Page 95 of Born in Sin

“And now,” Mrs. Choudhry said from the dais. “It’s time to announce the Student of the Year – Academic Excellence and this is none other than Ishaan Adajania.”

Virat and Amay were on their feet, clapping, whistling, and making enough noise for a bashful Ishaan to turn bright red.He shuffled towards the stage from his seat at the back and collected his trophy, looking straight at his friends as he lifted it high up in the air. And then, for the first time in forever, Ishaan Adajania smiled.

Chapter Thirty-One

VIRAT

He sat in the crowded police station, people streaming in and out of the room and waited for his friend and contact, DIG Digvijay Rana to show up. A loud commotion in the outside room told him the man in question had just arrived.

He walked in, an imposing figure of a man in the trademark blue jeans, white shirt and aviator sunglasses. His perfectly groomed moustache was bristling with fury as he walked in.

“Fuckers,” he muttered. “All fucking useless chuths.”

“Present company excluded, I hope,” Virat said dryly.

“Vir mere yaar.” Digvijay threw himself into his chair which creaked alarmingly. “Why don’t you join the police force? You anyway do half our work for us and you’re smarter than most of these fucking chuths.” The last three words were bellowed so everyone in the outside room could hear.

“Listen.” Digvijay’s bald head gleamed in the overhead light as he leaned forward. “Thank you for the information on the Gurjars. We finally got that fucker, Mahesh Gurjar, in lockup.”

Virat inclined his head, smiling, as a peon bustled in with chai in tiny, paper cups.

“So, why are you here?” Digvijay asked, jumping to his feet and pacing the small room. The man couldn’t sit still for more than a minute. “You’re either giving me information or asking me for something. Which one is it?”

“It’s a bit of both,” Virat replied, watching the other man’s restless energy amp up. “Diggy.”

The cop stopped pacing, whatever he heard in Virat’s voice making him eye the other man warily.

“I think you should sit down,” Virat said quietly.

Digvijay groaned. “Fucker no! You also don’t be a chuth now! Please!”

“This will make your career,” Virat told him. “They’re big fish.”

“Or blow it to shit,” Digvijay grumbled, sitting down across from Virat and picking up the paper cup with the cooling chai. “Okay,” he said, taking a sip. “Tell me everything.”

He listened, patiently, to everything Virat told him, his frown getting deeper and deeper. “So, at the moment, it’s all circumstantial. We didn’t find anything on that Varun Gokhale when that car crash happened. And the pressure from above was so much that we had to back off also.” He smoothed his moustache out with his thumb and forefinger, deep in thought.

“Godbole!” he shouted, a second later almost making Virat bobble his tea. “Vikram ko bhej idhar.”

Virat and Digvijay were still working their way through the plan and its various loopholes when Inspector Vikram walked in.Virat hadn’t seen the man in months, not since the investigation into Varun’s death had gone cold. The Inspector did a double take when he saw him.

“Sir.” He stood at attention beside the table until Digvijay gestured him into a chair.

“Varun Gokhale,” Digvijay said.

Vikram seemed to deflate in front of Virat’s eyes at the name. “Sir, we didn’t find anything we could use.”

Digvijay held up a hand. “Take the file and a handful of trusted officers and join Sir.” He pointed to Virat. “You’re going to need legitimacy tomorrow night. Take him.”

Virat nodded. It was what he wanted. If everything went according to plan, then he was going to need the police standing by his side.

“There is one more thing,” Virat murmured.

“With you na there are hundred more things. Always.” Digvijay glowered. “What is it?”

“Mohan Mishra, a fifty eight year old man was found dead in his apartment in Andheri yesterday, no visible marks on him. I want to know what the autopsy report said.”

“It’s connected?” Digvijay watched him with shrewd eyes.

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