Breakneck Brazil

Prologue:

“She was lost in the dark, dense forest. It was worse since she was sure that she wasn’t the only human soul, running, in the most lethal portion of the world’s largest tropical rainforest. Someone was following her and had been doing so for quite some time. The big-leaf mahogany tree shot through the top of the rainforest canopy. The dark brown, flaky bark of the aromatic wood gave way to a dusk-like atmosphere even when the Sun shone brightly over the tropics. Her eyes were used to the darkness by then.
Anaysha Shelvankar kept running, unsure of the direction. An eerie feeling told her she would be cornered the moment she stopped. She continued running, even though her legs were about to give way. She couldn’t shout for help, for, one, there was nobody in the forest and two, it would only alert her follower and help track her down all the more easily. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Some dead leaves crackled in the distance and fear woke up in her guts once again. Just as she was about to collapse from exhaustion, she noticed a light in the distance. Some thirty feet ahead. A light in the middle of the forest gave her hope. She took a deep breath and ran towards it with a renewed bust of energy. As she approached the light, she understood it was only a beam of sunlight, entering into the forest through the small gap between the branches of a Kapok tree. The mighty brolly spread its branches over the moist forest floor – like a curse hanging over it. A bullet whizzed past Anaysha and she collapsed. ”
I woke up, sweating profusely. The lamp flickered and went out. I looked at my watch. It showed three in the morning. A ray of light from the bulb in the verandah entered into the room through a slight gap between the blinds. The ray threw light on a photograph of Anaysha. She looked beautiful in the dim light. I took the frame in my palms and with a heavy heart, muttered to myself, “Rest in peace, Anaysha”.

May 2
04.45pm
International Criminal Advocates’ Association
Hilton Rio de Janeiro Copacabana
Rio de Janeiro

“………if any fundamental assumption underlies our system, it is that guilt is personal, not inheritable. It’s a lawyer’s duty to represent a guilty man, not to free him. I shall conclude by saying that, in a court room, you must know how to handle your case rather than making hypothesis to facts and issues. Thank you for your pleasant hearing”.
The entire auditorium of Hilton Rio de Janeiro Copacabana reverberated with applauses as Advocate Anaysha Shelvankar got down from the stage.
The best criminal lawyers from all over the world had been invited to this event. Anaysha had been sent to represent India. 
It was a sunny May afternoon and the hall was crowded with barristers, solicitors, reporters from the media, sound operators and a few butlers. Anaysha was the last advocate to deliver a speech. Advocates from Columbia, Brazil, Germany and The United States came to shake hands with her and congratulated her individually for her speech. She retraced her steps and sank in the velvet couch, right beside me.  To her left, was Barrister Harold Frome- a dried, yellowish man, of more than middle age, with a hair almost to the colour of his face.
I remembered his name since he had rebuked Anaysha the previous day.
“Justice late is justice denied. Doesn’t the Indian counsel know?” Frome had said, “Oh wait! Do your countrymen even get justice?”
“Mr. Frome” Anaysha had answered him back, “I hope you know that there are two types of lawyers- ones who know the law and others who know the Judge. The verdict is delivered according to the evidences; not according to what one thinks, or what exactly has happened. The burden of proof lies on the counsel for the defence. If he brings out the correct evidences, justice is given. The Court doesn’t believe in emotions and worldly ties. Thank you so much.”
Anaysha had also challenged his speech in the morning and people spoke in her support.
Frome sat with a tightly clenched fist and pursed lips after going through such an embarrassment.
Anaysha had worn her formal court attire and had her hair hung loose. She looked like a newly graduated student. I was about to ask her if she still had a high body temperature when the organiser of the event delivered a short closing speech and requested everyone to depart.

May 2
Hilton Rio de Janeiro Copacabana
Room no. 231
Rio de Janeiro

Anaysha was having a light-hearted conversation with Mr. Lahm, an advocate from Germany- probably in his late forties.  Mr. Lahm was no more than 5’4” in stature. He had shoulder length hair and wore spectacles of thick glass, with a silvery-black frame. He had a thick beard. I stood at the doorstep and waited for her. She came back after a couple of minutes and I unlocked the door. A folded piece of paper lay on the maple wood floor. Anaysha picked it up.
It read- “It was a great speech, Mrs. Shelvankar”.
Anaysha winked at me and planting a kiss on my cheek, she said, “Thank you so much Mr. Shelvankar.”
I knew it was from someone else, although the handwriting was exactly the same as mine, but my wife would not believe it because I had written many such messages to her.
I did not pay much heed to it and decided it was from some shy person, present in the hall. Anaysha’s speech had impressed everyone present in the hall, save upon Mr. Frome, who had not even put his hands together when the hall reverberated with applauses.
A dinner party had been organised downstairs and both Anaysha and I were excited for it. We would get to hear some Brazilian music. I checked her pulse rate and measured her body temperature. The results were normal. She put on a designer saree and tied her hair into a messy bun. A wavy strand of hair fell over her brown eyes. I wanted to kiss her but decided it would not be a good option since it would only damage her lip gloss and she would run behind me. I put on a formal suit- it was a gift from Anaysha on my previous birthday. I kissed her hand. She smiled at me and we headed towards the dining hall.

May 3
Hilton Rio de Janeiro Copacabana
The Dining Hall
Rio de Janeiro
7.15pm

Both Anaysha’s and my plates were filled with queijo coalho, a Brazilian dish which had cheese on a stick and grilled chicken hearts. Two glasses of red wine also stood on our table. Most of the dishes in the party included beef and pork and hence, we could not taste Brazil’s most famous dish- the Brazilian picanha- a beef steak. The dining hall flooded with Bossa Nova, a typical genre of Brazilian music. I wasn’t used to such a beef-and-pork environment and I excused myself from Anaysha and went up to the restrooms. I knew Anaysha also felt the same but she never faltered and behaved as if she was one of them. When I returned, Anaysha was giving me a lopsided smile. She got up suddenly, winked at me and went straight towards the place where I had been a couple of minutes ago.
I did not understand the reason behind Anaysha’s unusual behaviour. The entire thing dawned upon me when Mr. Lahm patted on my shoulder and said, “Sorry to disturb you, Herr, but Shelvankar Frau has collapsed and she’s lying unconscious near the restroom door. Please come with me. Fast!”
I was holding a glass of red wine, which smashed into a hundred pieces as soon as the news reached my ears. I hurried off to where Anaysha lay and Mr. Lahm accompanied me. Anaysha lay on the floor, pale faced, both her hands were spread out and a small piece of paper, half stained with blood, lay on Anaysha’s palm. I picked up the paper with my kerchief. A Ronit Shelvankar handwriting.
It read- “Meet me near the restrooms”.
A butler had fetched water and sprinkled some of it on my wife’s face. Her forehead was bleeding. There were a series of livid spots, which were evidently the impression of fingers. A broken wine glass also lay beside Anaysha. The broken vessel had blood spots on it. Clearly, it was the weapon which Anaysha had been struck with. The butler kept sprinkling water over her face and I rubbed her palms to make her warm. Anaysha regained consciousness in a few moments. Mr. Lahm handed her a small glass tumbler and said, “Brandy helps. Sip some”. 
Anaysha gulped down the entire liquid in one go. I could make out she was afraid. Her shaky hands, dilated pupils and cold feet told me she had had a deadly encounter with someone.
“How did this happen Anaysha? And, what’s with this note? Who gave it to you?” I asked her.
“I…the waiter…”, said Anaysha, after swallowing a lump in her throat, “The waiter handed me this note. I thought you wrote it. The handwriting resembles yours. When I came here, someone thrust a cloth on my nose. I don’t remember what followed after I lost my senses. I feel a strong pain in my forehead”. Anaysha touched her forehead. She shrieked.
“Good lord! Blood! Was I hit with something?”
“Probably this”, I said, taking the broken wine glass with my kerchief, “This has fresh blood stains on it. Will you be able to recognize the waiter who handed you this note?”
“Yes! Give me your hand”.
“Wait! You need to get first aid. You’re bleeding”.
Mr. Lahm handed his white kerchief to me. “Clean the wound with it. The kerchief’s clean”.
I gently rubbed off the blood. The bleeding had stopped by then. It wasn’t a deep cut.
Anaysha got up with my support. She was still trembling.
“Let’s go to the waiter now”, suggested Anaysha.
I held her by her shoulder and her hand.
I looked at her. Her face had regained colour.
We walked up to the waiter, who, according to Anaysha, had handed her the note.
“Excuse me”, said Anaysha. Her voice had regained its stern tone. “You handed me this note some fifteen minutes back. Recognize it?” She held up the note in her hand.
“Madam, I handed six such notes to different ladies this evening. And we have more than twenty waiters in this hall. So, I can’t be very sure”.
“She was seated there”, I said, pointing at our table. A waiter was busy gathering the pieces of the wine glass that had smashed due to my loose grip.
“Sir, as soon as a note is handed over to us, we deliver it to the one mentioned and it’s not possible to remember the faces or the tables.”
“Okay. Thank you. We’ll talk to the manager of this hotel”, said Anaysha.
“Anaysha, let’s get you first aid now. It’s not a clever thing to leave a wound open. Thanks a lot for your help Mr. Lahm. We would like to take leave now”, I said.
Mr. Lahm wished us a great night and went away to get more brandy for himself.
I was observing the rest of the guests in the hall when I caught a glimpse of a table in the corner.
Mr. Harold Frome sat there; his lips were still pursed and he had knitted his eyebrows together. He had indulged into a fight this very evening with one of the reporters who had spoken in favour of Anaysha. I could make out that the end of the sleeve of his coat was wet. He had washed that portion of his coat recently.  As soon as his eyes met mine, the middle aged barrister left, closing the door behind him with a thud.

May 2
Hilton Rio de Janeiro Copacabana
Room no. 231
Rio de Janeiro
10.45pm

“Anaysha! For God’s sake put down that diary of yours and go to sleep. We’re going for a trip to the Amazon forest tomorrow. You’ll get nothing by scribbling. The waiter doesn’t remember the face; the wires of the CCTV cameras installed in the dining hall have been cut. Now what? You’re hurt and you need to sleep. It’s a three-days’ trip. You need to be fit. Come. Be my good girl and sleep”, I said to Anaysha who was busy scribbling undecipherable letters in her diary.
“Just two more minutes. Please Ronit”  
“Not even a milli-second. You never listen to me. Get into the bed right now”, I said, snatching away her diary and her pen.
I held her hand firmly. It was then when I noticed a scribble in ink near her elbow.
“What’s this?” I said.
The letters looked as if they had been tattooed on her rosy hands.
“IT’S THE?” I said, “What’s up with this ‘IT’S THE’ tattoo now? I never saw this here before”.
I looked up at Anaysha. She looked clueless. I held up her hand and tried rubbing off the letters. The letters vanished in no time.
I made Anaysha lie on the bed and pulled a white sheet over her and kissed over the bandage on her forehead. Caressing her fruit-smelling head for a few moments, I got up to bolt the door.
I was about to reach the bolts when I stepped over something. A white piece of paper lay on the doormat.
I opened the folded paper to look at my handwriting.
It read-
“You deserved it, advocate”.
I opened the door and looked outside.
Mr. Frome was loitering in the corridor, with his hands at the back.

May 3
Iberostar Grand Amazon
Room no. 303
Manaus
9.30pm

I cursed The International Criminal Advocates’ Association. I cursed the Indian Government. I cursed Anaysha’s profession. I cursed myself. I cursed everyone around me. Anaysha lay on the bed. Her eyes were closed. She was feigning sleep. I wished we had never come to Brazil to attend this event. Satan’s eyes had fallen upon my wife. I held her hand and entwined our fingers. Her hand still had some ink spots.
I closed my eyes and a motion picture started to flash across my closed eyes.
It was at the Manaus Airport where I understood that Satan was following Anaysha even after we had left Rio. Anaysha went to the washroom in the airport terminal after we had landed on the Manaus Airport. The flight had taken six long hours to reach Manaus from Rio de Janeiro. I waited outside the restrooms. 10 minutes passed.
I walked inside the restroom. The gents’ and the ladies’ washrooms were adjacent to each other.
“Anaysha!” I shrieked. My wife lay unconscious on the restroom floor. I sprinkled some water from my bottle on her face.
“Open your eyes. Please Anaysha!”
I caught a glimpse of her hand.
Again a writing in ink.
“BEGINNING”
Anaysha had sat up in the meantime. She only said, “All the same”. I knew what she meant. The same incident had happened with her like the one at Rio. I knew it was futile to check the CCTV footage because the guilty would have removed it by then. Anaysha stood on her legs with my support. Her feet were trembling.
Our teammates had also gathered near Anaysha-German advocate Lahm and his assistant, Barrister Frome, Mr. and Mrs. Fayehun (journalists from Nigeria), and Kabir Sareen(a wildlife photographer from India). Mr. Frome was busy pocketing something.
I took Anaysha outside the airport terminal with the help of Mrs. Fayehun. Our trip to the Amazon rainforest had been booked beforehand. Two cabs were waiting for us outside. The cab driver told us we would be going via BR-174 and Av. Maceio.     
It took us about forty minutes to reach our hotel- Iberostar Grand Amazon.
Our hotel was very close to the Manaus Port.
We would leave for the Amazon rainforest the following day.
We reached the hotel at five past twenty in the evening. A huge protest rally was on the road. Mr. Lahm, his assistant and the two Nigerian journalists went to check in. Anaysha was busy capturing pictures in her Nikon. Just as we were about to enter the hotel, someone flung something and it hurt Anaysha’s forehead. It was a small pebble, wrapped in a white piece of paper. I looked around and found Mr. Frome, fidgeting with his luggage.
The paper had words stuck on it, cut out from a newspaper.
It read - “The Black Caiman is waiting for you, young advocate”.
Few drops of blood oozed from this young advocate’s forehead. I quickly took her into the hotel and made her sit on the velvet couch.
We checked into the hotel and were informed that we would be leaving for the Amazon rainforest the following morning.
I asked the butler to get our dinner in the room itself.
After bandaging Anaysha’s wounded forehead, I went out to look for Mr. Frome. Anaysha was in the room. She said she wasn’t feeling great, and hence asked me to keep the door open so that I could get clear glimpses of her.
I returned after a span of four minutes.
Anaysha was lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed. A half-filled glass of water was kept on the table beside the bed. An ink scribble peeped out from Anaysha’s sleeve.
I rushed towards her.
I understood she was in deep slumber. I smelt the glass.
The liquid had been spiked.
The ink scribble read – “OF YOUR END”.
The waiter had brought our dinner. I thanked him and Mr. Frome went past my room and walked upto his room.
I bolted the door and sat beside my wife.
I could not see her in such a condition. I wanted to take her back. But, at the same time, I wanted her to find out the guilty. I took out my notebook and joined the words, which had been scribbled on Anaysha’s hand.
The completed sentence read- “IT’S THE BEGINNING OF YOUR END”.
I crushed the paper in my fist and began cursing the world.

May 4
Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge
The Amazon Rainforest
3.10pm

“Hello everyone! My name is Jared Wilson and I’ll be your guide in the Amazon tour”, said a young blonde boy, probably in his mid-twenties. He wore a green shirt and a brown half jacket and knee length shorts. He was nearly six feet tall.
We had departed from the Port of Manaus at nine in the morning and travelled to the village of Cacau Pirera in a speed boat, crossing the Rio Negro. It had taken us thirty minutes. From that village, we travelled by a motorized canoe to the Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge.
The Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge was located in front of Parque Nacional de Anavilhanas, in the margins of Rio Negro, 180km from Manaus, in the heart of the Brazilian Amazon.
Anaysha had kept quiet throughout the journey. She had only captured nature in her Nikon.
We did not have any idea about the person who had been following Anaysha. And there was the genius and the wonder of the thing. The soul pervaded Rio, Manaus and might be the Amazon rainforest too, and no one knew about him or had caught him red-handed. Perhaps it put him on a pinnacle in the records of crime.
Anaysha had fallen weak due to repetitive attacks on her and I knew I had to break through the veil which shrouded it. I had to seize my thread and follow it, until it leads me, after a thousand cunning windings, to him. My suspicion still hovered upon Advocate Frome but there was no such evidence which could prove his guilt. I knew I had to weave my net around him until it gets ready to close.
We had finished our lunch and were ready for a venture into the world’s largest rainforest.

May 4
The Amazon Rainforest
Latitude 15°31’05”S
Longitude 71°45’55”W
4.25pm

Anaysha and I held fishing rods in our hands. I was glad her face had regained its colour. We were on a canoe trip through a small creek of the Amazon River and were fishing for piranhas. The guide told us that the width of the Amazon river was nearly 6.8 miles and the creeks were home to carnivorous fishes like the Piranha, the Pacu (a much larger relative of the piranha) and the Payara (vampire fish), electric eels and the Black Caiman. The Amazon River also housed the Anaconda, the Green Anando and the Bull Shark but fortunately, those were not found in such shallow creeks.
A chill ran down my spine as soon as the name of Black Caiman was taken. I was worried about Anaysha and was pretty sure Satan had followed her upto the Amazon basin.
The boatman rowed the canoe to the banks and we got down after a one-hour canoe trip. The two Nigerian journalists and Kabir Sareen were busy capturing the forest in their cameras. Mr. Lahm was looking at the trees, Mr. Frome was looking down at the forest floor. The guide told us we would do a two and a half hours jungle walk and would climb upto a certain altitude.
He showed us the Kapok tree, Cacao tree, Assai Palm and the giant Mahogany tree. The canopies of the giant big-leaf trees had almost covered up the sky. Little sunlight entered into the forest.
We also saw the leaf-cutter ants on the tree trunks. The Amazon Rainforest was beautiful and lethal at the same time.
There was a rope tied around the trunk of a mahogany tree. The guide told us the other end was tied around a tree, hundred metres above from there. We would have to ascend the height with the help of the rope. Mr. Lahm was the last one in the line. Kabir Sareen was ahead of Anaysha, who was ahead me, and I was ahead of Mr. Frome. The Nigerian couple were the first ones in the line and Mr. Lahm’s assistant followed them, who was followed by the Indian photographer. Hardly had we ascended forty metres, when Kabir Sareen sat down on his knees and began groaning. He had slipped and fallen down. Just as I had gone up to help him stand, I heard three consecutive loud thud; three bullets had been fired. I looked back.
Anaysha was missing along with Mr. Lahm and Mr. Frome.
I lost grip of the rope and fell down. I saw Kabir Sareen above me, before I closed my eyes.

May 6
Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge
The Amazon Rainforest
6.20pm.

“Sir! Sir!.... Mr. Shelvankar….Are you okay? Sir!”
A group of about twelve people had gathered around me. Someone was putting wet cotton pads on my forehead. My vision was still hazy. It grew clearer as someone sprinkled water over my face.
I opened my eyes and found myself in my room in the lodge.
“Anaysha? Anaysha! Where’s Anaysha? Frome! Frome is the culprit. Where is he?” I asked as soon as I recollected my past experiences, getting up from the bed.
“Sir! Please! Calm down! You’ve regained your senses after two whole days. You lost your consciousness in the forest. Your team brought you herein. You were burning with temperature and muttering words which we couldn’t make out. You have been losing your senses since that evening several times. You need rest sir. Please lie down”, a nurse said to me.
The Nigerian Couple, Kabir Sareen and Mr. Lahm’s assistant were standing near me.  Four African men, an African lady and another old woman also stood in the small crowd.
“Where’s Anaysha? Tell me! Where’s my wife?” I demanded an answer. 
The people’s faces hung. The nurse was biting her lips.
“Hello? Why don’t you just tell me?” I said, almost bursting into tears.
“We’re sorry sir”, the nurse spoke, “Mrs. Shelvankar, Mr. Harold Frome and Mr. Lahm are no more. A rescue team was sent to the forest and they searched each and every portion of it, leaving the part where Jaguars and Anacondas are found. They came back with a blood-stained piece of cloth, which probably belongs to Mrs. Shelvankar. According to the rescue team, all three of them have ventured into the most dangerous part of the rainforest and no one comes back alive from there. I’m really sorry to give you this news sir. You need rest. Please lie down”.
“Rest! My foot! I’m going into the jungle. I’ll bring her back”.
“Don’t be insane Mr. Shelvankar. She isn’t alive. You can go, but you won’t come back alive. The forest houses animals like the jaguar, the tapir and the vampire bat”, the nurse spoke.
The whole world around me started to fade away and I passed into deep slumber as the nurse pushed a cool liquid into my veins.

May 7
Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge
The Amazon Rainforest
3am

I woke up, startled and anxious. I had had a nightmare. Anaysha was running in the forest…Someone had been following her…She collapsed as a bullet whizzed past her... A ray of light from the bulb in the verandah entered into the room through a slight gap between the blinds. The ray threw light on a photograph of Anaysha. She looked beautiful in the dim light. I took the frame in my palms. I caressed her picture with my fingers and a teardrop splashed on the glass. I spent the rest of the night looking at her picture. It had been three days since Anaysha went missing, and she was no more then. This mishap created a void in my life which the lapse of even a hundred years could have done little to fill.

May 7
Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge
The Amazon Rainforest
10.30am

I stood on the verandah, looking at the jungle in the distance. A breath of grief went down my trunk. I still could not believe Anaysha was no more. I did not want to return to India. I did not want to go anywhere. I wanted Anaysha back in my life. Alas!
I saw the old woman in a distance. She looked like an eighty-year old. Her body was nearly bent. Her face bore the colour of roasted almonds. She had about a hundred wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. Her lips were protruding out. My thoughts immediately returned to Anaysha. She had died at such a tender age. We had even planned for a baby in the year that followed.
The old woman walked upto me.
“How are you feeling now? Son?”, she asked, with a trembling voice.
“I wish death grandma. I lost my wife. My best friend. My everything. I wish she was never a lawyer. She could have taken up some other profession which had no life risks. I don’t know what to do now. I think I’ll stay here and spend the rest of my life in the place where Anaysha rests”.  
“Come, son. Let’s sit there”. The old woman pointed at a couch.
I did not want to upset her and so, I obeyed her. The old woman came and stood in front of me.
Then, with a tone which sounded as if she spoke through her nose, she said, “Officer! Bring them in”.
And then to my amazement, a man, probably from the Brazil police, entered the lodge. His two officers brought two wheelchairs and on them, sat, Frome! The Devil! And, Mr. Lahm!
“You filthy!” I rushed to Frome and tried reaching for his neck. An officer stopped me.
“He killed my wife,officer! I won’t leave him. Don’t you dare leave him! Hang him! Chop his head with the guillotine! Burn him in public!”
“Mr. Shelvankar! Sit down! Relax!” an officer spoke.
“How can I when…”, I said, “Wait! How do you know my name?”
I felt a warm grip on my hands. I turned to my left in uncontrollable astonishment.
The aged woman was holding my hand and in an instant, the wrinkles smoothed away, the lower lip ceased to protrude and the mouth to mumble, the dull eyes regained their fire and the drooping figure stood upright. The grey hair had gone away with the brown skin. I saw thick black wavy hair and rosy skin in front of me.
Anaysha stood there, smiling at me.
Anaysha! My wife! The renowned advocate Shelvankar stood there!
For a second I felt the earth below my feet had been pulled away.
“Anaysha? You?” Without looking anywhere, I almost pounced upon her and embraced her with whatever strength was left in me. She hugged me back. I could feel warm tears on my shirt.
“I knew you could not leave me Anaysha. I knew”, I almost started sobbing.
Anaysha wiped away my tears and hugged me.
“Sit down Ronit!” she said.
I obeyed my wife as I had always done.
The entire staff of the lodge had gathered on the verandah by then. The Nigerian couple, Kabir Sareen, Mr. Lahm’s assistant, and the five African people had also come.
Anaysha asked everyone to sit down and began to speak. 

May 7
Anavilhanas Jungle Lodge
The Amazon Rainforest
11am

“Let’s start from our trip in the Amazon forest. Ronit! You remember those gun shots? The first two had been fired by me. I had sensed a knife near my throat and I fired twice on the leg of the man who was holding the knife. Blood started oozing out and some it splashed on my dress, a piece of which was recovered by the rescue team. The man started running and I followed him. Another man followed me. The first man then fired at me, but fortunately, the bullet had missed its mark and had just touched my hand. By the time the rest of the team had found out our disappearance, we had gone deep into the jungle”.
“Am I speaking the truth, Mr. Frome?” Anaysha said, pausing for a moment.
“Uh.. yes..”, said Frome.
Anaysha continued, “Meanwhile, the second man had reached me. Seeing that the first man had already collapsed on the forest floor, he took out his kerchief and tied it around my arm where the bullet had touched. It was growing darker inside the forest when a steamer blew a lot of smoke and reached the banks of the river. A few Brazilian police officers jumped down on the forest floor from the steamer. All three of us spent the following days in their steamer. They had already warned me against a drug peddler at the Manaus airport and had handed me the duty to find and hand him over to them when I had gone to use the washroom. A lady constable had handed me a letter from the Brazil Police. The letter contained the features of the man and the news of his travelling to the Amazon. It was then when the entire incident dawned upon me and I could clearly understand each and every step of that person. Here’s Henry Papadopulus, the drug peddler, officer”, Anaysha said, pointing at Mr. Lahm.
“The day I met Mr. Lahm, something in me told me I knew him since long. He had his little finger missing, on his left hand. After reading the letter from the Brazil Police, I put two and two together. Henry Papadopulus had been jailed for five years in India. I was the prosecutor in that case. He bore a grudge against me since then. After flying to Brazil, he came to Rio and got to know about my arrival. An old rivalry germinated in his body. He checked the lists of visitors present and the visitors invited. Two men were missing from the former list. He took his chance. He also paid his gang member to feign assistance. Both of them checked into hotel with fake passes and identity cards.
But, they had committed a grave mistake. They failed to check Mr. Lahm’s wordly existence. Mr. Lahm had lost his life in a car accident a fortnight before this event and I confirmed the same from the German Government. Mr. Lahm had attacked me repeatedly and threatened me with ink scribblings and messages. He had copied Ronit’s handwriting probably from the visitors’ book at the reception. But he failed to understand that I had already seen through his game. And, a hearty thanks to you, Advocate Frome for helping me in this mission. Here’s your guilty, officer. Come Ronit! I need to sleep”, said Anaysha, taking my hand in hers.

~ Anne