North from Calcutta

by Duane Evans

  “So what do we do, General?”

  “We do what we are good at doing. We take our time and find out who is behind this and what they are up to.” Ali said.

  “And then?”

  “We stop them.”

  22

  It was 9:00 on a Wednesday morning as Ambassador Salim sat at his desk reviewing the notes from his secret meeting the previous day. The meeting with Abu Shafik had gone extraordinarily well—Abu Shafik agreeing to all the key points of Salim’s proposal. Most importantly, Abu Shafik had agreed that the LT would maintain a stand-down of its operations in Kashmir.

  Keeping the LT fighters inactive was particularly important to Salim’s strategy. Salim wanted the Indians to believe that the LT, under pressure from Pakistan, was being forced to abandon their armed struggle while Pakistan pursued a peaceful dialogue with India. And, especially, he also wanted Prime Minister Bahir to believe it.

  According to Salim’s agreement with Abu Shafik, in exchange for the continued suspension of LT operations in Kashmir, the IRE would deliver funding and material, including weapons. Salim had agreed that the LT could continue to conduct recruitment and training activities in Pakistan, and General Huq had already arranged safe havens inside Pakistan where Shafik’s men could rest, refit, and hone their military skills.

  The arrangement with Abu Shafik had not been authorized by the Pakistani government. Only Salim, General Huq, and a handful of officials—men who shared the same vision of the future—were aware that any agreement existed with the LT.

  The arrangement exactly met Salim’s needs. He could tell the prime minister that since the IRE had taken over the ISI’s responsibility for maintaining communication with the LT, the group had desisted from conducting attacks, permitting Pakistan to engage in serious peace discussions with India. Once Salim was ready to put all parts of his plan into action, it would be too late for the PM to react.

  Everything was shaping up nicely, Salim thought. He locked his notes in a small two-drawer safe in preparation for the briefing on Major Durrani’s mission in India. Pressing the intercom button, he told his aide to send the visitors into his office.

  Tarek walked in, accompanied by Admiral Nurullah and an Army engineer, Colonel Khaja, who was, like Tarek, on deputation to the IRE.

  Salim greeted Tarek so warmly a casual observer would have thought they were old friends. He traded perfunctory greetings with the other two men and directed the group to a conference table where they could spread out the materials to be reviewed. The large oval table was a new addition to the office since Tarek’s first meeting with Salim, one that he took as a sure sign of the IRE’s growing bureaucracy.

  Admiral Nurullah began the briefing. “Mister Ambassador, I am pleased to report that Major Durrani’s mission has been 100 percent successful.” He handed Salim a copy of the briefing materials, which Salim reviewed as Nurullah described their contents.

  The first section contained the details of Farakka Barrage, including maps showing the dam’s location, as well as significant population centers and facilities in the area. There was also an overhead commercial satellite photo of the dam. Another document included a history of the dam and background information on why it had become a point of contention between India and Bangladesh. Nurullah also noted that Bangladesh had recently petitioned the UN to again hear its complaint that Farakka Barrage was causing desertification in its western region.

  Salim jotted down a note to himself on this point. “Good. Very good,” he said. “I will speak to the foreign minister to see what we can do to support Bangladesh’s petition. It is to our interest that Farakka Barrage becomes newsworthy.”

  The second section of the report was a technical analysis, prepared by Colonel Khaja, on the structure and materials of the Farakka Barrage. It was on this section that Salim seemed to focus most closely.

  “So, Colonel Khaja, what does all this mean?” Salim asked. “Its complexity is beyond me.”

  “In a nut shell, Mister Ambassador, from an engineering standpoint Farakka Barrage is a very formidable structure,” Khaja replied. “The Ganges along this stretch is particularly deep, and due to the flow rate of the water and the width of the river channel at this point, extreme forces are at work on the dam most of the year. To insure its long-term integrity, special composition concrete was poured in liberal amounts to build the dam’s walls. In addition, this concrete was heavily reinforced with steel girders and other reinforcement running both vertically and horizontally. Frankly, in my view the dam is actually oversized and was over-engineered for its task.”

  “I am surprised India could afford to waste its resources by overbuilding a project of this scale,” Salim remarked. “No doubt the waste was the result of poor engineering on India’s part.”

  “I don’t believe so, Mister Ambassador,” Admiral Nurullah contradicted. “We mustn’t forget that at the time Farakka Barrage was built, India was a client state of the Soviet Union. You’ll note from the background material that this was, in fact, the first major joint water project between the Indians and the Soviets. The Soviets wanted to impress the Indians with what they could bring to bear on projects like this, so for purely political reasons, they perhaps went a little overboard with its construction.”

  “Excellent point, Admiral,” Salim responded, although he would have preferred to believe it was just poor planning on the Indians’ part. “Well, I think we have what we need to buttress Bangladesh’s case in the UN. Let us hope that with our behind-the-scenes assistance, Bangladesh will win the UN debate, and India will be forced by world pressure to close the dam for environmental reasons. Wouldn’t that be a blow to Indian prestige and a great victory for the IRE?”

  Turning to Tarek, Salim said, “Major, your mission to India is the critical piece in all this. Without the information we now have before us, we would not be in position to push this initiative. Now that we have the technical facts, all we need to do is present them in a convincing way to illustrate the role this structure is playing in the desertification of Bangladesh—something I’m sure we can easily accomplish. Now gentlemen, if you will excuse us, I have other matters to attend to.”

  Both Tarek and Admiral Nurullah were surprised at the abrupt termination of the meeting, having anticipated a much longer discussion. As the men rose to leave, Salim turned to the Admiral, “Please keep me informed of any developments concerning the debate on Farakka at the UN We will want to do all we can to publicize this issue leading up to and during the debate.”

  Uncharacteristically, Salim, who normally displayed the most gentlemanly of manners, did not walk with his office visitors to the door. “Perhaps, Colonel Khaja, you will remain for a moment,” he said, and went directly to his desk. He did not even say goodbye as Tarek and the admiral departed.

  Once the office door closed behind them, Salim turned his attention to the colonel, who had seated himself near Salim’s desk.

  “Well, Khaja, what do you think?” Salim asked eagerly.

  “If we were assessing this dam for a contingency war plan, it would be classified as a target for our medium bombers, due to its size and structure, and the amount of ordnance required to destroy it. Of course, a well-placed long-range missile could also cause major damage. Unfortunately, the ability to reliably strike such a narrow linear target by missile is beyond our technical capability at this point.”

  Salim picked up the satellite photo of the dam and stared at it for a full 10 seconds. Placing the photo on the table, he leaned back in his chair.

  “None of those weapons systems are available to us anyway, Khaja. Even if they were, Pakistan’s signature would be written all over them. No, what we need is a non-attributable option. Something like a commando team.”

  Khaja considered Salim’s words, then shook his head. “Ambassador, twenty teams of commandos could not carry enough explosives to put a dent in this dam,” he said with a laugh. “No. A commando team is not appropriate for this target.” He pa
used for a moment, and added thoughtfully, “But this assumes the ManPAD is not an option.”

  Salim looked quizzically at the Colonel. “Man pad? What do you mean?”

  Khaja’s face took on a serious expression. “Mister Ambassador, ManPAD is the acronym for Man Portable Atomic Demolition—a baby nuke, as it were.”

  “And a ManPAD would have enough force to destroy the dam?” Salim asked.

  “With the right placement, absolutely.”

  “But we would still have the problem of attribution.” Salim said. “If a nuclear bomb went off at Farakka Barrage, the Indians would know it wasn’t the Bangladeshis who did it.”

  “That is not necessarily true. The Indians may not realize the explosion was nuclear in nature,” Khaja replied.

  “How can that be, Khaja?”

  “Because the ManPAD is a very low-yield nuclear device. The entire assembly can be carried in two large rucksacks, or in the boot of a car, or in a small shipping crate. The yield is low enough that it does not emit a classic nuclear signature—no mushroom cloud, and only very low-radiation emissions. In fact, without the right equipment, it is difficult to tell that a nuke has exploded,” Colonel Khaja smiled. “It is a very neat little bomb.”

  Salim fell silent for a few moments, pondering Khaja’s words. “Do we have a stock of these devices?”

  “Yes, but only a small stock. Of course, only one would be needed.”

  “Who controls them?” Salim asked.

  “The Special Munitions Department at the Ministry of Defense.”

  “Where does this department fit within the MOD?”

  “It falls directly under General Huq, Ambassador.”

  23

  It was General Ali’s first day back in the office since the attempt on his life. His shoulder had recovered to the point he no longer needed a sling for his arm, and the small cuts on his face had completely healed. Tarek had stopped by to welcome him back to the job, and the two men were comfortably seated. Ali took advantage of Tarek’s visit to bring him up to date on what was potentially the most important new case the ISI had underway.

  “Highland View/30 is the only LT source we have, so there is no immediate way to corroborate this report,” General Ali said as he handed the red folder across his desk to Tarek. Tarek opened the slim folder and took the time needed to read the report thoroughly. Once finished, he closed the folder and looked up at the general.

  “Well, HV/30 may be the only source we have, but thank Allah we do have at least one window into the LT. HV/30’s report is interesting. On the one hand, it is positive news in that it shows no orders have been issued to begin operations; however, HV/30’s interpretation of what this may portend cannot be ignored.”

  “I tend to agree with his instinct,” Ali said. “The LT is not standing down on operations merely because of the Kashmir talks. The last time they suspended operations this long was just before they launched major attacks. And just as in that case, according to HV/30, the LT elements have been ordered into the tribal areas to await further orders. Unfortunately, trying to verify that they are there is just about impossible without mobilizing significant numbers of our forces, which I’m certain General Huq would not authorize. HV/30’s next report, hopefully, will shed more light on what is happening.”

  “When is the next contact?” Tarek asked.

  “He should signal within the next week to 10 days. Until then, we can only wait.”

  Tarek reached over and picked up the HV/30 file again, flipping it open and skimming a few pages. “I can’t help wondering what his motivation is for reporting on the LT. Do we really know why he volunteered to us?”

  General Ali nodded. “That’s a good question, Major. Although it is not mentioned in the report, Captain Awal says he is motivated by his desire for peace and his belief that Pakistan can obtain peace through negotiation faster than the LT can achieve it through fighting. He also claims to be disillusioned with the LT for its extremist views, and ‘lapses in moral leadership.’ Unfortunately, for the present time we are left to guess what this means, as the captain did not get an opportunity to delve into this at his last meeting.”

  “He is saying the right things; at least the things we like to hear,” Tarek said. “But I’m not sure I’m convinced. By all accounts, HV/30 is a battle-hardened fighter who, due to his age and family obligations, is now playing a support role for the LT. He doesn’t sound like someone who would have a change of heart and suddenly become a pacifist.”

  “Indeed, Major. But men do sometimes change. An unexpected event can have a profound effect on how a man sees the world. Perhaps HV/30 has just seen too much war and its effects. However, you make a good point and we need to get a better understanding of why HV/30 appeared on our doorstep.”

  Tarek agreed, “Determining a source’s true motivation is difficult, sometimes impossible. To quote one of my more professorial ISI instructors, ‘Such are the complexities of the human psyche.’ I am sure our young captain will do all he can to answer this question as he gets to know HV/30 better.”

  Both men fell silent, the sounds of the ceiling fans now becoming apparent.

  “I do believe we are coming to some kind of crossroads on Kashmir, and things could go either way,” Ali said. “The political environment today is extremely fluid. What the LT chooses to do is perhaps the greatest factor in whether or not the Kashmir talks will result in a real settlement. Should the LT initiate attacks, I think the Indians will do more than just withdraw from the talks.”

  Ali stood up and walked over to a small bookshelf. He picked up a book and set it down, then picked up another. Tarek could tell the General was really not interested in books. Ali turned back toward Tarek.

  “Well, Major, I have told you all about the Highland View/30 case, but we have not discussed your meeting with Ambassador Salim.”

  “I really did little speaking,” Tarek began. “Admiral Nurullah and Colonel Khaja did the talking.”

  Tarek described his meeting with Ambassador Salim, and in particular, Salim’s intention to aid the Bangladeshi government in making its case against India at the United Nations.

  General Ali simply shrugged. “Well, propaganda is his job. If he sees the Farakka Barrage as offering an opportunity to make India look bad, so be it. I just hate the fact that he had to take up the time of one of my officers to do it.”

  “How about the Intelligence Bureau officers who were assigned to the IRE? Do you know what have they been up to?” Tarek asked.

  “I wish I knew,” General Ali replied. “Unfortunately, the director general of the IB is not willing or perhaps is unable to say what his officers have been doing for the IRE. I do know that at least one IB officer traveled to Calcutta. I don’t know what his mission entailed, but I suspect it was similar to your mission, a basic collection operation to provide additional ammunition that can then be used against India in some way. I’m sure Salim won’t share any information about that.”

  “Do you have much contact with Ambassador Salim?” Tarek asked.

  “Thankfully, no. I certainly don’t trust the man, and I try to avoid him. And I don’t think the prime minister trusts him either, although he doesn’t seem to have a real understanding of Salim’s politics. But he better figure it out soon. When you team Salim with General Huq and some of their fundamentalist associates, well, you have a dangerous mix.”

  Once again the two men fell silent. Ali’s comment brought Tarek’s mind to his brother-in-law’s tirades against those in the government who still supported keeping good relations with the West. If Jashem’s view was the predominant one held by the public, Pakistan was in deep trouble, Tarek thought.

  General Ali glanced up at the clock on the wall.

  “I apologize Major, but the morning staff meeting is about to start. I’ll be in touch as soon we get something more from Highland View.”

  “Certainly, Sir. I’ll wait for your call.”

  As they walked to the door, G
eneral Ali placed his hand on Tarek’s shoulder. “These are interesting times, Major. May Allah help us to do our duty.”

  24

  Since his return to Islamabad, most of Tarek’s time had been spent preparing after-action reports on his mission to India. He hadn’t had time to visit with Meena and her family or to do much else of a personal nature.

  Sahar was ever-present in Tarek’s thoughts. His mind seemed split, half doing his work, half thinking about Sahar. Both halves operated in parallel but at times they inevitably merged. When they did, thoughts of Sahar assumed primacy. Never before had anything or anyone assumed more importance than his work. It was the first time in his life that Tarek had known obsession.

  He made no mention of Sahar in his official report, however, rationalizing this omission by telling himself that his contact with her was irrelevant to his mission. Although it seemed a good argument to Tarek, he was not so foolish as to think it would persuade any investigating ISI security officer.

  Since leaving New Delhi, he had only spoken to one person about Sahar, and that was Habibi. Tarek had met with Habibi when he traveled back through the UAE on his return from New Delhi. The meeting was at the apartment building where they had met previously, although as a security measure, they used a different apartment. There was little operational business to discuss, but Tarek wanted to talk to Habibi more for personal than professional reasons.

  Habibi was his usual self, laughing and making jokes. Tarek was soon fully infected with Habibi’s happy and relaxed mood. Habibi brought with him the customary amenities of lamb kabob and rice. Tarek’s contributions were figs, dates, and a small selection of fruits he had purchased during the check route he conducted prior to the meeting.