The tech guy looked nervous as all faces swung toward him. “We didn’t see anyone going in,” he said defensively, hands upraised.
“Get Red Team in there, now,” demanded Sharma, and the tech guy relayed the order into his headset. Seconds later they watched as armed officers from the surveillance van appeared on screen and ran to the gates of the house, nimbly climbing the low wall and disappearing into the grounds.
Sharma was pacing, hand to his forehead. “Jesus! Jesus! Somebody went in there right under our very noses. Run that plate, Nanda. Tell me you got the plate, right?”
“I got the plate, boss,” said Nanda. “Running it now.”
“He must have got in through the back,” said the tech guy. Into his headset he said, “Red Team, get a couple of guys around the back, see if there’s access.”
“You didn’t check access?” exploded Sharma.
The tech guy quailed. “I don’t know, sir, I don’t know. That would be down to the team commander on the ground.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Sharma swept a coffee cup from the conference room table that dinged off the wall and left a brown splat on the wallpaper.
Jack looked disdainfully from the stain to Sharma. “That’s on your bill,” he said, finger pointed. “Now, will you calm the fuck down and act like a professional.”
All stood waiting now, watching the screen intently, the camera trained on Dr. Arora’s gate.
Santosh glanced at Nisha, who stood with her hands on the small of her back, also watching. “Was that him?” he asked.
“I think so,” she nodded. “Same build. Same height.”
The call came back. The tech guy directed it onto overhead speaker. “Go ahead, squad leader.”
“Sir, Arora’s dead. No sign of the killer, just the body all tied up and jars full of…stuff.”
“Stuff?” barked Sharma.
“Sir,” they heard, “it looks as though the killer fed him bits of skin and heart, then poured blood into him until he drowned.”
Chapter 105
“WE KNOW THE killer found another way in,” said Santosh suddenly. “He’s determined. Sharma, deploy more men at the house of Thakkar—send men around the back. My guess is he’ll be on his way there now.”
“The idea was to mount covert surveillance,” hissed Sharma, rounding on Santosh. “We want to catch him, not send him scurrying for cover.”
“He knew we were there,” reasoned Santosh. “He was looking out for a surveillance van. He evaded it easily.”
“If he knew we were there, then why did he allow himself to be seen on the way out?” said Sharma. “Why draw attention to himself?”
Santosh put a hand to his forehead, thinking hard. “I don’t know,” he said, feeling suddenly useless, knowing that the eyes of the room were on him, the great detective, head of Private India, outfoxed by a killer moving around under his very nose.
Now came a fresh development. The screen showed DETV news vans arriving at Dr. Arora’s house. Sharma’s mouth worked up and down in rank confusion. His deputy Nanda crossed to a television, snatched at a controller, and turned it to DETV, where a reporter was already broadcasting from the gates of the house: “Information received moments ago suggests that the killer may have struck again…”
“What the fuck is going on?” said Jack, his gaze going from the television to the two monitors. “How in the hell did they find out so fast?”
On the second screen more news vans arrived outside the gates of Thakkar’s home.
“Blue Team, you see what I’m seeing?” said the tech guy. “Because I’m seeing a bunch of news vans arriving at Thakkar’s house. What the fuck are DETV doing there?”
The reply came over the speaker: “Beats me, sir.”
Sharma had scuttled over to watch what was going on, hardly able to believe his eyes. He snatched at the headset, tearing it off the tech guy’s head. “Blue Team leader, get men outside—find out what the news people are doing there.”
Nanda came off the phone. “They ran the plates, sir. The car was stolen an hour ago. It belongs to a woman in Noida.”
Sharma cursed loudly then switched his attention back to the screen. “What are they doing?” he asked, indignant. “What are all these bloody news vans doing here?” Then, screaming into the mic, “Blue Team? Blue Team, are you reading me? Have you found out what all these news vans are doing?”
“It’s a diversion.”
Jack and Nisha both looked at Santosh, both familiar with the detective’s sudden brainwaves, knowing one was on its way.
“The vans,” said Santosh, pointing at the screen, finger waving from one screen to the other, “they’re a smokescreen. It’s a trick, a simple diversionary tactic to make us look one way, in one direction, and miss what’s happening in the other direction.” He turned to Sharma. “Get men at the rear of the property, at once. That’s where he’ll be.”
“How, though?” said Nisha. “How could he organize all this?”
“Same reason he was able to recognize a surveillance van when he saw it. Same reason he was able to tip off his own news channel to attend the houses of Arora and Thakkar. Same reason he stole a car at Noida, the media hub of Delhi. Because the killer is Ajoy Guha.”
Chapter 106
NOW SHARMA WAS bawling into the headset mic, “Blue Team, get men in the house, now! Report on the status of Thakkar. Do it at once, do you hear me? Do it at once!”
The investigators paced. Moments later the report came back.
“He’s gone, sir. Thakkar has gone.”
“What? You mean he’s there and dead? Or he’s gone, as in literally gone?” barked Sharma.
“The second one, sir. Literally gone. No longer there.”
Sharma snatched off the headset and sent it the same way as the coffee cup. “We’ve lost him. We’ve lost them both,” he said, suddenly ashen-faced. His eyes rose to meet Santosh’s. “If it is him. Ajoy Guha. I was feeding him information. I was practically giving him a list of victims.”
“I have a feeling there will be a great many recriminations on this one,” said Santosh. Once again he was thinking. “He’s got a show tonight. Carrot and Stick is on in just a few minutes.”
“Is he likely to do the show now?” said Jack. “Won’t he be busy scooping out Thakkar’s vital organs?”
“No,” said Santosh. “The other day, the judge handed down a gagging order on a story Guha wanted to run…” He looked inquiringly at Sharma, who nodded gravely.
“Yes,” admitted the Commissioner. “It was the story about the organ transplants. Some coalition of Patel and Thakkar’s companies was trying to stop him.”
“He’ll run it,” said Santosh, certain of it. “He’ll run the story and end it with the death of Thakkar.”
“You seem awfully sure,” said Sharma.
“He’s a man on a mission,” said Santosh, cursing himself for having been so blind. “He always has been.”
Chapter 107