"the lost coin" chapter 1

3 July, 1970

What was my name? didn’t matter, but you heard a lot about me in mystery novels- Yes, I was a private detective. And I had a new mission in “Sudan”, one of the poorest countries in Africa continent. Getting down from my flight in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan, I purchased a rail ticket to temple of oh Kohana, where I would meet my client. I got my seat. Staring out, I saw a mountain range consisting of peaks of small height. The greenish surrounding reminded me of my home town. I took out a novel from beg, tried to read a few pages, but my mind again wandered to the same question- Would I meet her? It had been five years, she might move away and even if she didn’t, how would I find her? No address or acquaint, nor even a single trace I had. Ponder over a long time over my plight, sleep took me in its embrace. My neighbor passenger woke me up, I looked out of the window. It was the last stop and the gateway to a new journey.

I got down near a market. The crowd in the market overwhelmed me. Black wanderers, sitting on either sides of road, were selling vegetables, perfumes, crockery, and all things, you find in a typical small roadside market. I felt like fighting a battle making my way amidst the crowd. The odor of sweat along with the scorching sun was nauseating. I saw, small shops stuffed with customers behind the wanderers. I was heading my way ahead, when noticed a black man, standing in a barber shop, staring at me. His whitish pale eyes contrasted with his complexion. I felt, a strange sense of animosity in his eyes. His small curly hair, protruding nose, and puffed dark lower lip gave him a perfect sly look. Ignoring him, I made my way ahead. Soon, I saw the large red tomb of the temple, which was a landmark of Sudan. I never studied architecture, but could surely say; it was a marvelous piece of art. I preferred to remain downstairs instead of going into it, rarely visited any temple since years. I stood there, beside a flower wanderer asking about the history of the temple.

Half an hour went, waiting for the man. I glanced at my watch, it was 5.30. The sun had started hiding behind trees. I noticed a white man in the crowd walking towards me. He wall tall, 6’2’’, well combed hair in executive manner, black executive suit and goggles gave him a look of Hollywood superstar.

“Hello, Mr. Kashyap”, the man said, offering his hand.

“It’s been a long journey, Mr. Smith”, I said shaking his hand.

“It’ll worth it”, he said, “This is a famous temple in Sudan. I thought that

You would enjoy visiting temple, so I called our meeting here.”

“Brought all the details”, I asked.

His forehead wrinkled then a smile appeared on his face.

“Serious about work”, he said handing a brown cover file to me. I gave a social grin.

He offered for coffee. I was tired of the journey so I nodded in agreement and we ramble away, talked mostly about my journey. We went in a nearby coffee shop and ordered two cappuccinos.

“So, how did it come about?” I asked taking a sip of coffee, leaning forward on table.

“You like cappuccino, don’t you?”He said, “It’s my favorite, its aroma is seductive. That day, when the man asked what should we order? Cappuccino I said instantly.” He said, and then paused as if he saw my late grandfather, who was not fortunate with looks but had interesting stories to narrate. Mr. Smith was glancing around. I also darted around. The shop was empty except for a young couple sitting at the other end. The boy sat with his back to me, while I could see the girl’s face. She adjusted a strand of hair behind ear; a bright smile sparkled on her face. She was fair, perhaps some immigrant from England. Her bright blues eyes accompanied her stylish Victorian outfits. She reminded me of her, her suggestive smiles and the coffee shop that we spent our hours in. The memories revived my heart like a magic stick and took me back to the time we spent together.

“He asked about the diamond” said Mr. Smith, “its shape. Its color. How long has it been in my family. He seemed fascinated about the diamond.” Mr. Smith paused. “Are you listening Mr. Kashyap?”

I nodded looking back at him; he looked back at the girl. A cunning smile rippled on his face, “She is pretty, I can arrange one for you tonight, if you like.”

“No thanks” I said, “So, what did you tell him?”

“That it’s been in our family for generation. It is precious and a pride for our family.”

“What was the deal?”

He leaned forward, coffee cup in his hand, came near my face and whispered, “$200 million.”

I blinked my eyes. $200 million, that was a big sum, at least, for a private agent like me. “So, what went wrong?” I asked taking the last sip of my coffee.

“The deal was fixed on second Monday last month, 8PM. I was waiting for him in hotel UNISON, he didn’t come.”

I leered at his widened eyes.

“I was walking impatient in the corridor before my room; I noticed the diamond had disappeared from my pocket. I fumbled my pockets, reported the manager about a lost small box. They did what they could but All in vain”. He sank his head under palms resting on the planted elbow on table.

I got up, walked past him and patted his shoulder. “That’s enough for today, Mr. Smith. I’ll talk about it tomorrow after studying the file.”

He rose up from chair and we were on our way out. He called a taxi, gave me the room key and left. The key read HOTEL UNISON, so he had book the same hotel for my stay, where they planned the deal.



2.

Pulling a chair up to the table, I opened the brown file, which contained comprehensive statement by Mr. Smith, statements by hotel staff and physical description of the dealer.

There were questions that startled me. Being the owner of an established oil corporation, why Mr. Smith wanted to sell his family diamond which belonged to his family for generations. The more mystifying question was that why he appointed me for the investigation. I was no big deal, a struggling private detective. No big name or mind-blowing mystery unleashing cases to my name. Surely, I had success with a few robbery and infidelity cases that helped to survive in the competitive detection market, but an overseas case was miracle.

I was stirring coffee in my cup pondering over the questions. my coffee cup s

Mr. Smith said in the statement that the dealer had introduced himself as Mr. Alfred Young, a man in his sixties for the fact, owner of diamond business spread across Western Europe especially England, Germany and Austria. He was an interesting man, reported Mr. Smith, a great storyteller in particular. Mr. Smith met him in a business party last month. Broad forehead, heavy eyebrows, long protruding nose, mustache and little finger length beard around chin were few remarks, he reported about the man. His face had no scar, but dark circled eyes had wrinkles where they curved. He had longer than normal gray back hair, which gave him a mafia look. Overall, He looked a little mystic than people we see on road.

As Mr. Young had Diamond business, the discussion between them obviously wandered around Mr. Smith’s family diamond. The man made his impression on Mr. Smith during the conversation, and expressed his curiosity to see the marvelous diamond, which Mr. Smith being a gentleman could not resist. He invited him for a coffee at his home……

I took my highlighter and marked the line which read, the deal was fixed for all cash. This should be appeal of the deal for Mr. Smith, I thought. I wrote a few points in my notebook before closing the file like—they always met to discuss about the deal in the same coffee shop, where I drank coffee with Mr. Smith. Mr. Young insisted on hotel UNISON as the deal venue giving inarticulate security reasons. Mr. Smith never discussed about the deal with his family until he lost the Diamond.

The last noted point led me to believe that Mr. Smith concealed material facts, which I needed figure out.

I closed my eyes for a few minutes, rested backed my head on the head of chair. The face of Mr. Young based on the description was looming in my mind. A saw his wicked smile and behind him Mr. Smith was standing, wavering his hand to call me for help. I pushed the chair back, opened eyes and sank my hand in the pocket of my overcoat, picked up the magnifier and placed it on the table.

The last page in the file said that the room was locked since the day, the diamond was lost. Mr. Smith kept the room booked for investigation. I took the magnifier from the table and started searching for a clue that others might have missed. Though I doubted to find any clue, but it always matters when you are paid professionally for such things.

I couched down and started with the table itself. I searched under bed, in bathroom, on bookshelf and along wall, but couldn’t find a single trace, not even a torn piece of paper for that matter. Then out of nowhere, near a wall corner, a black ant scampered under my magnifier. It was craning its neck side by side, as if trying to tell me something. I adjusted my magnifier to examine it closely. It lifted its front legs in the direction of the magnifier.

The door bell rang and somebody walked in. I didn’t bother to stop my investigation, and look at him.

“Sir, your dinner. Should I place it on table?” the man said.

I nodded.

After a few second, he walked behind me.

“What you doing sir?”

I looked back at him and said, “Can’t you see?”

“Sir I see only an ant near the wall. Should I take it away, if it is bothering you?”

“No, thanks. I’m doing my investigation.

The room boy clapped his hand around his mouth. I inferred he was sniggering at me, but it didn’t bother me. People always doubt on your ability until you prove them.

I asked him to retreat and continued my search. After two hours of diligent search, I got a ten dollar bill, three condoms and a chocolate candy. I placed the candy in my mouth and call it a day.



-------x-------

Next morning, I got up late. In fact, it was a part of my life style. Since I completed my high school, I could never make an early day. I took my breakfast fast, which was bizarre. I never expected a boiled potato, sliced onions and tomatoes with breads as my breakfast. This was where I found that life is surprisingly unexpected. I took my black overcoat and magnifying glasses, and the Sherlock homes’ hat, sank my small notebook in overcoat pocket and left for reception counter to forward my enquiry.

The hotel staff was cooperative. I met each one of them discussing what he/she saw, listened or thought about the incidence. I also took note of employees who were on leave since the incidence and before. I received varying responses ranging from absolute nonsense to sophisticated criminal explanations. An old room-servant’s response intrigued me, he thought that Mr. Young was a ghost, who was behind this diamond for generations, but only Mr. Smith agreed to sell it. Mr. Young, being a ghost, didn’t have money so he picked it from his pocket through his magical power. His explanation, comical at the first sight, inspired my hypothesis to work upon. He also reported that he saw glimpses of the apparition in the corridor and hallway that night and some weeks ago. Apart from him, no one talked about things important to the case that I missed reading in the file.

I walked out of hotel, strolled around for sometime enjoying the sunny day. I called a taxi, hired it to go to Smith Oil Corporation. When I sat inside, my eyes drifted on the other side of road, where I noticed this same black man, I observed yesterday in the barber shop, staring at me. My taxi ran ahead.

“Stop!” I shouted, placing my hand on driver’s shoulder. As the taxi came to a halt, I popped head out of window and looked back, the man disappeared. During my journey I recollected about the man, he had been there when I walked out of hotel. I had seen his yellow T-shirt tagging ‘Prisoners’. He stood on the other side of road, his back was facing me. I had glimpses of him following me, when I was strolling around hotel, but I failed to recognize him because of other pedestrians.

The driver, a black giant man, admonished me against such raging movement otherwise he would through me out of his taxi.

I looked in his eyes through the front mirror, and became quiet because I saw honesty in his eyes when he warned me about throwing out of taxi.

During the journey I remained silent wondering about the black man and his motive to follow me. The taxi stopped. I looked out and found a large factory gate ahead. Golden metallic English alphabets read SMITH OIL CORPORATION on the side wall. I gave him a green note with a sincere grin, which he ignored, took the bill and moved ahead. I took cigarette case out of my overcoat pocket, placed a cigarette in my mouth and walked towards the gatekeeper lighting it.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Smith” said I, releasing smoke in the air.

The gatekeeper glanced at me through the swirling smoke fog, his up tilting eyebrows and pouted lips helped little to bring a smirk on my face. To my surprise, he was not a black. He tottered inside his closet, picked an old dirty phone and dialed. He talked for long; I glanced at him through swirling smoke and found him grinning twice. Oh God! He laughs and only man laughs so he is a man, I thought. But Chimpanzees and apes also laugh, my mind whispered and I appreciated it for clarifying my illusion. At last, he dropped the receiver, lumbered around in his closet. I dropped the cigarette butt on ground and crushed it. When he came out, I had placed another cigarette in my mouth. He asked me to wait.

By the time the gate opened, only the filter left between fingers. I saw a black man in black suit was waiting for me to enter inside. I tossed the filter away walking towards him.

“Hello Mr. Kashyap” he said, “Boss expected you an hour earlier.”

“I was busy investigating”

On our way, black men and women in clumsy old clothes passed near us carrying oil containers to a large building, a few men in green uniform were directing them. Gigantic machinery, containers and chimneys expelling mist and black gases polluting our environment occupied almost half of open space outside an oil splattered building which the man introduced as office.

“It is a large oil factory” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Smith has some of the largest oil refineries of Sudan. We export oil to European countries.”

“The business is going well, I hope”

“Yes, everything is fine” he said then paused. I noticed his wrinkled forehead and strained eyes. “Except last two years performance” he went on, “We had to incur losses because of stringent government policies.”

The man stopped in front of a wooden door. He pointed the name plate with a glance, and left. Mr. JAMES SMITH it read. I knocked the door, and then walked in.

It was a well furnished office room. On a large office table pile of files, a big monitor, black telephone, a glass of water, and pen-holder containing four or five metallic pens, notebooks created the office ambiance. Behind the table was a black rolling chair, two smaller rolling chairs in front, a coffee maker on wall, a private bathroom in corner and a luxury sofa in other corner, where Mr. Smith was sitting with a stout bearded man looked like a bear in man’s skin from this distance.

“Oh! Mr. Kashyap, I was waiting for you.” said Mr. Smith, getting up from the sofa.

“I was busy inquiring the hotel staff.” I said mildly.

“So, did you discover anything important?” his eyes widened.

“Yes, I hope, I did” I nodded. By this time, the bearded man stood beside him.

“Oh, let me introduce you to my brother Bancroft Smith.”

I grinned. This rounded face, puffy cheeked, small eyed man didn’t look like his brother. Unlike the grayish executive suite of Mr. Smith, he wore a designer blue half Hawaiian shirt exposing his fatty arms and a jeans tightening around his waist, which could not hide his futile effort of concealing his over sized belly. The scotch glass in their hand said they had merry time.

“He is a textile manufacturer in England, came here last Tuesday, when he heard about the robbery or loss whatever you please.”

“I read the file last night” I said sitting on couch beside the sofa. Bancroft sat on sofa beside the Mr. Smith. “I am curious about a few things, if you can clarify”

“Why not” said Mr. Smith.

I took my cigarette case from the overcoat, offered them but they denied. I picked one, patted it on rounded glass table and clenched it between my fingers. “You said in your statement that you always met Mr. Young for the deal in the same coffee shop.” I lit the cigarette and placed it in mouth leaning back on the couch.

“Yes. He liked the shop, said that it was safe to discuss such matters. He had pleasant memories associated with the place, wanted to spend his time there. I had no problem either.”

“Is there anything I should know beside what you mention in the file?” I asked. He placed the wine glass on coffee table, his face turned pale, eyes strained, but he maintained his natural composure and reply, “I hope I mentioned all the relevant details in the file. Beside, I’ll be pleased to help you with the matter if I can.”

Bancroft didn’t seem bother about the discussion; he played with his martini glass.

“Do you enjoy wine, Mr Kashyap?” Mr smith asked.

“No thanks.” I said, “There are questions bothering me like…….umm…..why you wanted to sell the family diamond”

Bancroft stopped his glass swinging midway, looked askance at Mr. Smith, who was moving his fingers back and forth on his throat. “You know Mr. Kashyap, the business is a game of ups and downs and you never know the day of disaster.”

“Perhaps, I should have asked first that wouldn’t It be better to verify about the man before the deal?” I tossed another question. My eyes darted to oil painting of a fountain hanging on wall. The bright lust greenery and serene blue water in the painting reminded me of my hometown, lake I missed moving to Mumbai for livelihood. Waves were singing the musical notes; cool water was relaxing like walking bare foot on morning grass.

“I did.” said Mr. Smith, “I just forgot to mention in my statement that Bancroft had suggested about the deal with Mr. Young. He had some business terms with the man.”

I fumbled my overcoat pocket, picked out my small notebook and noted down the fact borrowing Mr. Smith’s pen; cigarette remained clenched between fingers in left hand.

“So, you keep a small notebook.” remarked Mr. Smith.

“Yes. It helps to keep track of important details.” I said, turning my face to Bancroft, who was busy stirring wine in his glass seeming unconcerned about the matter.

“I hope you can help me with the matter, Mr. Bancroft” I muttered.

He glanced at me. “I would be pleased to…” he said in a half comic but disconcerting tone. He went on “I had borrowed some money for my business. A financial Agent had introduced me to him. Mr. Young was a good man; he lent me the sum on lenient terms. It was a big sum, so no doubt he was wealthy man. I paid back the sum last month, when we discussed about his business and I mentioned about our family diamond”

“You met him in his office for the purpose?” I asked, crushing the butt in smoke case.

“Nope, on both occasions our meeting was fixed in a hotel along with the financial agent.” He said, pouring wine in his empty glass. “You wouldn’t mind a peg on work, Mr. Kashyap?”

“Thanks, but I don’t’ drink”. It was a lie, in fact, drinking was my favorite time pass when I had no project in hand and that happened often. “So, you must have contacted the man when you heard about the stealing.”

“Yes, I did try to contact him, but came to know that he died in a car accident”. His tone was indifferent; flat like a cricket pitch on day one. He drank another gulp of wine and leaned back on sofa.

“Surprising, and I am sure you won’t have any contact number or address details or other sort of things to contact Mr. Young.” My eyes drifted back and forth on brothers.

“Exactly” Bancroft said, “That’s the misery. Any way, we cannot accuse…..the man for crime…. because he didn’t come in…. for the deal…when my brother found that the Diamond was missing”. He muttered the last words in hurry. The wine had overwhelmed him like a nubile girl exposing her body.

“But he is the suspicious figure in the story, Mr. Bancroft.” I said crossing hands in front, “The fact that he didn’t come and didn’t contact till date makes him even more suspicious.”