As hearing slowly returned to his temporarily deafened ears, Kang knew that the CM was dead – and that he could have saved him if he had acted in time.
That was eighteen years ago.
Suddenly, Kang was assailed with the same feeling he’d had then. Something was not right. Raina had almost reached the steps that led to the podium and Kang knew it was now or never. He rushed up to him.
‘Sir, stop!’
Ranjit turned and gave Kang an exasperated look. ‘Not again, officer!’
Kang refused to budge. Irritated now, Ranjit turned to his security and was going to ask them to lead Kang away when it happened.
The blast ripped through the dais, blowing it to smithereens. Nearly twenty feet away from the stage, Raina was thrown back by the impact of the blast, fetching up against the fence.
The debris from the explosion and the shock wave from the blast hit several cars parked behind the stage, including those of Ranjit’s entourage, shattering their windows and triggering their alarm systems. The audience was thrown into a panic, running in all directions through the cloud of dust, and the noise from the cars’ alarms only added to the chaos.
The sound of the explosion had deafened Ranjit temporarily, and as he struggled to get to his feet, he could hear only faint screams from the crowd around him. Within seconds, his security cordon had got to him and whisked him away to his car, leaving behind many questions about the so-called tight security that had been organized.
A total of five men had been killed, all of them junior party workers who had either been sitting in front of the stage, handling the sound system, or standing on the stage. Twenty-four others were injured, six of them critically. As his brain slowly started to function, Ranjit realized that the delay caused by stopping to talk to Kang had most definitely saved his life.
He tugged at the sleeve of one of his bodyguards. ‘Kang,’ he croaked. ‘I want to see Kang.’
3
RAW HQ, Lodhi Road, New Delhi
3 February 2013
He was sporting a blue turban, dark shades and a thick, bushy beard. Clearly, more than anything else, the point was to be unidentifiable and inscrutable.
He had given his name as Balbir Singh Sandhu, spokesperson for the Babbar Khalsa International group. The BBC had been showing runs and re-runs of the tape since morning, wherein the Sikh terrorist group had claimed responsibility for the explosion in Amritsar.
‘The idea was not to kill Raina. It was just a warning bugle. Whoever insults the Khalsa will be dealt with severely. So Raina and all his friends in the Indian government should take note of this.We are alive, aware and ready to strike.’
Suresh Kumar Yadav, alias Sky, was watching the BBC telecast in his office. He was said to be the second best thing to have happened to RAW, after the founding director, R.N. Kao.
India’s premier spy agency had been established after consistent intelligence failures in Pakistan and China. Kao, then deputy director of the Intelligence Bureau, had given its blueprint to Indira Gandhi and in 1968, the agency was established and given responsibility for strategic external intelligence in all forms. RAW was the only agency in India not accountable to the people of India or even the Parliament, reporting directly to the prime minister of India; much like Mossad in Israel. Ably supported by the National Technical Research Organization (NTRO), RAW was thus exempted from the Right to Information Act, and its director designated as Secretary, Research. Raised along the lines of the American Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), critics had accused it of having the potential to become another KGB-like monolith. However, stalwarts like Kao had more than once proved the merit of such a structure.
Within a few years of its establishment, the agency had disclosed Pakistan’s frantic efforts towards uranium enrichment at Kahuta, the site for Khan’s Research Laboratories, a nuclear weapon testing facility. Pakistan was developing high-range fissile material production and was producing highly enriched uranium (HEU), which RAW agents established was of weapon grade when they tested hair samples near the testing site. However, further penetration was thwarted when Prime Minister Morarji Desai boasted to the then President of Pakistan, Zia ul Haq, that India knew all about Kahuta and the work going on there. The ISI eliminated every single Indian asset in Pakistan it could find related to Kahuta.
In fact, politicians had consistently undermined the work carried out by RAW. The now infamous Gujral doctrine was another example. During his ten-month stint as the Indian prime minister, Inder Kumar Gujral had shut down the special intelligence operations of RAW in Pakistan, causing a major setback to the agency in intelligence gathering.
The chiefs of the spy agency were chosen from the Indian Foreign Services, Indian Police and even the Indian Postal Services. However, Sky was from an army background. It was the army man in him that had heard the intense emotional plea of his fellow army officer, Sayed Ali Waris, at the JPC meet. As was his wont, Waris had sounded logical and unemotional, but Sky knew the frustration and anger raging beneath. He had opposed Ali and shown his aversion to what he was advocating, but he knew that his friend was right.
Sky was accountable to the highest office in the country and being at the helm of RAW meant that he had to act with utmost responsibility. Therefore, even though he’d known that Ali Waris was right in pushing for a revenge mission, he knew he couldn’t sanction it based on his own instinct alone. The RAW chief of India couldn’t act on impulse.
The screaming Sardar on the telly was now replaced by two intelligence experts specializing in South East Asian affairs. Sky switched off the TV and turned to his officers, who were watching the broadcast with him for the strike. Until then, only the Indian news channels had been crying themselves hoarse about it. But when a channel like the BBC got involved, and when the Khalsa fellow had given an ‘interview’, they knew it was no hoax.
‘Sir, I’m telling you. The ISI’s signature was all over the blast,’ said the first officer. He pushed a file towards Sky. ‘The bomb was a crude, improvised explosive device, concealed in the hollow of the amplifiers on the stage. The explosive charge, fuse, circuitry and initiation system—everything points next door.’
‘Any arrests so far?’ asked Sky.
‘The local police have picked up some suspects. DSP Iqbal Kang has emerged a hero of sorts. They’re saying it’s because of him that Raina is still alive,’ said the other officer.
Sky was silent for a minute, lost in thought. Then he looked around at the others and said, ‘Very well, gentlemen. Thank you for your report. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a few calls.’
As soon as the door closed, he picked up his phone and dialled a number. It was answered almost immediately. ‘Ali? You busy?’
‘What do you think, Sky?’ replied Lieutenant General Ali Waris on the other end. ‘I was hoping I would be, but you didn’t seem too intent on letting me shield our asses.’
‘All right, old man, take it easy,’ Sky said soothingly. ‘What you proposed at that meeting caught us all by surprise. You didn’t really think we’d agree immediately, did you?’
‘Well, what do you want? And who’re you calling an old man?’
Sky chuckled. ‘Not you, old boy, that’s for sure. Anyway, I need to talk to you.’
‘So talk to me.’
‘Not here, not now. Can you come over to my place this evening?’
There was a pause before Waris replied. ‘Fine. I’ll be there at eight.’
At exactly 7.58 p.m., Sky’s doorbell rang. The moment Sky opened the door, Waris noticed his host’s furrowed brow. He waited until Sky led him to the study, and then came straight to the point.
‘What’s on your mind, Sky?’
The RAW chief didn’t answer immediately. He stared blankly out of the window into the darkness of his lawn.
After years of service with Sky,Waris knew better than to interrupt his friend. He sat back in his chair quietly and waited.
Abandoning any pretence at
small talk, Sky asked, ‘Ali, what do you know about K2?’
‘What, the mountain? It’s high.’
Sky gave him a dirty look.
‘Oh, you mean the Iranian mullahs – what are their names, Khomeini and Khameini? Iranian warlords who fucked America before UBL took over from them. You getting nostalgic in your old age, Sky?’
Despite his state of mind, Sky chuckled. ‘Come on, you old bastard. Seriously, what do you know?’
Waris shrugged.
‘Not much, really. The only K2 I know is code for the Khalistanis and Kashmiris. But—’ He stopped as he saw the expression on his friend’s face.
‘That’s the one I’m talking about,’ said Sky.
‘But they’re long gone! We wiped them out ages ago! They slunk away when they realized we were too powerful for them!’
‘I know we decided that, my friend,’ said Sky, nodding sadly. ‘I’m going to disappoint you. K2 is active right now.’
There was a stony silence. Waris felt his heart pound against his ribcage.
Back in 1971, Zia ul Haq had mounted a diabolical campaign to bring Kashmiri militants and Khalistani terrorists together. Neither on their own could cause a dent in the might of the Indian Army, but he felt a combined onslaught would be far more difficult to repel.
Then began a series of hijackings and notorious plane landings in Pakistan. Khalistanis began addressing the media from Pakistan and badmouthing the Indian government. All this and the Kanishka bombing had caused massive setbacks to the Indian government in their fight against militancy, though India was ultimately successful in eliminating the K2 threat. Waris was among those who had believed this. Until now.
‘Confirmed?’
‘Absolutely. I guess you haven’t seen the afternoon news,’ Sky said, sitting back in his chair.
‘No, I haven’t. I was with my daughter.’
‘Babbar Khalsa has taken responsibility for the Amritsar blast.’
Waris’s eyes widened. ‘Khalsa? Where the hell did they come from?’
‘No idea. Apparently, they called the BBC in London. The usual stuff, you know – we could have killed Ranjit if we wanted to; next time he won’t be lucky, that kind of thing.’
‘Yeah, that’s the tune these fuckers play when their plan fails. As if they could kill someone like Raina so easily.’
Sky half-smiled at Waris and shook his head. ‘Ali, that’s the problem,’ he said seriously, getting up to pace the room. ‘Raina would have roasted in that blast. My man was there, he told me Raina’s alive only because of bloody luck. An STF fellow got wind of the attack and tried to warn Raina. Delayed him by twenty-five minutes.’
Waris understood immediately. ‘And the bomb was on timer! Raina’s alive because he was late to the rally!’
Sky nodded. ‘Exactly. Ali, we had no idea. These bastards are everywhere, and I believe them when they say we won’t be so lucky the next time.’
Waris looked at his friend questioningly. ‘But isn’t that what I said to you fellows that day? We’ll never be safe until we get these fuckers.’
‘I know. But the situation is more dire than you think. Recently, we unearthed a secret tunnel in Sialkot that opened into the Samba region of the national highway. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Then some of my men reported that around fifteen men are being trained in Aksa for a suicide attack to take place in Jammu’s Doda district. Now there’s this blast in Amritsar,where my officers tell me that the IED’s design is identical to the ISI’s handiwork. On top of that, the Khalsa has resurfaced, meaning that there’s got to be some kind of an alliance that’s been resurrected.’
He stopped and returned to his chair. ‘Ali, the meaning is very clear. Things are going to get very messy, very soon, unless we can do something to stop it.’
‘So you’ve reconsidered my proposal?’
Sky sighed and rang for his manservant, who appeared promptly. ‘Want something to drink? Scotch?’
‘Strong black coffee, no sugar.’ Sky nodded at the man, who withdrew silently.
Sky looked back at his friend. ‘You’re still the same, Ali. I still remember how you took a mug of coffee and climbed onto that jeep’s bonnet in Drass, while the shelling was still on.’
Waris chuckled. ‘Yeah, God knows what possessed me to do that. But it worked, didn’t it?’
‘Worked?’ said Sky. ‘Of course it worked! Nobody dared to shoot you! You lucky bastard!’
‘Yeah? Who’re you calling lucky? What about the time you were refused your first deputation to RAW? We met in Srinagar on the frozen Dal Lake, remember?’
Sky chuckled, reminiscing. ‘I remember we drove right into the middle of the lake and stopped there!’
‘Exactly. Of all the damned places to catch a drink! You and I, sitting in the middle of a frozen lake, you with your Scotch and I with my coffee, and God knows how many snipers hidden all around. It’s a bloody miracle we weren’t shot!’
‘True. We’re a pair of very lucky fellows, Ali.’
‘Luck’s got nothing to do with it, Sky. I’ve always told you that. It’s easy to be brave when you’re hiding behind a clutch of
AK-56s. You need balls of steel to be a real man, like you and I. And these Pakistanis have not learnt the aleph, bey, tey of bravery,’ said Waris, grinning, knowing his friend would appreciate his use of the Urdu alphabet.
Sky’s manservant entered with a tray bearing a pot of coffee, two mugs, two glasses and a decanter of whiskey. He deposited the tray on the table, bowed reverentially to Waris and went back out.
‘Yes, well, it’s that damned bravery of yours that got you into trouble,’ said Sky, pouring out his friend’s coffee and then a stiff Scotch for himself. ‘You should move on, Ali, and find peace in the good things of life.’
He grew serious then. ‘Look, you almost caused an international scandal by marching your brigade across the LoC.They could have court-martialled you for it, but your track record saved you. You can’t do that this time, Ali. You can’t dance into the fray in your usual manner, wanting to die a warrior’s death. Too much is riding on this.’
‘I don’t want to die in my bed, Sky. That’s not a bad thing to want, is it?’
They were both silent for a while, each lost in his own thoughts and poison, one muddy brown, the other golden. Then Waris said, ‘Let’s stop beating around the bush, Sky. Why am I here?’
Sky stared at him for a long moment, taking his time. He then said, ‘Remember that plan you told us about at the meeting?’
‘Yes.’
‘Please go ahead with it. I’ll back you with resources, but that’s it. Beyond that, you’re on your own.’
Waris stared at him, ‘Credit me with some intelligence, Sky. I understand the issue of plausible deniability.’
‘It can’t get back to me, Ali. You have full independence in choosing your team, right from wet works commandoes to tech support, no questions asked. You can call me only in exceptional circumstances, when you’re in totally deep shit. But I’m telling you again, Ali. It can’t get back to me. For me, this conversation never happened.’
‘I know what you’re saying, Sky. Inshallah, this will never come back to you. With me, you don’t have to watch your back.’
Sky sighed and leaned back. ‘Ali, I do know. And that’s why I called you over.’
Ali looked up and smiled. ‘Is that so? I thought you called me to have your blasted sarkari coffee!’
Sky grinned back. ‘I thought you wanted to have grilled meat.’
‘I used to like it, but now I think it’s time I precipitated hell’s fires to roast others in it.’
As he spoke, Waris’s countenance underwent a total change. His hands formed into tight fists and his lips were pressed together. His eyes had a distant look, a look that would have shrivelled his enemies. For a moment, even Sky could not look into his friend’s eyes.
‘Good luck, Ali,’ said Sky, smiling, knowing that now it was the enemies of Waris who wo
uld need all the luck in the world.
4
1999. Kargil. The war had all but been won. The Indian Army had neutralized resistance from Pakistani forces almost everywhere. Few remained who could withstand the might of the jawans. The fight that had begun in May continued till July, resulting in a decisive Indian victory and humiliation of the Pakistanis. At the end of the war, the Indians had lost over 527 soldiers, the Pakistanis 1063.
But there were some pitched battles that were never reported.
A vital link remained under Pakistani control: Point 5250, near the Khalubar ridge in the Batalik sub-sector. It was a plateau-like structure that afforded an almost unrestricted view of the surroundings for miles around. Even on a bad day, with below par viewing conditions, it would have been impossible to approach the ridge unseen, far less climb to the top and vanquish the enemy. There was a single road leading through the peak, but it was heavily manned and impossible to approach, as the narrow pass and the high ground around it meant that anyone trying to take that path would immediately be killed.
For days, the Indian Army tried to capture Point 5250. Artillery troops kept firing at the Pakistani forces at the top, occupying their attention while others climbed the walls of the plateau, trying to get to the top from where a more organized resistance could be put up. But every attempt failed, as the Pakistanis would immediately spot anyone scaling the ridge and gun them down. From their strategic height, they repulsed every attack, often just by hurling boulders down at the advancing army. Two entire battalions fell to the tactical advantage of the Pakistani soldiers.
Finally, the Indians gave up all hope of capturing the point. The enemy was too well positioned, it simply couldn’t be done. Not by any conventional means of warfare, that is. Something different was needed, something foolproof, something that couldn’t be achieved by ordinary infantry tactics.
Mumbai Avengers Page 4