Authors: Vish Dhamija
Maybe they'd get lucky this time around?
Every circle had to close at some point.
I
t was panic, then anger, then frustration before despair for Handlebar. He sweated like a pig in a swamp even though the air-conditioning in the room was set to eighteen. He had logged into the account to check if his client had read the message he had left in the
DRAFTS
folder. His client had read and deleted his update from the previous evening, but there was a message waiting for him. People know when they are guilt-ridden; he knew he was guilty of acting as advised by the police and omitting the mention of discovering the second Honey Singh. If his client had somehow been versed about that from another source —if the past record was any indicator, he was convinced the news would have been transmitted to the client — it wouldn't be easy to explain this time around. In his report he had, in his defence, told his client that he had been delayed in setting up the surveillance the other day as he had had a flat tyre while he was on his way to Honey Singh's office, which was partly true. If Handlebar had been the only one on the job and some team hadn't been keeping a watch on him, it was a good enough reason to exonerate oneself. He was late for a valid reason, and hence missed the other Honey Singh. However, the occurrence of two Honey Singhs had happened much later and the other team might also have conveyed the time of the event and the fact that they had seen him beholding and photographing the two Honey Singhs. He decided to procrastinate. If he didn't open the client's message, maybe the client might assume that he hadn't seen it yet, and not take some drastic action straightaway. Maybe he should call the police. Weren't they the ones who got him in this mess in the first place? Had they not come along at his door, things would have been as simple and pleasant as they were before, so it was only right that they should be the ones taking the brunt now.
***
The room was dark. Curtains drawn purposefully to prevent any light coming in, like someone wanted to call it night when it was day.
It's time to pack up and run,' Honey Singh — or someone who looked like him — was on the phone almost whispering into the mouthpiece.
There was crackling from the other side. The person on the other line said something.
I know I said that, but I didn't know the local police would come so close so soon... yes, Veer's dead and that is a major concern now, as nothing can be blamed on him any longer. We didn't think it through, and we don't have another fall guy.' The voice diminuendoed as the conversation went on.
The line crackled again.
'We need a getaway plan before it all blows up...'
Crackle.
'...no you listen to me. I have covered all bases till now but it will get increasingly difficult to hold for very long especially if the police come around with a search warrant—'
Crackle.
'Yes, everything is encrypted, but it's not some Morse code, and even that damn code got broken in the end. Remember they have brains in Interpol. If the police get hold of all our computers we are in deep shit. You don't know what we've missed and what they might find.'
Another long crackle.
'How can I destroy everything? Torch my office?' The testiness was palpable in the voice now.
Crackle again.
OK, let's see how this week pans out. I'm booking tickets for as early as possible. Pack light and pack only what you cannot do without. Ciao for now.'
***
Rita sat in her office post lunch ruminating on all the theories they had conjured up so far and a few other new ones passing through her tired brain. There is always, they said, a reason behind the reason. She didn't know which one yet, but one of Honey Singhs seemed to have some implicit reason to action the stakeout by Handlebar on the other after Ron Jogani's murder in the Brussels hotel. If the police had a photograph — which they must have figured a day later from the news — it was not beyond an average brain to cotton on that the police would come to the door sooner or later. Like her team had voiced, the reason behind that might have been to know when and which department of the police and their subsequent movements? Crime Branch, that she was part of, wasn't the primary response unit so they were the last entity the murderers would have anticipated. But once Interpol got involved it actually merited
Sexy
giving the case to her rather than to some local constabulary, since one didn't know which bailiwick to hand the case over to. Hell, they still didn't know where to look. Perhaps the previous diamond burglaries might have gone undetected — as they looked unrelated on the surface — if one uniformed police station was appointed to the job. Unfortunately for the offenders the case being handed over to crime branch wasn't a good thing; crime branch came with more resources than a local police station and with all the powers that the Commissioner of Mumbai Police could put behind it.
However, there was still something eating Rita up: if only one Honey Singh went to Brussels who assisted him in Brussels?
She debated in her mind.
But how could they be certain only one Honey Singh went to Brussels?
The other one did not have a passport.
Big fucking deal!
He could have one under an alias. Just like the second Honey Singh — who she was confident — wasn't known as Sishir Singh in real life. There was no one following either of the Honey Singhs before the incident so if he had gone out of the country for a few days who would have known?
Kitty Varghese wouldn't tell. That is, if she knew. She was out of the country so maybe she had no idea really.
Mrs Lucky Singh might not even know. Her son didn't have to say he was not coming home for a couple of days. He could have called regularly.
What about the phone records? And emails from his Blackberry?
That was hardly enigmatic to comprehend. For someone who could penetrate hotel networks, destroy Jogani's computer remotely, mask his IP address such that even the trained police technicians couldn't infiltrate it, how formidable would it be to run some code to manipulate the geolocation of his Blackberry such that it was routed through India even while he was abroad?
Simple as ABC.
And if some camera did catch Honey Singh, no one would even question which one of them was captured simply because two Honey Singhs were neither expected nor imagined nor acknowledged. Bloody dazzling.
Sad part: Honey Singh and the crew were now acquainted with who was looking for them in Mumbai. Not just that, they were more than sufficiently aware that the police were asking questions about Veer Singh, which had spelt more than the proverbial doom for the poor guy. Veer Singh may or may not have opened some door to the mystery, but his murder had practically convinced Rita that Honey Singh and/or Kitty Varghese were involved. If Kitty Varghese was at all involved, Honey Singh was in it too. However, the converse wasn't a certainly: Kitty Varghese might just be a bystander in the game unless she had been assisting the concealment of the second Honey Singh. Possible, even probable; it was too soon to rule out either way.
Jaded and exhausted thrashing theories, Rita decided to call Ash. She had totally forgotten that he was in town, and in her bed, when she had left him in the morning.
Ash was chomping on chop-suey when Rita called. He told her he had been in the apartment all day, listening to music. Mumbai was blessed with room service for everything. One phone call and most of the groceries and meals could be delivered to your doorstep within minutes and without any delivery cost. Rita's refrigerator had a lot of menus and shop cards and he had called for some beer and a Chinese take-away.
'I was feeling guilty at having left you behind...'
'I guess you'll have to make up for it tonight.'
Here cometh the cheesy onslaught.
'Ash, I'm in the office.' Despite anticipating some prurient comment, she nevertheless blushed.
'That's precisely why I said you'll have to make up for it tonight, not now DCP Miss Hottie.'
'I wanted to run some things by you.'
'Shoot.'
Rita gave him a summary of what had happened since the morning. Their conviction that the two Honey Singhs were known to each other, that their undercover was actually stalked by the Honey Singh lookalike, the dumping of Veer Singh and the surmise that Honey Singh number two was the mysterious client of Handlebar.
'Too many suppositions in the surmise my girl. You have no evidence. It all sounds like a highly enthusiastic exercise in speculation. Even if he's guilty he'll walk away, believe me. You need veridical evidence not conjectures at this late stage.'
'What do you mean?'
Ash was right in some way, but…
'Without any evidence, you can join the dots in any warped constellation your mind directs you to. A million minds could provide a million and one hunches. Don't get me wrong. I know you are correct up to a level as even I found it ridiculous to believe that everyone and their dog missed being tailed — unless, of course, it was done by someone invisible — remember? So if it was actually the doppelgänger following your guys he would have taken excessive precaution, maybe he didn't follow them all the way. Just saw everyone leave after one another and extrapolated the rest. But you need to have data to support it. Imagine taking your hypothesis to court. Honey Singh, from what you've told me, has a rock solid alibi — he doesn't have a passport on record, he's configured his phones to seem they were in Mumbai when he called or answered them or emailed with the device. To top that he has a doppelgänger that only Mr Handlebar has seen, and who, in my opinion — based on what you've told me about him — would have less than zero credibility in court. The whole thing will sound like Don Quixote's fanciful dream. You see what I mean?'
Rita kept quiet. Ash had valid points to ponder.
'The only way you can break this case is by ferreting out both the Honey Singhs and sweat them simultaneously.'
Ash was referring to Prisoner's Dilemma, an age-old technique practised by most law enforcement agencies around the world. Capture two people of the same group on some lesser charge and take them to solitary confinement where they cannot exchange messages. Then sweat them out. Ask them to cooperate separately by providing them with incentives to betray their partner. In more cases than not, one of them breaks, squeals when they realise the police have enough on them.
'However,' Ash continued, 'I would strongly urge you to keep this under wraps. Honey Singh shouldn't know you're looking for his doppelgänger.'
'That's not possible. Handlebar omitting the spotting of Honey Singh's duplicate in his report would have tipped them off that Handlebar is operating under someone's orders or influence.'
'Maybe, but does he know that Handlebar has done this on
your
instructions?'
'I'm pretty sure he is smart enough to twig who could behind it but us.'
'Yep, I guess so. You'll have to find some other way.'
There was a brief silence again.
'What time are you coming home?'
'I don't know Ash. I'll call you a bit later. Sorry.'
'No worries.'
Rita's mind returned to the conundrum at hand. Handlebar had already submitted the report so the cat was not only out of the bag; it had jumped in full sight of the client by now. He would have read the message and found the sighting of the second Honey Singh excluded. If the second Honey Singh had been deliberately planted outside the office for detection Handlebar would get reprimanded again. No doubt there. If the doppelgänger's outing at the wrong place had been a genuine slip-up, the client — if it were either of the Honey Singhs — would be only too happy that Handlebar had missed it. Ash was right: it was in Rita's interest to feign that
they
weren't exposed to the double.
She was in the middle of her thoughts when the mighty private investigator Mr Handlebar Raja called.
'Hello madam, myself Raja. We met when you came to see me regarding the case.'
How would I have met you otherwise? At the prom?
'Yes Mr Han… Mr Raja,' Rita almost slipped, 'of course we met. Hope you are keeping well. What can I do for you?'
'I was trying to reach Inspector Jatin, but could not get through. I have received another message from my client.'
Rita waited for him to read out the message or explain but nothing came; all she heard was heavy breathing on the other side.
'What did you client have to say now Mr Raja?'
'I haven't opened it madam, that's what I am calling to check. Should I open it? I'm very scared.'
He can't shoot you through the computer screen.
'You have nothing to be scared of Mr Raja. You're working with us and your safety is our responsibility. Open the message and tell me.'
What a big muppet.
A clacking of the keyboard could be heard via the earpiece, and Rita could visualise Handlebar's fat fingers and fatter head logging in and navigating to the
DRAFTS
folder.