THE PROFESSIONAL

Now, he suddenly recalled the man bumping into him in the evening rush. He tried hard to recollect in vain. That face was commonplace. There was nothing suspicious about the bugger. How so casually he emerged from among the people ahead of him, shouldering a sling bag, threw a routine sorry and disappeared hurriedly into the crowd behind him! So quick! Going to the police was foolishness. It was almost two hours and he should have done it back there at Parel station.

He was just carrying three hundred bucks. Dolly’s photo too wasn’t a problem. She would send another, latest one. She has gone a little plump recently. To hell with Dolly at the moment!

It was the recommendation letter of Institute’s president that was gone. He wouldn’t get another chance and tomorrow was the operation. Doctors had given just 24 hours. He had to get mother from the adjacent city. But without the letter….! A wave of grief gripped him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Oh God! How could you be this cruel!?

The knock on the door interrupted his lament. He stopped crying and walked up to the door to open it. No one! His gaze dropped over something on the threshold. He lept at his wallet and frenetically checked its contents. He was too anxious to appreciate the miracle. Recommendation letter was right there. Money’s gone. No issues! Then another piece of paper arrested his attention. He snatched it out and read what was scrawled:

Pick-pocketing is an art I mastered with great difficulty since my mother died on road side when I was four. Don’t bother how I found your place. Saw the letter. I am not that bad a man. I’ve taken the money, my compensation. After all I am a professional.