life to orphaned children in India. She wanted to set up the biggest Adoption Agency in the UK. But first, she wanted to understand the way the system worked. After coming to India, she moved from one orphanage to another to try and understand the formalities that came with adoption in India. She travelled to nearby villages, helped out in blood donation camps, taught English in sundry literacy drives, cleaned slum drains till her hands were calloused, worked tirelessly for the underprivileged till her clothes carried the smell of her travels and her white skin turned a crisp brown under the harsh Indian sun. Her delicate looks, however, did not fade. Despite her dishevelled hair, her chipped fingernails smelling faintly of dried wood smoke, she was never short of attention from the opposite sex,’ said the forty-something Lourdes D’Monte, Colasco’s long-time private secretary.
She paused to take a brief respite from her outpouring and then continued, ‘Tracy was such a good soul. She used to tell me that even while studying in London and working two jobs to pay her college fees, she managed to save enough money to send to India to sponsor the upkeep of orphans like her.’ Lourdes’ eyes turned moist. Loyal, God-fearing Lourdes who had been party to all of Colasco’s secrets had remained mum all through the investigation. But now that Colasco was dead and Inspector Virkar had landed at her respectable, middle class home in C.G.S. Colony, Antop Hill, at an early morning hour, stinking of sweat and stale beer and scaring her two little children, Lourdes’ tongue had let loose. ‘Tracy first came in contact with Nigel Colasco when she met him during one of her many trips to the Mumbai slums. Later, she worked briefly with Slum Baalak Surakasha. Tracy was…’
Virkar, who had been listening to Lourdes patiently, suddenly cut her short, ‘Was?’
After he had thought of the ‘NRI/foreigner’ connection to Colasco during his conversation with Raashi, Virkar had remembered seeing an email folder the previous night called ‘International Contacts’ in Colasco’s inbox on his office computer. Virkar was desperate to join the dots. Colasco’s last words had been echoing in his mind even though ACP Wagh had dismissed their significance. He had gone back to Colasco’s office and picked the lock, as he had before, to quickly gain entry. At Colasco’s table, Virkar had turned on the computer and hacked into Colasco’s email account again by keying in Colasco’s date of birth and month as the password. The fact that most people still foolishly used their date of birth or their mother’s maiden name as their email passwords never ceased to amaze Virkar.
Having gained access to the ‘International Contacts’ folder, Virkar had typed out Colasco’s last words, ‘hurry’, ‘ward’ and ‘tracing’ one by one in the search bar. The first two had yielded no results but as he typed T-R-A-C it had thrown up the name and email address of someone called Tracy Barton. Virkar discovered that, though the name did exist in Colasco’s email address book, there were no email exchanges between him and Tracy. This could only mean that the emails between them had been deleted. His policeman’s instinct had urged him to follow this lead, however slender it seemed to be. He quickly looked through all the files on the computer but found no emails or letters. Glancing at the filing cabinets lined up on one side of the office, he realized that he didn’t have time to go through them. In any case, since he had already gone through them the previous night, he felt he wouldn’t find anything. But Virkar wanted to dig deeper, which meant that he’ d have to shake information out of someone. And he knew exactly who that person was. He had immediately ridden his Bullet to Lourdes’ house. He was, in fact, quite taken aback at the ease with which he had managed to squeeze out information from Lourdes. He wondered if Tracy Barton
She paused to take a brief respite from her outpouring and then continued, ‘Tracy was such a good soul. She used to tell me that even while studying in London and working two jobs to pay her college fees, she managed to save enough money to send to India to sponsor the upkeep of orphans like her.’ Lourdes’ eyes turned moist. Loyal, God-fearing Lourdes who had been party to all of Colasco’s secrets had remained mum all through the investigation. But now that Colasco was dead and Inspector Virkar had landed at her respectable, middle class home in C.G.S. Colony, Antop Hill, at an early morning hour, stinking of sweat and stale beer and scaring her two little children, Lourdes’ tongue had let loose. ‘Tracy first came in contact with Nigel Colasco when she met him during one of her many trips to the Mumbai slums. Later, she worked briefly with Slum Baalak Surakasha. Tracy was…’
Virkar, who had been listening to Lourdes patiently, suddenly cut her short, ‘Was?’
After he had thought of the ‘NRI/foreigner’ connection to Colasco during his conversation with Raashi, Virkar had remembered seeing an email folder the previous night called ‘International Contacts’ in Colasco’s inbox on his office computer. Virkar was desperate to join the dots. Colasco’s last words had been echoing in his mind even though ACP Wagh had dismissed their significance. He had gone back to Colasco’s office and picked the lock, as he had before, to quickly gain entry. At Colasco’s table, Virkar had turned on the computer and hacked into Colasco’s email account again by keying in Colasco’s date of birth and month as the password. The fact that most people still foolishly used their date of birth or their mother’s maiden name as their email passwords never ceased to amaze Virkar.
Having gained access to the ‘International Contacts’ folder, Virkar had typed out Colasco’s last words, ‘hurry’, ‘ward’ and ‘tracing’ one by one in the search bar. The first two had yielded no results but as he typed T-R-A-C it had thrown up the name and email address of someone called Tracy Barton. Virkar discovered that, though the name did exist in Colasco’s email address book, there were no email exchanges between him and Tracy. This could only mean that the emails between them had been deleted. His policeman’s instinct had urged him to follow this lead, however slender it seemed to be. He quickly looked through all the files on the computer but found no emails or letters. Glancing at the filing cabinets lined up on one side of the office, he realized that he didn’t have time to go through them. In any case, since he had already gone through them the previous night, he felt he wouldn’t find anything. But Virkar wanted to dig deeper, which meant that he’ d have to shake information out of someone. And he knew exactly who that person was. He had immediately ridden his Bullet to Lourdes’ house. He was, in fact, quite taken aback at the ease with which he had managed to squeeze out information from Lourdes. He wondered if Tracy Barton
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