Kababs and policemen

The cops don’t know what hit them. Three of them lying face down on the road below. I can see the Crime Diary people filming below me. I’ll be on the local 8’o clock news.

I sit back. I know I’ve bought myself some time. Light another cigarette…..

<>

Summer in Bangalore used to be a pleasant time. In 1992, the year I started on my way. 25 years old and tired of the world. Looking for easy money, looking for a good world. Making my own world seemed like a good idea then. Truth be told, it still does.

The order came from Raaja. A Senior Police Officer was refusing his monthly cut of drug money. No, this ambitious fellow wanted a share of the market. The lucrative Mawalli area was to be his personal domain. Nobody could afford for that to happen. Let one cop do it and pretty soon we’ll be dead and the cops will be running everything. My job was simple. Kill the man in a manner so savage that no cop ever came back to us again. Instill fear in the hearts of the police. That was my brief. Suicidal, you’d think. You’d be right.

I didn’t have much of choice. Still paying off my debt to Raaja, I nodded my head. I killed the cop, carved him up good, cut him up tiny and by the time I was done you could serve him up as sheesh kabab. I killed him first off course. I detest torture. The cops were not terrified. They were furious. They came down hard. Business took a huge blow, a botched hit on Raaja and I was the most wanted man in the state.

I was used to running and hiding at an early age.

The cops caught up with me soon enough. There’s always a rat. Everywhere. Taken into custody for further questioning. No proof, no witnesses. I walked soon enough. Although it took some time for my broken shin to heal. I was on my way, marked for an encounter and yet somehow I slipped through the cracks. I should have been dead right then. They should never have let me walk out of that jail cell. Luck.

<>I’d earned my rep. The word on the street was out. I’d do any job there was. You came to me for the jobs nobody else was willing to risk. I made my name, I made a good deal of money. It’s a good life. Harsh and brutal and I kill people for money. Its business. I don’t know you, I don’t hate you but if I can make a buck killing you, I will.