Джеффри Арчер - Cat O'Nine Tales

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 Kumar 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 Commissioner — to discuss a personal matter.

Commissioner Kumar 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.

Kumar 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 button 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 Kumar 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 candour. ‘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 Kumar 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 Kumar. ‘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 damn 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 assumed 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.’ Kumar 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 action — given the circumstances?’

‘I don’t have much choice,’ said the Commissioner as he began dialling.

‘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 Kumar 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 enemies — and even good men have enemies — will 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.’

Kumar continued to pace around the room, but didn’t respond.

‘Let me try and second-guess the headlines that would follow such a cross-examination.’ Khan paused before saying, ‘“Commissioner accepts bribes to destroy friends’ files” might be the headline in the Times , while the tabloids will surely be a little more colourful — “Bung money left in Commissioner’s office by delivery boy”, or perhaps “Commissioner Kumar employs ex-con to carry out his dirty work”?’