Inspector Chaubey dislodged a dhania seed from his molar with the sharp-end of a matchstick. He narrowed his eyes and gave the suspect sitting across the interrogation table an almighty stare. The suspect matched the stare in equal measure and added a snigger to it. Chaubey pushed his chair back and leapt at the suspect. Grabbing the suspect’s neck in the hollow of his palm, Chaubey shook him hoping for some fruits to fall. After a minute, Chaubey paused to inspect his palms – they were covered with slime. He jerked back in disgust and wiped his hands on his wardi.

“Saaaaley!”, he said stretching the word. “You think you are too clever for us, hain?!”

There was a tap on the two-way mirror and Chaubey turned instinctively to look. He couldn’t see who it was on the other side of the glass but the manner of tapping was like Morse code. “It’s ACP saab!” he deduced and rushed out of the room.

“What news?” asked ACP Bhujangi.

“Nothing, sir,” said Inspector Chaubey.

“Bakwaas!” said ACP Bhujangi. “No?”, he added after the silence.

“Sorry, sir, but we have tried all degrees, and still –”

“Hmm.” ACP Bhujangi looked at the suspect through the glass wall. “Have you ever seen so much body hair, Chaubey? What was his name again? Anil Kapoor?”

Chaubey relaxed a little and adjusted his potbelly. “Hah. NDM-1, sir. I have asked him about the hair, sir. He just laughs and sings some angrezi song, something like, “Cilia, Cilia, you are breaking…”

“NDM-1? What sort of ban-cho name is that?”

“Sorry, sir, but he refuses to tell us what it means. We even tried to force it out of his female accomplice, but nothing.”

“Where have you kept her?” asked ACP Bhujangi, lowering his voice.

“She was in the next room, sir.”

“Was?”

“Sorry, sir, but she, er, kind of died on us.”

“What?!”

“We were trying on her the treatment we had tried on NDM-1, sir; but on her, it proved deadly.”

“Cefacetrile?”

“Cefacetrile, Cefuzonam, Cefmenoxime, Dicloxacillin – you name it, sir. After mezlocillin, we thought she would sing, but no.”

“And NDM-1?”

“Nothing, sir, just nothing, believe me”, said Inspector Chaubey chopping the stagnant air with his arm.

“That’s impossible. What about the one that our Tiwari had got from across the encounter?”

“Carbapenem? Well, it was like elaichi for this NDM-1, sir, I am telling you! He popped two of them and then laughed and asked for more.”

ACP Bhujangi ground his teeth and smacked his thigh with his baint. “Well, that’s just great! How are we going to nail this, this NDM-1, now that – what was her name?”

“E. Kohli, sir.”

“E for?”

“Esha, sir. She comes from a respectable Delhi family.”

“Respectable, my foot! How come she’s running around with NDM-1 then, hain?”

Inspector Chaubey tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Look, Chaubey,” said ACP Bhujangi, “this has gone too far. If it leaks out, that even Carbapenem was useless on him, we’ll be a laughing stock, you hear me?!”

“J-, ji, sir.”

“Who brought him here anyway?” said ACP Bhujangi looking at the suspect.

“Interpol Inder, sir.”

“Inder? That Inder? How’s he involved in all this?”

“NDM-1 was trying to sneak though Indra Gandhi, sir. Scotland Yard had posted a red-alert for NDM-1 after they arrested another member of his gang in England. His name is MRSA, sir.”

ACP Bhujangi smacked his palm with his fist. “NDM-1. MRSA. What is this! These fellows don’t have a proper name or what. And what gang? They are international?”

“Ji, sir. All over the place. UK, USA, Canada, you name it, sir. Delhi is only their latest hub.”

“But what do they do? What do they smuggle?”

“They smuggle themselves, sir. In and out.”

“But I don’t understand. This is some sort of kabootarbazi?”

“Yes, sir. Medical tourists are also involved, sir. Using them as cover, these fellows manage to jump from one country to the next. The trick is to keep moving.”

“Santoshi Maa ki kasam, Chaubey, this is too big for us! We can’t handle him. Call that encounter specialist, whatshisname.”

“Ji, sir, Kharbanda.”

“Yes. Good. Keep an eye on NDM-1. Keep me informed at all times – but not after midnight. Jai Hind.”

“Jai Hind, sir”, said Inspector Chaubey crisply to the swinging saloon doors. He turned around and looked through the two-way mirror. To his horror he found the hairy suspect not there on his seat; gone, gaayab, khallas.

This article first appeared in newslaundry on May. 29, 2012.