Sharma sat back. His eyes were hooded. To Nisha he said, “Quite a chip off the old block, isn’t she?”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“Is that why you didn’t take him down? You think he’s a good man, do you?”
Nisha leaned forward. “Listen. I used to be a cop, just the same as you. And like you I don’t discriminate. A killer is a killer.”
“Even if he’s a hit man with a heart of gold?”
“That’s what you think this guy is, do you?”
“What about you? What do you think?”
She sighed and threw up her hands. “Oh, come on! This is getting us nowhere, Commissioner. We’ve told you everything we know. If you don’t plan to charge us with anything, then I’ll thank you to let us go. My daughter has been through a terrible ordeal.”
“Charge you? What did you think I might charge you with?”
“I don’t know. You can think of something. Criminal damage on Roy’s gates …”
Sharma nodded. “Yes. Maybe that. Or maybe aiding and abetting.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Commissioner. You’re reaching. This is ridiculous.”
Now it was his turn to sit forward. “Who’s employing Private, Mrs. Gandhe? It wouldn’t be Mohan Jaswal, by any chance, would it? You know full well that I report to Ram Chopra and that Ram Chopra and Mohan Jaswal aren’t exactly the best of pals.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I’d watch yourselves if I were you. That’s all it is. You tell that to your friends at Private. You tell them that I think you, Mrs. Gandhe, deliberately allowed a serial killer to escape. You tell them that the next victim’s blood is on your hands.”
Moments later, Nisha and Maya emerged into reception, where Jack and Neel were waiting.
“Santosh?” she said.
Jack grimaced, looking tired. “Well, first we hoped he was alive, and then we thought he was dead, and then we hoped he might come alive again, and now we’re not sure. I think that’s about the size of it.”
Nisha put her hands over Maya’s ears. “For fuck’s sake, is he alive or is he dead?”
“What Jack’s saying is right,” Neel assured her. “The prognosis is good. We’re hopeful he’ll make it.”
“Thank God,” she said, then shot an apologetic look at them both, particularly Neel. “I’m sorry about your car,” she said.
“Don’t worry about the car, we’ll cover the car,” said Jack. “Also, Nisha, I’ll put you and Maya up in the Oberoi until you feel comfortable moving back into your own home and …” he held out his hands, “there’s no rush, no rush at all. You take your time.”
Privately, Nisha wondered if she and Maya would ever be able to move back into the apartment.
“In the meantime, I think we have another theory to work on,” she said.
“Let’s hear it,” said Jack.
Nisha glanced back to where the desk sergeant sat behind glass, engrossed on the phone. “I don’t think this is some kind of organized-crime war we’re talking about. I don’t think our guy is a hit man; I think he’s a vigilante.”
PART THREE
MARTYR
Chapter 81
DEATH IS THE great equalizer. The Deliverer had seen hundreds of corpses being cremated at the burning ghats as he grew up in Varanasi. From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust. It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor, king or beggar, saint or sinner. The River Ganges could wash away your sins, and if you were cremated by its banks, you could also be guaranteed salvation if your ashes were immersed in the river. Instant moksha.