I am a master in India

Chapter 220 Killer

Anand has been released from prison, but he has been severely tortured. Doctors say he will need at least three months of rest to regain normal bodily functions.

His arm, in particular, was severely fractured. Fortunately, it wasn't left untreated for too long, otherwise it's uncertain whether he'll ever be able to eat with his hands again.

Ron told him to rest and recover fully before discussing anything further. Rajiv would temporarily take over the business with the medicine man, and Luca remained in Mumbai.

After leaving the hospital, Ron got back into the car and drove straight to the Bandera Police Station.

Since his encounter with the assassin on the street a couple of days ago, his entourage has become increasingly large.

There was a van in front and a van behind, and taxis were mixed in with them, so outsiders had no idea who his men were.

Ron said this matter was not over, and what he wanted to do most after rescuing Anand was not to seek revenge against the palace.

Instead, he dealt with the assassin; the gang had truly angered him this time.

As a businessman, he was kind to everyone. He never sought trouble, and he would never touch the shady dealings of gangs.

Apart from his partnership with Merck, Ron is now involved in all legitimate business.

If it weren't for the lack of access to US dollars, he would have been the cleanest businessman in Mumbai long ago.

But it was no use; gangsters never need a reason to cause trouble for someone.

Besides various illegal activities, kidnapping and extortion are also major sources of their income.

Ron's ability to get to where he is today unscathed is largely due to his various connections and the tacit understanding between the legitimate and underworld circles.

However, some gangs are getting restless and can't resist reaching out to make a big deal.

There are countless gangs in Mumbai, but no more than three would dare to lay a finger on him.

Ron had a pretty good idea of ​​who it was, and now he needed to make a final confirmation.

When I arrived at Aijie's office, he was, as usual, dealing with various shooting incidents.

Even as India's most developed city, Mumbai is never at peace.

"You found your friend?" Aijie looked up from his desk.

"At Arthur Road Jail, it was the Haynes Road Police Department that did it."

“Hainsloo?” Ajay frowned.

“The palace,” Ron uttered softly.

The palace is located on Haynes Road, just a few hundred meters from the police station.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t of much help.” As a police officer, Aijie was completely unaware of what his colleagues there had done.

"It's not your fault. That's not your jurisdiction. You've done your best."

Haines Road is in South Mumbai, while Ajay's police station is in West Mumbai; the two are completely unrelated.

Especially after he was marginalized by Thackeray, his power and influence shrank significantly, and his peers were no longer willing to give him face.

Indian police stations don't have computer systems, so they can't just type in a criminal's name and search for them directly.

All case files were recorded on paper, and some stubborn police officers were too lazy to even register the arrests of Dalit criminals.

In their eyes, the life or death of these insects is not even worth writing a few words about.

Although Ajay took on Anand's disappearance case, there was no way he could make any progress in the short term.

Fortunately, the person has been found, and one of his mountain of files can be closed.

"So what brings you here today?" he asked.

"Help me check on someone; the police in Mumbai should have records."

"Who?"

"A hitman may be a repeat offender."

Ron pulled out a sketch, which he had specially commissioned to be drawn.

Many people around him saw the assassin that day, and through piecing together various pieces, they were able to basically reconstruct the man's appearance.

"It looks somewhat familiar," Aijie frowned.

“Anil said that this kind of killer is definitely not a newbie, and he must have a criminal record with the police.”

"Wait for me a moment." Aijie called over an assistant and gave him a few instructions.

Any hitman responsible for two or more deaths will have their case file received by all police stations in Mumbai, and they will be placed on a special watch list.

Sure enough, the assistant left for only two minutes before returning to the office with a file.

Aijie opened it, glanced at it, and handed it to Ron.

"Muhsin has seven and a half lives on his hands."

"The police in Mumbai have never caught him?"

“There are five detention records,” Aijie pointed to it.

“I don’t understand,” Ron frowned, “that once a convicted murderer like this is imprisoned, can he really be released again?”

"He's been released on bail," Ai Jie said with a hint of helplessness.

"Bail? A hitman can get bail?" Ron's eyes widened.

"Yes, just like you understand it. The police will call their boss and ask him how much he's willing to pay to keep his hitman safe."

"The Indian police are the biggest gang."

“That’s because he fell into my hands.” Ai Jie’s voice was cold.

How many police officers like you are there in Mumbai?

Ajay remained silent; he knew Ron was right, and the truth was even more brutal than that.

Those police officers not only release murderers, they also haggle with gang leaders over bail.

If the price cannot be agreed upon, the police will torture the hitman, with the gang leader listening the whole time, until the other party agrees.

“I’ll make a copy of this file.” Ron waved the document in his hand.

“I advise you not to be so impulsive. You know whose people he works for,” Ai Jie advised.

"Of course, 'Muhsin' is a typical herder's name, Daoudbang."

“They have a lot of influence in Mumbai,” Aiger reminded him. “I heard Daoud has already fled to Babayang?”

"His men are still here, and his deputies have also stayed in Dubai to remotely direct the operations in Mumbai."

"Even if you punish them more severely, they still can't do anything to you."

"Because I'm a police officer. Besides, didn't you see the police car in front of my house? I don't even dare to take my child to the zoo."

“I know, relax, I’m just giving him a heads-up,” Ron said, gesturing for him to calm down.

"In short, if you absolutely have to take action, then send him to me," Aijie sighed.

“Okay.” Ron nodded.

He appreciated Ai Jie's good intentions; it was only right for the police to arrest the murderer, and it was reasonable if there were any accidental injuries in the process.

Back in the car, Ron carefully reviewed the file.

The person in the photo was the killer; yes, he remembered that face.

Muhsin was born in Malpudan slum, a place in Bihar where herders live.

The young herders in the entire community are all involved in gangs; every household is the same. They have no money, but they like to hang out in bars, and the gangs can order them around at will.

The lower echelons of the Daoud gang are all young people like this.

Shiva's army was right; in slums, herders are indeed more prone to crime.

Ron didn't care about the Daoud gang or the herdsmen; whoever messed with him, he would kill first.

You can only be a thief for a thousand days, but there is no way to prevent a thief for a thousand days.

He was willing to put the palace matters aside and deal with the assassins first.

This is a time bomb; if we don't defuse it, we'll be hesitant to do anything else.

Muhsin was not good-looking and had difficulty attracting girls. Because of his short stature, he was often bullied by his peers when he was young.

As he grew up, even the local gangs refused to recruit him, so he could only smuggle gold near Antares.

Once his wallet is bulging, he can't wait to go to the bar and splurge.

Later, the Indian government fully liberalized gold trade, which impacted gold smuggling, and Muhsin lost his source of profit.

He decided to go all the way and rob a bank in Gujarat, where he was caught by the police.

Many media outlets reported on this at the time, and his photos were posted everywhere.

That was one of the most glorious moments in Muhsin's life, and he often boasted about it to others with pride.

After being arrested, he posted 15,000 rupees in bail and was released, but the money he stole from the bank was all stolen by the police.

During the days leading up to the trial, a fellow inmate gave Muhsin a phone number and suggested he talk to Shakir.

Shakir was the second most powerful man in Taunggyi. He admired Muhsin's courage and thus naturally brought him under his command.

Muhsin's first operation was three years ago, targeting a spirits distributor whose business had been commissioned by his competitor.

Muhsin stabbed him fourteen times, but the man survived, so the attempted murder could only be considered a partial murder.

Later, he committed more and more murders, but only seven of them were formally filed as cases.

The Daoud gang consists of many branches, each with members who know little about the tasks of the others. Instructions are issued from Dubai, and they simply carry them out.

Muhsin spends about 10,000 rupees a week, half of which goes to phone calls, 5,000 to hemp, and the rest is sent to his family.

When he desperately needs money, he will "take orders" to kill people, charging 20,000 rupees per life, half paid in advance and the other half afterward.

After several years, he had become a senior assassin in the gang and no longer needed to go to the front lines.

Gangster hitmen only have two fates: either they die a violent death in the streets, or they become behind-the-scenes personnel.

Muhsin is on the verge of retirement, and his daily work now mainly involves extortion and kidnapping.

Daoud's gang has a clear division of labor, with specialists in real estate and entertainment, as well as murder, kidnapping, and extortion.

For many, the Daoud Gang is Mumbai’s de facto tax office.

Whether it's a builder, a director, or an investor, they all pay taxes to Shakir.

If Dubai makes a statement, no matter who pleads for leniency, even members of parliament, it will be useless; you must obediently pay the money.

Muhsin recently took on a big job: kidnapping a high-ranking figure. The reward was two raq, and the order came directly from Dubai.

He needed the money because he was getting married; his fiancée was his cousin.

He needed to raise enough money for the wedding, as weddings in India are always extravagant, and even gangsters are no exception.

Muhsin planned to retire completely after this job. Not to go behind the scenes, but to leave the assassin profession altogether.

He planned to find a factory job and live an honest life. He heard that a company called Suer Electric Appliances was pretty good.

He just didn't know if they would accept herders; he hated those crazy Shiva's army.

Because this wasn't a murder, Muhsin didn't conduct the usual thorough investigation.

He merely inquired about the other party's itinerary, then followed them to scout out their location, preparing to kidnap them at the opportune moment.

However, the target was very alert, and his security team made it impossible to get a hold of him.

Muhsin ventured close to the street once, but was immediately noticed.

The taxi suddenly crashed into them, disrupting all their plans.

If it weren't for his partner's help, it's questionable whether he could have escaped.

Muhsin hardened his heart. Kidnapping was too difficult; next time, he might as well just use guns.

Two days later, the storm had died down, and he prepared to discuss the next steps with his partner.

It would be much simpler to have Dubai change the order from kidnapping to murder.

Muhsin left Malpuddan's place; he was going to a poker club on Grant Road.

That was the meeting place they had agreed upon. The boss was one of their own, a former member of the underworld who had retired.

But shortly after he stepped outside, Muhsin suddenly stopped.

(End of this chapter)