Private Delhi (Private 13)

“No, you moron!” boomed Chopra. “This has gone beyond trying to score political points! You think I wanted to become Lieutenant Governor in order to watch Delhi tearing itself apart with gossip, suspicion, and innuendo? What point is there in wresting power from Jaswal if it is to rule over the smoking rubble of a riot-torn city? This has gone too far, Sharma.” He pointed an accusing finger. “You have let this go too far. We have bodies piling up. Some kind of sick freak skinning his victims, for God’s sake! We’ve practically got marchers on the streets. The newspapers are demanding answers; DETV is on the phone night and day asking all kinds of questions to which I don’t have the answers: who is behind the killings? Why are we not releasing details? Is our ruling body riddled with corruption and pedophiles? You’ve been fiddling while Rome burns, Sharma. And now I want you to put away the fiddle. And get something done. I want you to put a stop to this! Is that clear?”

“Yes,” gulped Sharma. “Yes, sir, that’s clear.”

Chapter 92

SANTOSH HAD NOT waited to be discharged from the hospital. He was well recovered, although the encounter with MGT had left him slightly unnerved. He hadn’t wanted to have a nurse bandage the gash on his forearm so he’d helped himself to antiseptic and bandages from the supply closet he had passed. He’d then gone back to his room, changed out of the hospital clothes, and walked out through the service entrance a little after midnight. He had spent the night on Neel’s couch.

In the morning, Jack and Nisha had come over and the four of them had dropped in for breakfast at a cafe in Khan Market.

Santosh was exceptionally fidgety without his walking stick.

“You don’t need it anymore,” Jack told him.

But Santosh was convinced he did. “It is my only constant companion,” he said. “It saved my life at the Tower of Silence in Mumbai. Moreover, it helps me think.”

“Well, at least you have a new phone now,” said Nisha. She had picked up a replacement unit after getting the old SIM deactivated and a new SIM initialized.

“Thanks,” mumbled Santosh.

“The little run-in you had with MGT,” began Jack. “Could he be mentally disturbed? Killing people while saving others?”

“Unlikely,” said Santosh. “I could have caught him had I not trusted him in that final instant. I guess there was a part of me that felt guilty for his situation … I felt guilty.”

“Why?” asked Jack.

“We treated him rather shabbily in college,” admitted Santosh. “He was an outlier. Almost an outcast. A—”

“I have tracked down the registration number of his car,” interjected Neel. “Passed it on to Ash. He’ll get the cops to find him.”

“I’m convinced they’re all in it together,” said Santosh.

“Who?” asked Jack.

“Patel and Thakkar. One man’s company gets lucrative contracts to modernize hospitals. The other one drives American patients to the newly modernized hospitals and makes a killing on the insurance,” said Santosh. “I call it having one’s cake and eating it too.”

“But Kumar was supposedly the partner of Patel,” said Nisha. “In fact, my friend at the Indian Times says that Patel had promised Kumar extra equity for his help in managing the regulatory environment and that this extra stock was to come out of Patel’s own shareholding.”

“That makes him the third partner of this unholy alliance,” said Santosh. “Both these businessmen would have needed Delhi’s Health Ministry on their side. Solution? Make the minister your partner … your partner.”

“But these men would have needed a godfather, someone who had vast amounts of capital to deploy,” said Jack. “I called up Denny—the CEO of the National Association of Insurance Commissioners—and asked him to find out about the key investors in ResQ. It turns out that the major equity of ResQ is held by the same entity that is the major equity owner of Surgiquip. It’s a company in the Bahamas.”

“They’re affiliated?” said Santosh disbelievingly.

“Santosh,” said Jack, “they’re practically the same company.”

Chapter 93

IQBAL IBRAHIM ADDED milk and sugar into his tea and stirred it. He stared at the man who sat across from him. He had introduced himself as Dr. Khan. Ibrahim was not sure about what was being offered but knew it could mean freedom from Arora.

“We are well aware that you are the engine that drives ResQ’s profitability,” said Khan. “We have had you under surveillance for weeks. We know how you operate. We believe that your abilities and resourcefulness are not being appreciated at the moment.”

He was right. Ibrahim busted his ass procuring the right material only to be reprimanded by Arora repeatedly.

“What are you suggesting?” asked Ibrahim.

“Our business model is different to that of ResQ,” said Khan, avoiding staring at Ibrahim’s hooked nose. “In fact we are not even

competing with them. But we believe that our business will become far bigger than theirs in a few years.”