Authors: Anish Sarkar
Discredit the whole manner of his exposure, which wouldn’t be difficult. Silence Delnaz, something he would take great pleasure in doing. Find one or more scapegoats—like me, for instance—to take the rap for those murders he was uncomfortably close to. Divert attention from the scandal by creating other sensational stories. Pay off the media to prevent news of what happened that morning from leaking out too widely. Luckily for him, the inauguration had been closed to the press, though they would have come in later.
It wouldn’t be easy for Karan, of course. The high-profile audience and the presence of the President himself meant that there would undoubtedly be intense scrutiny of all the allegations. Which is precisely why we had chosen this event to reveal everything about Karan, apart from a certain poetic justice in the fact that much of the story was linked to all of us and hence the school in the first place. Delnaz had been our trump card, and obviously lent a lot of credence to the story.
Nevertheless, only a brave or foolish man would bet on justice triumphing over power and money in our country. I was convinced that Karan would eventually extricate himself from the mess.
Unless I managed to stop him.
I revved the Bullet harder, watching the speedometer creep up to a hundred and ten, and gained steadily on the BMW, until it was no more than fifty metres ahead.
Karan must have spotted the Bullet in his rear-view mirror. I’m sure he had also noticed who was riding it but he made no attempt to lose me. He was going about as fast as he possibly could anyway. And as I figured soon, he had picked up the gauntlet and was ready for battle.
A tempo-truck came up the road from the opposite direction, honking loudly. It was probably carrying provisions to the school. Karan was forced to slow down to let it pass, and I used the opportunity to come right upon his tail. Pulling out the Webley I had borrowed from Neel, I loosed off a couple of shots at the rear tires of the BMW. I heard one connect and deflect off the rubber.
They were obviously bullet-proof, not just the regular run-flat variety. I clearly wasn’t going to be able to blow them out, and didn’t waste any more bullets. If the tires were bulletproof, then so was the rest of the bloody car.
We continued in a tight convoy for a while. I wasn’t quite sure what I would do next but I didn’t want to give away the ground I had gained either. My best hope for the moment was that Karan would panic and do something silly. Like lose control of the BMW.
Instead, he suddenly braked hard.
I had been half-anticipating it but even so, I couldn’t stop the Bullet in time. My front tire crashed into the back of the BMW, and I felt myself flying through the air. Luckily, I landed in a large bush growing at the edge of the road, which cushioned the impact.
I hurriedly pulled myself out of the tangle of leaves and branches. The BMW had stopped about twenty metres ahead. I guess Karan was debating whether to come out and shoot me, or remain within the safety of his armoured vehicle. He knew I had a gun too.
I saw him look back at me, and in that instant, I knew what he was going to do.
I heard gears engage. The V8 engine growled in crescendo as Karan floored the accelerator. The Bullet was lying on its side in the middle of the road, its wheels still spinning. As I ran towards it, the BMW reversed towards me at great speed. Taking the handlebars of the bike in my hand, I waited for a fraction for a second and then dragged it away with all my strength.
I had timed it just right. Karan had thought that I was going to mount the bike and couldn’t change direction when I just moved away with it instead. The BMW went back a good distance before screeching to a halt, by which time I had already restarted the Bullet.
The chase was on again, except that I was in front now.
Karan came hard after me, his intention very clearly to drive me off the road into the valley hundreds of feet below.
I twisted and turned desperately, pushing the Bullet to the limit. On two occasions, the BMW came within a few inches of ramming me but I managed to pull away in the nick of time. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. At those speeds, even the slightest touch would spell doom for me.
Then I noticed some road-work going on a short distance ahead.
A man was waving a red flag, indicating that we should reduce speed. Karan had seen him as well, and he pulled back immediately. The workmen would remember his distinctive car, and he couldn’t afford to have a bunch of witnesses to another murder.
I eased off the throttle of the Bullet. They were resurfacing a stretch of over a kilometre and not surprisingly, the entire road had been dug up, leaving a narrow track of loose earth for us to negotiate. I didn’t mind though, for it gave me time to think.
I knew I had to think fast. We were nearing the bottom of the hill, where the road merged with a relatively busy state highway. Once we hit that, I would have little chance of turning the tables on Karan.
For a moment, I thought about stopping in front of the BMW and trying to force Karan out of the car. He wouldn’t be able to get around the bike in that restricted space. I could call for reinforcements while I held him there. Or maybe I could convince the labourers to help me by surrounding the BMW or something. Karan would have to come out to end the impasse, giving me the opportunity I was looking for.
I dismissed the idea. There were just too many risks.
Karan might do anything if cornered, like open indiscriminate fire. And I didn’t want to jeopardise any more innocent lives. Besides, even if I managed to overpower or kill him, it would defeat the purpose with so many people around. And it was quite likely that the labourers might recognise Karan and turn on me instead.
I looked around. We were at a spot on the road which enjoyed a unique 270-degree view. To the north and north-east, the forest-covered mountains rose higher and higher, ending in a hazy vista of the eternal snows on the horizon. To the south, the land gradually fell away towards the great plain. I could see the silver ribbon of a river meandering far below.
I had passed that place innumerable times, and never failed to take a moment to admire the spectacular panorama. It was particularly ironic because there was a very treacherous turn on the road only a short distance ahead. The locals had named it the Devil’s Bend, because several accidents had occurred there over the years, even though prominent warning signs were put up.
There was a legend that the ghost of an old woman would suddenly appear in front of motorists at that spot, causing them to lose control of their vehicles and crash. That was a tall tale, of course. The fact was that it was a very sharp curve after a longish stretch of straight road, which often caught drivers off-guard.
Then it struck me. The Devil’s Bend!
Here was an opportunity, albeit a difficult one. But it was probably the last I would get. It all depended on how I played it, and how distracted Karan was with everything that had happened.
I looked around for some sort of a projectile that would fit comfortably in my hand. There were small rocks strewn around but I didn’t want to stop to pick one up. Then I passed right by a wagon loaded with debris from the dig. Slowing down imperceptibly, I managed to pick out a nice chunk of flaky earth from it.
Perfect.
I hoped Karan hadn’t noticed.
We reached the end of the rough stretch of road, and I opened the throttle of the Bullet. It leaped forward like a racehorse, and I was hitting a hundred in a few seconds. As I had expected, Karan came thundering after me, his mind focused on finishing the job which had been interrupted by the road-work.
We hit the straight road leading up to the Devil’s Bend, and I let the BMW edge a little closer. I heard a couple of loud pops over the roar of the engines, and realised that Karan was shooting at me. I weaved left and right, hoping not to get hit by a bullet.
Only a few seconds more.
I counted to three and accelerated. As Karan came up behind, I hefted the lump of earth and threw it backwards. It landed squarely on the windscreen of the BMW and disintegrated. I knew Karan was momentarily blinded. Simultaneously, I turned the Bullet in a sharp skid to the right, getting dragged along for several metres until I came to a stop on the muddy shoulder along a steep rock-face. My right side was a mess of torn fabric and skin.
I pulled myself out from under the bike and stood up. There was no sign of Karan. I ran to the edge of the road and looked down. The BMW rested like a monstrous, mortally wounded beetle on the canopy of trees a couple of hundred feet below. As I watched, it exploded in a huge fireball, the searing heat singeing my face.
I didn’t wait any longer. The Devil’s Bend had claimed another victim, the Devil incarnate himself.
Mission accomplished
.
85
Neel
Karan Singh exposed as serial killer, commits suicide.
Psychopath MP kills himself.
It’s now mass murder—A new low for our country’s politicians.
Karan Singh—India’s Jack the Ripper.
Shocked and outraged, says President.
The story was splashed all over the front pages. It was sensational stuff. The media was lapping it up.
I put down the pile of newspapers. And let out a deep sigh. There was no sense of satisfaction. Just hollowness inside me. We had succeeded in destroying Karan. But that wouldn’t bring back Jo or Rachel or Omar. Or any of his other victims.
Roy glanced at me but didn’t say anything.
‘We’ve all paid a heavy price but it’s time to forget the past and look ahead.’
I turned. Sara had entered in her wheelchair.
She had made a miraculous recovery from the gunshot wounds. The loss of blood had almost killed her. But the bullets had missed the vital organs like the heart, liver and kidneys. She was in intensive care for a week. Then the doctors declared her out of danger.
While digging out one of the bullets, the surgeon noticed a strange growth inside her abdomen. It was something called a teratoma. A rare type of tumour that contains tissues usually found in organs like the brain, thyroid or lung. In fact, teratomas have been reported to have hair, teeth, eyes and even hands or feet.
The surgeon did some further tests. He asked about Sara’s chronic headaches, memory losses and seizures. And finally concluded that they were the symptoms of a form of encephalitis caused by the teratoma. In her case, it was congenital and contained brain tissue. It was no wonder that all the doctors she had been to earlier hadn’t been able to diagnose such a strange condition.
Once Sara was sufficiently recovered from her injuries, she was operated on again. The teratoma was completely removed. Her psychosis was expected to fade within a matter of weeks. She would hopefully be fully normal for the first time in her life.
‘It’s good to see you alive and well, Sara,’ Roy said.
She smiled. ‘It’s a second life for me, in more ways than one.’
‘For me too.’ I came up behind her. Put my hands on her shoulders. She looked up at me. Love shone in her eyes. At least something good had come out of this whole business.
Neither of us noticed Roy quietly walk out of the room.