DOWN IN THE DUMPS
By Neel Anil Panicker
“What? Are you sure you’ve got the right guy? Is he really the one we’ve been looking for?”
The man nodded his head vigorously.
‘Yes sir, we’re sure. He’s your man.’
Senior Detective cum India INTERPOL representative Abraham Chacko dismissed his French counterpart.
Later, lighting up a cigar, he mulled over the matter.
‘So, our man, Nirav Modi connives with a couple of high rolling unscrupulous bankers and siphons off a few hundred millions. Next, he shuts down all his businesses, leaves the country on a fake passport, and since then turns invisible__ not to be seen or heard of anywhere ever until now when word gets in that he’s been spotted in the South of France, just outside an exclusive retreat that’s off bounds for the hoi polloi.’
Chacko puffs into his cigar, and then scratches his head in utter disbelief.
‘Why would a man hole up in a smelly dustbin just outside the main gate of Allee de La Bergerie, the most exclusive resort in the world.
An hour later and Chacko’s still not come up with an answer to the dilemma.
Strange are the ways of the rich, and stranger are their ideas of debauchery, he avers.
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