The Great Escape: The Partho Mystery Series, #3

By Rajib Mukherjee

A new strain of the virus, COVID-30, has brought the world to its knees. Meanwhile, the ultra-rich are dying of heart attack. Partho getting himself unwittingly involved, discovers the corpses are missing. Is something larger at play here?

The only way to unravel the truth is to face it head-on. Can Partho figure it out before it's too late? Find out in the Partho Mystery Series Book 3.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rajib Mukherjee
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393039051

Book preview

Prologue

The world entered a new era on New Year’s Eve of 2030. The streets of New York, the alleys of Shanghai, the gullies of Mumbai, and the avenues of Los Angeles were rife with young hearts rejoicing in ecstasy. Welcoming the new year at the turn of the decade was not an everyday event. The poor souls didn’t have the faintest idea of what was about to hit them yet.

In a little police station in Mysore, the situation was different. Ramlal was the inspector on duty that night. Like everyone else, the plan was to retire early for the day to celebrate New Year’s Eve with his family. A solitary phone call eclipsed the euphoria of the New Year. Three thousand deaths on the streets of Mysore. It was the last thing anyone could have anticipated. The volume of casualties resulted in an escalating chain of events. It was not long before the home minister of India received the call from the superintendent of police. Extreme caution was the call of the hour.

The media never got an inkling of the mass deaths. Those who knew were silenced until the results were conclusive. The reemergence of a new form of virus, COVID-30, was not released by the local governments until several months later when a medical report was leaked out to a media agency. Not until March did the average person first hear of it. The effect was instantaneous. The New York Stock Exchange plummeted 10,000 points.

Back in 2019, the true cause behind the emergence of COVID-19 in Wuhan had never really emerged. The sky-rocketed demand for the vaccine had resulted in several false calls. The race to the first patent on the vaccine resulted in many fallen martyrs and inevitable casualties. The right vaccine emerged from an unexpected source—a local scientist from Wuhan. It had led to several conspiracy theories debated today in political forums and scientific conventions. However, the damage was done in the form of a shaken global economy. It had taken almost a decade for the world to recover - for the mother to let her toddler out to play in a park, for the elderly couple to take that cruise.

The memories of 2020, when COVID-19 had first emerged, resurfaced in people’s minds. The dwindled economy, the restricted travels, the bankrupt businesses that had once thrived, the riots arising from joblessness, and the diminishing hospital supplies no longer seemed in the distant past. As governments tried to justify not releasing the news sooner, new cases were confirmed in different parts of the world—Shanghai, Tokyo, Los Angeles, New York, and Paris. The world had indeed entered a new era!

Chapter 1

~ Partho ~

The day at the GBRC - Groundbreaking Research Institute was not out of the ordinary until that point. Being a part-time employee, I had the flexibility to work at my schedule, so long as I finished the job. I tried to maintain balance between family and work life. The first eight months of the calendar year was work time, while the last four were reserved for family.

My recent assignment as a Scientist-B had successfully ended last week. Usually, my next gig was lined up long before. But on this occasion, I still hadn’t heard from him. When my research institute's director summoned me, I knew a tall order stared me in the face.

He looked remarkably young for an older man with fringes of grey hair on his head. Partho, your reputation as a physicist is irrefutable. The global body farm project is on. The time-lapse videos of the arms and legs of the corpses can tell us what the entire forensic department can’t. No murderer can now escape the action of his deeds, John said.

Death was not my specialization. Puzzles, riddles, and cases might be up my alley as a private investigator. But death rarely was. As a physicist who doubled as a private investigator, I had come across gruesome deaths in the past.

Well, it’s high time for such technology to emerge. What is it about? I asked. The research of the movement of arms and legs on the corpses had piqued my professional interest.

Through the renowned body farm project, an Australian scientist had carried out pioneering research in the post-mortem movement of body parts. Arms and legs continued to move in corpses until one year after death. It was a discovery that had far-reaching implications, explained John.

Forensic experts generally assume that unless a corpse has been physically moved, the position of the body at the time of discovery was it’s position at the point of death. This could change the entire premise of forensic science, I said.

Precisely, Partho. You see the ramifications if an accurate time-lapse system captures the expected decomposition and body parts movement over time. Forensic science could undergo a drastic transformation. Our research is on mapping the movements from deaths due to cardiac arrest. The project has direct funding from none other than Jim Pollard, the affluent industrialist, and philanthropist. He has pledged a million dollars to ramp up research on finding the cure for cardiac arrest—his hope is tracing the body movements of the corpse might lead to a discovery of the cure, explained John.

Jim was a renowned industrialist, and his philanthropy has been well-publicized. If Jim’s funding was directly involved, this was bound to be a high visibility project.

Why cardiac arrest when COVID-30 is so prevalent? I asked.

This is the need of the hour, my friend, said John.

Why me? I asked.

Why you? he repeated after me.

I am not a thanatologist. My work is in particle physics and neuroscience, I said.

Ah. But you have a flair for unraveling mysteries, my friend. A curious scientific mind with an inclination to crime-solving is a rare mix, you see, he said with a raised brow.

What’s the objective of the project? I do not see the point, I said.

Convincing you is not a child’s play. That’s why I have saved the best for last. We will build a database to trace the movement of body parts after death to enable the forensic department with their simulations. The prototype would aid the CBI unravel a couple of unresolved mysteries of their choosing, said John.

Impressive. Are the Australian scientists on board with this? I asked. We would need the data they had collected to build the database.

Indeed. They have concurred. Our focus would be primarily on the deaths from cardiac arrest. Winning the contract to represent India in a global coalition was an honor to our firm, said John.

I am in. When does it start? I would prefer some time to study the alien technology, I said.

You are my man! One week would be ample time for a mind of your caliber. The project begins next Wednesday. Exciting times, said John with a chuckle.

But that’s not the entire story, is it?

Nothing escapes you. Didn’t I say I saved the best for the last? Dr. Sharma would be the lead thanatologist on the project, said John.

I sighed. Not the whimsical old man. Though brilliant at his work, he was known as the nut-head in close circles. To work on an ambitious project with him would be an uphill task.

Don’t look so upset now. He is the best man in thanatology that the country has seen—the reason our institute got the contract. I am sure you will have an interesting time, John said with a wink.

No doubt. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave, I said.

He nodded. My next destination was the library of the research institute. I needed to familiarize myself with the new terminology. Grabbing a few books on the shelf of one of the greatest libraries in the country, I established myself in a quiet corner. As I flipped through the pages of the books, time slowed down.

Before I realized it, the ding announced the fifteen minutes warning call for shutting down the library. In my excitement, I had forgotten to check out the books. The limited number of reference copies made it harder to always find them. A queue had formed in front of me by the time I neared the receptionist.

When my turn arrived, I began to push the books forward. But a hand from behind pulled it back.

Who is so interested in death? a croaky voice asked, staring down at the books in my hand. Turning around, I spotted the wobbly head with fringes of gray hair that generated it.

Dr. Sharma?

Partho, the famous confused man?

Excuse me. Confused? I asked with indignation.

What else do you call the man who can’t make up his mind if he is a scientist or a detective?

Well, I am just a simple man with a bit of inclination in both. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to check these books out, I said.

Yes, of course.  I need you to check out some books for me. I will return them when I get done. I forgot my library card at home, he whispered in my ear.

I am sure they will be able to look you up on the system, I said. 

You moron. I have three hundred rupees late return due on my account, he said in a carrying whisper.

It was just Sharma being Sharma. Three hundred rupees was nothing for a man of his status. But he derived little pleasures in making the library work for its dues. I checked out the two books he had along with mine.

Handing them over to him, I said, Don’t be late on these now.

We will see about that. He turned around and marched out.

I shook my head, thinking about having to work with the man for the next six months.

***

It was late by the time I reached home.  Ria, my wife, opened the door. You got a new project? she asked, eyeing the pile of books in my hand.

Yes, the death project, I said.

She shivered at the utterance. You have a weird sense of humor. Before you kill my appetite with the details of your project, let’s eat. I am starving. She let me in.

After a quick shower, I changed my clothes and hurried back in. Ria had laid the dishes out. She always got things done with her own brand of charm and grace. Her knack for finding order in chaos was how I had survived.

We spoke a little at dinner. After supper, I did the dishes while she cleaned up the dining table.

So, what is this death project about? she asked.

You sure you are up for it? I asked.

Of course. We are done eating now, she said.

Okay. Corpses have been found to move after death in the caskets over a long course of time. Mapping out the movements could help establish the true position of the body at the time of death. In certain situations, this information could establish the cause of death.

Gory!

I warned you before, I said with a smile.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

We stopped for the day and retired to our bedroom. The long day helped me pass into a dreamless slumber effortlessly.

Chapter 2

~ Dev ~

The half-hour-long drive from my apartment to work was typical of a Monday morning.  Traffic and boredom were my companions. Having worked in Information Technology for about six years, my work-life balance had tipped off big time. Like most of my weekends, I was on a support call this past Sunday, blurring the difference between a weekday and a weekend. Stopping at a traffic signal, I tuned in to NPR to catch up on the news.

The crashing global economy with the India's pandemic was the featured headline of the day. The interview with Jim Pollard followed next. The industrialist expressed high hopes for a vaccine before the end of the year. He announced five million dollars to fund the discovery of the vaccine. I pulled up my smartphone to check my investments and 401k—it was down 30% from the day before.

I flipped the channel to 104.7 to keep my mood from sinking. The memories of COVID-19 was still fresh in my mind. The closing businesses, the riots, and the falling economy resurfaced. I remembered the travel restrictions back in the day. The painful memory of hoarding the supplies at supermarkets swam up in front of my eyes. Is COVID-30 going to be as bad as the original? Only time could tell. Not being able to travel for two years back home was quite a bummer. I had missed Partho’s tenth anniversary.

Partho Ghosh, my best friend, and brother-in-law had always lacked the social skills to meet and greet people. But he still got what he needed out of anyone he spoke to; it was part of his talent as an investigator. He had been a gold medalist, top of his class with over one hundred inventions under his belt, ranging from small respirators to innovative metal detectors and hypnotic devices. Still, he never patented any of them. Ten years later, their 20th anniversary was this year. The last time I spoke to him was on New Year’s Eve, about six months earlier. Though I stayed in touch with Ria, Partho had been busy lately. I needed to catch up with him.

The sign of Dunkin Donuts brought me back into the present. I pulled into the Dunkin Donuts to get my customary Chai latte and an egg croissant. Just as I was about to head in, a storm warning sounded.

A blind old man with a husky was rushing up the street right in front of me; he didn’t have an umbrella. A heavy downpour started splattering against my windshield. The sound of the alarm scared the dog and it raced away from