Count to Ten: A Private Novel (Private #13)

“I see.”

The car slowed. “Do you know,” said Roy, “I seem to be more familiar with this area than I thought. I could take a right turn here and get you home more quickly.”

Maya was nervous about the idea and was about to say so when she caught sight of Heena on the street and before Roy could stop her was lowering the window and calling out to her.

From the corner of her eye she caught sight of the expression on Roy’s face.

That mask slipping again.





Chapter 66



THE LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR, Ram Chopra, was sweating ferociously on his treadmill, feeling every single cigar and glass of whisky. God, these workouts hurt.

He was watching TV at the same time. Carrot and Stick, and Ajoy Guha was warming up for a sensational disclosure. Referring to notes through wire-framed glasses, Guha wore a determined look, like that of a soldier prepared to die in battle.

The words “Viewer discretion is advised” scrolled across the foot of the screen.

Oh yes, thought Chopra. What’s all this then?

Guha cleared his throat and said, “We at DETV have always believed in the primacy of the truth, no matter how it may affect anyone. Today we bring you footage that we have accessed through a source that shall remain unnamed for reasons of security. The footage is explosive, and we have had to blur out and mute portions of it in order to play it on national television. The person shown in the video is Mr. Amit Roy, the Health Secretary. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a man responsible not only for our hospitals and hygiene but also for the welfare of families. What you are about to see will shock you, and indeed you should not only be shocked but also outraged. I for one am absolutely sickened by it.”

The studio and Guha’s blue jacket and red tie disappeared from view and a video of Roy sitting on a bed inside a small room appeared. He seemed to be ripping the clothes from a frightened little girl and forcing her to sit on his lap.

Chopra watched, and then switched off the TV. He stopped the treadmill, reached for his phone.

“Sharma,” he said a moment later, “were you watching Carrot and Stick?”

The police chief chuckled. “I was indeed.”

“I take it that Guha’s informant is you?”

“And I take it that the next call you make will be to Jaswal?”

“I’m glad you’re on my side, Sharma,” said Chopra.

Sharma laughed some more. “In the meantime, I’ll see to it that Roy is arrested, shall I?”

Chopra thought. “Yes, but wait an hour or so, would you?”

“And why would I want to do that?”

Chopra draped a towel around his shoulders, using a corner to wipe sweat from his brow. “Well, what would you do in Roy’s position?”

“Me?” said Sharma. “I’m no pedophile.”

Chopra sighed. “No, Sharma, I know you’re not, but just for a second try stepping outside your own rather limited mind and using something we like to call deduction, or imagination, if you prefer. What would you do if you were a pedophile who had just been exposed? If you were Amit Roy.”

“I’d kill myself.”

“Exactly. And it might just be more convenient for all concerned if he were to do exactly that. Let’s give him time to fall on his sword, shall we?”

“Consider it delayed,” said Sharma. “By the way, while you’re on the phone: Kumar.”

Chopra grinned. “The dear departed Kumar, may he rest in piss.”

Sharma sniggered. “The very same. You asked me to look into his interest in the Greater Kailash house, remember? Why he wanted the whole thing hushed up? Well, I’ve done as you asked, and it looks as though he may have been on the periphery of something going on at the hospitals.”

“He was the Minister for Health and Family Welfare. You’d expect him to be slap bang in the middle of everything going on at the hospitals.”

“Without spelling it out on an open line, I’m talking about something on the side—something with corpses as the end result. A certain donation enterprise, shall we say. You’re aware he didn’t really commit suicide, I take it?”

“It’s the worst-kept secret in the city. I’m told that social media is having a field day with the deaths of Kumar and Patel. All kinds of conspiracy theories. They were lovers, is the latest one.”

“Naturally,” growled Sharma. “But even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day, and it seems that Kumar and Patel may have had a financial relationship. Now, of course, I’d be willing to pursue this on the off chance that it leads right to the door of Jaswal, but I have a feeling that you, too, had certain business dealings with Patel of Surgiquip.”

Chopra slumped on the bars of his treadmill. Why the fuck is it these things always come to haunt you? “I may have had, yes,” he hissed, without wanting to say more on the phone. “What of it?”

“Well, your name can be linked to the house at Greater Kailash. You can be connected to Patel. You don’t want to find yourself ending up as collateral damage if and when the details of their little side business come out, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“So we can’t just start making arrests. You see what I mean?”

“I see what you mean. And thank you for your counsel, Commissioner.”

“It’s my pleasure. And going forward?”

Chopra draped the towel over his head and stepped off the treadmill. “Going forward, I plan to make life hard for Jaswal. And as far as you’re concerned, if you could continue with—discreet—investigations into what the fuck our friends with scalpels are up to, that would be very much appreciated too.”

He ended the call. Collected himself. Thanked God again that Sharma was on his side.

Then dialed Jaswal.

“What do you want?” came the reply, loaded with enough venom to make Chopra’s next question redundant.

“I was just wondering if you’d seen Carrot and Stick this evening?”

“What do you want, Chopra?” came the even more bile-filled reply.

“Well, given that you appointed a pedophile as Health Secretary, what I want is for you to tender your resignation immediately.”





Chapter 67



“WHAT A LOVELY apartment,” said Roy, stepping inside. Maya skipped ahead happily; the childminder, Heena—a dried-up, middle-aged shrew if ever he’d seen one—was fixing him with the latest in a series of disapproving looks as she moved to switch on the radio and start making tea.

I’m going to have to do something about that bitch.

“Well, thank you very much for seeing us home, Mr. Roy,” she was saying, trying to get rid of him, dismiss him as if he was the hired help. “I’m sure we needn’t take up any more of your valuable time.”

“Oh, there’s no rush,” he said to her. “I’m very keen to hear our little social healer read me her essay.”