The corner was important. It couldn’t be just any corner of any room. The corner had to be flanked by two cupboards. Preferably the olive-green steel Godrejs. Or even a grey metal filing cabinet. The purpose was to create an alcove in which the man would be forced to crouch with no room to escape. Then there were the boots with spikes. Sturdy black leather boots polished to a gleam, with dagger points for spikes. When he slipped the boots on, they would hug his feet and ankles, so when he stretched his leg and kicked the creature in the corner, he would feel the impact at the back of his skull. The impact of all eighty-three kilograms of him slamming into a spot. The crunch of metal against bone. The shredding of skin and laceration of flesh. Kick. Kick. Kick. Till it screamed for mercy. Gowda tried hard not to slouch, and allowed his pet fantasy free rein. This time the man in the corner had a face. Assistant Commissioner of Police Vidyaprasad. IPS Cadre. Gowda had known a few fine IPS officers in his time.
