Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [79]
“Does that mean that you are seriously considering employing the man?” asked Khan, as he stared across the table at his boss.
“Possibly,” replied Kumar. “Why, are you against the idea?”
“You are in your last year as Commissioner,” Khan reminded him, “with an enviable reputation for probity and competence. Why take a risk that might jeopardize such a fine record?”
“I feel that’s a little over-dramatic,” said the Commissioner. “Malik’s a broken man, which you would have seen for yourself had you been present at the meeting.”
“Once a conman, always a conman,” replied Khan. “So I repeat, why take the risk?”
“Perhaps because it’s the correct course of action, given the circumstances,” replied the Commissioner. “If I turn Malik down, why should anyone bother to listen to my opinion ever again?”
“But a filing clerk’s job is particularly sensitive,” remonstrated Khan. “Malik would have access to information that should only be seen by those whose discretion is not in question.”
“I’ve already considered that,” said the Commissioner. “We have two filing departments: one in this building, which is, as you rightly point out, highly sensitive, and another based on the outskirts of the city that deals only with dead cases, which have either been solved or are no longer being followed up.”
“I still wouldn’t risk it,” said Khan as he placed his knife and fork back on the plate.
“I’ve cut down the risk even more,” responded the Commissioner. “I’m going to place Malik on a month’s trial. A supervisor will keep a close eye on him, and then report directly back to me. Should Malik put so much as a toe over the line, he’ll be back on the street the same day.”
“I still wouldn’t risk it,” repeated Khan.
On the first of the month, Raj Malik reported for work at the police records department on 47 Mahatma Drive, on the outskirts of the city. His hours were eight a.m. to six p.m. six days a week, with a salary of nine hundred rupees a month. Malik’s daily responsibility was to visit every police station in the outer district, on his bicycle, and collect any dead files. He would then pass them over to his supervisor, who would file them away in the basement, rarely to be referred to again.
At the end of his first month, Malik’s supervisor reported back to the Commissioner as instructed. “I wish I had a dozen Maliks,” he told the chief. “Unlike today’s young, he’s always on time, doesn’t take extended breaks, and never complains when you ask him to do something not covered by his job description. With your permission,” the supervisor added, “I would like to put his pay up to one thousand rupees a month.”
The supervisor’s second report was even more glowing. “1 lost a member of staff through illness last week, and Malik took over several of his responsibilities and somehow still managed to cover both jobs.”
The supervisor’s report at the end of Malik’s third month was so flattering that when the Commissioner addressed the annual dinner of the Mumbai Rotary Club, not only did he appeal to its members to reach out their hands to ex-offenders, but he went on to assure his audience that he had heeded his own advice and been able to prove one of his long-held theories. If you give former prisoners a real chance, they won’t reoffend.
The following day, the Mumbai Times ran the headline: COMMISSIONER LEADS BY EXAMPLE
Kumar’s sentiments were reported in great detail, alongside a photo of Raj Malik, with the byline, a reformed character. The Commissioner placed the article on his deputy’s desk.
Malik waited until his supervisor had left for his lunch break. He always drove home just after twelve and spent an hour with his wife. Malik watched as his boss’s car disappeared out of sight before he slipped back down to the basement. He placed a stack of papers that needed to be filed on the corner of the counter, just in case someone came in unannounced and asked what he was up to.
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