Compass Box Killer (23 page)

The shrill ring of his mobile phone disturbed his thoughts. Virkar took the call, only to hear a terse command from ACP Wagh.

‘Report to the Additional Commissioner’s office tomorrow at 9.00 a.m.’

S
he was waiting for him in the corridor, pretending to be deep in conversation with a senior police officer that Virkar didn’t know.

He had just finished meeting with the Additional Commissioner of Police, Abhinav Kumar, and was headed down the corridor, mulling over his next course of action. Abhinav Kumar had informed him that Vasant Dixit was slapping a hundred crore rupees defamation suit on the police department because of Virkar’s actions. Virkar had quickly examined all future courses of action and realized that not only was his current position in the Crime Branch threatened, but his entire career had come under a cloud. He had expressed his regrets for putting the police department in such a situation and sought permission to personally apologize to Vasant Dixit and request him to withdraw the defamation case. Although his suggestion was unorthodox, Abhinav Kumar had agreed to arrange a meeting so that Virkar could tender his formal apology and request Dixit to withdraw the case and save the police department the bad publicity.

Out in the corridor, he came upon Raashi so suddenly that he didn’t have any time to react, let alone to take any evasive action to avoid her. He was forced to stop in front of her as she was blocking the corridor, purposely placing herself in such a position that it would seem very odd if he were to walk around her without acknowledging her at all.

‘Hello,’ he said, as non-committal as ever.

‘Hi, Virkar,’ she said, breaking into a broad, toothy smile. The senior police officer with her looked at Virkar and realized that his time with her was up and he should move on, giving way to his junior.

For a few seconds they stood awkwardly together, trying to avoid any eye contact. It was Raashi who, as usual, broke the silence.

‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’

Virkar replied with a dry grunt of laughter. Raashi didn’t react but continued, ‘I have some explaining to do.’

Virkar’s laugh grew sharp, now mixed with a hint of sarcasm. Raashi spoke in a tone that sounded hopeful: ‘I know I’ve said this to you before, but you have to understand. It’s not personal.’

‘Oh, yes, it is!’ exploded Virkar, speaking for the first time. Letting the sarcasm flow into his voice, he said, ‘It’s all for
your
personal growth.’

Raashi’s dilated pupils contracted a little in response to this statement, but the hopeful twinkle refused to lose its sparkle. ‘I’m an ambitious woman. Surely you understand that?’

Virkar retorted, ‘Correction. You’re a
cut-throat
ambitious woman and I do understand that.’

‘I’m as cut-throat as you are, Virkar,’ said Raashi, her tone now matter-of-fact. ‘Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do anything to further your career. You’re desperate to catch the Compass Box Killer and the Smooth Operator so that you win a medal…or get a promotion. Isn’t that right?’

Virkar looked surprised. ‘Is that what you think I’ve been doing all this time?’

Raashi was unmoved. ‘Why else? I can see no other reason.’

Virkar spoke through clenched teeth, ‘Maybe I still believe in the triumph of good over evil. That there is a right and a wrong—’

Raashi cut him off. ‘Oh, come now, Virkar, let’s go home to my place. I’ll listen to your bhaashan between my bedsheets.’

Virkar’s dry laugh was back again. Only this time, it was accompanied by a vigorous shake of his head as if he was desperately trying to dislodge the incredulous feeling that was stuck between his ears. ‘You will go far, very far, without ever looking back,’ he said, finally.

Raashi didn’t say anything; she just stared at Virkar, her face hardening. Virkar turned to go, but then, as if he had remembered something, he turned back. Looking directly into Raashi’s eyes, he said, ‘Well, maybe you’ll look back some day on your way down, only to see the bodies of the people that you have trampled over on your journey upwards. But isn’t it a sad thing that they all would be lying by the wayside and there would be no one to catch you when you’re falling?’

Raashi stood silent, a glazed look in her eyes. Virkar finally turned and walked away from her. He could feel her eyes boring holes into his back as he walked down the corridor.

Stepping around the corner, he quickly cut across the compound and walked towards an unmarked, white, windowless van parked on the far corner. Casting furtive glances all around to make sure that he wasn’t being watched, he knocked on the side panel of the van. The panel slid open to show an array of digital recording equipment that was arranged on a counter inside. Two men wearing headphones sat on tiny stools working on the dials and knobs of the equipment. Virkar stepped inside and the panel slid shut behind him.

Across the compound, Raashi watched the van from a position behind a pillar in the corridor. A few seconds later, she turned around and receded down the corridor in the opposite direction.

‘T
here will be a white, windowless van positioned somewhere close by that will be recording everything you say,’ she said.

Vasant Dixit laughed his throaty, sexy laugh. ‘How old school is that? That kind of surveillance went away along with the nineties.’

Raashi shrugged. ‘What can you expect? The Mumbai police don’t have the budget to keep up with the times.’

Vasant Dixit smiled. ‘Sweetheart, even if they
had
the budget, they couldn’t compete with me. I mean…my company supplies them with surveillance equipment, for God’s sake. How foolish is that guy?’

Raashi shrugged again. ‘He is the biggest fool of them all.’ They were sitting in a glass-fronted room of Vasant Dixit’s Madh Island bungalow that overlooked the flat expanse of Dana Pani Beach.

Madh Island is not really an island but a cluster of old-world fishing villages and farmlands nestled cozily on the northwest shoreline of suburban Mumbai. Lavish bungalows owned by members of the upper echelons of Mumbai line its serene beaches. It can be accessed by road via the Mumbai suburb of Malad or by taking a ferry across from the fishing village in Versova. However, due to its proximity and an impressive multiple-beach shoreline, it is favoured by all stratas as a picnic destination. The super-rich organize private parties in their lavish, landscaped bungalows while the not so well-heeled rent out beachfront shacks by the hour and engage in wanton drinking, dancing and frolicking on the seashore.

Vasant Dixit’s massive, super-posh bungalow across the flat Dana Pani Beach was sprawled across five acres of the sloping hilly land facing west. Perched on a flat piece of land in the middle of the slope, the bungalow housed seven sea-facing bedrooms, a ballroom-sized living room, a swimming pool and a tennis court. Right outside the massive front door, two huge party lawns had been carved out of the slope and extended like giant green steps down to the ten-foot-high boundary wall that surrounded the property and touched the road running along the beach. Behind the bungalow, to the east, the hilly portion of the land sloped up through a wooded area all the way up to the main road that ran through the island. Three steel TV towers stood like sentinels on three corners of the bungalow walls, and in the fourth corner to the south, a massive rock face rose out of the hill and completed the fortress-like picture of the bungalow. Large steps had been carved into the rock face leading to a flat, bald tabletop outcrop that was the highest beachfront point on Madh Island. The view from the outcrop was magnificent as directly across it lay the sparkling blue sea. On a clear day, one could see all the way to Uttan Lighthouse in the north and Prong’s Lighthouse in Colaba, the southernmost tip of Mumbai.

‘You’ve done well, babes,’ smiled Vasant Dixit, trailing his index finger along her cheek. ‘You’re on the fast track. Just make sure that you keep your eyes on your goal. At all times.’

Raashi nodded. ‘What will you do to him?’ she asked, her expression conveying nothing.

Vasant Dixit gave her a long look. ‘You like him, don’t you?’

‘No! I was just asking out of academic curiosity,’ Raashi protested.

‘Hmm,’ said Vasant Dixit, looking out over the sea at the few fishing boats making their way towards the shallow waters. ‘I’ll probably have him posted to some small mofussil town where he’ll disappear into oblivion.’

Raashi looked unsure. ‘If I may say something… I’d like to warn you that this one is not entirely easy to get rid of.’

Vasant Dixit smiled. ‘See, I
knew
that you thought highly of him.’

‘Well, I would not underestimate him as an opponent, that’s all I meant to say.’

‘My dear girl, why do you underestimate me?’

Raashi backtracked at once. ‘Oh no, Mr Dixit, I don’t underestimate you at all.’

But Vasant Dixit’s dark eyes were as shiny as fresh coal. ‘Do you think that a man of limited intelligence and influence would have been able to cover up the murder of a young, white woman? You know how many layers of subterfuge I created? Do you know how I arm-twisted Colasco into disposing off Tracy’s body and keeping mum about this for nine years? The greedy sucker kept quiet about the death of someone he considered a good friend because I threatened to stop funding Slum Baalak Suraksha. I had his balls in my fist. He was so shit scared of me that he even went to his grave without giving an inkling of my involvement in the case. I’ll never be connected with the crime.’

Sweat broke out on Raashi’s brow. She never failed to be intimidated by Vasant Dixit although she had belonged to his inner circle for some time now. She had been handpicked from the team of management trainees at Dixitel and placed at the CrimeNews Channel as a likely contender for its future boss. Her ambitious streak was something that Vasant Dixit had identified early on and fuelled from time to time, to the point that she was now in over her head in the cover-up of a murder he had committed.

‘They’ll never be able to prove it,’ Dixit hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Never be able to connect it with me. Do you know why?’ His smile was sinister. ‘Because I made everyone an accessory. If I went down, they would go down with me. Do you understand?’

Raashi nodded mutely, her heart thumping.

But Vasant Dixit did not let up. ‘No, I don’t think you understand. Let me illustrate with an example. Let’s take you for instance. If you were to tell anyone what I’m telling you now, do you know what will happen?’ Raashi didn’t have to reply, Vasant Dixit continued, ‘They would find you guilty of abetment. Of abetting me in my quest to cover up my involvement, you would be found guilty of criminal conspiracy—of conspiring with me to actively mislead Virkar and impede an investigation.’

Raashi shook her head vigorously from side to side. ‘But, Mr Dixit, I’ll never go against you. I’m your most trusted person.’

Vasant Dixit’s smile now chilled Raashi to the bone. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that, because if I had any doubts about it, the cameras planted in your apartment and within this room will provide enough evidence of the same to the police.’

Raashi was tongue-tied; she opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Vasant Dixit looked at her intently; a wave of amusement now washed away his earlier expression. He seemed to return to his former genial self at once. ‘Don’t worry, babes, that day will never come. Now relax.’

He reached out to pick up a small but powerful digital handycam lying on a table, and handed it to her. ‘Here. I’m sure you know how to operate this. Get some good footage of the party outside.’

Raashi regained her composure, grabbed the camera, nodded and turned to leave. As she was about to exit, Vasant Dixit called out from behind her, ‘Just a second… What’s his favourite drink?’

Raashi turned and smiled. ‘This one’s not going to be so easy, even for you!’

V
irkar sat on a wooden bench atop the flat outcrop of land on the premises of Vasant Dixit’s bungalow. He had arrived at the gates at four o ’clock sharp, the stipulated time given to him for his meeting with the man of the hour. Having been led in by the grey safari-suits through a side entrance, he had been thoroughly searched for any concealed weapons. When the safari-suits were satisfied, they had led him to the tabletop and asked him to sit on the bench and wait. Smiling to himself, he had sat looking out towards the sea. A couple of fishing boats, busy casting their nets in the shallow waters bobbed right across from him in the sea. He felt as if he was in a smuggler’s adda straight out of a Hindi film from the seventies. It had now been two hours since he had arrived and he had gotten restless. He stood up and stretched, casually walking over to the edge of the tabletop. The safari-suits eyed him but made no move to stop him. Walking to the western side of the outcrop, Virkar looked down and saw an amazing scenario.

In the two bungalow lawns below and by the poolside, little children ran helter-skelter, chased by their mothers and the maids who took care of them. Multi-coloured balloons were everywhere—spread across the lawns, floating in the swimming pool, hung from every corner jutting out of the bungalow. Small, air-filled dinghy boats plied in the swimming pool with little children as passengers screaming their lungs out in sheer joy. A massive inflated balloon-slide transported older children into the pool from a height of about twenty feet. An inflated balloon-castle stood on one side of the lawn, inviting little children to run in and out of its open doors. As if this was not enough, men dressed as clowns handed out helium gas-filled balloons and other goodies to the little children as soon as they expressed laughter, anger, hunger or any other emotion. To Virkar, who was surveying the scene from the tabletop, which was at a height of more than 100 metres, the little children down below looked like colourful ants cavorting between colourful ant eggs.