Rising Tiger: A Thriller (43)
They spoke largely in Hindi with English words thrown in at random intervals, a common practice in India. Vijay, however, steered them toward speaking in all English so that he didn’t have to keep stopping to translate. While their accents were a bit difficult to understand, Harvath quickly tuned his ear.
The husband said that the weapon used was a black pistol and that it absolutely had a silencer. His wife claimed that he watched too many movies and could not have been able to ascertain such a detail from where they were standing.
When they were both asked to indicate with their hands how long the weapon was, the results were inconclusive. There were lots of firecrackers going off at the time and had there been a gunshot, the husband was absolutely confident that he would have been able to distinguish it. Once more, the wife berated him for watching too many movies. Harvath actually felt sorry for the poor fellow. He also believed him.
There was no question that Ritter had been shot. The fact that neither the shopkeeper nor his wife had heard the telltale sound of gunfire while watching the killing take place bolstered the husband’s assertion that a suppressor had been used.
They backed up the other witness accounts of the assassin removing items from Ritter’s person. After which, they described seeing the figure hop on a motorcycle and speed off. Harvath gave them a few minutes to see if they could remember any other details that might be of help, no matter how small, but they were unable to offer any. He and Vijay then thanked the couple for their help and left the shop.
“I hate to say it,” Vijay stated as they walked back toward the restaurant parking lot and his Jaguar, “but that interview went about as well as I thought it would. The DST are very thorough when they gather evidence and assemble witness statements. I’m sorry we weren’t able to uncover more.”
“Believe it or not,” Harvath admitted, “sometimes it’s helpful to look back under the stones people have already overturned. Things get missed—even by the best investigators. Happens all the time. Trust, but verify.”
“So tomorrow, we’ll examine Ritter’s body. Do you have any expectations there? Anything specific you think they may have overlooked?”
“No. Not unless there’s something weird.”
“Such as?”
“Some kind of other trauma, beyond the gunshot wound. Something that doesn’t belong there, like a puncture wound from a needle or unexplained bruising or lacerations.”
“None of which you have reason to suspect, correct?” Vijay asked.
“I have zero expectations of any of that,” Harvath replied. “Coroners, in my experience, are obsessively observant. Even the newest and most inexperienced. That field draws a special kind of person. They live for finding stuff that other people would miss. Especially exotic, out-of-the-ordinary things.”
“And what about the DST evidence room? I’ve got to imagine there’s even less to potentially find there. The bullet and the shell casing, according to what I’ve read, is all that they recovered that wasn’t directly tied to Ritter.”
“That and all the CCTV footage. But again, we won’t know until we get there. I’m not holding out a lot of hope. So far, the DST appears to have been completely thorough and professional. Which is exactly what you want in a situation like this.”
“Except, it’s not moving us any closer to the killer,” Vijay stated.
“We’ve ruled out robbery as the motive,” said Harvath. “We know this was an assassination. No question. We know the hitter was a pro. Perhaps only a semipro, but a pro nonetheless, which means he was hired by someone. The trail right now may be tough to see, but it’s there. Somewhere. We just need to find that one bent blade of grass, that one snapped twig, and we’ll have a direction to pursue.”
“I continue to admire your confidence. I still wish I shared it.”
“A long time ago, I learned not to quit. No matter what. Sometimes confidence is all you have in these situations. But when you rule out losing, you quickly narrow your options to only one possible outcome—winning.”
“You would have made a lousy cop,” Vijay stated.
Harvath smiled. “Why’s that?”
“You’re too optimistic.”
“We’ll see. If you’re right, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow and you’ll be on your way home for Diwali.”
“And if I’m wrong?”
Harvath’s smile broadened. “Then things are about to get a lot more exciting.”
CHAPTER 27
THURSDAY
NEW DELHI
Working with Major Badal, Asha had quietly enlisted the help of the Coonoor police to identify the rooftop where the figure with the strange-looking weapon had been standing. Despite a thorough canvassing of the neighborhood, no one had seen anything. There was no CCTV footage, either.
It was a complete and utter dead end. Asha had then returned home.
After a fitful night’s sleep, she had gotten out of bed early, worked out in her apartment, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast.
Heeding the warning Onkar Raj had given her, she once again tucked her Glock inside her waistband holster and headed to the “office.”
She loved Delhi in the early morning—before the throngs of people began making their way to work, before the pollution from all of the cars, buses, and motorbikes could cloud the sky. It was fresh. Beautiful.