Murder in Mumbai (17 page)

Gaikwad could have hugged him.

“How?”

“It's easy. Look.”

The boy powered the machine off and restarted it. As it booted up, he pressed a key that took him to the administrator's screen. Gaikwad didn't know what the boy was doing, but he was mesmerized. The boy's hands glided over the keyboard. He looked only at the screen.

Within minutes, the machine started up again and prompted him for a password. The boy typed it in:
Voila!

The boy moved aside. “If you need to shut it down again, the password is ‘Gaikwad,'” he said, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket that had just pinged.

Gaikwad felt an immense shot of pride shoot through him. He wanted to ask him how he did it, he wanted to ask him where he learned it from, but the boy was already checking his phone for messages and texting back to someone else holding up a cell phone in another part of the city, or perhaps country. Gaikwad moved up to the machine and looked at the folders. His eyes immediately fell upon one that labeled Personal. He clicked on it.

He went through the documents slowly. At first it didn't make sense. But then things began to fall into place.

He grabbed his phone and called DCP Khan.

“Khan here.”

“Sir, Gaikwad here.”

“Yes. Yes. Any progress?”

“Sir,” Gaikwad said carefully. “You need to see this.”

“What is it?”

“I think I have a suspect, but I'm not comfortable talking about it on the phone.”

“Very well,” Khan said. “Come over.”

Chapter 17

Gaikwad stood with Khan, watching Khurana arrive home. He half expected him to be immersed in his laptop or talking on the phone, as most people seemed to be nowadays, but the billionaire seemed quietly contemplative. The car pulled up to the front of his apartment building. In his impatience, Khurana opened the door before either the driver or watchman could get to it. The driver saluted as he walked past him to the elevator. Khan and Gaikwad had agreed they would give him a few minutes to settle down at home before they visited him.

A minute or so later, Khan looked at Gaikwad.

“Let's go,” he said. Gaikwad and two constables followed him to the building.

They made their way up and rang the doorbell. Khurana answered, holding a drink. The policemen stood outside, shuffling uncomfortably. Gaikwad could see he recognized him.

“DCP Khan,” Khurana said, ignoring the inspector. “To what do I owe this pleasure? More money for the police fund?”

But Khan did not smile, and neither did Gaikwad.

“Can we come in, sir?” the DCP asked.

“Of course.”

The men followed him in and closed the door.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Khurana repeated, still using the tone he reserved for those people with whom he played golf.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us, sir.”

“Why?”

“We'd like to ask you some questions about the murder of Liz Barton.”

Khurana thought it about for a second, drained his glass, and smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “But I'd like my lawyer present.”

* * *

Gaikwad made sure that he did a thorough job. He didn't want to mess this up, and not just because Khan was watching.

“Would you like to wait for your lawyer to get here, sir?”

“That's all right,” Khurana replied. “We can start.”

“Sir, do you know why you're here?”

“Yes. But you have the wrong man. I didn't kill her.”

“Sir, we have recovered evidence from her computer that shows she was taking confidential information about your business and passing it on to her superiors.”

Khurana looked defeated.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “I know what she was doing.”

“So you killed her?” DCP Khan interjected.

“I told you. I didn't kill her.”

His manner was firm. Gaikwad knew he wasn't going to change his story. But the evidence he had recovered had been foolproof. Liz Barton had befriended Kabir Khurana and had been taking information on his business ventures and sending them on to her superiors in London. For a man known to be professionally ruthless, it was a massive betrayal—certainly it gave Gaikwad a motive for murder and that's all they'd have to persuade the judge of.

“Sir, we have seen the information,” Gaikwad continued.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Khurana said. “But it was the wrong information.”

“What?”

“Inspector, I don't make friends. And I made a mistake making this one. I was emotionally drawn to her. But then I discovered that she was stealing information. We were at a restaurant and I had my iPad with me. I'd been working on a presentation. I got up to go to the restroom and while coming back saw her fiddle with the iPad. She put it away in a hurry, and I didn't let on that I noticed it. I began feeding her wrong information—fake files left carelessly at her place—just to see what she would do with them. When Mohini began to make irrational business decisions based on the information I'd left lying around, I knew she was betraying me.”

“So you killed her?'

“No. I live every day with the knowledge of my past deeds.”

“Are you referring to the prostitute?” When Jay had told him about it the last time they'd met, Gaikwad had dismissed that piece of information. Now it seemed pivotal.

“Yes,” he said quietly, not making eye contact. “I don't expect to be forgiven, inspector. I live with that violent act every day. I didn't want to add another one to that list. I confronted her.”

“What did she say?”

“At first she denied it, of course. But then she laughed at me, calling me a fool and when I told her that I'd been feeding her false information, she became irate.”

“Did you struggle?”

“No. I tell you. No. I left. The next thing I know, I saw on TV that her body had been recovered in Mahim.”

Gaikwad looked at Khan. The DCP's expression was inscrutable. His phone rang. It was Jay Ganesh.

“All right,” Khan said. “Let's take a few minutes until your lawyer joins us, Mr. Khurana.”

Gaikwad walked out to take the call.

“What is it?” he said.

“Inspector, it's Ganesh.”

“I'm busy, can you call back?”

“It's important. I know who killed Liz Barton.”

* * *

Earlier that day, Jay had called Patil, the police archivist and his source at the department.

“
Haan
, Jai bhai. How are you?” Patil had said.

“With your blessings, Patil bhai, everything is good.”

“So tell me, how can I help you?”

“Has the department recovered the stolen goods from the burglaries?”

“No, bhai. Most of it has been sold. It will take a while. But we found a long list of targets, where they lived, who their neighbors were. An Excel spreadsheet, in fact. Can you believe it? Even India's bloody thieves are high-tech.” Patil almost sounded proud.

“Can I see the list?”

“Jay bhai, you're going to get me into so much trouble.”

“Have I ever burned you?”

“OK. Come fast. I'll hold it for you.”

* * *

Jay should have asked him to e-mail it, but despite stories about the country's IT prowess, the overwhelming majority of people were techno illiterate. He rushed out to Patil's office.

“Going somewhere?” It was Janet.

“To get some records.”

“Don't tell me you're going to drive,” she said. “You're always bloody late. Let me take you.”

Jay wasn't going to say no. They quickly got into her car and headed there.

“Listen, I'm sorry about . . .” he said.

“Forget it,” she said. “We were working on a story. I know the story comes first.”

“It's not that.”

“Shut up,” she said, smiling. “Don't apologize. When this story is wrapped up, you can take me out.”

“It's a date,” he said.

* * *

An hour later, they were back at the newsroom with a long list of printed names. Jay cross-checked the names on the list with those of the victims. The list had names of the victims and their neighbors. It included details like who left at what time, when they returned, how many people in a household; a highly organized spreadsheet put together by a highly organized thief. Jay then came to Liz Barton's name. He scanned the information around it. That's when he saw what he never expected to see. He immediately took it to Janet.

“Look at this,” he said.

She did, looking at it and registering the name on the list.

“Wow.”

“I'm going to call Gaikwad.”

* * *

Janet and Jay arrived at Liz Barton's building just in time to watch Gaikwad pull up in the police jeep.

“You sure about this, right?” Gaikwad asked him.

“It's on the list, inspector,” Jay said. “Take a look.”

Gaikwad looked at the list, but didn't seem placated.

“Yes, but I had spoken to him. I know how he makes his money. Why wouldn't he just tell me?” he said.

“Why would he?” Jay asked. “You're investigating a murder, not public integrity. This raises a huge red flag.”

Gaikwad was not convinced.

“I don't disagree that he could have done it, but hunches aren't enough,” he said.

“Inspector,” Janet said. “We've looked at the records. She wasn't here that day. She was in Delhi. There was no reason for him to be here.”

“OK. It could be a coincidence, but I'm going by what you say only because—actually I don't know why I'm going by what you say. But let's do it.”

The watchman smiled at the inspector and let him through. Gaikwad smiled back. Jay and Janet followed him into the elevator.

“Eleven?” the liftman asked.

“Yes. Eleven,” Gaikwad replied.

No one spoke as the elevator climbed up slowly and then came to a stop.

They got out and walked through the hallway. They rang the bell on the door. They could hear footsteps on the other side. The door opened.

“Yes?” It was Arundhati Hingorani, the human rights lawyer and companion to Gaja Kohli. “Oh, inspector, it's you. What do you want?”

“Is Mr. Kohli here?”

“What is this regarding?”

“Madam, please let him know we're here. I have a warrant for his arrest.”

She didn't have to go. Kohli emerged.

“Gaja Kohli, I arrest you for the murder of Liz Baar-Tone,” Gaikwad said.

“Wait a minute here,” Hingorani protested. “Where's the warrant? What's your evidence?”

“The evidence will be presented in good time, madam. As for the warrant, here it is.”

Hingorani perused the warrant while Kohli read it over her shoulder.

“This is from Judge Das. I'm going to appeal it. That man is a warrant machine. Even on the flimsiest of evidence, he will issue a warrant.”

Gaikwad knew she was right. It was precisely why he'd approached Das for a warrant. He also knew that if Jay was right, the warrant was justified.

“That is up to you, madam, but we have a valid warrant for his arrest.”

“Then what is he doing here?” she said, pointing at Jay.

“I found the evidence,” Jay replied.

“And what is your evidence?” Kohli asked, a look of amusement on his face. “That Arundhati lives here and I sometimes come here?”

“On the face of it, that's no evidence, you're right,” Jay said. “But you were seen by Liz Barton's driver on the night she died.”

“What does that say?” Kohli asked. “I was coming to see Arundhati.”

“But that's just it, sir,” Gaikwad chimed in. “The last time I asked you about it, you said you were with Mrs. Baar-Tone. Now you say you were with this lady. Which is it?”

“I was here. Now that I think about it, I was with Arundhati.”

“But sir, Ms. Hingorani wasn't here that day. She was in Delhi for a human rights conference,” Jay said. “We've seen the video footage. My newspaper even carried a front-page story on the conference.”

“And when we originally interviewed the both of you, Ms. Hingorani said you were together the whole week. When we checked, it turned out she was in Delhi. So why were you here, sir?” Gaikwad asked.

“He doesn't need my permission to come here,” Hingorani said. “What's mine is his.”

But both Jay and Gaikwad could hear doubt creep into her voice.

“It's OK, darling,” Kohli said. “I did it.”

* * *

Activist Arrested In Barton Killing

By Jay Ganesh

 

MUMBAI—Noted environmental activist Gaja Kohli was arrested yesterday in connection with the killing of Mohini CEO Liz Barton, shocking the city's elite and possibly bringing an end to a much-scrutinized investigation.

Kohli's arrest came after information provided by this newspaper. Material seized in a raid on the homes of two men arrested in connection with a series of burglaries revealed Barton's home was a target of the break-ins. A police source says the burglar tripped on Barton's body, panicked and stuffed it into his large red Louis Vuitton suitcase, which was later found dumped in Mahim.

The material seized also included a list of names of burglary victims, their neighbors, and their comings and goings. Reporters for this newspaper found Gaja Kohli's partner, Arundhati Hingorani's name on this list. Police sources say Kohli's initial conversation about his access to Barton's building was a lie. Upon further investigation, his alibi was also a lie, police said.

Kohli has admitted to receiving bribes from various companies in order to finance his lifestyle, police said.

Barton, upon overhearing him discuss illicit cash payments on the phone in the building's hallway, threatened to leak his corruption to the media, police say. In the argument that followed, Kohli repeatedly struck and eventually killed the American CEO, police say.

Barton was found dead in Mahim last week, a day after she returned from Singapore.

The two men arrested earlier in connection with the case are being charged in a separate case of burglary.

The charges against Kohli tarnish the reputation of one of the country's most respected environmentalists.
Please turn to Page 3 for more.

Related coverage on Page 4.

* * *

Jay woke up with a terrible hangover. He had trouble lifting his head off the pillow. Perhaps, he thought, those last few drinks hadn't been a good idea. He could no longer knock them back like he used to. But the good feeling from last night still lingered. The mood had been celebratory. His reporting on the Barton killing and the story of his role in the discovery of who killed her had secured him more than his fair share of attention. There had been media interviews and calls and e-mails from former colleagues whom he had lost touch with long ago. They all came out of the woodwork.
After all
, he thought,
everyone wants a piece of the winner.
It was nice feeling—to be wanted. He looked at Janet next to him, her eyes closed, peaceful. He sighed with contentment and went back to sleep.

* * *

A few miles away, Inspector Vijay Gaikwad was waking up. He groped for the alarm that was making an infernal racket and hoped he could will the impending day away.

“Get up,” Lata said. “Sometimes you're worse than the kids.”