`Heard CBI chief Balraj gave you a lift from the Airport?’ DIG Mohan Raj asked, blowing out a thick column of smoke.

`Who is Balraj,’ Anand regarded him with a straight face.

`Okay, Okay… Of the record stuff..eh? Hope it has nothing to do with this vintage weapon? He smirked looking in to the description of the Webley & Scott pocket pistol, and pressed the buzzer.

Anand remained still, smoking.

Handing over the paper to his trusted inspector Mathews clad in safari, he said. ` Please check with the city police armoury for any record of this weapon. Fast.’

Inspector Mathew stiffened to attention, received the paper, and went out.

Earlier in the day, when Anand breezed in to India Mail office, Menon was waiting for him.

`Dynamite!’ Menon had exclaimed after listening to the ‘bearer bond’ story. `Please issue it, and mark copies to all publication centres with your name. As soon as it is over, you come in right away. You have another work.’

Wondering what the `another work’ could be, he sat before the Halda and typed the report in twenty minutes. After marking the report for all centres, he tossed it in to the tray. Senior reporters need to get their copies cleared only if there was something controversial in the report.

Even as he was sliding of the Chair, Menon came to him with a paper carrying the description of a Webley & Scott Pocket Model Pistol. `The Chairman says it is in the armoury of Madras Police.Why don’t you run up to the armoury and get the particulars?’ he suggested.

`There may be several Webley &Scott pistols, and without the registration number, how is it possible to trace this particular weapon?’ Anand was slightly annoyed.

Menon was aware of it, but knew there was no point in mentioning it to the Chief. `Please check if there is a weapon surrendered by Chordia, Vikram or any similar sounding name in 1940s. It should be there in the armoury records.’ Both knew it a time consuming, and dreary work, but had to be done.

Anand took the paper, glanced at it and told Menon he would check the details. The city police armoury is attached to the office of the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Traffic, on the northern side of the Egmore railway station. The place originally belonged to the Madras Tramways Company, operated in Madras from 1895 to 1953. Electric Trams ran along a 26 km route via Parrys Corner, Mount Road, Poonamallee high road and Ripon Building. After closure of the service due to labour problems, the three acre tram sheds and lands were sold to the Madras Police, a Tamil daily newspaper group, and a social outfit `Dravidar Kazhagam’. Madras Police got the prime land, with vast frontage on Poonamallee high road, along with some colonial buildings.

The traffic wing functioned here. Motor driving licenses had been issued from this office, after traffic cops conducted driving tests in the vast open grounds here, till this work was handed over to the Transport Authorities. Licensing of hackney carriages continued here. These are non motorised vehicles including cycle rickshaws and horse drawn carriages  that were permitted to carry passengers, and wait for them at appointed places. Traffic accident investigation wing functioned behind the main office. A long barrack like tiled building served as the police armoury, with an inspector in charge.

Anand knew it would take several days, if he went to the Armoury to get the work done. He chose an easier route.

Mohan Raj IPS!

Now in a more relaxed mood Anand said there was no kamba secret in his meeting with Balraj. `I spotted your special branch chap near the red beacon car, when we came out. I was discussing your black money bond tip with him.’

`Very bad.’ Mohan Raj’s face hardened. ‘Our chaps are supposed to be invisible. Anyway, was the tip-off worthwhile?’ Mohan Raj asked.

`Of course. You will read the details tomorrow. We are pursuing the Chit fund story.’

`I used to know that actress,’ Mohan Raj mischievously grinned.

`Yeah. I know you are a well-connected person,’ Anand said in a bored tone.

Mohan Raj thought a strong coffee would cheer up Anand and pressed the buzzer.

Mathew and the orderly came together. He signaled two coffees, and turned to the inspector.

Looking in to a paper, Mathew read: `Sir. There is a semi-Auto, 25 ACP, hammer pistol, with blue flecking is available in the name of Vikram C. Chordia. Number .XX7231505, surrendered on February 11, 1944, Sir,’ he kept the paper on the table.

`Fast work! Good. Anything else?’

`Armoury Inspector Arokyasamy says if the pistol is to be redeemed, the claimant has to produce legal heir certificate if owner not alive, and pay locker and service charges of the weapon till released.’

`Thank you,’ he nodded at the inspector.

`Smart chap,’ Anand grudgingly commented. `Once I confirm the weapon, the next question would have been how to redeem it.’ Mohan Raj beamed. `People always under- estimate us, thanks to cinema and media projections’.

`We don’t,’ Anand protested draining the coffee. `Menon and I have taken your crime projection report very seriously and pursuing them. Today, I saw the shoddy checkup of flight crew at the airport’.

He briefly described what he had witnessed earlier in the day at the airport.

`I am keeping my eyes peeled for an excuse to nail the lot,’ Mohan Raj said with a rasp in his voice, while pushing the paper, with the details of pistol towards Anand.

`Thanks Boss. I want to say hello to our good friend Prof.Sekharan before rushing back to office,’ Anand got up to leave.

`Please convey him my regards,’ Mohan Raj pulled a file marked Urgent towards him and began to read.

 

***********************

 

Prof. Dr.P.C.Sekharan lorded over the Forensic Science Laboratory.

A highly media-savvy and knowledgeable person, he considered himself a Scientist. When the Professor found there were too many interference from the police, he wrote to the government and obtained orders making it an independent department, directly under the Home Department.

The Professor believed the people had the right to know the mystery behind Forensic science which in essence, was the intelligent application of science, technology and experience to establish truth. The pursuit of truth had landed him in serious trouble several times, and he lived many weeks with police escorts. The Professor had a group of loyal friends from the media, legal, political and bureaucratic fraternity who sailed with him through thick and thin times.

Anand was one.

The Forensic Sciences Laboratory was a smaller version of the Police Headquarters in the very next compound. Established in 1849 as `Chemical Examiner’s Laboratory’, the first finger print bureau in the world started functioning here in 1895. In 1905, it was named Forensic Science Laboratory, mainly to carry out physical, chemical, and radiological examinations of articles sent by the courts. The post of ballistic expert was created in 1935, and document expert in 1951.

`The Professor is conducting a training class for the Post Graduate Science students,’ his Secretary Maria said as soon as she spotted Anand.

`Just alert him I’m here.’ Anand sank in to a sofa, turned towards the sea and took a deep breath enjoying the fresh sea breeze. The building had an unhindered view of the sea. The evening breeze from the Bengal bay had a natural air-conditioning effect. `The British knew how to live and work,’ Anand muttered.

Maria wrote down something on a slip of paper and motioned the peon to place it on the Professor’s table. Within minutes, her phone rang; she picked it up, listened briefly, and waved Anand towards the first floor.

Professor himself was holding the door open for him, while about six of his students, including two women, stood up, wondering `who is this guy!’

`Welcome Anand. Meet some future Forensic Scientists. I am trying to burn in to their brains the importance of observation in Forensic investigation. You can also join us if you can spare 10 minutes’; he said offering a chair next to him.

All sat down.

`Now, my dear friends. I shall repeat this once again for the benefit of my journalist friend here. As in journalism, `sharp observation’ is essential for a Forensic Scientist; touch, taste, smell and other forms of investigation come later,’ he paused briefly for effect.

After satisfied that all including Anand had been listening with rapt attention, he removed the top of a small glass jar and said. `There is some liquid in this bottle. All of you should find out what it is, if you can, the way I do, and write down the result’. The professor grabbed the jar, looked at it keenly, shook and smelled, dipped his finger and licked it, wrinkled his face and passed on the jar to the students.

All the students repeated the test the way Professor did, wrote down their opinion, and passed it on to the Professor. Anand did not want to interfere. The Professor himself had told him about these kinds of queer tests.

The verdict was unanimous. Contaminated salt water!’

The Professor read the results, and said with a jeering smile: `Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen! You all have earlier tasted the anger, love and the professionalism of your Professor…and just now you have had the privilege of tasting his …..urine.’

The students reacted, as if poked with a hot iron, got up and were about to run towards the wash room, when he sternly gestured them all to sit down. In a very sober voice he said: Okay my dear young forensic scientists. It was an observation test. And you all failed.

None of you observed that I dipped my index finger in to the glass, and licked my middle finger.’ There was an uncomfortable silence among the students, while Anand burst out laughing, watching the sheepish grins.

The Professor continued with a poker face. `And if this will ease your discomfort, let me tell you, the liquid was…..indeed mildly peppered salt water.’

There was an all-round sigh of relief. With a wide smile, he dismissed the excited students with a wave of hand, turned to Anand and said `hope they would never forget this lesson.’

`Nor would I,’ Anand agreed.

`What will you, drink? The usual stuff?

The usual stuff was green tea with a piece of lemon squeezed in to it, and a dash of honey.

`Of course, the usual stuff,’ Anand said.

The peon withdrew in to a kitchenette attached to the office.

Adjusting his bulky figure in to a comfortable position, the Professor reached for a file and gave it to Anand. He saw the cover page filled with glossy pictures of human skulls. He looked inquiringly at the Professor.

`I’m getting a doctorate from an American University for my pioneering work in skull suture pattern theory,’ he said.

`Please explain.’

`Well Anand. At present, a person can be identified with absolute certainty only based on his finger prints. Some experiments are on regarding Deoxyribo Nucleic Acid (DNA) identification. My findings prove that a person could be identified on the basis of certain suture like patterns on the skull. This method can be used to identify the dead on the basis of his photographs taken while alive.’ `It is all Greek to me.’

`So it is even for medical professionals including pathologists. You can keep that file with you and read it leisurely. I’m receiving the doctorate next week. You may publish it any time you wish. The pictures can be copied from the book itself. I shall also send you some colour pictures,’ Professor said.

While sipping the special stuff, Anand flipped through the pages with pictures of skulls and weird drawings; he thought the suture pattern theory was something unheard of in identifying humans. `Let me study this; I shall get in touch with you, if I need any clarification.’

`Sure,’ the Professor said. `I’ve a meeting with the Chief Secretary. You have a vehicle to go back.’

`You carry on Professor. My Motorcycle is down there.’

Carrying the bulky file, Anand accompanied the Professor, saw him off, and walked towards the parking lot.

 

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