There is a saying, "Whenever a criminal commits a crime, he is sure to shiver. For he will close his eyes and think about Inspector Vinod, who with his stupendous knowledge of world history is surely on his trail."

Six towers looked down on small steel metal cages. Inspector Vinod strained his eyes through his dark glasses as he approached a small cordon of security guards. He looked beyond them and tried to look into the cages. Nothing was visible, except for an occasional flash of orange. He waved his hands carelessly at the guard who asked him for some form of government issued identification.

"I don't have any." Inspector Vinod looked far from hassled. In fact, he was smiling.

"Then, get the hell out of here," the guard shouted at him. "This isn't Disneyland, its Camp X-Ray, Guatanamo Bay, Cuba."

Suddenly.

Slap!

The stinging sound reverberated though the rippling heat. "Idiot, you dare ask this man for ID!" The man in charge, Brigadier General Michael Lehnert was having another word with his young, innocent flock of troops.

The soldier looked chastened. "I am sorry Sir," he mumbled to an ant below. "I thought it was standard..."

"Standard, Shmandered," said the brigadier. "Look at the gentleman."

The guard looked. He saw a round face, covered with sweat. Something covered the wide gap between the nose and upper lip. It covered most of the upper lip too. It was presumably a moustache. He looked at the sunglasses. Then he staggered and grabbed at the air for support.

"Inspector..."

"Vinod," said the gentleman effusively. He slapped him on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Brigadier, don't be angry. The boy is young."

The guard broke out into a flurry of apologies, as they walked away. He felt so ashamed of himself, that he couldn't raise his voice loud enough to make it audible.

Inspector Vinod walked up to a small tent. He emptied out a bottle of Diet Snapple into the basin and filled it up with tap water. He took a long swig.

"Now Brigadier," he said. "What is up? Why did you ask me to come here at such short notice?"

"Inspector, you know how tough we have had it here. The weather is hot, the food is cold and the prisoners are barbarians. One of them even bit off a huge chunk of flesh from my soldier's arm, when he was unchained in the toilet."

"I am not here to judge," said Inspector Vinod. "Only solve."

The Brigadier looked at Inspector Vinod first with anger and then with grudging admiration. He snorted.

"Ok, here is the deal. I need your help. I believe that these prisoners keep telling us lies during our questioning. We keep asking them about where their leaders are, what targets they have planned, and so on."

He paused and continued agitatedly.

"I have seen them smile before they speak through their beards. I believe they are making up things to keep us on guard and themselves amused."

"Do you have any proof?" asked Inspector Vinod.

"Yes, for example, one of them told me that the public restroom outside a gas station in Albany was a possible target, because he was unhappy with the flushing system. He muttered something in Arabic and said, 'With God's backing it will happen'. I heard people from neighboring cages chuckle. And this is only one of many. We can't keep issuing public alerts based on such nonsense."

"No you can't, "nodded Inspector Vinod as he saw, 'Samosa place with bitter chutney in Little India' marked in red on the list.

"We also keeping asking them about the whereabouts of Osama. That is when they let their imagination fly. I am going crazy trying to decipher their answers. I need your help, Inspector. We need you to question them."

Inspector Vinod had already left the tent. The hassled Brigadier caught up with him by the fourth metal cage. He handed Inspector Vinod an injection and pressed on the syringe. A fountain of liquid streamed through the air.

"What's that?" There was no 'need to know basis' sort of stuff in Inspector Vinod's lexicon of actions. He always needed to know. It didn't matter what the issue at hand was. He remembered how his maid in India had tried to use some cheap Nirma detergent instead of the tried and trusted Surf. She denied it to him on questioning. He had removed his glasses then and looked into her eyes. Inspector Vinod felt sorry for her as he thought of how she had gone completely to pieces. The image of Nirmala drinking the water on the bathroom floor while laughing and crying hysterically was one that would stay with him for life.

"Fountain of truth," the Brigadier chuckled. "It's a truth serum."

"Take it away, I don't need it. My stupendous knowledge of world history is serum enough."

They stepped into the cage. A bearded prisoner was trying to chain his mat to the metal rings on the wall. He saw the officer and said, "Come in, come in general. I have news for you today." He rubbed his hands in silent glee and beckoned his guests to sit. "Who is this cartoon?" he asked.

"This cartoon is not very funny," said Inspector Vinod.

Touche.

"I am Inspector Vinod". "Remove the handcuffs, Brigadier."

"But..."

"Remove them, so that I can shake hands with him. Now." Inspector Vinod knew that showing fear was not a good tactic when employing psychological warfare.

Snapping of fingers brought about a flurry of activity. Several guards went up to the prisoner in a tug of war formation. The first guard cautiously slipped in the key and removed the handcuffs.

Inspector Vinod sat in front of the bearded man and stared at him.

"Hey, remove your glasses," said the failed suicide bomber. "It is impolite to say the least."

"Don't you worry, the time will come for such a course of action," said Inspector Vinod.

He asked a guard to get him some Diet Snapple. He then faced the terrorist, man to man, goggles to eye.

"So," said Inspector Vinod, "How are you?"

"Fine", replied the man in black. For the first time, he seemed a bit nervous.

"And you say you know where Osama is?" Inspector Vinod

"Sure," said the man. "I would have not told you normally, but Inspector you seem a good fellow. You are not like these white devils."

"I am white," replied Inspector Vinod. Both the terrorist and the Brigadier general looked extremely shocked at this piece of information. They caught each other rolling their eyes heavenward at the same time. For a brief moment in human history, there was a genuine bonding between Arab and Western cultures.

"However, that is another story." Inspector Vinod looked mysterious. "For another day."

"First we tackle the matter at hand. Do you or do you not know where Osama is?"

"Yes, I do know. He is in a land where the river runs deep and from ear to ear, forehead to chin and north to south. The land too is full of deep craters, for it is a country that the US has bombed."

"Which one could it be?" wondered Brigadier Lehnert. He could count at least five countries, he had visited as a bomber. Then he ran out of fingers.

"In the 1970s, Osama's old friends conducted a long campaign in a certain place. They have left it long ago, and Osama is now in this forgotten land. The audiotape you confiscated with his voice. He recorded it there, in that same country."

Inspector Vinod asked for the tape to be played. Even though the make was Sony the quality of the recording was poor. There was this constant rhythm in the background interrupted by the occasional whistle. It was quite useless. He shut it off.

"Terrorist scum, you dare play riddles..." The Brigadier was clearly upset and visions of a promotion only strengthened his anxiety.

Inspector Vinod raised his hands. "This man has told me all," he said. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket. It was a bill of some kind. He wrote something on the reverse side and handed it to the expectant officer.

The Brigadier General took the bill and did a double back flip with his eyeballs. Then he reversed the bill and read what Inspector Vinod had written.

"Laos?" he whispered softly. The terrorist nodded taken by surprise and Detective Vinod nodded out of satisfaction.

For the next few days, the phone in Inspector Vinod's pocket rang continuously. The United States was planning this big bombing campaign in Laos, backed up by necessary ground troops. Inspector Vinod was designated as a 'strategic consultant', a term that had apparently become fashionable during the dot com era. He was asked questions about every nook and cranny in the scenery of Laos. It was a novel experience for him: a derivation of geography based on his stupendous knowledge of world history.

Inspector Vinod enjoyed being in Washington DC. It was a good town for relaxing. He could have these soul stirring Cappuccinos at this great joint called Starbucks. When he wanted to read, he could always saunter across to the Declaration of Independence and smile happily at the words, "Life Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness." They struck a melodic chord in his heart every time he read these pearls, irrespective of the language. Playing chess with the President also had its plus points, though he was tired of pointing out that killing a pawn does not allow one to shout out, "Check and mate".

It was on one of Washington evenings, when Democrats were saying it was sunny and Republicans were clamoring that the weather channels use the word "muggy". Inspector Vinod was waiting in the Rose Garden for the President to arrive. Suddenly, he had a moment of clarity. He closed his eyes tightly and cursed himself. He trampled over a rose and ran into the Oval Office.

"Mr. President!" he shouted. "Stop the campaign. I have been a fool not to realize."

"What! Dang! I was really looking forward to this. Why, Inspector Vinod? Why?"

Though, truth be told, it came out more as an exclamation than a question.

"Not now, I need to go to Camp X Ray immediately. I shall answer all questions there."

A helicopter is a thing of great wonder. In a couple or hours and a little more, Inspector Vinod stood before an august gathering, comprising of the President, the Secretary of Defense, the Vice President via hologram and Brigadier general Michael Lehnert. They all stared at the terrorist.

"Ok, you bloody liar," said Inspector Vinod. "Confess that the tape was recorded in some other country and you made the rest up."

"No, I spoke the truth," said the defiant terrorist.

"Look away gentlemen," said Inspector Vinod. He removed his sunglasses and stared into the eyes of the terrorist. The terrorist saw the God of Death dance madly to the tunes of a hit from the sixties inside big black, yellow and suddenly orange pupils. And that was only the left eye. What the terrorist saw in the right eye is unspeakable and cannot even be mentioned in this forum. He began to cry. The president clapped.

"You, progeny of doubtful parentage. How many more people will you kill? Didn't September 11 quench your thirst?" Inspector Vinod was furious. A nearby squirrel scampered for safety.

"I lied! I lied!" the terrorist screamed. "I have no idea if Osama is even dead or alive." He spoke in unison with the President, "But how did you know?"

How did Inspector Vinod know?

Because of his stupendous knowledge of world history.

"Consider the facts," he said:

1. "The terrorist said that Osama was in a land where the river runs deep and from ear to ear, forehead to chin and north to south. The land was full of deep craters, for it is a country that the US has bombed. This part was easy.
2. Osama's old friends were members of the CIA. The CIA played a very active role in Laos during the Vietnam War. The Mekong runs all through Laos and is the lifeline of the country. The USA bombed Laos in the 1970s to target communist sympathizers.
3. We would all have believed him and gone on a wild goose chase in Laos, (not to mention the irreparable damage we would have caused to the common man there). But this terrorist overdid it by playing the tape. I didn't realize it then, but remember that the tape was undecipherable due to this sound in the background? I couldn't place it then, but that sound was of a train. There is absolutely no railway infrastructure in Laos, and hence I knew he was lying."

"There are many countries in the world, where people have no access to basic health services, transport, food or sometimes even water. These terrorists have no right to be blowing up buildings and the like, killing innocents. But, Mr. President, you too are not blameless. Do have the good manners to clean up after bombing a country. I hope you build some schools, houses and MacDonalds in Afghanistan, before leaving it."

The President looked chastened. The terrorist was still writhing in pain. "Note this link on your palm pilots, gentlemen," said Detective Vinod. "We owe it to the people of Laos to be interested in their fate."

"http://www.vientianetimes.com/Headlines.html" said Inspector Vinod. Then he stepped out of the room.

The End

CIA World Factbook - Laos

Inspector Vinod has already visited>