Cat O'Nine Tales And Other Stories Part 17

Malik was a white-collar criminal who was well capable of holding down a serious job. However, as a young man he had quickly discovered that he possessed enough charm and native cunning to con naive people, particularly old ladies, out of large sums of money, without having to exert a great deal of effort.

His first scam was not unique to Mumbai. All he required was a small printing press, some headed notepaper and a list of widows. Once he'd obtained the latteron a daily basis from the obituary column of the Mumbai Timeshe was in business. He specialized in selling shares in overseas companies that didn't exist. This provided him with a regular income, until he tried to sell some stock to the widow of another conman.

When Malik was charged, he admitted to having made over a million rupees, but the Commissioner suspected that it was a far larger sum; after all, how many widows were willing to admit they had been taken in by Malik's charms? Malik was sentenced to five years in Pune jail and k.u.mar lost touch with him for nearly a decade.

Malik was back inside again after he'd been arrested for selling flats in a high-rise apartment block on land that turned out to be a swamp. This time the judge sent him down for seven years.

Another decade pa.s.sed.

Malik's third offense was even more ingenious, and resulted in an even longer sentence. He appointed himself a life-a.s.surance broker. Unfortunately the annuities never maturedexcept for Malik.

His barrister suggested to the presiding judge that his client had cleared around twelve million rupees, but as little of the money was available to be given back to those who were still living, the judge felt that twelve years would be a fair return on this particular policy.

By the time the Commissioner had turned the last page, he was still puzzled as to why Malik could possibly want to see him. He pressed a b.u.t.ton under the desk to alert his secretary that he was ready for his next appointment.

Commissioner k.u.mar glanced up as the door opened. He stared at a man he barely recognized. Malik must have been ten years younger than he was, but they would have pa.s.sed for contemporaries.

Although Malik's file stated that he was five foot nine and weighed a hundred and seventy pounds, the man who walked into his office did not fit that description.

The old con's skin was lined and parched, and his back was hunched, making him appear small and shrunken.

Half a life spent in jail had taken its toll.

He wore a white s.h.i.+rt that was frayed at the collar and cuffs, and a baggy suit that might at some time in the past have been tailored for him. This was not the selfconfident man the Commissioner had first arrested over thirty years ago, a man who always had an answer for everything.

Malik gave the Commissioner a weak smile as he came to a halt in front of him.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir," he said quietly. Even his voice had shrunk.

The Commissioner nodded, waved him to the chair on the other side of his desk and said, "I have a busy morning ahead of me, Malik, so perhaps you could get straight to the point."

"Of course, sir," Malik replied, even before he'd sat down. "It's simply that I am looking for a job."

The Commissioner had considered many reasons why Malik might want to see him, but seeking employment had not been among them.

"Before you laugh," continued Malik, "please allow me to put my case."

The Commissioner leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingers together, as if in silent prayer.

"I have spent too much of my life in jail," said Malik. He paused. "I've recently reached the age of fifty, and can a.s.sure you that I have no desire to go back inside again."

The Commissioner nodded, but didn't express an opinion.

"Last week, Commissioner," continued Malik, "you addressed the annual general meeting of the Mumbai Chamber of Commerce. I read your speech in the Times with great interest. You expressed the view to the leading businessmen of this city that they should consider employing people who had served a prison sentencegive them a second chance, you said, or they will simply take the easy option and return to a life of crime. A sentiment I was able to agree with."

"But I also pointed out," interrupted the Commissioner, "that I was only referring to first offenders."

"Exactly my point," countered Malik.

"If you consider there is a problem for first offenders, just imagine what I come up against, when I apply for a job." Malik paused and straightened his tie before he continued. "If your speech was sincere and not just delivered for public consumption, then perhaps you should heed your own advice, and lead by example."

"And what did you have in mind?" asked the Commissioner. "Because you certainly do not possess the ideal qualifications for police work."

Malik ignored the Commissioners sarcasm and plowed boldly on. "In the same paper in which your speech was reported, there was an advertis.e.m.e.nt for a filing clerk in your records department. I began life as a clerk for the P & O s.h.i.+pping Company, right here in this city. I think that you will find, were you to check the records, that I carried out that job with enthusiasm and efficiency, and on that occasion left with an unblemished record."

"But that was over thirty years ago," said the Commissioner, not needing to refer to the file in front of him.

"Then I will have to end my career as I began it," replied Malik, "as a filing clerk."

The Commissioner didn't speak for some time while he considered Malik's proposition. He finally leaned forward, placed his hands on the desk, and said, "I will give some thought to your request, Malik. Does my secretary know how to get in touch with you?"

"Yes, she does, sir," Malik replied as he rose from his place. "Every night I can be found at the YMCA hostel on Victoria Street." He paused. "I have no plans to move in the near future."

Over lunch in the officers' dining room, Commissioner k.u.mar briefed his deputy on the meeting with Malik.

Anil Khan burst out laughing. "Hoist with your own petard, Chief," he said with considerable feeling.

"True enough," replied the Commissioner as he helped himself to another spoonful of rice, "and when you take over from me next year, this little episode will serve to remind you of the consequences of your words, especially when they are delivered in public."

"Does that mean that you are seriously considering employing the man?" asked Khan, as he stared across the table at his boss.

"Possibly," replied k.u.mar. "Why, are you against the idea?"

"You are in your last year as Commissioner," Khan reminded him, "with an enviable reputation for probity and competence. Why take a risk that might jeopardize such a fine record?"

"I feel that's a little over-dramatic," said the Commissioner. "Malik's a broken man, which you would have seen for yourself had you been present at the meeting."

"Once a conman, always a conman," replied Khan. "So I repeat, why take the risk?"

"Perhaps because it's the correct course of action, given the circ.u.mstances," replied the Commissioner. "If I turn Malik down, why should anyone bother to listen to my opinion ever again?"

"But a filing clerk's job is particularly sensitive," remonstrated Khan. "Malik would have access to information that should only be seen by those whose discretion is not in question."

"I've already considered that," said the Commissioner. "We have two filing departments: one in this building, which is, as you rightly point out, highly sensitive, and another based on the outskirts of the city that deals only with dead cases, which have either been solved or are no longer being followed up."

"I still wouldn't risk it," said Khan as he placed his knife and fork back on the plate.

"I've cut down the risk even more," responded the Commissioner. "I'm going to place Malik on a month's trial. A supervisor will keep a close eye on him, and then report directly back to me. Should Malik put so much as a toe over the line, he'll be back on the street the same day."

"I still wouldn't risk it," repeated Khan.

On the first of the month, Raj Malik reported for work at the police records department on 47 Mahatma Drive, on the outskirts of the city. His hours were eight a.m. to six p.m. six days a week, with a salary of nine hundred rupees a month.

Malik's daily responsibility was to visit every police station in the outer district, on his bicycle, and collect any dead files.

He would then pa.s.s them over to his supervisor, who would file them away in the bas.e.m.e.nt, rarely to be referred to again.

At the end of his first month, Malik's supervisor reported back to the Commissioner as instructed. "I wish I had a dozen Maliks," he told the chief. "Unlike today's young, he's always on time, doesn't take extended breaks, and never complains when you ask him to do something not covered by his job description. With your permission," the supervisor added, "I would like to put his pay up to one thousand rupees a month."

The supervisor's second report was even more glowing. "1 lost a member of staff through illness last week, and Malik took over several of his responsibilities and somehow still managed to cover both jobs."

The supervisor's report at the end of Malik's third month was so flattering that when the Commissioner addressed the annual dinner of the Mumbai Rotary Club, not only did he appeal to its members to reach out their hands to ex-offenders, but he went on to a.s.sure his audience that he had heeded his own advice and been able to prove one of his long-held theories. If you give former prisoners a real chance, they won't reoffend.

The following day, the Mumbai Times ran the headline: COMMISSIONER LEADS BY EXAMPLE.

k.u.mar's sentiments were reported in great detail, alongside a photo of Raj Malik, with the byline, a reformed character. The Commissioner placed the article on his deputy's desk.

Malik waited until his supervisor had left for his lunch break. He always drove home just after twelve and spent an hour with his wife. Malik watched as his boss's car disappeared out of sight before he slipped back down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. He placed a stack of papers that needed to be filed on the corner of the counter, just in case someone came in unannounced and asked what he was up to.

He then walked across to the old wooden cabinets that were stacked one on top of the other. He bent down and pulled open one of the files. After nine months he had reached the letter P and still hadn't come across the ideal candidate. He had already thumbed through dozens of Patels during the previous week, dismissing most of them as either irrelevant or inconsequential for what he had in mind. That was until he reached one with the first initials H.H.

Malik removed the thick file from the cabinet, placed it on the counter top and slowly began to turn the pages. He didn't need to read the details a second time to know that he'd hit the jackpot.

He scribbled down the name, address and telephone numbers neatly on a slip of paper, and then returned the file to its place in the cabinet. He smiled. During his tea break, Malik would call and make an appointment to see Mr. H.H. Patel.

With only a few weeks to go before his retirement, Commissioner k.u.mar had quite forgotten about his prodigy. That was until he received a call from Mr. H.H. Patel, one of the city's leading bankers. Mr. Patel was requesting an urgent meeting with the Commissionerto discuss a personal matter.

Commissioner k.u.mar looked upon H.H. not only as a friend, but as a man of integrity, and certainly not someone who would use the word urgent without good reason.

k.u.mar rose from behind his desk as Mr. Patel entered the room. He ushered his old friend to a comfortable chair in the corner of the room and pressed a b.u.t.ton under his desk. Moments later his secretary appeared with a pot of tea and a plate of Bath Oliver biscuits. The Deputy Commissioner followed in her wake.

"I thought it might be wise to have Anil Khan present for this meeting, H.H., as he will be taking over from me in a few weeks' time."

"I know of your reputation, of course," said Mr. Patel, shaking Khan warmly by the hand, "and I am delighted that you are able to join us."

Once the secretary had served the three men with tea, she left the room.

The moment the door was closed, Commissioner k.u.mar dispensed with any more small talk. "You asked to see me urgently, H.H., concerning a personal matter.'

"Yes," replied Patel. "I thought you ought to know that I had a visit yesterday from someone who claims to work for you."

The Commissioner raised an eyebrow.

"A Mr. Raj Malik."

"He is a junior filing clerk in the..."

"In a private capacity, he was at pains to emphasize."

The Commissioner began tapping the armrest of his chair with the palm of his right hand, as Patel continued. "Malik said that you were in possession of a file that showed that I was under investigation for money laundering."

"You were, H.H.," said the Commissioner, with his usual candor. "Following nine/eleven, the Minister of Internal Affairs instructed me to investigate any organization which dealt in large sums of cash. That included casinos, racetracks and, in your case, the Bank of Mumbai. A member of my team interviewed your chief teller and advised him about what he should be on the lookout for, and I personally signed the clearance certificate for your company."

"I remember, you briefed me at the time," said Patel, "but your fellow, Malik..."

"He's not my fellow"

"...said that he could arrange to have my file destroyed." He paused. "For a small consideration."

"He said what?" said k.u.mar almost exploding out of his chair.

"How small?" asked Deputy Commissioner Khan calmly "Ten million rupees," replied Patel.

"H.H., I don't know what to say," said the Commissioner.

"You don't have to say anything," said Patel, "because it never crossed my mind, even for a moment, that you could be involved in anything quite so stupid, and I told Malik as much."

"I am grateful," said the Commissioner.

"No need to be," said Patel, "but I did think that perhaps others, less charitable . . ." He paused. "Especially as Malik's visit came so close to your retirement . .

." He hesitated again. "And were the press to get hold of the story, it might so easily be misunderstood."

"I am grateful for your concern, and the speed with which you have acted," said k.u.mar. "I will remain eternally in your debt."

"I want nothing more than to be sure that this city rightly remains eternally in your debt," said Patel, "so that when you leave office it will be in a blaze of glory, rather than with question marks hanging over your head, which, as we both know, would linger on long after your retirement."

The Deputy Commissioner nodded his agreement as Patel rose from his place.

"You know, Naresh," Patel said, turning to face the Commissioner, "I would never have agreed to see the d.a.m.n man, if you had not spoken so highly of him in your speech to the Rotary Club last month. He even produced the article in the Mumbai Times. I therefore a.s.sumed that the fellow had come with your blessing." Mr. Patel turned to face Khan.

"May I wish you luck when you take over as Commissioner," he added, shaking hands with the deputy. "I don't envy you having to follow such a fine man." k.u.mar smiled for the first time that morning.

"I'll be back in a moment," the Commissioner said to his deputy as he left his office to accompany Patel to the front door.

The Deputy Commissioner stared out of the window as he waited for the Chief to return. He munched on a biscuit as he mulled over several possible alternatives.

By the time the Commissioner walked back into the room, Khan knew exactly what had to be done. But would he be able to convince his boss this time?

"I'll have Malik arrested and behind bars within the hour," said the Commissioner as he picked up the phone on his desk.

"I wonder, sir," said Deputy Khan quietly, "if that's the best course of actiongiven the circ.u.mstances?"

"I don't have much choice," said the Commissioner as he began dialing.

"You may be right," said Khan, "but before you make such an irrevocable decision, perhaps we should consider how this is all going to play..." he paused..."with the press."

"They'll have a field day," said k.u.mar as he replaced the phone and began pacing around the room. "They won't be able to make up their minds if I should be hanged as a crook who's willing to accept bribes, or dismissed as the most naive fool ever to hold the office of Commissioner. Neither scenario bears thinking about."

"But we have to think about it," insisted Deputy Khan, "because your enemiesand even good men have enemieswill happily settle for someone who's willing to take kickbacks, while your friends will not be able to deny the lesser charge of naivety."

"But surely after forty years of service, people will believe..."

"People will believe whatever they want to believe," said Khan, confirming the Commissioner's worst fears, "and certainly you won't be able to send Malik back to prison until he's been given the chance to appear in a witness box and tell the world his side of the story."

"But who would believe that old..."

"No smoke without fire, they'll be whispering in the corridors of the law courts, and that will be tame compared with the headlines in the morning papers once Malik has spent a couple of days in the witness box being questioned by a friendly barrister who sees you as nothing more than a stepping stone in his career."