Doosra (23 page)

This was getting interesting. Not that Lucky Singh would know where Veer Singh was or if she knew she would tell Rita, but it still seconded what others had said about Honey and Veer: they were close, then they split.

'What happened?'

'I don't know. Honey never spoke about it except that they had a disagreement of dire proportions.' The fury she had exhibited in the past few minutes notwithstanding, deep down the woman was hurt; the optical waterworks were beginning to win. She wiped her moist eyes with the back of her pink sleeve.

'I'm sorry Mrs Singh,'

'It's OK. But if it is Veer you're looking for why do you have Honey's picture?' Lucky sounded sceptical now.

Smart question.

'Oh that? Our database showed Mr Honey Singh was the last one Veer Singh had any interaction with in a public place. As I said it's a very old photograph.'

'I don't think Honey would want to talk about him.'

'We still have to ask.'

'I can understand.'

'Mrs Singh, do you know where Veer Singh is these days?'

'Nah. I don't know and I don't care. I saw him last…' she looked into space like recalling something from an old album, '…three years ago, maybe even longer.'

'So no idea where he went, no correspondence?' Rita carried on.

'No, and I don't want to talk about him anymore. Is there anything else?'

'Not at the moment, Mrs Singh.' Rita got up.

Vikram took the cue.

The farewell wasn't as warm as the tea party. Rita heard the door slam behind them.

'What do you think, ma'am?' Vikram asked as they walked down the steps.

'You mean besides the part that you're my daddy?' Rita retorted.

'That was hilarious. I was about to burst out laughing.'

'I could see.'

'The mention of Veer definitely embittered her,' Vikram said when they sat in the Gypsy. Rita looked around the apartment complex. She noted again that though it wasn't subfusc or rundown, it wasn't the poshest address in the city either.

'It's extremely important that we find Veer Singh, Vikram.'

'W
hy this switcheroo?'

Switcheroo?
Dealing with
Sexy
came with a cautionary; the prerequisite was that the person already had the Webster English dictionary app downloaded into their brains.

Sexy
sat composed. Impeccably attired as usual, not a hair out of place. His long manicured fingers in a steeple, his eyes behind the thin reading glasses that he took off before speaking. His question, though, wasn't unwarranted. His secretary got the weekly case reports on almost all current cases, and given that Ron Jogani's murder was an international incident, it was highly likely that he had asked for a summary of it and kept himself updated. Hence, he knew the initial investigation had been to find the guy in the photograph given by the Belgians to Rita and her team. So why was Rita, then, here to seek help in tracing this other creature called Veer Singh? What had made the investigation switch tracks then?

Rita elucidated the recent developments, the discovery about other robberies in the last few days — since the last report had been sent — and the similarities that steered the team to consider other possibilities, and the revelation of an old friend-turned-adversary who had, since, gone missing.

'And he left India, did you say?'
Sexy
asked after ruminating on the details provided a minute ago.

'Yes sir.'

'Do you know where he has skedaddled to?'

We don't know if he has fled, Sexy; it could be only a concurrence,
Rita wanted to say, but instead she responded: 'We're not sure if he deliberately disappeared or if it was purely a coincidence, but the info we have is that he had moved to the US.'

'US security won't release any info — they are a bit solipsistic as you know... unless we have something to trade with them.'

He wasn't totally wrong. The US had become a lot more insular and self-focussed after 9/11 when it came to security, and rightly so. They had largely been successful in thwarting all acts of terrorism in their country since that event.

'We don't have anything to trade, except the fact that Veer Singh could possibly be a criminal, albeit we have no evidence against him, sir.'

'I'll see what I can do. Send me all details on this guy. When are you connecting with Mr Honey Singh?'

'Today itself, sir.' Having met his mother in the morning it was best to meet Honey Singh on the same day, though Rita was positive that Mrs Lucky Singh would have already spoken to her son about the visit.

Rita took the opportunity to inform the Commissioner that she had been in consultation with the criminal psychologist her previous supervisor, Joshi had introduced without — unsurprisingly — furnishing the minutiae that the discussions between Ash Mattel and her were held wearing only their underwear. Or maybe not even that.

Rita also mentioned that the media had been looking for an update after the news had been leaked somehow. She didn't think Sexy required the how.

'The media can be directed to me, I'll handle them all. Just ask my secretary to arrange one single press conference.'

Rita knew that
Sexy
was the master of ambiguity. The press would be none the wiser after he spoke to them; their lexicon would indeed by tested to the limits though. Good.

'Good luck. Anything else, Miss Ferreira?'

'No sir. Thank you, sir.'

The meeting over, Rita walked out, her vocabulary increased.

Back in her room she called Victor in Brussels and put in the same request. She explained her hypothesis how Veer Singh could be connected and promised to send his only photograph for their experts to analyse. Victor and his government obviously had a vested interest in the case. He agreed to see what Interpol could swing out of US though he, too, was sceptical about the US government releasing any info.

Rita wasn't terribly optimistic about getting any info on Veer Singh but you had to go through the hoops, you had to try everything. You couldn't know how the dice would fall unless you threw the dice. She had already thrown two dice. The third, she smiled, she would throw over the weekend when Ash was back in Mumbai.

***

Rita and Vikram drove to Honey Singh's office after lunch. They had confirmed he was at the location, but they didn't call ahead. His mother would have done that part already. There was congestion as they turned on to P D'Mello Road but the Eastern Freeway was thankfully clear all the way to BKC.

Bandra Kurla Complex is a string of intimidating glass buildings that look like prisons with finer cells and better facilities for those incarcerated inside for the proverbial nine to five. Tucked away among the overabundance of analogous glass penitentiaries was another insipid building — also glass fronted but dwarfed by other bigger, newer, flashier ones — that housed Mr Honey Singh's office. She looked around to spot Mr Handlebar but he was missing from the scenery. Shoddy work. Or maybe he was so well concealed even she didn't see him. Or perhaps he knew Honey Singh wouldn't be leaving the office till evening so why waste the hours on the watch.

The security on the ground floor was non-existent. Rita looked at the placard on the side wall that listed all the offices, found Honey Singh's office listed at the top floor, pressed the button for the elevator.

Security on the tenth floor was a different matter. A runt man of five-foot-four sat at the front desk — diminutively built, middle-aged, with a bald head that brightly reflected the recessed halogen lights. A thin moustache like gents had in the sixties. Greasy jeans, old fake RL Polo blue T-shirt. He looked up when he saw two people approaching.

'We're here to see Mr Honey Singh, where is he?' Rita politely asked.

'Who wants to know?' Titu, the street-side barber turned office administrator, barked. He was loyal to the bone, but given his background and education politeness hadn't touched him with a bargepole.

Rita looked at him, amused: a Chihuahua pretending to be a Doberman. She decided to play along.

'We both do.' She pointed towards Vikram and herself.

'And who you?' Titu asked in his street-side English. Besides the broken vernacular the words came out scathing like there was a burnt steel blade in his mouth that made them abrasive. Rita wondered if when the short guy said
“you”
did he spell it as
“you”
or
“U”
?

Rita didn't respond. She looked at Vikram who picked up the cue. Towering over the little man he took out his police badge and put it right in front of his face.

The hard demeanour cracked the moment the runt saw the badge.

'Now,' Rita spoke calmly. 'Tell me who are you?'

'I myself Titu madam.' He stood to attention.

'And what do you do Mr Titu… besides trying to boss around here and scare people away?'

'I am office manager madam.'

'So Mr Honey Singh is your boss?'

'Yes madam. Any tea, coffee madam?'

'Is your boss in today?' Rita asked even though their intelligence had confirmed that Honey Singh was on site.

'Boss in, but very busy today madam. He tell me not allow visitors.'

'Tell him we are here now so he better see us.'

'Madam, he get very angry if I disturb.'

'OK, don't disturb. Tell me where his office is and we'll go there and see him ourselves.'

'No madam. You wait. I call him.' He picked up the phone at his desk and punched some numbers.

W
hen the foul-mouthed administrator made the call to his master his tone had
volte-faced
into a rather benevolent one. 'Some people from police want to see you, sir.' Rita could hear the loud crackling from the other side that suggested that Honey Singh wasn't pleased to be disturbed. The intrusion wasn't welcomed. Titu nodded in acquiescence and apologised for bothering him. 'I told you, sir is busy,' he conveyed as he placed the receiver on the cradle. Rita didn't bother speaking to him. She picked up the receiver he had just put down and pressed redial. 'What is it now? Didn't I just tell you I'm in the middle of an important conference—'

'And I'm in the middle of a police investigation, Mr Honey Singh. It's my duty to let you know that there is a very narrow line between not cooperating and perverting an ongoing police investigation and both instances are criminal offences in themselves.'

'But I am actually in the middle of a client conference...'

'Ever heard of the word
emergency?'

'Yes?'

'It is now. Finish the call because we're coming in.' Rita put the phone down before Honey could utter another word.'

She looked at Titu who instantly, without her having to ask, pointed towards the door at the rear-left of the reception desk.

Rita took a few deep breaths. She was a bit agitated that she had let the word “police investigation” slip into the conversation; she should have mentioned that when she could see Honey Singh to gauge his reaction. The rulebook was explicit on this. Listen. Listen to each word very carefully. Read between all the lines. Read the punctuation marks. Read the face. Any unusual or frequent scratching of the limbs, notice the eyes for any false foibles. Analyse the speech, the tone, the everything. Observe the subject.

Before opening the office door she reminded herself that everything was benign, everyone was innocent, and that's the way it should be: innocent till proven guilty. She looked at Vikram to check if he was ready; he nodded.

They walked in.

The office resembled a bouillabaisse; a fish stew might be good to taste but the sight of an assortment of fish floating in the liquid is anything but pleasant. The office, too, might have worked efficiently for Honey Singh with everything spread all over, but the place had scatterings of papers and computer chips and parts and cables and whatnot just about everywhere including the only visitor chair.

Honey Singh passed an impish smile, said hello and got up behind his desk that had four laptops working simultaneously. He stuck out his muscled arm for a handshake.

It wasn't anything less than a vice when Rita shook it, and then made the introductions after the perfunctory hellos.