The Acquaintance Read online

  “I’m calling to let you know that I have orders from above that nothing is off-limits for you and your team, including and not limited to extraordinary rendition.” The words surprised Nargis. That was incredibly generous of him. Why was he going out of his way to help her? Then it hit her! He knew about Rizwan. But how could he? Her chest constricted with the implications. He would bury her. Nargis calmed herself. She was just being paranoid. There was no way John could know. And even if he did, in less than three days it wouldn’t matter. He was just giving her enough rope to hang herself with. That was all. Extraordinary rendition was a move to capture an asset and take them to a black site where CTU could use enhanced interrogation techniques to get what they want. In simple terms, they could pick anyone off the street that they deemed dangerous and a threat to national security and torture them till they cracked. It was an authorization that was quite easy to come by in her business. So that is why she found it odd that John would call her to inform her of this facility he was providing. Unless he knew? Nargis straightened herself, keep your head in the game. “Thank you for this John, I appreciate it. For you to authorise rendition on and off the books op was quite generous.”

  Her implication hung heavy in the air. I don’t need you. This seemed to incense John. “Listen to me Nargis. I am holding your leash, just because this little operation of yours is not on the books doesn’t mean you get free reign. I will be watching. You can count on that.” Nargis smiled, she was actually counting on it.

  ***

  Ram Khanna had become a social pariah at his school after an incident with a teacher had gone belly up. A chain of fire-crackers under the teacher’s chair and desk that caused the man second degree burns. A group of students had come up with the prank. Ram had witnessed them sneaking the fire-crackers into the Principal’s office. He hadn’t been able to stop his teacher from getting burned, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand around and watch the perpetrators get away scot-free. He spoke in front of the school-board against all six of those boys. Sons of powerful men, all of them. They should have been expelled, instead they had been slapped with a three-day suspension that would not appear on their permanent academic records. Professor Derek Paul, the school Principal and civics teacher, had shrugged his shoulders in helplessness. “I’m so sorry Ram, but the decision was out of my hands.” Ram didn’t care for his apology, his respect for the man had evaporated the very moment those boys had strutted back into school like nothing had ever happened. Those six boys had accosted him and gotten their revenge. The son of the Home Minister had whispered in his ear, “No one likes a goody two shoes”, before he had broken Ram’s ankle with a hockey stick. And just like that his dream of joining the army had been destroyed.

  He had been preparing for the NDA for five years. His mother had been inconsolable. Ram had seen those boys walk away scot-free yet again. After school he was somehow able to finance his way into the short service commission of the armed forces. He served for half a decade before being honourably discharged. With that on his resume, he wrote the civil service examination. He was chosen for the Indian Foreign Service cadre but chose the IPS at the last minute. His mother hadn’t been pleased with the bait and switch but the die had been cast. The next decade he spent controlling crime in the lawless plains of Bihar where he learnt the true meaning of the law. He learnt the difference between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law.

  He learnt to color outside the lines in order to get justice for those who needed it. But after everything he had done, he still had a mean self-righteous streak. He manipulated the law only when it hurt the ones who thrive on lawlessness, he only bent the law when doing so protected the ones the law had failed, he only played fast and loose with the law when innocents were in danger. Never had he depraved the law for professional or personal gain. Never had he perverted justice to meet some insane image of the greater good. Never had he lied to himself about his role in the system. Never had he lied to himself about being the good guy. And that is why he was surprised to find the one person who had done all of the things, Ram despised standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night. “Well this is an unpleasant surprise”, said Ram. “May I come in?”, said Nargis Hussein.

  CHAPTER 9

  This was the last place Nargis wanted to be, but time was of the essence. She looked at the tiled image of Ganesha that decorated the top of the door frame. The red zero-watt bulb casting an eerie shadow over her. She looked at the three other doors adorning the ill-lit hallway. Long abandoned rangoli designs and iron grates curtained with dusty cobwebs greeted her. Ram’s was the only occupied unit on this floor. Nargis continued to stare at the intricate chalk design that reminded her of wedding mehendi. The chalk had seeped into the cement leaving behind a ghostly outline like the ones marking the bodies this morning.

  She focused on the task at hand. She would have to swallow her pride. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no response. She knocked again, a little more insistently. She heard heavy dragging footsteps on the other side of the door. She felt a chill run down her spine, like someone was watching her. A second later, the door opened. “Well this is an unpleasant surprise”, said Ram blinking sleep from his eyes. “It’s never too late for a booty call, but there is such a thing as too early and I have to say…”, he paused studying his watch, his eyes widened in surprise, “that 3:39 am is a little too early.” Ram stood in the doorway, dressed in nothing more than a Game of Throne tee shirt and spongebob squarepants boxer shorts. “May I come in”, said Nargis impatiently. “You may, but you might want to give him a minute to wake up”, said Ram, his gaze moving towards his navel. Nargis rolled her eyes and pushed past him. She was in no mood for his juvenile misogyny.

  “You should have called, I’m not really in a mood to entertain.”

  “This isn’t a social call.”

  She looked around the apartment, it was well-furnished but threadbare, it was a house not a home. As cliché as it sounded, it was true. It was devoid of any warmth. It wasn’t a bachelor pad either, it was the shadow of better times. Most of the furniture lent itself to a classier aesthetic than any Nargis would attribute to Ram. Clearly his wife had decorated the place. He hadn’t moved or changed anything. He was still waiting. Nargis debated whether he was in the right state of mind for what she was about to ask him. He did look clean and kempt. He seemed alert and focused, when she had met him that morning, more so than she had ever seen him. Maybe he was overcompensating. That would be good news for her as long as his indignation and self-righteousness has not increased proportionally.

  Ram paused on his way to the fridge. It was decorated with post-it notes, magnets and drawings made by a preschooler. There was a picture of a young girl barely over five beaming at the camera. Ram’s daughter. It was always a sore subject with him. His ex-wife had gotten full custody of their daughter in the divorce.

  He pulled out two bottles of Bira from the fridge and handed one to Nargis. She took the bottle and looked around for an opener. “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot”, said Ram, taking the bottle from her and sticking the bottle cap between his teeth. He pulled on the bottle and the cap came off with a soft pop. He handed her the bottle, “You don’t mind do you?”, he said with a grin. Nargis took the bottle from him without a word. “Please take a seat”, he said gesturing to the myriad of eclectic furnishings in the cramped space of his living room. There was a large flat screen TV that dominated a load bearing wall, a rustic diwan, two bean bags and a velvet leather recliner that was angled towards the TV. Nargis chose the ancient diwan by the window. It didn’t have padding on it, just some tight and intricately woven rope work. Ram plonked himself down on the recliner and turned it around so that he was facing her. He seemed remarkably at ease. Especially after what he had witnessed this morning. It always shocked Nargis how Ram treated his job with such detachment and dispassion. He only did his job within the confines of his working hours. He treated an investigation lik
e a 9 to 5 job. He no longer cared about his career. And that is exactly why she needed him.

  “How may I be of assistance to the mighty Nargis.”

  Nargis felt the cold beer numb her fingers as she clutched it tightly. She took a long sip from the bottle to fortify herself. When she didn’t speak for another minute, Ram nudged her along, “Well, I’m waiting.”

  “I have a case I’m working on. It’s related to this morning.”

  “I’m guessing it also has to do with that spectacular piece of propaganda theatre that’s been splashed on the screen since morning?”

  Nargis nodded. She sipped her beer. “I have a lead on Shahzad and I need your help.” “Well, colour me curious Nargis. Why would a hot shot at the CTU need a lowly police officer to do her bidding?”

  “Look I know we’ve had our differences.”

  “That’s putting it lightly”, said Ram. Nargis levelled him with a stern gaze, “As I was saying we’ve had our differences. But you can’t deny that at the end of the day, what I do helps people.”

  “But at what cost Hussein?”, Ram crossed his arms, he was looking for a fight and she really wasn’t in the mood. “You’re here because you need something from me. I’m merely a tool to be used. Once it serves its purpose it’s disposable. But people aren’t tools Hussein. It is quite appalling that I have to spell this out to you. Now you wouldn’t be here if there was any other way to accomplish what you needed to. Am I right? And once I’m done I’ll be tossed aside. Left to fend for myself after helping you put away people. And here’s the kicker, through all of this I won’t even know if the people I’ve’ put away at your behest are good or bad. Because I’m sure you’re planning on keeping me in the dark with your classified bullshit.”

  Nargis didn’t respond. She merely stared at him. Contemplating her answer. Ram was a confrontationalist, he did not thrive in pensive silences. She needed him a little off balance for this exchange. She let him glower at her for a while longer before she designed to answer him.

  She took another sip. “The truth is, I’m out on a limb here. I have run afoul of my superiors because I could not stop or even predict the Chor Bazaar attack. They want my head on a platter and I may just have handed it to them.”

  “How is that?”, said Ram, his curiosity piqued. “I offered to catch Shahzad Massoud in three days and stop whatever he is planning, or resign my post. I have carte blanche. I can use CTU resources, but I can’t trust anyone over there, at least not till I find Shahzad. And that is why I need your help. This operation is completely off the books. Covert. There will be no record of it anywhere. The other agencies are doing their thing, but I don’t know how they will react if our paths cross. They could arrest us or help us, I don’t know. All I know right now is that I need a team I can trust and believe it or not you’re on top of that list.”

  Ram was not expecting this at all. To him Nargis was the consummate professional, using her power and her position to use the laws to her benefit. He never imagined her as an outlaw. That was more Ram’s forte. “Well I’m flattered. But you must forgive my skepticism”, said Ram placing his bottle on the coffee table between them. “You really expect me to believe that you want me on a secret black covert operations team. To track down a dirty bomb and a mythical terrorist combatant that has eluded this country for decades in three days. And this is all off the books, so if we succeed your superiors get credit and if things go sideways, we could end up in jail or worse.” Nargis nodded. “Well I wish I could help you, but contrary to what you might think, I have other cases to attend to, seeing as how the Chor Bazaar bombing was so conveniently taken off my plate.”

  “This is me trying to make amends”, said Nargis through gritted teeth. “Oh really? What step of the twelve steps programme for alcoholics does making amends fall under?”, said Ram straightening his spine and looking her dead in the eyes. Nargis smirked, “Clever retort, how long did it take you to come up with something so witty?”

  He was wasting her time. She would have to sink to his level.

  “I want your help on the case because there is a chance a child could be involved.”

  Ram stared at her like she had spat in his face, “Get out of my house.” He enunciated every word with such venom that Nargis feared he might do something stupid, like attack her. “Get out”, he yelled. Shit. Nargis stood up with her arms raised. She shouldn’t have been so blatant. She should have used more finesse. Dammit Nargis. She had to salvage this.

  “Please, I’m not very good at this emotional manipulation. So I’m not going to insult you and tell you that I’m sorry for your loss. But in our line of work people die all time. We just have to save the ones we can. And that’s what I need your help with.” Ram shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” He looked disgusted as well as suspicious. He had every right to be. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with her intentions the previous time they had worked together. And she wouldn’t be exactly forthcoming this time around either. But she needed him.

  “You know the streets of Mumbai better than anyone I know and also you have a well-placed network of confidential informants that we could use.” Ram tensed, his scowl deepening. Nargis knew exactly why the CTU had tried to turn one of his confidential informants into giving them information, a fourteen-year-old boy who sold tea by the Gateway of India and expertly conned tourists as a cut-purse from their valuables, the boy had been a witness to a hawala deal. The boy had confided in Ram, but the CTU had overtaken the case and the boy had ended up dead. Nargis had been a new agent at that time. She had known nothing of the case but she had been ordered to clean up the mess, cover up the unfortunate incident. And being a new agent eager to prove herself, she had done just that. After which, she had gone home and cried the whole night over an unknown boy she had made disappear. Like he never even existed. Ram didn’t know she had done this and she would have to keep it that way.

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that. You’ll say anything to get your way. No matter who gets hurt, as long as your will is done then it is a good day, isn’t it?”

  Nargis sat up, she was still in the same clothes she wore in the morning. She looked ill and was in no physical state to intimidate anyone but by god, if she was going to let a borderline corrupt police officer preach to her. She glowered at Ram who shrunk back into his recliner.

  “Very moving sentiment. But you don’t know anything. Yes, a boy died and while his death was unfortunate, it wasn’t in vain. His testimony helped the CTU put away Sheikh Usman Al-Iqbal. In case you’ve forgotten.” Sheikh Usman had been using the Mumbai port for his gun running operation, using the corpses of transients to smuggle weapons. They had found 32 hollowed out bodies at the mortuary and crematorium owned by Sheikh by means of a shell company. “Where was this moral outrage when those homeless people had been killed right under your nose Ram. Your superior was indicted for taking kick-backs from Usman. And you were there and you did nothing. He’s still your boss isn’t he. Don’t see you resigning?” Ram didn’t respond, she could tell, he was furious, but also cowed. Which was a good start. “Yin and Yang Ram. Good and bad. Black and white. But you and I both know that the world is never that simple. The hypocrisy of the black and the white is what feeds the grey and I thrive in the grey, I make no apologies for that and don’t expect me to.”

  Nargis clutched the bottle tightly, her fingertips turned white with the effort she was putting to restrain herself. “So will you help me or not?”

  “Do I have a choice?”, said Ram knowing the answer too well. “Now I know that asking me for help must have been like chewing broken glass for you.” Ram still hadn’t agreed. She was not above threatening his career, but she knew better than that. She needed Ram co-operative not combative. Blackmailing him would make him a liability more than an ally. She had the Gorakhpur file. A fake encounter case, where he orchestrated the false escape of a powerful real estate tycoon who ran drugs between Punjab and Pakistan. The victim in that encoun
ter was a criminal who had evaded justice too many times but what Ram had done was still illegal. If he wanted to remain a police officer, he needed the file buried. “We’ve all done things we are not proud of”, she said trying to sound contrite. “But I am here because there is a madman who is threatening to blow up the city. And I have less than three days to find a dirty bomb that is hidden somewhere in this city of 12.4 million people. And I do not have anybody, I can turn to or trust.”

  Ram was too smart to fall for flattery, so she had tried sincerity. But his hesitation was starting to get on her nerves. Every word she had said was true and Ram knew this. What more could she do to get him to help her?

  Out of nowhere she retched, she could feel bile rise in her throat. She stood up abruptly. “Where is your bathroom?”, she asked, putting a hand to her mouth to push back whatever that was rising up. Ram pointed to the right, “First door, you can’t miss it”, he said coming up to her. He put a hand on her back, guiding her. “I can find it, thanks’’, She said as she pushed him away and made for the brightly coloured door with purple butterflies. She aimed for the commode and vomited spectacularly. She heaved for a couple more minutes till she couldn’t muster anything else. She hadn’t eaten anything in over twenty-four hours and here she was literally spilling her guts into a toilet. In Ram’s house no less. She wiped her brow with her sleeve. She was sweating, she got up, flushed the disgusting slush and splashed some water on her face. She looked at her reflection, her eyes were dead. Her sallow cheeks were pale and her lips were cracked. She cut a sorry sight. She pulled out a pill and swallowed it whole. She wiped her face on her sleeve and ran her hands through her hair. When she came back, she stifled a cry. Tangled in her fingers were strands of her limp black follicles. She was losing her hair already. She pocketed the hair and splashed some more water on her face. She stepped out. Ram was waiting for her.