Salim the Disposable (Tracing the absconder Salim Kurla) continues...

Left with practically no option but to wind up, forget all about Salim Kurla and return to the Hyderabad Police Mess to retire for the day, Satish and I began our long drive back.

I clearly remember that drive in a CBI car, with Satish and I in the rear-seat. It started rather gloomily with an uneasy silence descending on us. I looked out of the car-window on my side and Satish stared into the darkness on the other, as we drove from Begumpet towards the Police Mess. I was still in a foul mood and, I guess, Satish too was equally cut up.

Out of the blue, in the midst of despair and distress, a thought crossed my mind. Our boys had seen the premises where the landline was installed. Why not go and at least see it. Right then, as if some sort of telepathy was at play, Satish spoke up: ‘‘‘Sir, what do we lose by visiting the flat where Salim Kurla was hiding?’’’ It was one of those moments when two people sitting together are struck by a common epiphany but are hesitant to voice it first. I told Satish he had stolen words from my mouth.

Our car’s driver was asked to stop. Raman, who was in a vehicle following us, walked up to our car. Satish instructed him to lead us to the flat in Chikoti Gardens, where the phone used by Salim Kurla was installed.

Inspectors Raman Tyagi and D.K. Pardesi piloted us to a four-storied residential building in the middle of a vast swathe of land covered in darkness. A few houses - some complete, some under construction – dotted the dark landscape; while a streetlight or two, flickered and blinked laboriously, struggling to fight for survival. Quite clearly, it was another of those unplanned and unauthorized colonies, that sprout up in the suburbs of most Indian cities.

We stopped our vehicles at a distance from the house where Salim Kurla resided before escaping and began to walk stealthily towards it.

To be continued....