Five
15th March 2003, Tuesday
Detective Akash was in his uncle's room, scanning through a few documents, checking to see if he could find anything that seemed objectionable. He knew almost everything about his uncle, but he was also aware that every person had some secrets. Likewise, he also had some secrets in his life, which he never talked about.
His memories took him way back to his childhood, the day tragedy struck and he lost his parents and his younger brother in a car accident. Having been left alone at such an early age, he had nowhere to go, no desire to live and no path to walk on. He'd lost all hope of having a comfortable life and was mentally prepared for a life of hardships. But suddenly his uncle, Mr. Paul found him and was ready to pay for his education. He was then sent to a boarding school. Solitude helped him get acquainted with books of authors who had intriguing stories to tell.
Crime became his favourite genre and mystery became his love. He delved into the realm of challenging mysteries and started to picturize probable conclusions to all the mysteries he read. Unsolved criminal cases made him anxious. A year passed; his uncle's wealth helped him in bribing local cops and gaining information about cases.
They then shifted far away to Mysore colony, Summerhill, Shimla, against Akash's will. After a string of bad luck, he'd finally excelled in solving cases. He showed no interest in conversing with any of the colony residents. His uncle, however, maintained frequent contacts with those who were very rich. One of them being James Fernandes, making David his cousin.
As soon as he turned into an adult, he travelled to different places, met different people, eventually inspiring him to become a private Detective! He received many cases, some were related to thefts, chain snatchers, murders, kidnapping, and he was successful in solving all of them with his deductions and theories. That's how he had marked his existence and fame.
The sudden buzzing of his phone brought him back to reality, it was from an unknown number,
'Paul.' He said firmly.
'It's me.' Came a voice, it was almost a whisper.
'I recognize that voice. What information do you have today?' he asked impatiently.
'Syna has received the reports from the forensics, she intends to interrogate the two suspects by noon.' The caller said, now in a softer voice, Akash had his ear pressed tightly to his cell.
'Very well. What are the reports? That's of crucial importance for me to solve the case and find any leads.'
'I have no idea about that.' This time the voice had a harsh tone. 'I'm just a constable, I don't have access to all the information. Furthermore, if you want more information, it is going to take a few more bucks, you know.'
'I appreciate your efforts, but careful with your tone or I can inform your senior about the bribery.' Akash replied in a serious tone.
'Don't try to threaten me, you can be thrown behind the bars for what you're doing.'
'What do you think would bother her more?' Akash chuckled over the phone. 'A private detective bribing cops to help her solve a case or a "trusted" junior who sells information, can be easily bribed?'
The call ended immediately, he chuckled more at the thought of winning. But there was something more important at hand, the interrogation. David, his cousin, would have a crucial role to play in it. But oh well, there was another suspect, Himanshu Savla, whom Akash barely knew. Frustration and annoyance gripped Akash's nerves. He wanted to find a way to join the investigation, but reality spoke otherwise.
*****
The clock chimed, 9:30 A.M, Syna walked to her desk, with another cup of coffee in her hand. It was her third since dawn, she sat on a chair, her face all pale and skinny, her eyes revealing that she was awake for the entire night and hardly took a nap, all because of that piece of paper. 'Damnit Stalker' she cursed several times. She was hoping for no involvement of The Stalker in this particular case, but now here it was. She hoped that maybe it was an imposter, trying to copy his tactics and scare everyone, but the accuracy of the letter, the same pattern, same handwriting and the riddle, proved that the odds were against her.
A cool breeze blew through her hair as she gave another glance at the telephone, the phone rang, awakening every sensor in Syna's body, the forensics' reports! She thought and picked up the call,
'What are the reports?' she asked breathlessly.
'Hello ma'am, our team has sent a detailed report of the murder, I expect it to reach you at any given moment now.' The voice was calm.
'Tell me about the bloody outcome!' Syna said in a loud tone, she could sense the caller flinch for a moment.
'The reports were similar to the intel you had received.' He said in a soft voice now. And there it was! Syna's worst fears came true, she embraced fear and frustration again,
'But, I must inform you about something which might help you in some manner, it is mentioned in those reports but this one needs an ear to be heard. The first observation by looking at those deep cuts is that this crime could only be committed by a man, the second is-' The officer of the forensic department said, without waiting for Syna's response he informed her everything that he had to, Syna's eyes widened in response and she banged the phone down with a 'thud' noise. So, it was all true, that letter wasn't to delude her but came as help, and maybe now a legitimate proof that He is still alive!
This was some news, grave news. Syna wondered, how else would he know his plan and the methods used to kill the people? What exactly does he use to stalk people? There came a knock on the door, pulling Syna back from her thoughts. It was Dexter, her junior. He was standing there with his brow raised and lips shut tight. There were a few documents in his hands,
'The forensics' reports.' He said and placed them on her desk. There was silence for a few seconds, both pair of eyes staring at those documents until Dexter spoke,
'I read the reports, it's the same as he said.' In response, Syna gave a small nod.
'We have to tell everyone about this. The further we delay, the further the problems flusters.'
'You don't have to tell me what to do! Spare me the time, until the investigation!' she shouted at him. Dexter rolled his eyes and sighed. He began to make his way out of the room,
'You can join the interrogation.' She said in a mild tone. Dexter turned around instantly, surprised.
'Is this leverage to keep my mouth shut?' he asked; it was Syna's turn to roll eyes.
'I can make you keep your mouth shut, I don't need to impress or bribe you with something to get things done.' She said firmly. 'I allow you to join so that you can help me find and notice some crucial points, if any, which others cannot figure out.' Dexter jumped with excitement from within.
'I appreciate that and look forward to it.' He said, trying his best to hide the joy behind those words.
'Send a word to Inspector Khatri, that he must join the investigation as well as the usual, which even includes the DSP.' Dexter's face crumbled at the mention of Khatri's name, his senior who always used to brag about things he wasn't, Dexter always thought and suspected that Khatri was involved in some local crimes as well as drugs, but he had no concrete evidence to raise a voice against him. He nodded in response and left the room.
*****
Outside Tihar Jail, Delhi, 11.20 A.M.
There were different domestic and international news channel reporters, high-profile journalists, all covering the event, which almost 65% of Mumbaikars were desperate to hear or see about. It was the day when the guilty, Rahul Arora, one of the accomplices of The Stalker was going to be hanged. The reporters were reminding the public about how Rahul Arora was caught during the second mass murder by various witnesses. The CBI hoped that he would turn out to be The Stalker, but unfortunately, he was just an accomplice. That was when the authorities found out that the serial killer had subordinates on whom he relied on, yet the doping effects helped them to no avail.
Surrounded by guards, he took his next step. His head was shaved, he was provided with white clothes, which were better than the prison outfit, his hands were cuffed and locked with extra chains. The sun shone overhead, there were cheers all around him. They say, the toughest thing to see in prison is an execution of a prisoner, but everyone looked happy and awaited his death. He couldn't blame them. He had indeed committed some atrocious acts which he now regretted. The rope hung mildly in the air, he was uncuffed and escorted towards the bench. There were several reporters and journalists witnessing his final moments and scribbling down notes, hurriedly.
'Any last words?' one of the huge guards asked. The reporters and journalists now looked cautiously at him, hoping to catch any clue of The Stalker's identity, he knew that very well. But that wasn't what he remembered, he remembered just one thing. Even under the impression of the highly effective drugs, he still remembered it, the memory never faded, not even then. He sighed and said,
'Pure love never dies.'
It was all happening, he thought, soon his vision would be blocked by a black mask. He chose to look towards the reporters, forcing a smile. A final smile, which was lost since the day he saw that pyre, the day he decided to join The Stalker, the worst choice he ever made. Certain circumstances drag you in a black hole, which you cannot dodge or change, you face it, without thinking about the aftermath. Only Love had had enough virtue to terminate all evil.
His face was covered, he took a deep breath. He was now able to hear his heartbeats and quickly thought of all the good memories he had had, his family, the fair face of his mother smiling at him, the clean streets of Kolkata, his childhood. The bell rang and with a sudden buzz, the supporting brick was gone. He was hanged, a rapid twist on his neck. He was struggling to breathe and started swinging his legs ferociously for support. Slowly, his consciousness was fading and he found it very hard to breathe, the fair face of his mother was now fading away slowly and all he could see was blackness, his existence finally vanishing from the world.
*****
Huge steel bars reminded David of the fact that he was caged. He was missing the royalty of his Villa, and more importantly missing his dearest family, especially his daughter, Rosy. It had happened so fast, the last thing he remembered was him raising a toast and disclosing the reason, looking at the puzzled and petrified look on people's faces. But oh well, she spoilt it! She did spoil the entire party! He was so confused, angry and depressed at the same time, was it her? He thought and instantly waved the thought away, he heard faint footsteps approaching in his direction, it wasn't the guards, he could guess that. The stranger was wearing decent and polished shoes, and there stood someone on the other side of the bars. His shadow was falling on David's face.
'I'm here, David. I'll get you out soon enough.' It was his lawyer!
The two guards passed by cell 9, where the suspect was held in custody. They browsed around from the outside and found him in a corner, sitting in silence, with his hands wrapped tight around his knees and his head drowned in his chest. Curly hair, long specks, it was the bearded guy, Himanshu Savla, held as a suspect.
He sat motionlessly, nothing going on around him, but everything screaming and hurting within him. Why did I? He thought. He should have minded his own business while jogging through David's villa and then maybe he wouldn't have been caught up in such a mess, ending up behind bars. Of course, he wasn't invited to the party, he had reasons for not being invited. And yet he ended up being there, even though he had promised and controlled himself, but well, everything went downhill and he lost everything. All necessary measures were taken, all precautions considered, but the excitement, damn! The excitement spoiled it all, all of it and now he ended up here, left with nothing, nowhere to go and no reason to live.
Again, there was this bloody interrogation. He had decided to dodge it carefully and patiently so that he could return home and complete his final vendetta, the only thing that he wished for now! A faint replica of the image still dangled in front of his eyes, the thing that hung and moved in a semicircle. The damn wine spoiled it! He thought. If only he hadn't drunk the wine, he would have been out of all of this, but it was all lost.
Even the great, 'Zodiac Killer' would have approved of me as his successor.
~The Stalker