X: The Hunt Begins Read online

  Nandu beckoned to the children imperiously, and they came forward, first cautiously, then eagerly when Nandu held up his cup. Soon, all the children were munching on chaat in a circle around Aditya and Virat.

  “So, why was that guy trying to throw us out?” Aditya asked Nandu.

  “He works for Moosa bhai.” Nandu said. The food seemed to have removed the last of his reserves, and he grinned freely at Aditya. “This area belongs to bhai, and he doesn't like the police getting too involved. A constable came asking questions after the murder that happened at the factory a month ago. But once he talked to bhai on the phone, he cleared off pretty quick.”

  Aditya looked at Virat. “Moosa?”

  “Local thug. Smuggles liquor this side of the bridge.” Virat said. He addressed Nandu. “What do you know about the night of the murder?”

  “It was over cards.” The twelve year supplied eagerly, a scrawny child with stratlingly bright green eyes. “After the factory closed down, the men used to play cards there. That night Moosa bhai had given some bottles of rum as a gift to one of the workers who'd carried his stash for him from his village. Everyone had been drinking. Tunga was arguing with the man, who was a laborourer over at the express building.”

  “Do you know the name of the man?” Virat asked him.

  “His name was Soura.” Another child piped up, his high pitched voice cracking slightly. “I know 'cause my father had worked with him on the construction site before. He didn't come here again after that night.”

  “What building did you say he was working on?” Virat asked.

  The child pointed to a tall building in the distance still under construction.

  * * *

  The company that owned the rights to the building pointed out by the child was located eight kilometres away. Virat had to decide whether to report at the police station with the information they had, or continue with the investigation on their own. His final decision to choose the latter option was more a result of adrenaline that common sense. It would have felt lke tamely admitting defeat to hand over their findings to another team at this point.

  “This is the last stop.” Virat said to Adity as they made their way up a multistory building. The offices of the company they were looking for was on the third floor. “We find out what we can from the company head, and then we get to the station with our findings.”

  “Sure.” Aditya assented. “We'll just ask a few questions, see what we find and then we'll leave.”

  They entered the office with the plaque reading Redwall Builders over the main door. The man at the front desk looked bored as he asked their names, but perked up considerably upon finding out that they were with the police. He ushered them to a set of cushioned chairs and went to get the manager of the company. A few minutes later he returned and led them inside the glass doors. The main office was situated at the end of a small hall lined with various rooms to the side. They entered the manger's room, and a portly man with a thick moustache and slighty bloodshot eyes rose to greet them.

  “Good afternoon, officers.” The man said, extending a pudgy hand towards the two. “I'm Sharon Lall. How may I assist you?”

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Lall.” Aditya said as all three sat down. “We know yours is a large company and you provide a variety of services in the construction business. We'd like to know if you maintain some kind of records of the labourers your company hires.”

  “Well, yes.” Lall admitted cautiously. “The labourers are mostly illiterate workers who find it difficult to understand computer related tasks, so there are no digital records. But we maintain physical records of our resources in ledgers in our storeroom. What is this question regarding?”

  “There was a murder that was in the news this morning.” Virat said. “We think one of your former employees might be involved.”

  Lall's eyes instantly became wary. “I think that is highly unlikely.” He said. “Our company does not deal with criminals, nor is it responsible for the conduct of our former employees.”

  “I didn't say you were.” Virat said quickly. “We'd just like some information about-”

  “I'm afraid I can't help you.” Lall said, getting to his feet. “Our records are confidential. They are strictly for company use, and we prefer not to get involved in any police activities. Now I'm afraid I have some other work to attend to. I'm sorry I can't assist you further.” He raised a hand and pointed to the door. The two had no choice but to get up as well.

  “You're obstructing a police investigation.” Virat said abruptly. “We're following the lead in an important case and we need to look through your records.”

  “In that case, I want to see a warrant.” Lall said. His expression had turned cold now.

  Virat paused, wondering if he should try to bluff it out. “We don't have one.” He finally admitted.

  “Then you can leave now.” Lall said forcefully, his voice rising. “And in the future, think twice before trying to intimidate honest businessmen with your threats. I ought to register a complaint against you!”

  The two beat a retreat, with the uncomfortable thought that they had been undeniably worsted.

  “I shoudn't have told him what it was for.” Virat cursed himself. “He got scared of having his company name dragged in the middle of an investigation. This place is a dead end now. We should get back to Inspector Khurana and tell him about the man called Soura.”

  “You see a dead end, I see a chance to get creative.” Aditya said. “Get to the car, and stay ready in case we have to make a run for it.” He handed his glasses to Virat. Before he could say anything, Aditya had turned to the side and disappeared behind a stack of boxed supplies.

  Employees milled around Aditya as he made his way through the room to the urinal at the end of the hall. His eyes scanned the rooms along the way. A few curious looks were directed at him. In the distance he spied a room labelled records and supplies. He changed direction and made his way to the room. He turned the handle and it opened.

  He entered the room and quickly closed it behind him. Some of the workers had seen him, and might be coming to check on him soon. He had to work quickly. The room was dust filled and had an air of disuse to it. Boxes of supplies were piled up to the ceiling around him. To the side were a stack of steel shelfs lined with ledgers. Aditya walked over to the shelfs and began to read the labels. They had the names of buildings the company supplied business to. He spied the name of the building in Bhandipur, and pulled out the ledger. Flipping through the pages, he got to the section where the names of the labourers were listed next to a column with their phone numbers. He traced a finger down the list, until the name he was searching for appeared. Soura Khond, Kandhamal, Odisha.

  As soon as he read the entry, the question that had been niggling at the back of Aditya's mind ever since he had first heard about the murders was answered. He knew he had found the killer. There was no picture, but there was an address next to Soura's name. Aditya took out his mobile and took of a picture of the page along with his phone number.

  He could hear footsteps outside the door of the room he was in. There was no place to hide. There was, however, a half opened ventilation window at the top of the other end of the room. Aditya took a few steps back, and ran to the wall. One leg connected with the wall for a split second, bouncing off it and powering his body up as his left arm rose above him. He grabbed the ledge in front of the window and hoisted himself up, slipping out of the room just as the door of the room opened.

  Aditya steadied himself against the ledge on the outside of the room and spotted a waterpipe next to the window. He grabbed the pipe and climbed down, marvelling at the close call. A few more seconds delay and he would have been caught red-

  “What are you doing here?” Aditya froze, then slowly turned. An elderly man was staring at him in amazement.

  “Oh... hi.” Adtiya paused, disconcerted at the sudden appearance.

  “What are you doing?” The man repeated
. “Where on earth did you come from?”

  “I was coming from the Redwall builders offices.” Adity said. “I was... checking something...” His voice trailed away feebly.

  “Are you a thief?” The man demanded, siezing Aditya's hand. “Were you stealing something from one of the offices?”

  “Of course not.” Aditya said, trying to politely get his arm out of the man's grip. “I was meeting Mr. Lall on the third floor on a private business. You can ask him about me.”

  “I'm going to.” The man said grimly, steering Aditya towards the building's entrance. “And you're coming with me, too.”

  “Sure. All right.” Aditya fell into step beside the man. “Let me just-” He took advantage of a temporary relaxing of the man's grip to yank his hand out of reach and break into a run towards the high wall separating the building from the street outside.

  Aidtya ran at full speed and rapidly climbed up the wall. He spied Virat on the other side of the road waiting in the car. “We need to go.” He shouted, and Virat looked up at him in amazement.

  Virat started the engine, even as the shouts increased inside the compound. Aditya jumped down from the high wall and rolled to the ground, bounding up at once and crossing the street at a run. Cars honked at him and a truck came to a screeching halt inches away. Two guards shot out of the gate and came running towards him. But Aditya had gotten to the car. Without stopping to open the door, he jumped in through the window. “GO! GO! GO!”

  “What the hell did you do?” Virat roared even as they peeled out of the driveway, the guards yelling after them.

  “Had to break into the storeroom.” Aditya panted.

  “Oh, man, I am so screwed.” Virat groaned, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they sped through the traffic. “Lall's going to tell Khurana, and then I'm off the force.”

  “Not if you hand him the Rohtak killer.” Aditya said.

  Virat's ears pricked up. “You mean you found something?”

  “I found him.” Aditya said. He opened the image of the document and enlarged the print. “Listen to this. Soura Khond. Labourer from Kandhamal in Odisha. Lives in Bhoorigully, Marwa.”

  “So we have his name and address.” Virat said. “But how do we know for sure it's him?”

  “You don't know who the Khonds are, do you?” Aditya said. “We studied them when we were having a class on ritualistic murders in ancient India. Listen to this,” He had opened the internet on his mobile and was browsing the web until he found the page. “The Khonds, an aboriginal hill tribe, have a supply of victims who are bought as children or have volunteered. They are slain while bound to a cross, but at one stage they are given a stupefying drug and their legs are broken.” He looked at Virat. “You see? The killer's a labourer originally from Odisha whose method of murder is based on the ancient traditions of his people.”

  “So what do we do now?” Virat asked.

  “We know his address. So we have our next stop. Just pray he hasn't moved since.”

  “Did you kill someone inside that building?” Virat asked as he saw the last of the guards disappear in the rearview mirror. “And where did you learn to jump? I've never seen a human move like that who wasn't training to be a ninja.”

  Aditya chuckled. “Well, this old guy saw me coming down the waterpipe from the third floor. I had to ditch him and climb over the wall.” Aditya's chuckling turned to laughter as he recounted the full ludicrousness of the past ten minutes. Virat could not help but join in. Soon the two were roaring with laughter. Virat had to pull the car over to a stop.

  “And the ninja thing is called parkour.” Aditya managed to finally gasp out. “I've been learning it since childhood. It's usually done wearing slacks. You know what my biggest worry while scrambling over the wall was? That my jeans don't split open.”

  Virat started laughing again, but controlled himself with an effort. “Right, this thing isn't over yet.” He said, taking a deep breath as he restarted the car. “Time to get serious. What's the last stop on our little road trip for the day?”

  “Marwa.”

  * * *

  Marwa was a basti which resembled Bhandipur, but was slightly more developed. Instead of the patchwork of tin roofed sheds, there were more solidly built brick houses, sometimes reaching up to the second floor. The roads were better made and busier, with people milling around wooden carts selling everything from plastic toys to vegetables.

  They had no dificulty finding Soura's house. Many people knew him, although his reputation seemed far from stellar. Several inquiries later they were introduced to a wizened old woman who, as soon as Virat handed her a hundred rupee note, remembered where Soura lived and agreed to lead them to his hut. Following the woman, they ended up at the heart of the basti where a number of hastily assembled tent like huts were packed closely together near a garbage disposal site where a pack of dogs were scavenging for food.

  “Is Soura in trouble?” The woman inquired as they stopped outside the hut. “What do you want with him?”

  “We're with Redwood Builders.” Virat said quickly. “We wanted to see if he was available to work on another building project.”

  “He'll be glad to meet you then.” The woman said. “I know he's been searching for work for so long now without getting anything.”

  “Can he still work?” Aditya asked. “We heard he'd had an accident.”

  “Aye, but that was his own fault.” The woman shook her head. “He was always beating up the dogs around here. Always kicking them and throwing things at them. Then one day one he tried to set fire to the tail of one of the bigger dogs, and the mutt came at him and bit his leg. He was shouting and screaming something awful. I'll let him know you called.”

  “Actually, we'll wait in his room for a bit.” Aditya said. “We don't want to have come all the way over here for nothing.”

  The woman hesitated. Aditya continued to smile at her reassuringly as he and Virat opened the cardboard door blocking the entrance and entered the tent.

  * * *

  He moved through the twisting lanes of the basti, wincing as sharp tendrils of pain ran up his leg. Bad enough he had gone for seven days now without work. No one wanted to hire a lame labourere. He was hungry and in pain. The month old wound on his leg had become infected, and the powder he had got from the hakim to rub on his wound had only aggravated the injury. He had taken his anger out on the man coming out of the ATM. But it turned out he was a famous man, and suddenly the police and the press was looking for him. He would have to be more careful now.

  He turned a corner and came into view of the hut in which he lived, and stopped. Two men were standing outside his tent, talking to the old washer woman who lived nearby. He crouched down behind an idling truck and watched them. Were they cops? Reporters? Had they somehow found out about him? His sense of panic rose as he saw them enter his tent. He turned and limped away, trying to put as much distance between himself and the men as he could.

  * * *

  “I don't know if we fooled the woman, but we need to be quick.”” Virat said. They were inside Soura's hut, rooting through his belongings in search of clues. There was very little of value in the single room, with a mouldy blanket and pillow in a corner and a tiny stove next to it. “What kind of evidence are we looking for?”

  “There are certain signs serial killers exhibit from a young age.” Aditya said as he combed through a small pile of grimy documents near the bed. “But the signs are mostly psychological. Physical evidence usually takes the form of prolonged bed wetting, cruelty to animals, and a fascination with burning things. I'm guessing in Soura's case, the first instance of murder was an accident. An argument that turned into a fight. But then he developed a taste for it, treating the killings as ritual sacrifices in the tradition of his people. Every serial killer experiences a period of depression after a murder that lasts until they kill again. In this case the periods are getting shorter and shorter, which means the next murder could be in the next few days un
less we find him.”