'So is this what the Stoneman mystery is all about?'
The policemen whirled around, searching in the darkness for who had just spoken. Arnab realized that both of them seemed to be not carrying any guns, so he stepped out of the darkness and in front of the men. One of the policemen advanced towards Arnab, his hand hovering near a riot baton hanging from his waist.
'This is police business. Get lost or you'll be in deep shit.'
Arnab stood his ground, and when the policeman took out the baton and came closer, his colleague rushed over to stop him.
'Dubey, that's the guy from the newspapers!'
Dubey now saw who he was up against and decided wisely that in this case discretion was the better part of valour. He put the baton away but still asked Arnab to leave.
'Look mister, this is official business. Don't interfere and leave now.'
Arnab was not going to give up so easily. He glanced at the dead body on the sidewalk. It was that of a young man, and while Arnab was hardly an expert on the matter, the two holes on his bloodied shirt seemed to indicate that he had been shot.
'What kind of official business is this? You bring a dead body here and bash its head in and pass it off as the work of some serial killer. What exactly are you up to?'
'You may be a superhero or whatever you think you are, but you're in way over your head. Don't get involved here.'
The speaker was the shawl-draped man, who had now discarded his shawl and stood before Arnab, holding a revolver in his hand.
'I am Inspector Pandey of Special Branch, and this is a national security matter. Leave or I'll have to shoot.'
Arnab had never thought things would get this far, and he certainly had no intention of hurting policemen, but now there seemed to be no other way out. In one fluid motion he ran at top speed towards Pandey, and before the inspector could raise his gun and fire, Arnab had snatched it from his hands.
'Inspector, I don't know what you're up to, but this ends tonight.'
Deflated, the Inspector motioned to his colleagues to gather the body and they began to leave. Arnab threw the gun at the Inspector's feet and left the scene at full speed. Later at home, Arnab replayed the events of the night and wondered what he could have done and whether he had really put an end to the Stoneman charade or just prevented one incident? He knew he could not just attack policemen, but there was something really suspicious going on. However, if he thought he had seen enough strange cases, he was in for a surprise. His phone buzzed and when he checked his inbox, there was a cryptic message waiting for him.
'Must meet. Most urgent government matter. We need your help. Time and place your choosing.'
Arnab replied saying he would meet the next night at 10. After some thought, he proposed they meet in the car park opposite Pragati Maidan adjoining the Old Fort. At that time it would be deserted, and if there was any whiff of trouble, then Arnab could speed away down the main road on the way to his house. He spent the next day thinking of who this mystery person could be. The words indicated that it was someone in the government, and indeed some newspapers had begun speculating that the government's silence on the Guardian Angel phenomenon meant tacit approval. Given that he was doing what the police had failed to do for years, there was even talk that the government was actively helping him with intelligence and support. Arnab knew that none of that was true, but this latest SMS got him thinking that perhaps the government did indeed want to work with him. He welcomed the thought. He had been waging a lonely battle for over a month, and was beginning to get tired. Getting some official help would be very welcome indeed.
He spent another tiring evening at Khan's makeshift gym practicing, and now more often than not, chatting with the old man. By now both Arnab and Khan had realized that Arnab was no natural boxer. He lacked the balance and hand-eye co-ordination to be capable of becoming any more than an interested amateur. However, Khan was happy that he had someone to talk to and pass on some of his skills to, and Arnab had learnt enough to land a half-decent punch and not just gawk at his opponent in a fight. What he lacked in skill, he made up in strength and sheer practice. He had never kept count, but having knocked out dozens of opponents had made him much more confident of himself and also much more in control of his strength. That evening, they finished early as Arnab wanted to be on time for his rendezvous, but as he was leaving, Khan mentioned the Guardian Angel for the first time since he had begun his training.
'Arnab, this superhero they talk about, it seems he is a bit of a boxer.'
Arnab stopped at the door, wondering if the old man was fishing for information. He decided that there was no way Khan could know and replied as if he knew nothing about it.
'Yeah, and they also say he can fly and is bulletproof.'
Both of them laughed, but as Arnab began to walk down the stairs, he heard the old man say to his back.
'He doesn't fly, but he is reputed to be move fast as a rocket and he does have a good right jab. I saw a photo in the papers, and I swear if I hadn't known better, it looked just like how you punch.'
Arnab's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself not to panic and turned around to face Khan.
'Khan chacha, I haven't hit anyone since I got into a fight over a bar of chocolate with a cousin when I was in Kindergarten. I certainly can't fly and the last time I thought I was a superhero, I was walking around the neighbourhood with my undies on outside and a bedsheet as a cape as a five year old, pretending to be Superman.'
Khan laughed so loudly that he had to dab tears from his eyes.
'Go on, get out and do whatever you young people do nowadays.'
Arnab took a bus to Pragati Maidan and waited in the darkness for his man to arrive. When he finally saw someone enter the deserted parking lot, he put on his attire and followed him in. From a distance he could see that the man was alone, and smoking a cigarette. He kept pacing back and forth, kicking the gravel with his feet. Arnab guessed correctly that he was nervous. Well, that made two of them. In the darkness, the man seemed to have no idea that he was not alone, so Arnab waited for the man to turn his back and then stepped behind him.
'Hello. You wanted to meet me.'
The man jumped as if he had met a ghost and dropped his cigarette.
'Shit! You scared me!'
Now it was Arnab's turn to be startled. The man facing him was someone he had met previously in a hospital room only a couple of months ago, but seemingly in another life as so much had changed since then. He was still wearing a safari suit, and soon composed himself, introducing himself just as he had done in the hospital room.
'I am P.C Sharma, Personal Assistant to the Minister Balwant Singh.'
Arnab began to wonder what kind of official business would require the Minister to send his PA to a night time rendezvous all alone, so he got straight to the point. He thought the chances of Sharma remembering his voice were remote, but took no chances, speaking as little as possible.
'What do you need?'
'Yes, yes. Straight to business. I think we will get along fine.'
When Arnab just looked at him, his hooded face not moving or speaking, Sharma wiped his forehead and asked a question that stumped Arnab.
'How much is the Opposition paying you?'
Arnab had no idea what he was talking about and just kept standing quietly, further unnerving Sharma, who took out another cigarette with hands that shook slightly and lit it up.
'You see, everybody has a price, and with what you have been doing to us, the Minister thought surely the Opposition must have struck a deal with you.'
Now Arnab was well and truly stumped and he asked Sharma what the hell he was talking about.
'You know, making the Government and Police look useless while you fight crime, and then with the elections coming up...'
Another long drag and Sharma continued, 'We need muscle, and you've been putting much of our muscle out of business.'
'Your muscle? All I've been doing is fighting criminals.' Arnab protested.
Sharma looked Arnab up and down as if to say nobody could be so naïve and then said with a wolfish grin.
'Criminal when you don't give a cut to the right people, muscle when you help out during elections, and our bosses when you enter Parliament. All the same people.'
Sharma's expression told Arnab that perhaps this Personal Assistant was not just the unthinking toadie he had taken him for. Like all Indians, he had heard stories of corruption in high places and of the nexus between politicians and criminals but to see it admitted so brazenly caught him by surprise. Sharma flicked away the cigarette that had been in his hand and began to walk away.
'Look, I don't think you'll answer me now, since you seem to be troubling yourself with burdens like a conscience. Think about it and let me know. With the elections coming up, we could use someone of your skills, and we pay much better than the Opposition.'
With a wink, Sharma walked off, leaving a bemused Arnab to ponder the strange proposal.
***
Arnab wondered if Sharma was acting on his own, or if Balwant Singh indeed was involved as well. That would be the irony or ironies- a Minister who ran the Home and Law Ministries himself asking someone not to put goons out of business since they were needed to do his bidding. Arnab, like most Indians, had grown up reading about the depths to which politicians could stoop, so it should have come as no great surprise. The difference was that this time, he was not reading about it in some newspaper but experiencing it firsthand. He decided to spend the next day resting at home, and was in deep slumber when his phone buzzed to life. He reached for his phone and saw a new message.
'Need your help on Stoneman case. Meet me at last crime scene at 2200 hrs- DCP Upadhyay.'
Arnab sat up with a start. He had been troubled by the lack of any real closure to the mystery of the so called 'Stoneman' and now with such a senior officer seeking his help, he was sure he could help the police get to the bottom of it. That night, as he made his way to the location of his showdown with the three policemen, he kept thinking of all the names and faces and details of the crime scene he had seen, so that he could be the most help possible to Upadhyay. He wondered how the DCP would react when he learnt that the 'Stoneman' was no crazed psychopath but some corrupt members of his own force.
When he reached the scene, Upadhyay was already waiting for him, dressed in uniform. Upadhyay was an imposing figure, standing a good head taller than Arnab and somehow seeing someone as senior as the DCP in person put Arnab at ease. He was careful though to keep his distance, since he didn't want to risk revealing his face and being recognized by the DCP from their earlier interaction in the hospital and with the Minister at his press conference.
'So, I finally meet the nation's new hero. Don't be afraid, I'm here to get your help, you don't need to stand so far away.'
Arnab took a step closer and asked the DCP what help he wanted.
'You see, you and I are alike. We both try and fight the bad guys, the criminals, and the leeches out to suck our society dry. I operate in a police uniform, and as I see, you have one of your own.'
Arnab was beginning to warm to the DCP and told him that he had some crucial information on the case that may be of help. But before he could speak any further, the DCP held out his hand.
'You know our country's problem? It's just too damn difficult to get justice done. Court cases drag on for years, and if you treat criminals the way they deserve to be treated, the human rights buggers are up your rear end with a microscope. That's why I admire you. Get the job done- no courts, no cases, no wasted time.'
Arnab wasn't sure any more where the DCP was headed, but such validation from a senior officer made him lower his defences even further and he said modestly, 'I'm just trying to help.'
'Oh, and you are. See, I have a proposal for you. I let you do your job and you let me do mine. Forget this Stoneman business and get on with it- there are many more criminals to catch in this city.'
'But why? Do you know who is behind the Stoneman...?'
Before Arnab could complete, Upadhyay laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that made Arnab's hairs suddenly stand on end. Upadhyay's kindly expression changed to a steely, cold look as he strode towards Arnab.
'I know- some policemen. And you know who is ordering them to do this? Me!'
Arnab shuddered despite himself, and Upadhyay, long experienced in playing on people's weaknesses, noticed. He grabbed Arnab by the shoulder.
'I may be no superhero, but I am the real power in this city. Those bloody dogs you see being dumped here are those I order killed in staged shootouts. Just like you- no court, no case. Instant justice'
Upadhyay laughed again, and Arnab realized he was very afraid.
'Are they all criminals or terrorists?' he stammered, hoping that somehow that would make Upadhyay less evil.
'Who gives a damn? I need a body count to please my masters. The bloody bureaucrats don't have the intelligence to catch real terrorists and even if they did, would they expect me and my half-trained constables armed with World War One vintage rifles to take on men armed with AK-47s? So when they demand results and a body count, I give it to them. The Stoneman gives me a convenient cover to dispose of my work. Nice arrangement, no?'
Arnab shook Upadhyay's hand off with such force that the big man staggered back.
'I won't let you do this any more!'
Upadhyay stood up straight, smiling, like a shark about to devour its victim.
'I was afraid you'd be so foolish. I have no superpowers to fight you with, but I do have some powers of my own.'
As he clapped his hands, Arnab saw a dozen policemen, all carrying rifles, walking out from the shadows. Their guns were pointed at him.
'Men, say hello to the Stoneman's newest victim!'
As a couple of the policemen raised their guns to fire, Arnab reacted. A few months ago, Arnab Bannerjee would have been paralysed with fear in such a situation, but countless nights as the 'Guardian Angel' had honed his reflexes to such an extent that his move came almost without conscious thought.