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STORY so far: I am back home and catch up with news, which is no different from what was known yesterday — more cases of SARS and more bombings. Suddenly, when I get the phone call from boss, I am shocked to know he is in the hospital. I rush to meet him. Elsewhere, the authors of the plot are disappointed that their idea didn't fructify, but are plain elated that the contract killer Sooty could escape smoothly from the cops.

Episode 26

During rush hour traffic, with a pre-occupied mind, I was riding my two-wheeler, creating foolishly accident-like situations — once when overtaking a bus impatiently and narrowly missing an oncoming water lorry, and again when abruptly swerving to the left without noticing a speeding motorcycle from the rear.

At long last when I parked my bike at the hospital shed, I thanked my stars for not arriving there on a stretcher in an ambulance.

It is usually a tough scene at any hospital — the sick and the injured arriving in wheelchairs, supported by their friends or relatives; kids with big bandages that look heavier than their schoolbags; kith and kin waiting for the result of a surgery, and so on.

For those who alleviate physical sufferings, with a white coat on, it must be a highly satisfying job, I thought to myself, but it often happens that the grass is greener on the other side.

I checked at the reception for directions and took the elevator to the fourth floor, looking at the changing lights at the top of the lift door and taking a moment to notice who I was travelling with. There were a few nursing staff, a maintenance personnel, a lady with a child and two old people with a food bag in hand, and a particularly stubborn looking man with dark glasses on, in the corner of the lift and he seemed to be studying his mobile's display.

At my destination, the only other person to get off the lift was the maintenance staff, and before the doors closed again, I had but a moment to catch a glimpse of the man in the corner, filing the image for future processing, because I thought I had seen him somewhere earlier.

Boss seemed quite cheerful in the airy and bright room, in spite of being entrapped in a series of monitors and wires, for the doctors had put him under a 24-hour observation, after all the trauma he had undergone.

Gupta was there and he quickly briefed me about the course of events. How the city police had ably arranged for an ambulance to shift the boss and the driver to the hospital within 20 minutes of the accident, secure the car at the station and inform the key staff in the company. The driver was in the ICU and there was some improvement now, the doctors had informed.

We spent about ten minutes discussing with the boss some of the immediate issues before the company — such as following up a patents case in Hyderabad, recruitment for engineers for the new plant, appointment of a consultant to review all international contracts, and so on.

All of a sudden, an IPS officer in police uniform entered the room and showed his identification to Gupta. "I am ACP Narendra Nath who is on this case. I would like to ask your boss a few questions," he said.

"Why now?" Gupta asked. "Schedule it tomorrow, by when the boss would be a little better."

"I understand your concern," the cop said, quite sympathetically. "But we think there is more to this than a simple accident."

"That the driver was drunk?" Gupta shot back.

"No, not that," said the officer. "Our control room received a call from an eyewitness who remembered seeing a man with a pistol not from the accident site."

"That must have been your constable Yahya who arrived at the scene first," Gupta waved off.

"No, Mr Gupta," the officer repeated. "This man was in a car. And whatever the caller said about the colour of the car and the description of the mystery man gelled with... "

"A thousand cases, perhaps," Gupta shrugged with disinterest.

"No, with one," said the officer. "The video clip from the Mobile Court which came to my desk this evening showed images of a stern looking man with dark glasses on studying intently his mobile screen..."

"Nath," I interrupted hastily. "I saw one such in the elevator going up a few minutes ago."

"Ah, Swati," Gupta said wearily' "Half the world is full of such people."

"Mr Gupta," the officer said solemnly, "this man is wanted by Interpol, and he goes by the name Sooty. And we have little time to waste. I have to dash off because it is quite likely he is around here. Please lock the door, and I'll post two plainclothes men outside the room immediately. He is armed, so take care."

(To be continued)

swati_CA@hotmail.com

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