Sagramanda, a Novel of Near-Future India

crimes. He had no time to read about, much less deal with, the hundreds of minor ones. One hour, one crime at a time, he told himself imperturbably.

Especially at the start of such a calm day in the city.

His desk brewed tea. He contemplated spending the day doing a follow-up on the kidnapping of Bira Gumbadi. Mr. Gumbadi, senior vice president of the Bank of Bengal, Sagramanda section, had been kid napped three weeks ago by a gang of dacoits who had disabled his limousine as it was whisking him home from an important speaking engagement. Using a small laser, they had proceeded to crack the sealed, airtight vehicle and whisk the protesting Mr. Gumbadi away before the car's automatic alarm and location system could draw private security to his aid. It had been very embarrassing for the security firm in question. Keshu felt bad for the company management, not least because it was comprised largely of ex-cops. That was one advantage to his job. Maybe he did not make as much as he would have in private practice, but on the other hand, when there was a major cock-up, he didn't find his picture plastered all over the evening news, either.

The kidnappers wanted fifty million rupees to free Mr. Gumbadi. Not an outrageous sum for one in his position, but substantial enough to give his family pause. Bargaining was ongoing. If, in the meantime, the inspector and his people could find and free the banker, gratitude would be liberally forthcoming, like dung spread across a newly planted field.

The darkened, bullet-proof transparency that was the door to his office changed color, attracting his attention. Issuing an oral command, he bade it rise into the ceiling.

Into the room came a small, dark man deferential in manner and afflicted with a pair of glasses that ought to be put out of their misery by a vision-correcting laser. After said instrument had corrected the style-blind owner's deficient eyesight, of course. That this procedure had not yet been performed was most likely due to an insufficiency of funds rather than an unawareness of the relevant medical technique.

Keshu made it a point not to stare. The financial compensation, or lack thereof, of others who worked in the department was not his concern.

'Excuse me, Inspector,' the man said by way of introduction, 'but might I have a moment of your time? I am Subrata, from downstairs.'

Sitting up straight, Keshu beckoned for the man to enter. 'Some thing I can do for you, my friend?'

The much smaller man placed a hardcopy on the chief inspector's desk. 'I would not bother you, sir, if I did not think this a matter of some importance.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't,' Keshu concurred. No one would, who knew the chief inspector's reputation. Keshu Jamail Singh could tolerate the wasting of most anything but time.

'You know how we are all trained to search for patterns in columns of crimes. Robberies, rapes, extortion, kidnappings-everything and anything.' Keshu saw no reason to comment. He was impatient to get back to his reading. 'I have been working homicide, and I think I have found something that should be brought to your attention.'

The chief inspector's beard rose and fell as he nodded. 'Don't keep me in suspense, Mr. Subrata.'

'No sir.' The smaller man continued hastily, gesturing at the printout as he proceeded. 'I have been working on this with several people down in Forensics, and we are all agreed on the conclusions. As you know, the most common method of committing murder in our wonderful city is by knife, which is cheap and easy. Even if unrecovered, the type of knife employed in a killing can frequently be determined by analyzing the nature of the inflicted wound or wounds: their depth, width, angle of penetration, and so on.' Adjusting his glasses, he scanned a duplicate copy of the printout he had passed to his superior.

'The past year has seen many dozens of such killings. However, research and follow-up by myself and those people in Forensics seem to indicate that a small number exhibit enough unusual similarities so as to mark them as distinct.'

Keshu was still not intrigued, but neither did the level rise on his built-in irritation meter. 'Unusual in what way?'

'The blade utilized in these particular killings appears to be unusually large. The lethal wounds were much greater in extent than would have been caused by even a fairly large kitchen knife. A number of the killings included full decapitations, suggesting either an extremely sharp blade, a most powerful assailant, or a combination of both. Addi tional study ruled out the use, in these particular instances, of axes. Though a large machete remains a possibility, it is the consensus of myself and the people in Forensics that at least twenty-four of these studied murders were committed by someone wielding a sword.'

Now Keshu was involved. 'A sword? You say you are all reason ably sure of this?'

The smaller man was nodding vigorously. 'Not just 'a' sword, sir. The same sword. Detailed analysis of the lacerations point to the same weapon being utilized in each instance. The killings were committed by a large, sharp blade with a smooth, unserrated edge. We feel confi dent that we have a forensics match for twenty-four.'

He shrugged dif fidently. 'There may, of course, be more. The bodies of a number of the victims studied were found in various stages of decomposition.'

'Possible serial killer.' Keshu was perusing the printout with his full faculties. 'Why wasn't this brought to my attention before now?'

Again, Subrata shrugged. 'Those of us who have been working on this wanted to be certain, knowing that the consequences would inevitably lead to certain conclusions.'

From beneath bushy eyebrows the chief inspector's gaze rose, unblinking. 'And you are certain?'

'Sufficient for prosecution, should the perpetrator be found,' the other man replied. 'It was decided to bring this to you now because of the most recent instances. Two people, a man and a woman, who were fished out of the Hooghly only two days ago. Both bodies came up entangled in a fisherman's net. Before the crocodiles could get to them. Their wounds proved quite consistent with the other twenty-two unsolved cases.' He added, almost apologetically, 'Australian tourists.'

Now his visitor really had the chief inspector's attention. 'That's very bad. I don't recall seeing anything about it in yesterday's news, or this morning's.'

Subrata allowed himself a thin smile. 'Public Relations has been working overtime to keep this one in-house for as long as possible.'

Keshu nodded to himself. 'Sword-wielding Serial Killer on the Loose in Sagramanda!' was not a headline the municipal authorities would be likely to look forward to seeing splashed all over the front of their morning news report. How long his department could keep such a revelation quiet depended on the reaction of the Australian consulate. Clearly, they were not yet fully in the know. Perhaps his people could keep them in the dark a while longer yet. At least until the unfortunate tourists' friends and relations began to wonder about why they were not hearing from their vacationing friends, and started to make inquiries.

The disclosure prompted another, obvious follow-up question. 'And the other twenty-two killings this is related to? Not all tourists, I presume?'

'Only three others. One elderly German gentleman, and an Indonesian couple from Sulawesi. Also two Bangladeshis and a Bhutanese who were not tourists, but illegal workers. The rest all Indian.' Subrata gestured with the printout. 'There is no pattern to it, sir. Men and women, a number of teenagers, but no children under the age of fifteen. There are victims from every caste, and every walk of life. Rich, poor, middle-class. Dark, light, long and short hair. Nothing to link them except the methodology behind their murders.'

'Not just a serial killer, then,' Keshu brooded. 'One content to choose victims apparently at random. Unless we can establish some additional connection between victims, it suggests our quarry holds no specific grudge against any class or kind of people; only against humanity in general. A nondiscriminatory fanatic.'

'That was our conclusion, too, sir.' Subrata waited patiently.

Keshu was silent for several moments before he looked up anew. 'Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Subrata. Please keep on it, give it all the attention it needs, and relay that request to your coworkers in Forensics. I want to be informed the moment anything relevant, including possible additional victims of this person or per sons, is discovered. Use my personal contact number.'

'Yes sir.' The researcher turned to go, hesitated. 'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'Just two things.' The chief inspector stared at the other man through the space between them. 'Hope that this individual or indi viduals makes a mistake. Otherwise they are going to be very hard to catch. And-pray that he or they do not kill any more foreign tourists, or there will be hell to pay for all of us.'

'I assure you that my friends and I have already ascertained that possibility, sir.' Subrata waited for the door