Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [80]
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 candor. “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