Jaswal raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that always the case?”
“Not at all. For many serial killers the process of killing is what defines the act; the choice of victim can be random, based only on the ability to fulfill that need. It’s what often makes them so hard to catch.” He threw a look at Jaswal. “What’s your particular interest in this discovery? Over and above curiosity.”
“The house in which this … grisly operation was discovered is government property.”
“And yet you’re not being given any information?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
For a moment or so, Santosh seemed to be lost in his thoughts before he collected himself and addressed Jaswal once more. “Do you believe Ram Chopra is the one suppressing information?”
Jaswal shot Santosh a wintry smile. “What do you think?”
“What I think is irrelevant. It’s what you think that is important.”
“Point taken. And the answer is yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“That’s one of the things I’d like you to find out.”
“Of course. But let me rephrase the question. Why might Ram Chopra want to keep you in the dark regarding the discovery at Greater Kailash?”
“Possibly to wrong-foot me, make me appear ill-informed. Possibly something more.”
“How did you find out about the bodies?” Jack asked.
“Police tip-off,” said Jaswal. “Nobody directly involved with the case. I’m afraid you’ll be on your own with this one.”
Santosh looked at Jaswal, knowing that if Private accepted this job then Jack would jet off and it would be he, Santosh, who entered the lion’s den.
Santosh was intrigued. Bodies. Hidden motives. It would be messy. Just the way he liked it.
On the other hand, there was something about the case that troubled him. But he couldn’t pin down what it was.
Chapter 9
SANTOSH WAS RELIEVED to leave Jack with Jaswal. Finances were not his strong suit. Haggling, negotiating, “doing business” even less so. Besides, as soon as Jack had finished with Jaswal he was flying back to the States. And Santosh had a crime to solve.
A cab dropped him off on the outskirts of Mehrauli, home to Private Delhi, and he went the rest of the way to the office on foot, his cane tapping briskly and a new spring in his step as he passed quaint shops, restaurants, and pubs near the twelfth-century Qutb Minar tower.
He came to an antiques shop tucked away in the old quarter, bell tinkling as he went inside. He nodded to the proprietor and passed through the shop to a door at the back.
Through that he entered a clinical-looking anteroom, bare save for a second door and a retina-scan unit. Santosh bent slightly for the scan and the door slid open, allowing him to access the Private Delhi office.
The office was well hidden for good reason. The Mumbai team had helped Indian law enforcement agencies solve key cases related to attacks by Pakistani terror groups on Indian soil. Both the Mumbai and Delhi offices were on the radar of Pakistan-based jihadi outfits. It was vital to keep the office impregnable. As was the protocol in Mumbai, established clients of Private India communicated with the firm via a dedicated and secure helpline. The screening process for any new clients was rigorous. Investigators from Private visited clients at their homes and offices instead of the other way round. Private’s sanctum remained invisible to the world outside.
Inside, polished marble floors were complemented by a bright-yellow staircase connecting the two levels of the office. White acrylic dome lights hung from ex
posed beams. Santosh greeted the receptionist and crossed the floor where junior investigators handled routine cases, and then took the stairs to his office.
The first member of the team he saw was Nisha Gandhe, his indefatigable assistant. In her mid-forties, Nisha was still capable of making heads turn. The gym and yoga kept her in good shape. But her beauty could not hide a permanent sadness in her eyes.
It had been a tumultuous six months since her abduction by a serial killer in Mumbai. She had still been struggling with the trauma when her husband, Sanjeev, a successful Mumbai stockbroker, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Two months later, Sanjeev had lost his battle with the disease. So when Private had opened in Delhi, Nisha and her daughter, Maya, had taken up Jack’s offer of a fresh start and had joined Santosh.
Santosh beckoned her into his office, calling Neel Mehra in too. Neel was a brilliant criminologist. In his thirties and dashingly handsome, he attracted the attention of women around him. However, not much escaped the sharp eyes of the Private Delhi investigative team and both Santosh and Nisha had worked out on their own that Neel was gay. With homosexuality still technically illegal in India, his two superiors respected Neel’s privacy.