The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(23)

He bit back the words he wanted to toss at the don. He would remind Uhnna that Uhnna’s businesses received special treatment from Maharashtra’s state ministers. Now was not the time, though.

“What if I guarantee that the packages will remain intact from now on?” he said.

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” Uhnna’s tone was clipped.

“I’m giving you my word.”

“You gave it before. It’s clearly not worth much to you. In our line, one’s word is everything.” The phone went dead.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


ARNAV

Arnav stood chatting with another inspector outside Mhatre’s office. He was to go in next.

The entire police station was abuzz—Joint Commissioner Joshi was on a visit. No one knew why. He’d come alone. Senior officials toured stations in their zone on a fixed rotation, unless trouble struck, like a bomb blast or shoot-out. It was a formal affair, often with one or more additional commissioners in attendance. Joshi had asked to meet each of the inspectors, with Mhatre present.

Arnav had never been in a direct conversation with the trim, brisk Joshi. As long as Arnav continued to treat Joshi like any another superior, Joshi would never recognize Arnav unless he took the trouble to probe into Arnav’s family history.

Arnav turned at the raised voices from inside, Joshi’s baritone followed by the lower tones of Mhatre. His colleague sidled off. Arnav was about to leave when Mhatre stepped out and beckoned him in.

In Mumbai Police, it was customary for the senior visiting officer to take over your seat. At much below six feet despite his gold-embroidered peak cap, Joshi looked dwarfed by Mhatre’s chair. Joshi carried his fifty-seven years well, and returned Arnav’s salute with a crisp one of his own.

“Good morning, sir.” Arnav stood beside the seated Mhatre, ready to face queries into his cases. A glance at other chairs in the room had showed him the likely reason for Joshi’s visit. Taneja lounged, typing into his large smartphone. Kittu Virani sat beside him in a loose, white, full-sleeved salwar-kameez, her head low, her smile demure.

“Good morning, Inspector Rajput.” Joshi gestured toward a seat, placed like a patient’s chair at a doctor’s table.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Taneja, here. He says you’ve been obstructing his business.”

Arnav used the tone he employed when making reports. “Three dead bodies in various states of decomposition have been found at the Taneja Estate Holdings construction site. We’ll let him have the site back as soon as we finish our investigations. In fact, I had a few questions for him, and haven’t been able to meet him since we discovered another recently murdered woman near the Versova mangroves yesterday.”

“I know nothing about the Versova mangroves or dead bodies.” Taneja smiled, as if explaining complex Penal Codes to a small child.

“Each body is decapitated and dismembered the exact same way.” Arnav kept his gaze trained on Joshi.

Ignoring Arnav, Joshi addressed Taneja. “I’ll look into this. It should be possible for you to resume construction soon.”

“Thank you, Joshi saab. That’s all the reassurance I hoped for. I’ll leave now, with your permission.”

Kittu cleared her throat, and Joshi turned to her. “Ms. Virani, it is always a pleasure to see you. About your request—I’ll do my best. Let’s see—Rajput, you’re trained in karate, right?”

Arnav had no idea where this was going. He saw no point in denying it: he’d been training for far longer than his career in Mumbai Police.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are exactly what we require—a fit inspector trained in the martial arts. Rehaan Virani needs a teacher—uh, a consultant, for his next movie role.”

“Sir?”

“After all the bother you’ve caused, you can make time for this, Rajput.” Joshi nodded to Mhatre. “See to it.”

Arnav wanted to retort that he was a police officer, not a karate trainer. Joshi had no business asking him to work for Bollywood heroes, but pointing that out would lose him a chance to be in regular touch with Rehaan, and through him, Kittu Virani and Rahul Taneja. A man like Taneja had much bigger fish to fry than the spa at Aksa. His presence here meant he had something to hide.

Both Taneja and Kittu Virani rose to their feet, and Joshi stood up with folded hands. “Let us know how else we can help. Our duty is to serve.”

Joshi smiled, and gestured to Mhatre to see them out.

Once they’d left he turned to Arnav, his voice reflecting none of the displeasure in his eyes.

“As you’re aware, in Mumbai Police, we pride ourselves in taking new steps to improve our performance. The commissioner wants me to come up with new initiatives. I’m counting on your help.”

This was a complete change of tack. Arnav remembered himself enough to say, “Sure, sir.”

There you go, Arnav, cutting salutes along with the rest of them, he thought. Seemed like the best option till he understood Joshi’s motives.

“We’ve identified officers with good crime detection records and conviction rates. Yours are impressive, even though there are remarks on your behavior with seniors. What do you have to say?”

“I do my job, sir.” The longer the question, the shorter its answer. Joshi was here to please Taneja, who clearly did have friends in high places—high enough to make a joint commissioner do his bidding.