It was 6 o clock in the morning.Pazela in her house in Appervilla apartments was reading the daily newspaper with a cup of tea in her hand, when her mobile rang. Feeling a little annoyed at the loss of concentration, when she accepted the call, it was Douglas John at the other end of the connection.
“Do you know Pazela, the man we are keeping a vigil on has disappeared?”
“Are you nuts? That person is under the strict vigil of our cameras and guards and you are telling me that the man has disappeared.”
“Yes, the last footage shows a man quite old with sun burnt skin and a tooth blackened and broken, destroying the cameras installed in position before going off. Afterwards either the suspect or the old men were untraceable.”
“That means he was well aware of our plans and he has expertise in taking disguise. That’s why we not getting the permission to hear the sounds in the footages obtained proved detrimental.
“Shit! We let the bird off before we knew its bush. Let’s rush now and face the music”
Meanwhile in the agency, all the earlier plans and the whole probe team were getting revisited and reshuffled. As a result of this came a dynamic special officer Zacharus Zap, a small fellow with witty eyes and long hair, a potent mixture of introvert and extrovert with a handful of jokes always at his disposal. He was followed by his most trustworthy friend Abozad.
Unsatisfied, by the first hand impression given by Mcanzie of the case he decided to scrutinize the details directly from Douglas John and Pazela.After a series of questions from Zap like, why did you consider him a suspect, did he have any criminal record etc,for which neither the agency nor the trio had any satisfactory explanations. Zap at last extracted the orders to individually pursue the case till the truth came out in totality.
In the remote village of Pritampur, Mr. Listings the owner of the bookshop was looking in the direction of the approaching train. For over 37 years, his eyes were habituated to the early morning jostle of the commuters as the hurried faces passed through the shop buying magazines, comics and newspapers for enjoyable reading during their journeys. Mr. Listings in the prime of his youth came to the village as part of the visiting missionary but stayed on having grown an everlasting affinity for the place. He along with two helpers managed the shop. In the evening after putting the account of sale within the margins of the register, which could be seen even from a distance lying on the wooden table, he would patiently close the shop, after directing his helpers to bring down the shutters. He would then move to the little hut at the back of his shop. This was his abode, where he himself cooked his meal, washed his clothes and feeded the pigeons that surrounded him.Somedays when it became possible to wrap up his diurnal business a little early, he would sit in the same space with few elderly visitors who dropped by. On one such evening as he closed his shop, he met the suspect.
END OF PART 2