Private Delhi (Private 13) - Page 71

Now came a fresh development. The screen showed DETV news vans arriving at Dr. Arora’s house. Sharma’s mouth worked up and down in rank confusion. His deputy Nanda crossed to a television, snatched at a controller, and turned it to DETV, where a presenter was already broadcasting from the gates of the house: “Information received moments ago suggests that the killer may have struck again …”

“What the fuck is going on?” said Jack, his gaze going from the television to the two monitors. “How in the hell did they find out so fast?”

On the second screen more news vans arrived outside the gates of Thakkar’s home.

“Blue Team, you see what I’m seeing?” said the tech guy. “Because I’m seeing a bunch of news vans arriving at Thakkar’s house. What the fuck are DETV doing there?”

The reply came over the speaker: “Beats me, sir.”

Sharma had scuttled over to watch what was going on, hardly able to believe his eyes. He snatched at the headset, tearing it off the tech guy’s head. “Blue Team leader, get men outside—find out what the news people are doing there.”

Nanda came off the phone. “They ran the plates, sir. The car was stolen an hour ago. It belongs to a woman in Noida.”

Sharma cursed loudly then switched his attention back to the screen. “What are they doing?” he asked, indignant. “What are all these bloody news vans doing here?” Then, screaming into the mic, “Blue Team? Blue Team, are you reading me? Have you found out what all these news vans are doing?”

“It’s a diversion.”

Jack and Nisha both looked at Santosh, both familiar with the detective’s sudden brainwaves, knowing one was on its way.

“The vans,” said Santosh, pointing at the screen, finger waving from one screen to the other, “they’re a smokescreen. It’s a trick, a simple diversionary tactic to make us look one way, in one direction, and miss what’s happening in the other direction.” He turned to Sharma. “Get men at the rear of the property, at once. That’s where he’ll be.”

“How, though?” said Nisha. “How could he organize all this?”

“Same reason he was able to recognize a surveillance van when he saw it. Same reason he was able to tip off his own news channel to attend the houses of Arora and Thakkar. Same reason he stole a car at Noida, the media hub of Delhi. Because the killer is Ajoy Guha.”

Chapter 106

NOW SHARMA WAS bawling into the headset mic, “Blue Team, get men in the house, now! Report on the status of Thakkar. Do it at once, do you hear me? Do it at once!”

The investigators paced. Moments later the report came back.

“He’s gone, sir. Thakkar has gone.”

“What? You mean he’s there and dead? Or he’s gone, as in literally gone?” barked Sharma.

“The second one, sir. Literally gone. No longer there.”

Sharma snatched off the headset and sent it the same way as the coffee cup. “We’ve lost him. We’ve lost them both,” he said, suddenly ashen-faced. His eyes rose to meet Santosh’s. “If it is him. Ajoy Guha. I was feeding him information. I was practically giving him a list of victims.”

“I have a feeling there will be a great many recriminations on this one,” said Santosh. Once again he was thinking. “He’s got a show tonight. Carrot and Stick is on in just a few minutes.”

“Is he likely to do the show now?” said Jack. “Wo

n’t he be busy scooping out Thakkar’s vital organs?”

“No,” said Santosh. “The other day, the judge handed down a gagging order on a story Guha wanted to run …” He looked inquiringly at Sharma, who nodded gravely.

“Yes,” admitted the Commissioner. “It was the story about the organ transplants. Some coalition of Patel and Thakkar’s companies was trying to stop him.”

“He’ll run it,” said Santosh, certain of it. “He’ll run the story and end it with the death of Thakkar.”

“You seem awfully sure,” said Sharma.

“He’s a man on a mission,” said Santosh, cursing himself for having been so blind. “He always has been.”

Chapter 107

THE DELIVERER MADE his way to the studio, sucking on his lozenge. It was medication that he constantly needed to prevent upper respiratory tract infections. It had become a constant worry after he’d received a bullet to his lung during the Kargil War between Pakistan and India.

Tags: James Patterson Private Mystery
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