X: The Hunt Begins Read online

  X

  © 2016 Neeraj Chand

  Contents-

  The First Meeting

  Only Friend

  The Selfie Killer

  ESP

  The Man Who Wasn't Real

  Teen Sipahi

  The Accidental Thief

  A Murderish Feeling

  The Great Showman

  A Formal Introduction

  Chapter 1: The First Meeting

  'FAMOUS PRODUCER GRUESOMELY MURDERED' The newspaper headline was brief but effective. Delhi Police Commissioner Ajit Khurana's brow furrowed as he read the article laying out the few known details of the crime.

  The victim was a television producer who had been married twice and had four children, each from a different woman. His body was found after it had been dragged to a landfill deposit site behind an ATM kiosk near a red light district. He had been brutally strangled, the legs in his bones broken by a blunt instrument. While the article was more interested in what he had been doing in that paticular area, it was the broken legs that were causing the chief the most worry.

  "You wanted to see me, sir?"

  "Come in, Virat." The Police Commissioner laid down his paper and surveyed the young man who had walked into his office. A slight beard and mustache did not hide the youthful appearance of sub detective Virat Joshi, the youngest of his batch of recruits.

  "I have a special job for you." Inspector Khurana said. "There is a man arriving today at Indira Gandhi airport. I want you to recieve him and bring him back here to meet me."

  "Yes, sir." If Virat was disappointed by the task he gave no sign of it. As sub detective, he had resigned himself to such menial errands. But as his eye fell on the newspaper open at the Rohtak case he couldn't stop himself. "Do we know anything about the murderer in the producer case, sir? I heard the victim's legs had been broken."

  "Never mind that." The Commissioner said dismissvely. "We're working on it. You just get yourself to the airport. The man's name is Aditya Matthews. You'll need to pick him up at the reception."

  “Sir.” Virat saluted and left, and the frown returned to the Police Commissioner's face as he gazed again at the paper.

  * * *

  At the airport, Virat stood scanning the crowd coming out of customs. A card reading ADITYA was held to his chest. There was a great rush through the gate, and Virat was afraid he'd miss the man as he scanned the rapidly shifting crowd.

  “Are you from the police station?” A bespectacled man had walked up to him carrying a bag and pulling a wheeled suitcase behind him.

  “You're Aditya?” Virat asked.

  “Aditya Matthews. Hi.” The newcomer smiled as Virat introduced himself and the two shook hands.

  They stepped out of the airport, and Virat was able to get a good look at his charge. He was shorter than Virat, coming up to his ear. The thin blue T Shirt he wore did not hide his broad shouldered physique, and a pair of muscular arms that easily carried the heavy backpack slung at his side. The physique was at odds with the face, with the glasses sitting atop a smiling, good natured face that had a certain childlike quality to it. He seemed to be around the same age as Virat.

  The two made their way to the police car waiting in the reserved lot. Aditya placed his luggage in the back of the car and got in the front seat. Virat secured the bags to the seat and got in as well. Aditya had found the newspaper Virat had bought to read up on the Rohtak case. He studied the piece intently while Virat started the engine.

  "Another one." He observed as the car swung out of the lot.

  "Yeah." It took a moment for Virat to register the remark. "What do you mean, another one?"

  "Well, this isn't the first murder where the victim's feet were broken, is it? It's part of a pattern.”

  “That's exactly what I thought.” Virat hesistated, wondering how much information his charge could be trusted with. But he could no longer resist the urge to discuss the case. “This one's gaining a lot of attention from the press because the man who was murdered was a big shot producer, but this isn't the first victim of the murderer. There are at least eight other cases that we know of.”

  “Starting with the murder in the Bhandipur factory.” Aditya nodded.

  Virat glanced at him. “Yes, that was the first one. Are you a police officer, too?”

  “I'm a psychologist with the Indian Defence Service.” Aditya said.

  “Really?” Virat turned again to stare at him in astonishment.

  “Why are you so surprised?” Aditya asked with a raised brow.

  “Aren't you a little young to be a psychologist?”

  “I'm still doing my phd.” Aditya said. “I'm supposed to help the police set up a criminal profiling unit.”

  “I see.” Virat nodded. “And you're originally from Delhi?”

  “Allahabad.” Aditya leaned back in his seat. “I've been keeping an eye on the Delhi crime scene since finding out I was coming here. The cases of the murder victims with the broken feet caught my attention.” He frowned. “There was something about these murders that feels familiar. Something at the back of my mind that I've been trying to remember ever since. My guess is it's a serial killer operating from somewhere near Bhandipur.

  “Why Bhandipur?”

  “That's where it started. The killer usually work within a specific area. The first murder is often unpremediated. Killing's a matter of impulse when it comes to serial murderers. Once you begin, it becomes harder to resist. The killer was already in the vicinity on some other business before the murder. Has anyone got a clue about what the man looks like?”

  “Whoever he is, he's a big, strong guy and walks with a limp.” Virat said. “It takes a lot of strength to break someones bones with pure brute force using whatever trash happens to be lying around.”

  “And the limp?”

  “Seventh murder. The Dariyaganj case. He didn't get away from the crime scene fast enough. It was dark, and he was too far away to make out clearly, but the grocer who saw him leave the scene swore he was big and had a limp.”

  “That gives us a bit to go on.” Aditya said musingly.

  “Yeah, but not enough to round up suspects. We don't know his exact measurements, and we don't know whether the limp is temporary or permanent.”

  “Did the police get any information from the Bhandipur investigation?” Aditya asked.

  Virat paused. “No, they didn't find anything.”

  “No witnesses at all?” Aditya pressed him. “The first murder's usually the most sloppy. It happened inside a factory, didn't it? No one saw anything?”

  “No witnesses were forthcoming.” Virat said. He paused for a moment, then added, “Because there wasn't an investigation.”

  “Why not?” Aditya asked in surprise.

  “Come on, man. You seem like a smart guy, do you really need me to spell it out?” Virat sighed. “No one conducted an investigation because no one cared. Up until yesterday the victims were all labourers and sweepers. People who belong to that part of society disappear all the time, and the police rarely bothers to even log the crime, let alone investigate it. This murder at the factory got a bit of attention because of the way in which it was committed, but it was really after the fifth or sixth murder with the legs broken that the police decided to have a proper investigation. By then, of course, most of the clues had dried up. But now that the latest victim is a rich guy from the nicer section of the city, suddenly it's front page news and the police is sending everyone out looking for clues and leads.”

  “I see.” Aditya paused. “I'm from the army. We're just trained to do our job, no matter who's involved.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry to break it to you, but you'll find the police here a little different.” Virat said drily.<
br />
  “You don't agree with their methods?” Aditya was watching Virat closely.

  “I'm just a sub detective.” Virat shrugged. “My opinion doesn't count.”

  “So the police is conducting the investigation from the last case instead of the first?” Aditya asked.

  “I don't think they're seeing the serial killer angle in the investigation.” Virat said. “Psychological profiling isn't very popular among the police. The main team in charge of investigation is still treating it as an isolated incident.”

  “Then how about we go to Bhandipur and look into it from the other angle?” Adtiya asked.

  “I'm supposed to get you to the station.” Virat reminded him.

  “It'll only be an hour or so extra, and it'll be worth it if we find out something that helps with the case.”

  Virat slowed down the car as he stared at Aditya with a frown. Aditya gazed back at him steadily. It would be an insubordination. Virat knew that. He could get in trouble if he was away too long. He knew that too. But Aditya was right. No one was investigating the Bhandipur case.

  “We'll have to wrap it up in under an hour.” Virat said as he turned the car towards Bhandipur.

  * * *

  Bhandipur was a decrepit shantytown situated off the NH10 highway. A profusion of tiny huts with tin roof sheds were packed tightly together in the narrowest of spaces. Virat parked the car next to the highway, and he and Aditya made their way in through the narrow alleys of the town.

  “Try not to let on that we're with the police.” Virat muttered as families sitting outside their homes stared at them. “People here aren't very sympathetic to cops.”

  “Got it.” Aditya nodded. “Should we ask them where the factory is?”

  “There's only one in this area.” Virat pointed into the distance. A few hundred yards away, a hall loomed into view. They made their way down a main street where women sat washing clothes at a handpump while children played marbles in a corner. A few more curious looks were directed at them, but they were mostly ignored.

  They reached the factory and entered through the front door, stepping over a pile of lumber gathered in front of the door. The factory had an air of desolation within it, the peeling paint on it's walls. The door at the other side was swinging wide open on it's hinges and several machines had been removed from the center of the floor, leaving large gaps on the ground. Yet there were signs of recent activity in the form of a pile of half burnt wood and ashes and an ancient stack of playing cards lying on a small wooden table next to it.

  “Looks like the workers still use it as a recreation room.” Virat remarked.

  “Hey, what are you doing over there?” A rough voice called out from the doorway at the other end of the factory.

  They turned to see four men coming towards them. The man leading the pack had a red scarf around his neck, and carried a heavy cane. He seemed to be the leader of the group. Another man with a bald head carried a shovel over his shoulder with pieces of earth still adhering to it.

  “Who are you?” The man with the cane demanded, marching over to stand in front of Aditya and Virat. “Don't you know this building has been shut down? No trespasers are allowed here.”

  “Doesn't look like it.” Aditya gestured towards the pack of cards. “Is there someone we can talk to about the men who used to work here?”

  “No, there isn't.” The scowl on the man's face deepened. “Now clear off, both of you.”

  Virat found himself wishing he hadn't left his gun in the car as he mentally sized up the four men. They weren't particularly huge, but they did outnuber him and Aditya. And sounds of a fight breaking out might attract the attention of other residents to the area.

  “We're looking for someone who used to visit this factory.” Aditya persisted. “Maybe a worker. A big guy who walks with a limp.”

  “That's the man who-” The youngest of the lot blurted out before he was silenced by a single furious look from the man with the scarf.

  “No one like that ever worked here. Now, for the last time, clear off!”

  “We're just looking to talk to the man.” Aditya stepped forward now, keeping his eyes on the youngest, who looked no more than a teenager. “We'll be willing to pay you for any information about him. That's all we're looking for, some information.” The man with the scarf clearly did not appreciate being ignored.

  “I'm going to give you one last chance to walk out of here on your own.” He growled, the hand holding the cane rising threateningly.

  “No. But thanks for the offer.” Aditya said politely. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to the cards before turning back to the four men. “We're going to need to talk to the kid alone, so I'd appreciate it if you'd all clear out.”

  Their leader swore and stepped forward with his cane. “You're giving us orders? I'll throw you out myself!” Aditya's hand shot out and grabbed the cane, twisting it around it's owner neck before ripping it out of his hand and flinging it to the side. He grabbed the man by his collar and kicked him behind his kneecap before shoving him into the wall. The other two men shouted and ran forwards as well, the bald man brandishing his shovel.

  But suddenly Aditya was moving as well. His feet wove with practiced ease around the two attackers as his knee came up to smash one of them in the stomach. He fell to the ground, grimacing. The other raised his shovel, only for it to be caught in Aditya's grip. Three quick, punishing left hooks and the shovel was out of his hands, sailing through the air. One final kick and the man fell in a heap, wheezing. It was over before Virat, paralysed by astonishment, could stir himself to help.

  The fourth member, the teenage boy looked terrified and ready to flee. But Aditya held up a reasuring hand. “Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt them, either, but they kept sticking their oar in when we're in a hurry. What's your name?”

  “N...Nandu.”

  “Are you hungry, Nandu?” Aditya grinned at him, a disarmingly friendly, childlike grin. “I just came from the airport, and I'm starving. Do you know where we can get some chaat or something here?” He walked over to the table and reached for his glasses while the men groaned around them and tried to pick themselves up. “And then we have a few questions.”

  * * *

  “You want some more salt?”

  “No, this is great, bhaiyaji.”

  Aditya, Virat and Nandu stood at a chaat stand a block away from the factory. Aditya was watching Nandu as he eagerly tore into the vada pav and wondered when he had eaten last.

  Aditya looked at Virat. Ever since coming out of the factory he had been staring at Aditya, and he decided to help him out.

  “Krav maga.” Adtya supplied. “What I did in the factory. It was a fighting style developed by israeli forces during wartime. It's pretty efficient.”

  “So krav maga was one of the courses you learnt at psychology school?” Virat asked.

  Aditya grinned at him. He took the chaat the owner offered him and dug in, trying not to think of the grubby hands of the server.

  They were in a crowded part of the town now. Perhaps the man with the cane was looking for them right now. Perhaps he was busy arranging backup. Eitherway, they had to get the information they needed and be on their way soon. Meanwhile, a curious knot of children ranging from seven to twelve years were watching them curiously from a distance.

  “Your friends?” Aditya asked Nandu. “Ask them if they'd like some chaat, too.”