The Crow Chronicles, page 15
That night Achaanak found it impossible to sleep. He had come to Fatehpur Sikri full of dread. Instead he had discovered the first glimmerings of hope. Hope that the park could yet be saved from the clutches of Billa and Budhboo. And the hope lay with this magnificent white crow and his tremendous team.
Little did the naive shikra know that the magnificent white bird had already accomplished just that. As he blinked his big eyes and hatched his own little conspiracy at Fatehpur Sikri, four inky black hitbirds dived out of the sky above Shanti Kutir at the Keoladeo, armed with a live Chicken Basket Bomb . . .
It was still dark when the hitbird team returned to report the complete success of their mission. They were immediately debriefed by Kaw and Craven Raven, and Doodhraj’s magnificent tail feathers were proudly produced as the spoils of war (and proof of success). Kaw congratulated the team warmly.
‘Now let us see how long they keep us waiting!’ Kaw said exultantly to Craven Raven. ‘There’s going to be hell to chew when this little scandal hits the fan! An honoured guest disrobed! Disgraceful! I won’t be surprised if the services of the crownies are called in very soon!’
Kaw chuckled. ‘I wonder what that filthy tomcat and bandicoot are doing right now!’ he said.
He would have been even more gratified to learn that the dirty duo in question were busy hammering on the door at Stinky Tops to inform the Prime Minister of this latest dastardly act of the Pakshi Virudh Samiti.
The Prime Minister was not going to be amused.
4
Brainstorming at Stinky Tops
Flush (and somewhat rosy) from the success of the magnificent inaugural ceremony of the Festival of Birds, Pinky Stink Tainted Storkji had been enjoying a well-deserved night’s rest when the horrifying news was brought to him. Grimly, Billa and Budhboo recounted the terrible events that had taken place earlier that night at Shanti Kutir, and for once, even their oily calm seemed to be disturbed.
‘Does the press know about this?’ was the Prime Minister’s first panic-stricken question. ‘And can we keep it out of the papers? Invoke the Official Secrets Act perhaps? This is obviously the work of the Pakshi Virudh Samiti.’
Budhboo shook his head.
‘Even if we do keep it out of the papers, it’s going to be impossible to keep the news from spreading. It will only give rumour a free hand. No, I think the best course of action would be to issue a press release condemning the incident in the strongest possible terms. And maybe we can invoke further powers to search and apprehend suspected terrorist birds and their hideouts without notice and warrants and all that nonsense.’
Billa broke in eagerly:
‘Starting with the media. I think we should impose censorship. The things they write jeopardize our investigations and warn the terrorists of our progress. We should arrest that Titiri fellow for a start. If we do that, the rest will turn to milk and water in no time.’
The Prime Minister turned to his Chief of Security.
‘Talking about impediments, I don’t think we’ve made much progress to begin with. So far we have not arrested a single member of the Samiti, nor have we seized any incriminating evidence of their existence.’
Billa bristled and exchanged glances with Budhboo. What the Prime Minister was saying was true—and it was entirely their fault.
The much vaunted intelligence network of the park had not turned up a single shred of evidence pointing to the existence of the terrorist organization. They would have to do something about this—and fast.
The Prime Minister continued:
‘I think that this might be the right time to allow Shri Kaw and his commandos into the park. Let him investigate the incident. You said that he had vast experience in such matters.’
Billa’s tail had begun twitching this way and that again.
‘Sir,’ he said carefully, ‘don’t you think that this could be interpreted as handing over sensitive internal matters to outsiders? The Opposition would make a meal out of the issue and that blasted Titiri would go to town with editorials titled “Ghana Ghouls Eat Crow!”’
The Prime Minister shuffled his feathers uncomfortably.
‘That is a risk we will have to take, I am afraid,’ he said. ‘We can always tell them that our security networks already have their hands full managing law and order. Besides, an outside agency given full charge of the task and doing nothing else would be able to make better progress. And we can make it an independent team headed by a bird of repute.’
Budhboo nodded worriedly.
‘I agree with you, sir. I think the time has come to let these crows into the park. Legally, too, we have no reason to refuse entry to them, nothing objectionable has been found regarding their character or past. In fact, he is a very distinguished member of the avian community, being ex-Governor of Bombay. He would be an asset to the avian community here.’
‘What about our own investigations?’ asked Billa, not liking at all the direction the discussion was taking. Budhboo smiled placatingly.
‘Oh, our own investigations will carry on! And Shri Kaw and his investigative team will report to us—we shall naturally have the final authority!’
The Prime Minister nodded vehemently. ‘That goes without saying!’ he said, trying to reassure the tomcat.
‘Very well, sir,’ said Budhboo, swiftly taking control again. ‘I think our immediate course of action should be this: We hold a press conference tomorrow morning first thing, and condemn this dastardly incident in no uncertain terms. I think, Mr Prime Minister, it would be judicious if you personally addressed the press and reassured them. Now there are sure to be a lot of sharp questions about what we propose to do about the problem—when, hey presto, we produce Shri Kaw out of the bag! It would be the most appropriate time to introduce him formally to the park birds. His appearance is sure to cause enough of a stir and keep off the more awkward questions—he is quite a distraction in his own way. And we announce a compensatory rehabilitation package for Doodhraj. We could perhaps gift him a pair of ostrich plumes or aigrettes . . .’
The Prime Minister shook his head. ‘We don’t produce Doodhraj in front of the press.’
‘Certainly not!’ Budhboo looked horrified. ‘We only announce the compensatory gift, that’s all. As a token of our deep regret and so on and so forth.’
‘Do we allow the press to question Kaw?’ asked Billa.
‘I think we should. Like it or not, he has quite an imposing personality and may be able to impress them,’ Budhboo admitted grudgingly.
‘Is there anything else we have to discuss?’ asked the Prime Minister tiredly. ‘I’ll inform Shri Tandoori Tota about the press conference for tomorrow morning.’ Then he brightened up as an idea struck him.
‘Ah, yes, maybe we can also inform the press that Shri Kaw has very generously made a donation to the . . . what was it? The Keoladeo National Park Trust Fund.’
Once again Billa and Budhboo exchanged glances. Budhboo cleared his throat delicately.
‘I think, Prime Minister,’ he said as soothingly as he could, ‘that may be a little premature at this point of time. Some of those suspicious journalists might rush to the conclusion that Shri Kaw has been asked to pay his way into the park. We can’t have scandalous news like that going around, can we?’
‘Well?’ inquired Billa heavily of Budhboo when the duo were back in the latter’s private chambers after their meeting with the Prime Minister. ‘What do we do now? Frankly, I don’t like it at all. If we allow that blasted white crow to nose around here God knows what he will turn up. You know how good crows are in poking their noses in other birds’ business. Our chick-napping operation may be jeopardized—and that’s just about taking off nicely now.’
Budhboo held up a paw.
‘Hold it, Billa, take it easy! Now what are the facts? Only you and I know that there is no such organization as the Pakshi Virudh Samiti—we floated it to provide cover for our other business interests. So let this pompous white crow go looking for it. In fact, we could perhaps leave clues around. Actually, we should have done that already—even the PM is beginning to ask awkward questions. We could frame a couple of birds too—that silly young shikra, for instance, or even Titiri if you like. It might be a useful way of getting rid of all the nuisance birds in the park. I’m sure that Kaw is a pretty ruthless animal—no disrespect to the Ghana Ghouls—so let us take advantage of that. Let him be our hitbird.’
‘What about his contributions to the fund? Once he’s inside he may not pay up.’
‘Of course he will! We still have all that sensitive information on him. If he refuses to pay, or to toe the line in any way, we threaten to blow the whistle on him. We say we’ll inform the public and press that certain distressing facts have come to light regarding Kaw and his gang, and we must regretfully decide, for the good of the park, that we expel him. Rest assured the payments will continue.’ But Billa continued to look worried.
‘I still don’t like it, Budhboo,’ he said. ‘And have you thought about this . . . this defeathering business, for instance? We know for certain that we were not involved—least of all the PVS. We also know that it could not have been the work of any petty criminal group here—the operation was far too slick and professional. We also know that this Kaw—a mafia don no less—has turned up in the neighbourhood with one hundred of his thugbirds. Are you getting my drift?’
Budhboo looked delighted. ‘I was wondering when it would strike you,’ he congratulated the tom. ‘It had occurred to me quite a while back—in fact at Shanti Kutir itself! Yes, I strongly suspect the hand of Kaw in the incident. As you so correctly point out—all the circumstantial evidence points to it. So what does it mean? It means that we have invited the fellow over here to investigate his own crime! Now that’s going to put him in an interesting position—and I think I’m going to enjoy watching the progress he makes in the case.’
Billa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t underestimate that bugger, Budhboo—there’s something dangerous about that bird!’ he growled.
Budhboo nodded. ‘Yes, he is dangerous! Which is why, if he’s here in the park we’ll be able to keep a closer watch on his activities. As for his residential accommodation . . .’ the bandicoot’s eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure, ‘I think it would be very appropriate if we allot Shri Kaw the peepul tree where we put up Doodhraj. Sort of poetic justice aforesaid, if you like. As for his thugbirds—well, we’ll allot them an acacia thicket near the park’s western boundary wall adjoining the Ghana canal. Far away from harm’s way!’
‘He is sure to raise objections.’
‘He can’t possibly. For one, his own peepul tree is in a very exclusive area and he is bound to get a lot of tourist attention. Secondly, we will allow him his personal bodyguard—perhaps half a dozen birds. But we can’t possibly have one hundred crows flapping around the posh Shanti Kutir Resthouse or the Forest Lodge—people don’t come all the way here to look at crows! I’m sure he’ll understand, or will just have to. And by keeping his thugbirds far away, we will be able to isolate him in case there is any trouble.’
Billa nodded. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s invite the bastard in. I’ll send a message to Fatehpur Sikri immediately. Er . . . I think we’ll have to inform that fool Baadshah too. I’m sure he’ll want to meet the crow!’
‘Ah, yes, Baadshah. I keep forgetting that he is Sovereign lord and master of the Keoladeo, but nevertheless! I tell you what, Billa, we’ll hold a grand reception for Shri Kaw, then he will be able to meet Baadshah and, in fact, everybody who’s anybody in the park. I’ll put Guturgooji on the job right away!’
Dawn was breaking when the message from Stinky Tops arrived at Fatehpur Sikri. Craven Raven brought the good news to Kaw.
‘There’s been a terrible incident at the Keoladeo, sir,’ he intoned solemnly. ‘An honoured member of the Festival of Birds troupe was ruthlessly attacked and stripped of his tail feathers . . .’ He checked himself, remembering his position. ‘I am glad to inform you, sir,’ he went on formally, ‘that the government of the Keoladeo National Park have processed our papers and deem us worthy of residential status with immediate effect. In addition they would like to requisition your services as well as those of the crownies, to investigate the dastardly defeathering of the paradise flycatcher. An emergency press conference has been called at 9 a.m., which the Prime Minister will himself address, and requests your presence at the same in order to introduce you to the press.’
Kaw allowed himself a sardonic smile before his expression became thoughtful.
‘Craven, do you think they suspect us of the defeathering incident?’ he asked. The jungle crow nodded slowly.
‘It is very possible and extremely likely, sir,’ he said gravely. ‘You see, they know very well that they are not involved. And they—cat and bandicoot—run the only major crime syndicate in the area. They also know of our past activities. It’s just a matter of putting two and two together.’
Kaw began to smile a slow and dangerous smile.
‘So what they want us to do is to investigate our own actions. The cat and bandicoot must think they’re sitting pretty. What they don’t know is that they’re putting their loaded guns into our hands!’
‘Meaning exactly what, sir?’ asked Craven innocently again, knowing exactly what.
‘Meaning, Craven Raven, that we shall do our duty with the utmost sincerity and seriousness. Meaning that in a very short time we shall produce evidence that the honourable chiefs of Intelligence and Security were themselves behind the terrible and deplorable incident!’
‘And how do we go about doing that?’ asked Craven, thoroughly enjoying himself.
‘With the magnificent tail feathers of Doodhraj Maharaj, of course. We plant them in the office of the bandicoot and have them discovered there by an innocent third party—that crusading young shikra, for instance, along with a member of the press. An anonymous tip—off they go snooping, discover Doodhraj’s tail and up goes the balloon! Now I think we should inform our friend Achaanak that our immigration problems are over—I’m sure he’ll be quite delighted. He can fly back to the Keoladeo with us.’
Actually, Achaanak wasn’t all that delighted. He had been looking forward to getting back to the park and breaking the grand news about Kaw and the crownies to his friends and the press. What a story it would be! He was sure to get ample coverage in the newspapers: in fact he could perhaps even hold a press conference. That would teach the other birds in the park to pull fun at him. But now the wind had been taken out of his sails. Also, he was rather puzzled to hear that Kaw was being asked to investigate the Doodhraj episode.
It didn’t make much sense to him. If Billa and Budhboo had been so anxious initially to keep Kaw out of the park, why had they suddenly changed their minds? Not only that, they had actually requested him to investigate the outrage. Now why would they do that?
Certainly it was something worth worrying about. Had the two cooked up some new conspiracy and were trying to use Kaw for their own ends? He’d better warn Kaw, he thought—those two were capable of anything.
‘You’d better be careful,’ he said to Kaw earnestly. ‘There’s something odd about this. I’m sure they’re trying to involve you in some evil design of theirs!’
Kaw smiled. ‘Oh, don’t worry about us—we’re quite capable of looking after ourselves. We’ve dealt with creatures like Billa and Budhboo before. And the crownies are well trained in this area of, er, social work. We’ll find the hoodlums who did the deed!’
Kaw leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Actually, maybe Shri Billa and Shri Budhboo should be the ones who should be careful. Maybe they are going to be the ones who’ll find themselves in trouble!’
And the mighty crow actually winked.
5
The Press Conference
The dawn chorus at the sanctuary had just begun when the team of Special Messenger collared doves fanned out from Stinky Tops, bearing the dramatic news to the members of the press. Shri R.W. Titiri, red-wattled lapwing editor of Did-He-Do-It?, was, at the time, scanning the Late Park Edition of his paper—which had comprehensive coverage of the Festival of Birds inaugural ceremony as well as a penetrating editorial questioning the justification for holding such an extravaganza during such tough times. He was quite satisfied with the edition. The tidings the collared dove brought demolished the smugness.
‘Oh shit!’ he exclaimed, ‘what a story! And we only have the government’s version of it! What the hell were the night staff doing?’
Certainly, things did not augur well for the paper’s night staff who ought to have broken the story. But they, and in fact the night staff of all the other park newspapers, had been sleeping off the effects of the festivities of the previous afternoon.
‘Will you be attending the conference, sir?’ asked the collared dove in the dumb manner of his species. Titiri gave him a withering look.
‘Of course I will! My God, we’ll have to run a special afternoon edition!’
To be sure, the press release had been very circumspect in the information it revealed. It said quite blandly that Shri Husaini Raj Doodhraj Maharaj, the celebrated paradise flycatcher from Agra, had been illegally divested of certain personal effects—to wit, two tail feathers only—the previous night by suspected terrorists belonging to the Pakshi Virudh Samiti. The government was taking the matter with the utmost seriousness and the Prime Minister himself would be making an important announcement. All esteemed members of the press corps were requested to be present.
