is the dreariest day for the human brain. It's more psychological than physical. The brain processes all that looms in the next five or six days and sends nerve signals to tranquilise, causing a dull, depressing sentiment. But having forgone the break, albeit not in the office, Rita had the added mix of adrenaline rush that usually dominates police officers when in the midst of an active homicide investigation.

Rita never missed breakfast for two reasons: one, it kickstarted her terrific metabolism; and secondly, when in the midst of an open investigation who knew when the next morsel would be served? Rita was in the office early to get paperwork out of the way before the rest of the team arrived and everyone got sucked into the investigation.

A new week. A fresh perspective.

The office was small. It had two visitor chars, and one additional that had been pulled in previously on Friday. Vikram arrived first.

'Good morning, ma'am.'

Nene and Jatin followed him. They closed the door, pulled in an additional chair and sat down.

Pleasantries exchanged, small talk over, it was time to get back to some fresh thinking, time to improve the plan. The last thing she wanted was to run a desultory investigation.

'Looking for Sishir Singh did any of you mention to the snitches about Interpol or homicide,' Rita started. She was still concerned about how the media had picked up the information.

Everyone looked at each other. Nope.

'So someone's done some digging after they got the gen. Try to find out who leaked the info to the newspapers.'

It was a known fact that the media picked up morbid stories by looking at bodies delivered to the morgue. Postmortem equated to unnatural death, which equated to a police case, which equated to a story. Thus, it was difficult for a murder case to stay hidden from them. Of course, the status of the person dead or the potential suspect list could decide how significant the story could be, and for how much it could sell. However, in this case there was no body, ergo it was apparent that someone had leaked the story to the press.

'Anyone could have... it will be a futile exercise,' Jatin said. And he wasn't wrong. They could waste hours rounding up each snitch to ask. It could almost become a parallel investigation by itself. And why would anyone admit easily?

'Could we try to find out which reporter got it first and work backwards from his or her contact to some snitch please? Might be a long chain but it will help. We'll probably have to hold a press conference to calm down the media.'

Fortunately, the coverage didn't have much detail, it was a small column of news, but it would certainly invite the attention of anyone who was looking. Sishir Singh or whatever his name was would be looking. No doubt about that.

'OK. What have we got? Nene, you go first.'

Nene detailed to the group the events of Saturday. They had tailed Honey Singh and found a guy already tailing him. A private eye, Joginder Raja.

'I know Joginder Raja!' Jatin interjected.

'You know him?'

'He helped us in an old case, years back. He must be forthcoming.'

'He wasn't initially, but he did comply.' Rita rolled her eyes; she remembered having to be a strict matron to get him to give out intelligence.

'Watch out guys, our boss is ruthless,' Vikram said, bowing his head towards Rita.