by M J Anand
‘But…’
‘Finish the mission and you’ll be offered an advisory role behind a desk in a godforsaken government department.’
Abhimanyu frowned. ‘Far away from Delhi as possible.’
Amjad sweetened the deal more with no response yet. ‘All other records will be deleted. You can settle down wherever in India you want.’ That was the final cherry.
It was a sweet deal, sweeter than Abhimanyu had expected. He smiled a smile Amjad had never seen in his ten years with Abhimanyu. After all, Abhimanyu was known to be a serious man.
‘I have your word?’
‘You have my word,’ Amjad assured him, to which Abhimanyu flashed a rare ear-to-ear grin.
Chapter 14 - The Teak House
Abhimanyu laid back in his recliner and stargazed from his room’s balcony. To mankind, these were nature’s gift, but somewhere in the universe, these stars were just a ball of surging fire. The contrast couldn’t have been starker, and it symbolized his current situation too. Suspicion and mistrust belied the calm demeanor he had to maintain on the outside. Even the system looked orderly only on the surface as the moles were burning it hollow. He had to let go of the beauty of the stars and rip it apart to find the prying eyes inside—or find a way to operate beyond the prying eyes.
Reality was far from the idealistic version sold to them in the recruitment days. He surveyed the stars again and felt like a pawn—a prisoner of the institution he had spent his life protecting. It was a carefully structured system to manage chaos and, sometimes, even create chaos. This was not what he had aspired for when he started this journey. They had been told they would be the protectors of human values enshrined in the constitution. They would be the hounds that could cross over and win beyond the ambit of the regular defense institutions. Army, navy, and air force were the first line of defense for the country; they would be the first line of defense for the three of them—the sharp edge of the knife that made it lethal and not the back handle of the knife that held it together. They were supposed to be the bishop of this game, not the pawns.
Frustrated as much as by this falsity of his personal life, he also understood these were extraordinary times for the forces. Institutional mechanisms had failed, his seniors were clueless, and the system had been compromised, perhaps right at the top. MARCOS couldn’t be the edge of a knife that had a crack running through its middle. At the same time, a wild tiger couldn’t be the keeper of the jungle. He would just not be good at it, just like Pasha’s kill was due to his shortcomings. These thoughts invaded his dreams.
In the next room, Akram had his own reasons to worry. The leg wound was not as bad as it had appeared, and he had passed out more because of the excessive morphine than the blood loss. Anymore morphine could have proved fatal. It didn’t take the doctor much time to discharge him with a dressing, and he was already walking albeit with a limp after the two-day intensive care. But his wound was not what troubled him. He had seen something very unusual at the border. Abhimanyu had almost frozen. He had taken too long to react when they were pinned behind the Jeep, and any lapse there could have ended it all. It was not the Abhimanyu he knew. Neither did he miss the discomfort between Amjad and Abhimanyu in the morning. It was rare again. Something was up, something important he had no clue about.
Meanwhile, the television was doing what it did the best: drama. Amjad was trying to read every sign in the open. On the backfoot, Pakistanis didn’t acknowledge any operation, and Indians postured not just militarily but politically as well. The peace doves on news channels were already questioning the need of such high-risk strategies just when the ties were recovering after the November attacks. Hundred and sixty lives lost in Mumbai didn’t matter to them. But then, fifty thousand lives lost in last seventy years didn’t matter to them either. Perhaps, in their idyllic utopian world, the idea of protecting a democracy itself didn’t matter to them. On the other hand, hawks continued to provide false claims of having avenged the terrorist attacks even though no official on either side had linked the two. Amidst this hara-kiri, it was anybody’s guess if the Indian Government could hold off the doves long enough to avert the impending nuclear disaster. The peace lobby was working overtime to avert any further action even though it went against the tide and the mood of the nation. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The MARCOS had to make their next move soon. On that thought, Amjad went to sleep too.
Next day, the MARCOS assembled in the lobby. Amjad had messaged them earlier about delay in decryptions. It would take another three days, and he advised them to take leave.
Abhimanyu did not mind a break, but Akram couldn’t comprehend it. It seemed the Indians were caving into the media pressure. ‘A break in the middle of a mission! Why would you do that?’ he confronted Amjad.
‘Nothing will happen till we crack the disk. I thought you deserved a break.’
‘So, you send us into hibernation even though we’re running against a ticking clock?’
‘It’s not hibernation.’
‘What is it?’
Too often, a leave was a prelude to disbanding the team. He knew they had decided to enter Pakistan without keeping the system in the loop, and perhaps it was coming back to bite them.
Abhimanyu sensed Akram’s line of thought. ‘What we did in Pakistan was brave but not the best. We could have controlled the injuries. We could have kept it lowkey. We could have kept it away from media.’ After a moment of contemplation, he continued. ‘I think we need a break. I need a break.’
Akram could see fatigue in Abhimanyu’s eyes. Things were becoming clearer now. Perhaps that’s why Amjad had decided to do it. Perhaps that’s what Akram had missed earlier.
Sonia and Siddhartha nodded in agreement, for it had been too much for them too.
‘So, I’ll go meet Sasha. I suggest you spend some time with your families as well.’
Akram was stumped again. Abhimanyu was not just taking a short break but going all the way back to Assam. The irony didn’t skip the others too.
Sonia joked, ‘Yeah. I’ll go find my future husband too.’ After a pause, ‘Better be with the codes.’
Satire wasn’t lost on Abhimanyu, but he signed off without a retort.
Bagyidaw’s Bungalow, Manas River
It was January fourteenth, the first day of festivities of the year—the day of Makar Sankranti. Abhimanyu stood in front of the Bagyidaw’s gate with a bouquet he had carried all the way from Delhi. The missing part of his life’s puzzle had been fixed in his mind.
Thapa opened the door, only to be startled. ‘Did you run away?’ Eyes opened wide by surprise.
‘Almost.’
‘Is it you?’ Thapa pointed to the television. The news anchors were all over the cross-border mission.
Abhimanyu couldn’t answer but gestured enough for Thapa to guess.
‘So, what’s the score?’
Abhimanyu smiled, but it was a question that got his adrenaline pumping. Thapa was referring to the number of kills. ‘Akram eleven, Siddhartha managed two even with an injury on his first mission, and I did fourteen.’
‘This sounds like a unit.’
‘Yeah. It’s bigger than what any of us have seen.’
‘It always is. You can stop there.’
Abhimanyu trusted Thapa more than Thapa was comfortable with. He had taken care of Sasha and had kept her out of sight during these untrustworthy times. Friends are hard to come by, such professionals even harder. While Abhimanyu had snooped for the double agent, Thapa had helped him keep away from them what he held most dear to his heart.
‘Where’s Sasha?’
‘At the teak house, as usual. It’s done now, but she loves to keep working on the finishing touches.’
With Abhimanyu back, Thapa hoped the teak house will be finally finished.
Abhimanyu walked to the back yard and noticed the increased security. Army commandos guarded the site, a well-trained cadre with heavy firepower. It looked akin to a Z-level secu
rity. The commandos guarded the vulnerable spots of the facility. Though Abhimanyu wondered if they had got the tactics right. Such large bungalows needed patrol teams, not static guards. He couldn’t see any patrol. They were protecting the key entry points, but any intruder who observed them for long enough would simply not take those entry points.
He walked through the bushes on the mud path till the top of Sasha’s teak house was visible.
Sasha had seen him coming from afar and spontaneously carved the soil there with, I Love You.
When Abhimanyu hugged her, he felt her cold body calming his searing heart. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’
‘Me too.’
He pulled her back.
‘How did they leave you?’
Abhimanyu looked away at the clear sky then back at her. ‘I’m leaving the services.’
Sasha was stumped.
It certainly wasn’t the smile of joy Abhimanyu had expected but an expression of disappointment. ‘You don’t want that?’
‘Yes. No. I mean, I didn’t expect it.’
Abhimanyu could read her mind. As much as the thought pleased her, perhaps she wondered if he could really relinquish the identity that had defined him for so many years and still be happy. ‘I’ll be fine.’
To Sasha, it was more than that. She knew the sheer passion, grit, and perseverance Abhimanyu had put into building this world. For him to move beyond it, for her, wasn’t comforting at all. Nevertheless, she hugged him to show her support in what he had already decided.
*****
The prying eyes in Delhi had followed him to Bagyidaw’s. Amjad had requested the Intelligence Bureau’s satellite command put a twenty-four/seven tag on him. ‘He’s not coming back,’ Amjad said, staring at the screen. Amjad couldn’t hear anything but could see enough even through the satellite’s distorted pixels. Sasha’s I Love You was visible enough from the sky. Amjad was personally happy but professionally hurt. It was clear to the stars, as was to Amjad, he had lost his prodigy.
*****
‘You have a knack to surprise.’ Sasha held his hand.
‘And you too.’ He eyed the soil carvings. ‘How did you know I was coming?’
Sasha laughed. ‘Behold, thy spymaster. You’re talking to the communications director of the Bagyidaw’s mansion security.’
Abhimanyu was surprised to realize she had access to the communications room. Thapa was not one of those.
‘Let me show you.’ She pulled his hand and took him to her citadel. ‘The communications room. I can monitor anything approaching the mansion from a mile.’
He looked around, for even he had never visited this room before. ‘So, Thapa gave you your toys.’
‘Yes, I believe I’m skillful.’
‘She has been doing a good job on the communications systems. I’m just happy I don’t have to pay her.’ Thapa joined them.
Abhimanyu was beginning to understand the changes now. ‘Why do we have so much security?’ he asked Thapa.
‘Let’s get some food. You’ve just arrived. We don’t need to discuss everything right now.’ Thapa dodged it but knew Abhimanyu would be persistent, so he added, ‘I’ll brief you on everything later.’
The lovebirds were free to nest. Sasha smiled and acknowledged the favor. However, she knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d have to apprise him of the situation and the threats they had received.
January 15, 2009
India decided to have only one time zone despite the thirty-two-hundred-kilometer longitudinal distance between east and west. It meant the sun usually set early in this part of the country—sometimes as early as 5:30 p.m., which was the case today. The sun was about to set on Bagyidaw’s. After a sumptuous lunch, the deep afternoon was a welcomed errand, not to mention last night’s long sleep.
Abhimanyu, well and truly, had recovered on all the rest deficit. The window was open, and an image in the far horizon distracted him. He thought he had seen rays of light, perhaps a bonfire in the eastern hills. No known village was there. He gently slid from bed without disturbing Sasha. The light could just have been the moonlight’s reflection off the hills, but curiosity got the better of him. He sneaked through the Z-security layer without a fuss and into the jungles surrounding the Bagyidaw’s bungalow. Abhimanyu walked through the jungle mud path armed with only a torchlight and minimal accessories in his pockets, including a Swiss knife, night googles, and a single Glock.
Tall trees and bushes all around would make it easy for anyone to hide in the jungles. Besides, outsized security arrangements only meant Thapa and Sasha were hiding something. The anomaly had activated his sixth sense.
With the kind of security Bagyidaw’s had, no one would brave attacking the compound without observing it for long enough. And, for that, they would have to hide somewhere nearby; Abhimanyu had to just find those trails. He used the darkness to sneak through the jungle without any fuss. He cut through the shrubs and the trees with his Swiss knife and scouted for possible hiding spots—perhaps behind a group of clustered trees or under its huge trunks, perhaps on top of the branches of wide base trees or any dark caverns. If a threat existed nearby, indeed it had to hide in these places. After an hour of treading through the jungles, Abhimanyu had found nothing. He started to think it was just his paranoia. Maybe he should have just confronted Thapa and Sasha. Finally, he reached the banks of the Kopili River. The noisy stream calmed down only at the Umrangso Lake, many miles downstream. This was a good spot to stop for a break.
Abhimanyu checked under the rocks, next to the trees, and beside the waterline. If any fire spots had existed, they had been washed away. A little farther ahead, tall, clustered woods lined the riverbanks. He spotted a small log, almost finished, entangled in the river shrub and refusing to get pulled in by the water stream. Abhimanyu picked it up and gently tapped it against the rock. It broke off with little force. Someone had used it in a fire, but it was only half burnt. Abhimanyu pressed the broken half between his fingers. He could feel the ash which had coagulated with water in the brittle wood crevices. But this wasn’t enough. It could have been anyone. He needed a more specific lead.
Abhimanyu noticed a low sound from the river—a flapping every time the wind blew to west. He couldn’t see anything though, so he folded his pants and entered the river. Abhimanyu kneeled while tapping carefully to ensure he didn’t step on a crab or a thorn fish. Finally, he saw it—a half-burnt piece of paper. With a delicate hand, he pulled it out. But Abhimanyu couldn’t read anything. The paper was intact, but water had erased most of the ink marks. Only a few patterns remained. Whoever had used it must have not gone far. He removed his gun.
Abhimanyu scanned the paper. He had to find someone who could read it but had no link to the agency. He thought for a moment and clicked a snapshot. Abhimanyu relayed it on his personal chat to Mrs. Rituparno Sen, a professor of Jadavpur University. He had met her during a leadership training program, and she had been a handful of resource ever since. As a professor fluent in multiple languages, she could decode regional languages at the blink of an eye. University was her day job. As a fierce nationalist, she took special pride in helping Abhimanyu even without the public recognition. It was a different matter that they had also been involved romantically during the duration of the course. However, before things took a serious turn, they had decided to call it off. It had been amply clear they couldn’t live in each other’s life. Friendship was their best bet.
Abhimanyu used RAW’s secure chat service, Ericsson. It was a handy tool to establish anonymous IP. The servers were designed to isolate each team module with cyber walls. Sonia managed it for their team, and it was the safest line to use now. Only they would have access to the chats.
Rituparno didn’t make him wait with a reply. It’s Urdu paper with a few names on it. Can’t make out everything, but they read Hussain, Akbar, Allah-uddin in parts. Then came the shocker.
There is also a full line which reads something like cort … stat but
I can’t make sense of it, as most of it has been wiped off.
Abhimanyu needed to read no further. Cort could easily mean Cortex, which is all he wanted to know. Question wasn’t who were they but what were they doing here?
His paranoia had turned into reality. Lost in his thoughts, Abhimanyu turned to return to the bungalow. His only company through this lone walk were the stars. His vision in the northeast blurred. The stars wobbled strangely. Was it smoke? He noticed the pattern of the blur. It was definitely smoke, and he zeroed in on the hills farther in the north. It could only be the tribal or the intruders. Abhimanyu decided to verify for his own peace of mind. He walked toward the hills, feet pressed hard, ears alert to every noise, and eyes probing the jungle for traps. If it were terrorists, they would definitely take some precautionary measures.
As he approached the hills, the blur in the sky thickened. Orion’s belt was waving wildly. A commoner’s eye couldn’t spot it, but a trained eye couldn’t miss it either. Someone had definitely lit a fire in the safety of the hills. Abhimanyu kept moving forward. A chatter of sound was faintly audible now. It was still too far to understand the language, but he could hear four or five people talking. This was no camping ground, so only hideaways were to be found here. Even the nearest farms would be at least fifty kilometers. He now wished he had carried more bullets. At least he had his night goggles. He was not far now; their voices grew much louder. He could hear words like, “Janaab, Shukriya, Dua, and Rehmat.” It was a dialect of Urdu. He deduced it was Sindhi Urdu, popular in Pakistan. Abhimanyu unlocked his Glock.
He manuevered through the wild shrubs and noticed an unnatural bent in the towering semals. Something was pulling down the tall tree. He scanned the tree to the roots, and, thanks to his night goggles, he spotted the very thin silver straight line of an aluminum thread barely visible even during daytime. The moonlight did the trick. He followed the thread and turned around the trunk of at least five other trees. Abhimanyu scratched one of the trunks; it smelled RDX. The tree trunks were loaded with RDX. These men were not messing around. Abhimanyu carefully navigated the wires and emerged on the cuesta. From this height, he could see them at a distance of about fifty meters. Abhimanyu mounted his silencer on to the gun’s muzzle. He spotted one of them sitting on a tree, guarding for intruders rather than sleeping. Perhaps no one had ever come this way. That’s probably why Abhimanyu wasn’t spotted. He couldn’t see the faces, but he counted four of them sitting around the fire. Abhimanyu hid behind the thickest trunk nearby and waited for the right moment.