Kalkoot- The Lost Himalayan Secret Page 8
***
Deedar Singh hung up the listening device. He was smarting under the weight of the fact that a bumbling amateur could locate a USB drive for which he had turned a room upside down.
One look at Deedar Singh, and you would know that he was one of those that you did not mess with. It was not his six-and-a-halffoot height, or his wrestlers’ build, or the heavy chain that loosely hung around his neck. It was not even his menacing eyes, which he mostly kept covered with dark shades.
It was something far more intangible. Just as certain people exude kindness and envelop their surroundings in an aura of warmth, there are some who have a much darker effect. Such are the people through whom the Devil chooses to do his work.
Deedar Singh had been handpicked by the Devil himself; by the man they called the Doc.
***
Deedar Singh knew that Sam was going to hire a vehicle from the rental place directly opposite the campus. It would be child’s play for Deedar Singh to get the car details from the rental agency.
He smirked. He felt almost ashamed trying to tackle a bunch of amateurs; he was used to tougher customers.
Deedar was in Tardeo, around 19 kilometres away from the NISS campus. But his retrofitted Hummer could move fast. If Sam was a slow mover, he might even catch him as he was in the process of renting the vehicle.
Deedar Singh’s brown leather jacket glistened in the moonlight as he turned the air-conditioner on to full blast and stepped on the gas pedal, taking the Hummer to 120 kmph.
The speed or the choice of vehicle might not mean much to a person used to the roads and speeds of the West, but in Mumbai, they both made a stark statement. The narrow, pot-holed roads of Mumbai were used to much slower traffic and much smaller vehicles. The objective was to cram everything into as small a space as possible, to economise, to save.
But that was not Deedar Singh’s objective. He had clear instructions. And he was prepared, right up to the jerrycan of kerosene needed to dispose of the body.
The Hummer cast an eerie shadow in the moonlight as it thundered towards Deonar, shrouding the road in a dark cloud as it passed by.
***
Mumbai, Monday, 3.15 a.m.
Sameer Rajan was not a slow mover.
Within five minutes, Sameer had swiped his credit card at the car rental outlet and was in a grey Toyota Innova. He mouthed a silent prayer as he turned the key in the ignition.
Thankfully, the rains seemed to have taken a long breather. He could get to Goa within twelve hours if he really stepped on the gas and if he was not held back by traffic on the highway.
***
The Innova had a headstart over the Hummer. But without much traffic at that hour, and at the speed the Hummer was capable of, the gap was narrowing by the second.
Deedar Singh first saw the Innova from a distance, near the toll gate at Panvel that led on to the Mumbai-Goa highway.
He reached out underneath the passenger seat and took out a .32 revolver. That would suffice for the job.
***
Even in the best of days, the Mumbai-Goa highway was a death trap, with bored, often inebriated, truck drivers occupying both lanes. In the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning, though, it was infinitely worse. A deadly cocktail of sleep-deprived drivers and missing vehicle headlights turned the road into a veritable dragon, ready and waiting to snuff the life out of unsuspecting wayfarers.
The young man did have some spunk, Deedar thought. Driving an Innova at 140 kmph on the two-lane highway in the middle of the night was not easy, and he seemed to have the vehicle well in control.
None of that was relevant, though. At best, it would buy the young man a few extra minutes in the land of the living.
The road was largely deserted, except for some wearied trucks plying the route. That would work to his advantage, though he was confident he could have accomplished the task even in broad daylight.
The Hummer was now about sixty feet behind the Innova, and Deedar kept a watch for a nice tree-lined stretch that would suit his need. It was time to test the Innova’s collision capabilities.
To his surprise, the Innova slowed as it swerved left towards an eatery off the road.
Deedar Singh did not have much use for luck in his calculations, but he did not particularly mind when it gave him a good break.
CHAPTER 14
Eatery near Karnala, off Mumbai on the Mumbai-Goa highway, Monday, 4.05 a.m.
Sam was feeling groggy. He had been driving at breakneck speed, but needed to take a break and brace himself for the long drive ahead.
He took a look at the menu and ordered a vegetable sandwich and a cup of strong filter coffee.
Four tables away, an unusually tall man wearing dark shades and having a wrestlers’ build sat down and looked at the menu.
The eatery was crowded even at this hour of the night. Not that Deedar was unused to using the gun in crowded places, but he was smart enough to not do that when there could be other opportunities. Like when the boy went to use the washroom.
***
‘Instincts are often more powerful than logic,’ the Colonel used to tell Sam, during the many sermonising sessions that he had been subjected to since childhood. ‘They come to your aid first during a crisis.’
As he sipped on his coffee, Sam found himself feeling progressively queasy, almost as if there were some obvious storm clouds that he was overlooking.
He turned to look around, and immediately knew what could have bothered his subconscious mind. There was a rather unusual guy sitting a few tables away, the kind of guy you did not encounter often.
Maybe it was just the fact that he was very tall and well-built, or maybe the fact that he looked slightly menacing. Either way, Sam told himself to calm down. He could not have his mind going on overdrive merely at the sight of a tall guy.
Sam stretched himself, trying to relax, and leaned in his chair, his head tilted back, involuntarily looking out upside down at the parking lot behind him.
That was when he caught sight of the massive tires of the Hummer. Sam abruptly straightened himself. For some reason, this vehicle sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
As he took another sip of his coffee, an image suddenly came into his mind—that of the Hummer being constantly behind him for about five minutes before he had turned into the eatery.
Was he being followed, or was it all a coincidence? He remembered the voicemail message from ‘Pele’ on Professor Bavdekar’s phone, warning him that things were getting dangerous.
Either way, he decided to act on his instinct once again. He would not be taking any chances.
He got up to head to the washroom.
***
Deedar saw the young man get up and head towards the washroom.
This was his opportunity.
He waited for sixty seconds to avoid being conspicuous, and then unholstered his revolver as he, too, headed the same way.
***
A sixty second head-start was all that Sam needed. He still had the split-second decision-making capabilities of a sprinter, and the climbing abilities of a mountain trekker, albeit a somewhat rusty one. He used both of those skills to advantage in those eventful seconds.
He ran into the restroom, got into one of the toilet stalls, closed the toilet seat and climbed on to it.
It was still nine feet up to the window. The partitions between the stalls were about seven feet high.
Sameer braced himself, jumped up to catch the partition, and then used its support to hoist his legs up towards the window.
With one massive heave, he managed to get his legs on to the window. He then propelled himself forward, and jumped off the window on to the outside.
He got up swiftly, steadied himself for no more than a second and then rushed towards a truck that was leaving the parking lot, just as Deedar Singh stormed into the toilet with his revolver pointed.
***
Sam jumped on to the back of the truck j
ust as it left the parking lot. He prayed that his pursuer, if he was indeed that, would not notice the truck leaving.
Sam heaved a sigh of relief as the truck hit the highway. There were dozens of trucks plying at that hour, and there was no way his pursuer would be able to zero in on him. He was safe. For now.
***
Deedar Singh noticed the closed toilet seat, climbed on to the window and looked out. There was no movement outside. The Innova in which the young man had come was still in the parking lot.
Deedar Singh grit his teeth in frustration. He would search the parking lot to see if his quarry was hiding somewhere, but his hunch was that he had got on to a vehicle that would have just left.
He got out of the toilet stall, went up to the washbasin and let out a massive roar of frustration as he effortlessly dislodged it and smashed it to the ground.
The washbasin crashed into a thousand pieces as it hit the floor.
The young man had given him the slip for now. But he would not get far.
***
Mumbai-Goa highway, Monday, 4.30 a.m.
‘It’s dangerous without a seat belt, buddy,’ the well-turned-out man in the red Gap T-shirt told Sam.
‘Sure, Vivaan,’ Sam said, omitting to mention his recent experience with ‘dangerous’ as he fastened the seat belt.
The journey in the truck had been nail-biting. First, Sam had caught sight of his pursuer’s Hummer not far behind. Then, to Sam’s panic, the truck driver had spotted him and stopped the truck in the middle of the road to argue with him. Sam had quickly settled the argument with a hundred-rupee-note, and then desperately thumbed a ride from a Honda Accord, all the while praying that his pursuer would not notice the commotion.
***
The Honda Accord was occupied by a well-turned-out, suave, South Mumbai couple heading to Goa. The husband, Vivaan, was driving, while his wife, Riyaa, moved to the back seat with their Pomeranian puppy, Bouncer. His nerve-wracking escape notwithstanding, Sam could not help but notice the gentle puppy cozily curling up on Riyaa’s lap in the back seat. The name ‘Bouncer’ seemed somewhat inappropriate for him.
‘So what sort of work do you do?’ Vivaan was asking Sam.
‘Err . . . umm . . . I’m into investment banking,’ Sam found himself muttering.
‘Sounds exciting,’ Vivaan said. ‘I’m just a boring businessman.’
Sam avoided getting into the details of just how ‘exciting’ his life had become lately.
He suddenly remembered the chocolate-shaped USB drive from Professor Bavdekar’s room that was still in his right pocket. He needed to check its contents urgently. Maybe that was what the tall giant was after.
‘Hey, Vivaan, I’ve already imposed on you guys, but would you, by any chance, have a laptop that you wouldn’t mind my using?’
‘We do, but it’s out of charge,’ Vivaan said. ‘We’ll charge it at a shop when we take our tea break.’
‘Thanks, Vivaan,’ Sam said.
***
The rhythmic movement of the car had a lulling effect on Sam, shaken as he was by the night’s events. Conscious that dozing off would be discourteous to Vivaan, who was driving, Sam struggled to keep awake.
Vivaan patted him lightly on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay, buddy,’ he said, smiling. ‘Get some rest.’
Riyaa nodded from the back seat. ‘Bouncer and I are getting our naps, too.’
As if on cue, Bouncer let out a contented moan.
Sam experienced a surge of gratitude towards the couple and their display of concern as he let sleep overcome him.
***
Mumbai-Goa highway, Monday, 6 a.m.
Sam woke up with a start as the car lurched while overtaking a bullock cart.
He looked at his watch. He had been asleep for well over an hour.
That was when he remembered that he still had his mobile phone. He had switched it off in the melee of the police chase in Mumbai. He could use the phone to google Professor Hudson and see what he was all about.
Sam took the phone out of his pocked and switched it on.
***
Unknown to Sam, his mobile phone had been added to the list of numbers being tracked by a heavy-set man in an abandoned warehouse, who was sitting behind what looked like an aircraft console with tastefully done interiors.
As soon as Sam switched on his phone, a beep sounded on Bruce’s computer screen, and he let a half-smile escape his lips as the map on the screen converged to a narrow area.
In less than a second, many miles away, Deedar Singh let out a pronounced grunt as he received the coordinates on his mobile device.
***
Mahad, Mumbai-Goa highway, Monday, 6.30 a.m.
As Sam’s phone struggled to find Internet connectivity, the car skidded to a stop. ‘We’ve reached Mahad, folks,’ Vivaan said cheerfully as he opened the car door. ‘Time for a break.’
CHAPTER 15
Mumbai-Goa highway, Monday, 6.30 a.m.
The coordinates from Bruce’s computer were forwarded to Deedar Singh’s handheld device as a live feed. Sam’s phone did not have the GPS setting switched on, so Bruce was using a cell-tower triangulation software that could pinpoint a location within a three hundred-metre radius.
Deedar’s eyes burned as his Hummer closed the gap between him and Sam. He could not afford to goof up again. Besides, this guy had been able to give him the slip in just a sixty-second interval. He had a score to settle.
Deedar suddenly let out a start as the phone coordinates seemed to stop and then remained static.
The young man was probably in a vehicle that had stopped. Deedar was now only fifteen kilometres away. He revved up the Hummer for a fresh burst of speed.
***
Vivaan had parked the Accord outside two abandoned warehouses by the Savitri river. The warehouses faced each other, with a courtyard in the middle.
Vivaan headed into the first warehouse by the roadside, while Riyaa stopped to stretch.
Mindful of space, Sam headed to the second warehouse, which was closer to the river.
It was still dark, probably a few minutes before dawn, and the moon looked magical, lighting up the river. For a few moments, Sam stood still, taking in the vista—the almost aesthetic ruins of the warehouse, a couple of fishing boats on the river, a small jetty a hundred metres away, and a few people queueing up at the jetty to board a boat. An almost perfect backdrop for an impressionist painting.
A lump formed in Sam’s throat as he remembered a similar morning, six months ago, when he and Ananya had trooped over to Harihareshwar, near Mumbai, and climbed up a hillock with a 270-degree view of the Arabian Sea. Between the two of them, and the timeless expanse of the sea, it had seemed like he had everything he had ever wanted.
Sam stood there for a few moments, motionless and helpless, until the urge to relieve himself brought him back to reality.
***
Sam relieved himself in an abandoned urinal in the second warehouse building. To his irritation, his phone was still struggling with Internet connectivity.
He called Namrata. Hopefully she would have found out about Professor Hudson by now.
She sounded a little shaken. ‘Professor Hudson was a luminary in the political sciences department at the University of Berkeley. He was one of the world’s foremost experts on weapon proliferation and was an arms-control activist. Professor Bavdekar met him when he was in the US last week.’
‘What do you mean – he was a luminary?’ Sam asked.
‘You’d better brace yourself for this,’ Namrata said. ‘Professor Hudson was found dead in his faculty room on Sunday night. The autopsy mentions that he died of a heart attack, though the police have not ruled out foul play.’
***
Bavdekar had met Hudson. Now Hudson was dead. And Bavdekar missing.
Sam’s heart did a somersault as he realised that Ananya was somehow mixed up in all this.
His heart still beating wildly, Sam made calls to a
few friends to see if he could extricate himself from the mess with the Mumbai police and maybe get the police to do something about Ananya’s disappearance.
His lawyer friend, Kaushik, said, ‘Dude, I can probably get you cleared with the cops. But you will have to present yourself here for interrogation.’
Sam hung up. He could not afford to go back and get slowed down.
He called a journalist friend, Hanif, to see if he could run a story on the professor’s disappearance. Maybe the cops would take notice and try to find Bavdekar and Ananya. Hanif was not optimistic. ‘The Mumbai police is burdened with literally dozens of such disappearances every day. You would need to come back and talk to the police.’
Sam hung up again. Now he was really on his own.
***
As Deedar arrived closer to the mark, he knew he was in luck. A red Honda Accord was parked outside an abandoned warehouse very close to the Savitri river.
The young man had most probably been in the Accord. And was now somewhere in the vicinity.
***
Vivaan had finished relieving himself and was heading towards the courtyard where Riyaa was stretching and Bouncer was prancing about. That was when Vivaan noticed the tall man with a wrestlers’ build and a brown leather jacket heading towards him.
He looked up enquiringly.
‘Police,’ Deedar told him. ‘We are looking for a young man who might have hitched a ride in your car. He is wanted for multiple crimes back in Mumbai.’
Vivaan did a double take. Had he put his family in danger by giving a lift to a stranger?
But Vivaan was a good judge of people. And his instincts had told him that Sam was not malevolent. On the other hand, just one look at the tall man in front of him told Vivaan that he was up to no good.
‘If you are the police, why don’t you show me some ID?’ Vivaan asked defiantly.
‘I don’t have my ID,’ Deedar was now getting impatient as he stole a glance at the buildings around. ‘Are you telling me about the young man or not?’
‘Maybe not,’ Vivaan said, still defiant.
Deedar Singh could waste no time. Sam was somewhere in the vicinity, and Deedar needed to get to him fast. He fished out his .32 and pointed it straight at Riyaa. ‘Tell me or I shoot.’