The Benefit Season Page 19

  ‘You have the right to one call. Want to call up someone?’ Shamim and Rahim would grin and say every time before cranking the phone. They kept him in the tub for two days. They pissed on him after drinking and wouldn’t change the water and Vishal lay there in his own blood and filth but couldn’t tell them where Monal or the money had disappeared.

  Chotta Shameel finally let him out on the third day, afraid that if he died he would never be able to know what happened to the money. So they fished him out, hosed him down and sent him to a doctor who had been banned from practice by the MCI.

  ‘Do we have a mole in the Crime Branch’, he asked his confidantes.

  ‘Yes boss- Iqbal- he’s a desk clerk. All files move through him from her table’.

  ‘Good- tell him to keep his eyes peeled and let us know the moment this Haryanvi cop finds out something- and she will not waste any time if I have heard right about her’.

  ‘Yes boss right away’, Rahim said and left.

  ‘Keep an eye out on Vishal. Be his blighted shadow. Sooner or later he will lead us to the money and Monal. And when we find out where they are- finish him as well as the bitch, but take your time’.

  Chotta Shameel shooed his men out and pondered over the options. He could always buy time with the punters, but not too much. The money wasn’t a huge problem- he’d plenty of fingers in many pies- but the reputation was. Getting bummed out of 27 crores wasn’t going to put a clever sheen on his reputation and it would encourage many other old ass villains waiting in the wings for him to slacken so that they could do him in. There seemed no further point in hemorrhaging Vishal- either he was telling the truth, which was unlikely, or he was remarkably tough- or desperate. But he was sure the female cop was going to solve the mystery for him QuickTime, all he could do was wait- something he hated doing. Meanwhile he decided it would be a good idea to spread the word on the street that he was looking for information on Monal and that a hefty award and a personal appreciation awaited such information.

  He called some people in the ghetto and then went into his private chambers for his namaaz.

  ϖ

  Chapter 11

  Escape to Captivity

  After leaving home in the midst of her marriage anniversary without a teary by your leave, Monal had taken the first bird out of Mumbai to Delhi. Her trusted driver, Radhe, who’d come in dowry along with the luxury car her father had gifted her in marriage, had called in from Delhi as soon as Vishal’s thugs had kidnapped Arjun from his engagement party, and he’d had driven the parties to the farmhouse at Rajokri. Vishal had tasked him to drive the Delhi gang he’d hired to kidnap Arjun, as he did not trust them completely. Hardly realizing that the driver would give minute-to-minute account of the events to his beloved mistress, Monal.

  She’d told Radhe to lie low and keep the car where no one would notice it. So he’d parked it at the railway station, where once a day he took it out for a short drive before parking it again- so as not to raise the hackles of the parking lot mafia. He was glad to come out of hiding from the damp and smelly Room No. 13 at the seedy Paharganj hotel and visit her at the hotel Taj Mansingh on Sardar Patel Marg, when she was ready to receive him.

  He stood respectfully with his cap in his hands while Monal relished the evening usual: milk chocolate with almonds, and Macallan Sherry Oak 12 years old single malt scotch whiskey, served chilled from an ice tower into a frozen glass.

  ‘Madam doesn’t have to do this’, he grumbled.

  She smiled, amused with his steadfast loyalty.

  She had asked him to recce the safe house, get her the blueprints, the sentry and dog details and security systems installed there. Arjun was being kept, reasonably comfortably in one of the many large bedrooms on the ground floor, guarded round the clock by an armed guard right outside his room. The room was a steel cage, with its windows barricaded, and the doors made of steel. He was keeping good health- the driver confirmed- and was allowed to air himself twice a day, when he ran on the jogger’s track around the massive grounds, 10 miles each morning and evening. But he remained deeply anxious about his family worrying over him missing and letting them down during the engagement. He often lamented about bringing shame to them. He had been asking the men guarding him why they were keeping him there. His family had hardly any wealth, so there could be no expectation of a ransom. He believed he had no enemies, and he thought he’d wiped the slate clean with Monal and Vishal by quitting the company for good. He still thought they were cultured people and wouldn’t go to the extent of taking the law in their own hands even if they still harbored a grudge against him. The guards, who though had begun to like him for his extraordinary gentleness, could not help him with any answers, as they were simply paid to do a job.

  There were sentries on the roof and at the gates- in pairs at night. And then there were the Akita dogs. Guards with dogs patrolled the perimeter wall at night. The two guards would start from the main gate in opposite directions, at random timings, crossing each other somewhere in the middle. The timings were revised every week, so one could safely assume they would continue to be the same for the next seven days from the day one knew they’d been changed. The wall was 10 feet high having two feet of concertina-coil double-strand wire on top. And then there were CCTVs planted in the grounds as well as the entrances to the house, and inside. If you snipped their wire it would set off the alarm.

  Radhe had no clue how his madam was going to enter the house and rescue Arjun, which is what she’d horrifically proposed to do- on her own. She’d always been a wild one- that one, since childhood, and stubborn to the core. His job was to try and convince her not to embark on this crazy mission, but if he was to fail, then it was his job to protect her over his life, if need be. He had no family- as an orphan he had been brought in and given shelter by Monal’s father, and Monal was the closest to a daughter he would ever know. His own wife, a maid at the same house, had died along with the baby girl during childbirth, leaving him shattered and forsworn of any ideas of marriage or family again.

  Monal had finally brought him around by threatening to go it alone if he did not help her. Having no choice left, he brought to her all the equipment that she demanded of him. She had patiently explained the plan to him when she was ready with her equipment. They were to drive to a secluded spot outside the farmhouse after two days. The timings of the patrol had been changed this night. He was to wait outside in the car. When the patrol had passed their location, she would climb over the wall with a retractable ladder, throw a thick blanket over the concertina coil, jump over it, and slide down the other end with a knotted jute rope thrown over the wall. She was going to spray the CCTV cameras with a contraption she had put together, which would make them blurred or nearly blind, but raise no alarm. And she had a truckload of Datura instant knockout darts for any guards or dogs that came her way.

  To spray the high slung cameras she had taken a long, adjustable aluminum tree pruner and fixed a wine bottle opener on top of it. Then she’d screwed just below it a bottle cage, the one found on bicycles. Inside the bottle cage went a paint spray bottle. At the bottom of the pruner she screwed a bicycle brake bar with the spring-loaded shaft. She connected the shaft with one handle of the wine bottle opener with a thin nylon cord. When you pressed the bicycle brake shaft at the bottom of the pruner, the nylon rope pulled down the handle of the bottle opener, which in turn pressed down on the nozzle of the paint spray can, spraying paint on the cameras slung high on walls or tree branches. She would neutralize the cameras, and any guards or dogs if they came her way, and bring Arjun out the same way as she’d entered- simple. They would hop into his waiting car, and be off! What the heck was he worrying his silly old head for?

  ‘But madam, why can’t I go in instead of you?’ he protested feebly.

  ‘You- climb over walls and jump over fences and whack dogs and armed guards? Be your age dada’, she chided affectionately, laughing.

  ‘But if they catch you ma’am… they
can be very mean with womenfolk. They have no respect… I shudder to think of what they would do to you’.

  ‘Don’t worry- I won’t let them catch me alive’, she said, shaking the rocks in her drink, and then adding a little hastily on seeing the worried frown on his lined face,’ or dead!’ This seemed to further mortify the old servant rather than putting him at ease, and he rubbed unhappily at the frayed trim of his cap. ‘And if you hear shots, walk right in and join the fun’.

  For joining the fun they’d managed two Uzi automatics with a rate of fire of 600 rpm and a couple of 32-round magazines, which should cause enough fireworks to raise a sleeping Lutyen’s Delhi.

  ‘Why not pay someone to do the dirty job for us?’ he’d said.

  ‘ And let every ear on the street hear what we’re up to? Arjun is safe only as long as no one finds out that he is being kept captive in that house. I’m sure if Vishal were taking so much trouble to keep Arjun in such a place, it would only be to keep some thugs back in Mumbai from sniffing him out- for what- we will soon find out. So let’s keep it low and let’s keep it small- it’ll be a cakewalk, I promise’.

  ‘What are you made of? Does nothing scare you, child?’

  ‘Being scared, scares me.’ She laughed again, making light of his concern. ‘The day I will be afraid of taking chances, scares me. Being sick, dying on a bed, not living life to its fullest, not living dangerously, scares me. I am one hell of a scared woman, as you can see!’

  ‘In that case ma’am, if nothing will keep you from this reckless misadventure- I hear and obey. My days, short are but at your beck and call. ‘

  ‘Go then, bold one,’ she said, or something like that, ‘ be here two nights from now, with the sheep ready dressed, the fatlings killed, on white asses laid, and the trumpets sounded; be fourscore ready for war’.

  ϖ

  Radhe had no sheep, or any fatlings to kill, or Asses of any color, or trumpets to sound, but he was there two nights later, ready fourscore for war: with her Datura darts, Uzi autos, plenty of ammo to bring a platoon down, the ladder, the tree pruner contraption with the paint spray can, the first aid kit with the US Army standard-issue Quickclots to stanch bleeding, and the prayer book- if all else failed.

  They left the hotel around midnight and after an hour of weaving through the dense trucks’ traffic on NH 8 they reached the Rajokri farmhouse.

  All was quiet; no one was expecting them.

  The Akita dogs, warm in their furs, chunky with food, ambled about the massive grounds in peace. Their drivers, cozy in wool, rested with good sleep, smoked and followed them on leash.

  Radhe had reversed and parked the car in the shadows, away from the glare of the streetlights, ready for a quick getaway. Monal, who’d climbed half the steps of the ladder so that she could sneak a look into the grounds, waited for the night patrol to pass her by. She was dressed in a jet-black body-hugging waterproof Lacroix ski suit, with articulated knees and elbows- warm and stretchable for the occasion. The Uzi- fully loaded and on Fire position, was slung tightly across her back. Her hair was tied in a neat bun behind her head. She had braced herself on the palms of her feet- her knees slightly folded, hands gripping the ladder tightly- ready to spring up and jump over. With a supple spine she had the righting reflex of a cat and could land on her feet from any height. As soon as the patrol passed out of sight, she swung the blanket over the concertina and threw the knotted rope across the wall. She tossed the tree pruner also across. Then, in a single fluid motion, she leveraged herself on one arm, and was gone over the wall before Radhe could blink.

  On landing she oriented herself. She’d memorized the map and blueprint of the house carefully. She crouched low and picked out a path through the grounds, choosing the shadows untouched by the arcs of the lights. There was little danger of being picked up by cameras or the guards in the dark patches. She looked around to make sure she had a free run, and then with bold, long strides, she stretched her spine and dashed across the grounds and reached the rear of the large mansion set deep in the sprawling estate. She stopped at the corner and then peeped over- there was a camera mounted high above the doorway. She leaned across and stretched the pruner out and when it was directly below the camera, she pressed the brake pedal. The nylon wire pressed down the wine opener which in turn pressed the nozzle down, sending out a thick stream of paint, neutralizing the camera. Then she waited for a few moments, and when nothing happened, she slid around the wall to the door and picked the lock with a wire she was carrying. She pushed the door in gently and tiptoed down the hall to where Arjun’s room was. She scanned the roof and walls for any signs of cameras, and found one more, facing down the long corridor. She neutralized this camera in the same way. She peeped around the corner, and found the door to Arjun’s room on her left, somewhere in the middle of the long corridor. A guard was slumped on a chair outside, nodding drowsily, with an automatic resting in his lap. Monal took a few steps, stopped and then aimed at his neck, and quickly shot two darts into him. He woke up with a jerk and swatted the side of his neck. His hand found the darts and shocked, he dug them out- wincing. Before the bewildered man could rise or grapple with his gun on seeing Monal standing with her feet planted slightly wide in the corridor, her arms hanging loosely by her sides, the effects of the sedation had taken place and he had slid down the wall, his mouth gaping, helpless, and then he crumpled to a side, knocked out for a good many hours.

  Monal walked over, prodded him with her feet and undid the key ring from his belt. She unlocked the door and walked in quietly. Arjun was fast asleep. She went over to him and clasping his mouth, shook his shoulder. ’Wake up, sleeping beauty’, she hushed. Arjun got up with a start. ‘It’s me, Monal, shush…’

  He recognized her voice in the dark and could make out her features faintly. ‘Let’s go- quiet’, she whispered. He nodded and slowly changed out of his nightdress. He moved as if he’d been drugged. Silently they stole out of the house and the lawns without any adventure, and clambered up the rope using its knots as steps. They swung over the blanket covering the wire and climbed down the other side by the ladder. Radhe had taken the car out onto the street and was waiting for them with the engine switched off. They got into the rear seat and Monal tapped on his shoulder; ‘move it pops’.

  In the shivering cold the driver had the collars of his trench coat pulled close around his ears, covering his face. His golf cap was pulled low over his eyes. He didn’t move it, as ordered, but remained still. Monal scowled and said in a low snarl,’ hey, what’s wrong, let’s go!’

  The driver slowly turned, took off his cap and folded his collars down, and leered across at them. In the dark, Monal was the first to recognize him. It was Vishal, her dear husband, not the faithful, Radhe.

  ϖ

  ‘What’s the hurry babe? No goodbyes, no hellos?’ Vishal said.

  ‘Where’s Radhe’, she asked, looking around.

  ‘He was cold; I put him out of his misery’.

  ‘You bastard!’

  ‘You’re welcome. He was confused about his loyalties. I cleared the fog up a bit. Nothing like staring down the muzzle end of this to see things more clearly’, he said, pointing his .32 Beretta at them. ‘They say your whole life flashes past in an instant and you realize what a rotten waste it has been.’

  ‘Brute! He was an old man’!

  ‘I did realize that. For a moment the hand wavered, but then, I decided to make a martyr out of him, rather than let him fade away anonymously in his twilight. Having said this much, can we end this morbid discussion? It makes me… what’s the word… contrite- yeah- contrite of spirit and jellylike of stomach.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘My list is long. Your nakedness shall be uncovered, yeah; your shame shall be seen. And to me shall belong vengeance and recompense, yeah, and I shall not meet you as a man’.

  ‘You were never much of a man- yeah’.

  ‘And you- weren’t much either, woman.’

&nbs
p; The car door opened and another man slid in the front seat.

  ‘Say hello to your bhabiji’, Vishal told him. The man looked over at Monal and smiled awkwardly. ’ …And her boyfriend’, Vishal added. The smile distorted into a dark scowl. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, can I have your weapons please?’

  Monal budged in her seat and removed the Uzi and handed it over.

  ‘Is that all?’ he said in mock surprise. ‘ You and your military boot camps- I do recall your interesting stories. Come on’, he snapped, ‘out with it! I don’t want this man pawing you over- after all you are my wife!’

  She frowned and handed over the darts and the Bowie knife.

  ‘Thank you’, Vishal said and motioned his companion to come from the other side and take the wheel, while he kept the gun pointed at them. Then he slid into the passenger’s seat. Soon they were driving out of Rajokri and onto the NH-8 towards Jaipur. Though it was close to dawn, being winters, it was pitch dark and foggy.

  ‘How did you find out’, Monal asked.

  ‘It’s my hideout. I brought your gigolo here. You thought you were being very clever? No sir, we let you slip in and my men were watching every move of yours. I wanted to catch you with your hands dirty with your boyfriend. Now god has seen and I shall see many moons with no guilt’!

  ‘We have done nothing to be guilty of. I was just trying to save an innocent man. It’s my entire fault that you suspect us so. You needn’t have gone so far! Where are you taking us now?’ Monal said.

  ‘To build a monument to your love’!

  Monal and Arjun exchanged space bar looks. Arjun felt brain-lagged and disoriented from days in captivity and now the mindless banter of the husband-wife.

  ‘You know the Great Wall of China was built from the mortar of human bones to make it stronger? The men who worked it were buried within the wall itself. Shah Jahan had the hands of artisans who built his Taj Mahal cut off so that such beauty would never be recreated. There are numerous ossuaries and catacombs the world over using human bones and skulls. Darling, do you remember we visited the Paris catacombs, the skull chapel at Czermna, and the Sedlec ossuary? Why should your love not be documented as well for posterity to revere and adore?’