by Rahul Badami
Mastaan’s phone buzzed. He pulled out the phone from his pocket and glanced at it. It was Zontai. “Yes?” He asked wondering what the man wanted to talk about.
“Are you going to meet Jin Wang?”
“Yes?” Mastaan said wondering what Zontai made of Jin’s demands. Was he already aware of it? He was about to tell Zontai to manage Jin by himself, but before he could do that Zontai spoke.
“Kill him.”
“What?”
“Kill him. He disobeyed me. He deserves to die.” The phone went dead.
Mastaan placed down the mobile on the table and debated how to solve the problem in front of him. It wouldn’t be difficult, he surmised. Jin was lost in his own thoughts. This guy is such an amateur outside a computer.
Mastaan reached in his pocket and clasped his fingers around a vial.
CHAPTER 11
“Caracal One, what do you make of it?” Armaan asked. He’d been listening to the conversation.
“The hacker wanted more money from the other guy. He looks to be his sponsor.” Manohar replied. “One thing I observed was that Jin Wang addressed the sponsor as Mastaan. Does that ring a bell?”
Armaan had noted it too, but he had drawn a blank. “No, it doesn’t.” He responded. Their best bet would be to grab both the targets and interrogate them. “We need to figure out a plan to extract them.”
“I’m working on that, Two.”
A few minutes later Manohar spoke, “The sponsor is leaving. You keep an eye on him.”
“What about the Chinese hacker?”
“He’s still at the table drinking his beer. You can trust me to do my job.”
“Yes. Of course.” Armaan shook his head and let out a small chuckle. He was calling the shots to a person who was way more experienced than him. He taught me this stuff, and now I’m telling him what to do.
Armaan had led so many team missions that he now naturally took control of a situation and made decisions. It had been a long time since he had to be a subordinate to someone else. The General had called him headstrong. He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. But now after years of leading from the front; it was difficult for him to relinquish control of a mission.
Armaan saw a boat parked in front of the tower. He hoped the handler would be on it. He waited till the boat sailed across the river and reached the pier. The passengers started to file out.
And then he saw Mastaan step out.
“I got him, One.” Armaan fell in line behind him. “I’m trailing my guy. You nail the Chinese.”
“He’s still drinking. Probably a little too much.”
Armaan kept a close watch on his target. The man was still walking ahead. He hadn’t called a cab, which meant he lived somewhere close. After a few blocks of walking, the man entered a hotel. Armaan slipped in behind him.
“Room 202, please,” Armaan heard him speak to the receptionist.
Armaan immediately bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time. Once he reached the second floor, he looked at the doors and spotted Room 202. He glanced around and made sure there were no hotel guests around. He had to be careful. He couldn’t risk a confrontation in the corridor. He would have to figure out a way to get the man isolated and talking.
Armaan heard the ding of the lift as it reached the second floor. The handler was here. Armaan rushed to the door opposite of Room 202. It was Room 207 and Armaan patted his pockets as if he was searching for his room keys. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man appear. His walk was steady and confident. He looked to be a trained agent.
Armaan clasped his hand on a taser inside his pocket. He looked straight ahead at the door to Room 207. The man was now within a few feet. Armaan could judge the distance by the rhythmic sound of his footsteps.
Armaan never knew whether it was the break in the footsteps or whether he had spent too much time in front of Room 207, but his years of experience came to the fore and he immediately sensed the man had tagged him as a hostile. He whipped his head and discovered the handler was in the process of pulling out his handgun from inside his jacket.
No, you don’t.
Armaan lifted his foot and kicked the man’s hand. The gun flew out of the man’s hand and he momentarily lost the initiative. It was enough for Armaan. He took out the taser from his pocket and thrust it straight at the man’s chest.
The effect was immediate. The man jerked as thousands of volts of electricity sizzled through his body. His muscles seized up. He crumpled down like a sack of stones. Armaan knelt down and patted the man’s pockets and found the key to Room 202. He opened the door, and then grabbed the man and half-lifted and half-dragged him through the door of his room. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind him and pushed the man onto a chair. He ripped the bedsheet off the bed and swiftly tied up the man to the chair before he could recover from the shock of the taser. The effect of a taser would last for just a few minutes. In that time, he had to ensure the handler was no longer a threat. Armaan pulled out the man’s socks and stuffed them in his mouth.
Closer up, Armaan was even more certain he had seen the man somewhere. He scrutinized the face trying to search his memory. Armaan had an eidetic memory and he knew that sooner or later he would figure it out. But now that the guy was in front of him, he would get the answers fast enough.
A muffled moan emanated from the sock-filled mouth. The man started thrashing around in the chair, trying to free himself. Clearly, the taser effects were over. Armaan looked at his pathetic attempts for a moment and then pulled out his silenced Glock 17 and pointed it at the man’s head.
The man’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the gun and he stopped thrashing. Armaan spoke in a cold voice.
“I have some questions for you. If you fail to answer them I will kill you.”
The man kept quiet. Armaan felt as if he was mulling over his options. It was time to push him into a decision.
“I will count till ten. If you do not nod, I will shoot you dead.”
The man nodded. A thin smile flickered across Armaan’s face. The prospect of facing death always brought out results.
“I will pull out your gag. If you scream, you know what will happen next. If you cooperate with me, I won’t shoot you.”
The man nodded again. The look on his face was unreadable. Armaan pulled out the gag, but the man didn’t scream for help or make any untoward noises. He just glared at Armaan.
“Who is the Chinese guy you met with?”
“His name is Jin Wang. He is a computer hacker.”
“Why did you meet him? What was your objective?”
The man kept quiet. Armaan waited a few seconds. He then flipped his gun and held it by the barrel then swung the butt across the man’s cheek. The man winced as the blow struck him. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. The man spoke in a low voice.
“He helped us hack into the Aadhaar database.” The man straightened in his chair and looked Armaan in the eye. “I know why you are here. You will never win.”
“What do you mean?”
A malicious gleam came into the man’s eyes. “You can’t stop us. We have our sources everywhere. You think you are so smart binding me to this chair. Your department is full of leaks. You should interrogate your own people instead of me.”
“Who?”
The man clamped up. Armaan waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. Armaan tapped the gun in his palm waiting for the man to understand his intentions. The man’s face remained impassive. Armaan thrust the socks back into his mouth. He then swung back the butt of his Glock and then crashed it into the man’s knee with resounding force. A loud crack echoed in the room as the man’s kneecap splintered and the man twisted wildly in his chair full of agony. He tried to scream but gagged on the socks.
“Next time, it will be the other knee, and then we will move onto the fingers. Do I make myself clear?”
Tears of pain rolled down the man’s eyes. He nodded resignedly. The cocky attitude had gone. Armaan kn
ew the man would cooperate now.
“Who?” He asked again.
The man tried to say something, but his voice was garbled under the gag. Armaan pulled out the socks.
“There were never any names. I met him online on a dark web forum. He wanted money. I wanted information.”
Armaan mulled over what the man said. The dark web was a hidden part of the internet most online users never heard about. It was full of sites that allowed users to anonymously trade in drugs, black market goods, guns, and even recruit terrorists.
“What information did he provide?”
“He seemed to be pretty high up the ladder. I had posted a job offer to do penetration testing of the Aadhaar firewall. He told me that he knew the security loopholes that would allow a hacker to get into the system.”
“How did he know about the loopholes?”
“I think the person was an insider. He had quite a deep knowledge about the Aadhaar setup. The results are there to see.”
“The hackers mentioned a decryption code to unlock the database. I’m sure you have it. Give it to me.”
“I don’t have any decryption codes.”
“Liar!” Armaan roared.
“No, it’s true. The decryption codes are with Jin. Not me.”
Armaan saw the man’s eyes linger behind him to the door, and then flit back to Armaan and again go behind him. It was as if he was looking at something behind him. Was someone behind him? About to attack him? Armaan swivelled and turned towards the door, bringing out his Glock in front.
No one.
The door to the hotel room was closed.
Armaan heard a rustle behind him. He turned around to see the man’s fist swinging towards his face. It had been a ruse. The man had somehow managed to remove his bonds. Armaan leaned his face back at the last minute. He narrowly missed the blow on his face and the man’s fist crashed into his wounded shoulder.
An excruciating pain ripped through the nerve endings of the raw wound and sizzled through his arms and hand. The Glock clattered to the floor. The man swiftly cracked another punch on Armaan’s jaw. The force of the punch jarred his cheekbones and rattled his skull. Armaan sprawled flat on the floor. The man quickly grabbed the fallen Glock and pointed it at Armaan while he untied his legs with his other hand and stood up from the chair.
The malicious gleam came back in the man’s eyes, “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
Armaan swore. The tables had indeed turned against him.
CHAPTER 12
Armaan still reeled from the blow.
His wounded shoulder was throbbing. His cheek was burning from the punch. He touched his cheek and immediately winced with pain; he was sure a bruise was forming. He looked at Mastaan towering over him, pointing his own Glock at his head. A wave of anger washed over him.
Armaan gave the man a cold stare. “Give that gun back to me, and I’ll let you live.”
Mastaan gave a throated laughter. “That’s the best joke I’ve heard. The gun is pointed at your head and you are still giving me orders?”
Armaan got up slowly. “Yes. You are making a big mistake.”
“Mistake? Huh! You guys are making a mistake by following us. You will only run around in circles. My contact told me a team of Indian agents was going to Urumqi. I am laughing at what fate has in store for them.”
The hair on Armaan’s back stood at end. The Urumqi op was known to only a few select people. This meant the man’s contact was someone at the very top.
It was impossible!
Who? He ran his mind through the list of possibilities. Each more improbable than the last. All of them were dedicated to their work. They couldn’t betray the op.
But someone from them already had. There was a traitor amongst their midst. He had to find out who and why. Someone from the inside had helped the man in front of him to access one of the most secure databases in India. And not just one but two people had colluded in this colossal duplicity. One from the NSC and one from the Aadhaar team.
But first, he had to get out of here and report the breach.
But how? The man in front of him held the gun only a few feet away. And Armaan was unarmed. But there was something the man in front of him didn’t know. Armaan was a professionally trained killer. An expert in the art of the unexpected. Most people would anticipate a man to cower when held at the wrong end of a gun.
But this guy had picked out a fight with the wrong man.
Armaan exploded forward. He dove ahead ducking under the line of fire. The man reacted immediately. The gun fired, the bullet whizzing a few inches above his head. And in that moment, Armaan knew he had won. He rolled sideways as the man tried to take aim at his fast moving body. Armaan planted both hands on the floor and used it as a pivot, spinning his body like a top, one foot extended aiming for the man’s leg. His steel-toed boot smashed hard on the man’s injured knee, and the man yelped in pain. Armaan grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it violently. The gun fell on the floor. He then reached out, grabbed the man’s throat and kicked the man’s legs. The man lost his balance and fell back. His head landed on a glass table and the glass shattered, strewing sharp pieces all around the floor. The man dropped flat atop the broken glass.
Armaan raced and picked up the gun. He pointed it at the man sprawled on the floor. The man didn’t move. He looked to be out stone cold or…
Armaan approached closer and observed a thick red gash on his neck. The cut was long and deep, but blood wasn’t spilling out. He knew what it meant.
The heart had stopped pumping blood.
The man was dead.
Armaan turned the body over. He found a big jagged piece of broken glass with blood on it underneath his head. It appeared the man had sliced his neck on the glass as he fell. Armaan shrugged. He had no qualms about his death. Armaan had warned him, and the man had disregarded his warnings.
But Armaan was frustrated. The man had died. His death signified that the mission had tanked. This man could have led him to the decryption codes. And the identity of the unknown traitor. All their preparation for this mission had come to naught.
The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and Armaan looked around at his surroundings. He doubted if the silenced gunshots were heard outside the room, but the dead body would become a problem very soon. He went through the man’s pockets. One pocket had a wallet with multiple currencies but no identification. The second pocket had a mobile phone.
Much better.
Armaan pressed the screen lock button and the mobile screen lit up. It prompted for a fingerprint to unlock. Armaan was fazed, but only for a moment. He grabbed the dead man’s thumb and pressed it over the screen. The phone unlocked.
Too easy.
He went into the mobile settings and permanently disabled the screen lock. He didn’t want to risk locking himself out. He browsed through the call records. There were only three numbers. Two numbers started from +86 and one started from +91. Two Chinese numbers. One Indian number.
The traitor’s number.
Armaan memorized all three numbers. The man hadn’t said anything conclusive, but he hoped the phone numbers would give him some clues. He wanted the decryption codes. Maybe someone on the other end of these three numbers would have the decryption codes.
But he would have to wait to find out. Right now, his priority was to let Manohar know the op hadn’t gone as expected. It was not a good thing when you were stuck with a dead man in an unfamiliar city.
He pulled out his phone and called Manohar. Manohar picked up immediately.
Armaan said, “Did you meet your friend?”
“Yes, he is at home with me.” Manohar replied. It meant that he was in custody. “What about your friend?”
“Not good. He spilled his drink. I need a maid to clean up.”
There was a long pause on the line.
“I’ll send over a cleaning crew.” Manohar finally said. “Did he say anything?”
“Yes, I’ll tell yo
u in person. What about yours?”
“So far my friend is giving a passionate talk about individual rights and liberties. I love his sense of humour knowing where he is from.”
Armaan gave the hotel name and room number and hung up the phone. He left the room, scampered down the fire escape and exited from the hotel. He replayed the conversation he just had. The man knew about the Urumqi op. It was unnerving on a number of levels. They had a mole in the system. And this mole was someone high up. Even the man had said the same thing. It meant their department was leaking like a sieve. The man had said something was in store for Baldev’s team.
Were they walking into a trap?
He had to call General Singh. Singh was the only one who could stop the operation in China. After walking a couple of blocks from the hotel, Armaan pulled out his phone and called the General. After the General came on the line, Armaan briefly told him about his encounter with the target and what he had revealed.
“Sir, I believe there is a strong possibility that our op in Urumqi is compromised. I suggest you abort the mission.”
“Armaan,” General Singh’s voice barked down at him. “Are you again telling me what I should or shouldn’t do?”
Armaan bit his lips. He wanted to call a truce with the General, but recently the General had found a way of annoying him to no end. Anger surged through him, and he fought to keep it down. He reminded himself that his team’s lives could be jeopardized. He controlled his emotions and decided to reason with his boss.
“Sir, I am sorry. That was not my intention. I only wanted to ensure Baldev and the team are made aware of the situation.”
“They will be able to take care of themselves. They are smart and capable. Now, about your guy. Do you have him in your custody?”
Armaan grimaced. He remembered the dead man on the floor with a bloody gash across his neck. The General wouldn’t like it. He drew a deep breath. “The man died.”
“What!” General Singh blew a fuse.
Armaan rushed to explain. “We got into a brawl and he slipped and died.”
Why did you kill him?” The General roared. “You should have captured him alive.”