by Duane Evans
“Well, he will have to call us from telephone exchanges whenever he can do so safely, and he already has two telephone numbers,” Tarek replied.
“What numbers are those?” Habibi asked, puzzled.
“He has my cell phone number, and I took the liberty to give him your personal satellite phone number that you have on your business card, so you will need to make sure that your phone is one of those you ship to your New Delhi affiliate, and then let me use it.”
“Thanks for handing out my number to a stranger,” Habibi said, affecting irritation, which Tarek ignored.
“Now another question: How are you funding your travel and expenses, since this operation is not officially sanctioned?” Habibi asked.
“Ah yes, the funding,” Tarek replied. “Thanks to General Ali, I do have some funds that he approved for my use while he was still Chief of Operations, which means that from the money side I am covered, although if I ever do my accounting, I may have to get a little creative.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. You’ll be headed toward retirement soon.”
Tarek chuckled, “Or jail, depending on how this all works out.”
By the end of the evening, Tarek felt like they had a workable plan. Now if only HV/30 could do his part, there was even a slim chance of the plan succeeding.
51
For the next three days, Tarek and Habibi continued to plan for their travel to New Delhi. Habibi had quickly shipped the satellite phones to his affiliate office and had already received confirmation of the package’s safe arrival.
Tarek had been so busy making final preparations that he had little time to think of Sahar. As he and Habibi finally relaxed in the apartment a few hours before their departure from the UAE, Tarek turned his mind from the mission to think about being reunited with Sahar. Once again, doubts began to enter his mind. Although their long-distance relationship felt strong, he worried that once they saw each other again, Sahar might decide she no longer felt the same way about him. Tarek knew he would be devastated if that happened.
Habibi sensed Tarek’s thoughts. “Brother, this is all going to work out. And when it does, you will be on your way to a new life with the woman of your dreams. You are such a lucky man. A new beginning and a beautiful woman to be there with you. Praise Allah.”
Tarek had to laugh. Habibi could be so optimistic, so positive. It seemed life was just one big joyous party for him, and he could make the people around him feel that way, too.
“You’re right, Brother. It will be fine. And speaking of women, why don’t you go spend some time with your wife, and I’ll see you at the airport in three hours. Give my regards to her, and tell her I will keep care of you.”
“My wife likes you, Tarek, but she does not like you taking me away from her. She is so possessive, you know. I think all women are like that.”
“Yes, it’s true,” Tarek agreed. “Meena is the same way. She hates it when her husband goes away, though I have no idea why, since I don’t think she really even likes the man.”
Habibi looked at Tarek and said, “You know, I doubt that Sahar will be any different.”
Tarek thought for a moment. “That’s fine with me,” he replied. “I don’t ever plan to leave her.”
* * * * *
Three hours later Tarek cleared airport security and walked to the British Airways gate. He spotted Habibi, but did not approach him, and he took a seat in the waiting area. Shortly afterward, the flight began to board. As Tarek passed the ticket agent, Habibi entered the jetway a short distance ahead of him, a huge grin on his face as he imagined the adventure he and Tarek were embarking on.
It was just like old times.
52
Five hours after taking off from Abu Dhabi, Tarek’s fantasy became a reality – he was with Sahar again after so many weeks of separation. Any doubts he had about how she would feel about him were vanquished with their first embrace. At their introduction, Tarek could tell Sahar and Habibi would get along well. Engineer Advani had not come to the airport but warmly greeted them when they finally arrived at his residence.
A light meal had been prepared for the travelers. Later tea was served, and the four of them sat comfortably in the living room engaged in easy conversation. The occasion provided an opportunity for Habibi to talk about his business interests, which Advani was very interested in discussing. Both having worked on projects in North Africa, Advani and Habibi had many similar experiences. The conversation ultimately led to Advani explaining the plan for the trip to Farakka Barrage and the associated tour of West Bengal Province.
“Well, gentlemen,” Advani began, “so far there are about 100 individuals signed up to take the tour, all potential international investors and representatives of companies specializing in rural development. Our Trade and Industry Ministry is extremely pleased with the level of interest, as is the governor of West Bengal, who happens to be the son of an old friend of mine going all the way back to my childhood days.”
“I don’t know if you knew this, Tarek,” Sahar interjected, “but Father spent his youth in Calcutta.”
Tarek nodded, “Yes, I know. We talked about this quite a bit when I first visited here.” Turning to look at Advani, Tarek added, “I recall that you told me the house that you grew up in was very near Tagore’s childhood home. In my humble opinion, his poetry is the best ever written.”
“Your opinion agrees with that of many others,” Advani responded. “I believe within a few more decades he will be as widely regarded as Rumi or Hafez. Do you agree, Tarek?”
Tarek nodded, “I place him in their ranks now. One has only to read Gitanjali to know he is equal to them both. Do you think I might have the opportunity to visit his home while we are in Calcutta? I understand it is possible to visit there.”
“Yes, of course. I will arrange a special tour. After all, I am connected to the governor,” Advani said with a wink.
“I hate to be the one to bring an end to this most enjoyable time, but I believe if I do not get to my hotel soon, I may embarrass myself by falling asleep right where I sit,” Habibi said,
“Please, won’t you change your mind and stay here with us? There is a spare room in the guest house right around the corner from where Tarek will stay,” Sahar pleaded.
Habibi smiled and thanked Sahar for the offer but for a second time he declined, saying he had already arranged a meeting at his hotel the following morning with a representative from his company’s New Delhi office.
Habibi’s representative would be bringing the satellite phones Habibi had sent by DHL. Tarek would feel much better once they had the phones in hand. Next to maintaining security, establishing reliable communications was the most critical operational requirement.
“Alright then, Sir, if you must go, my driver will take you.”
At Advani’s words, the group rose and made their way to the residence entrance, bidding goodnight to Habibi. Then, Advani said goodnight to Tarek and Sahar and slowly climbed the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms.
Tarek and Sahar walked to the side door leading out to the garden. A softly lit walkway led to the small guesthouse where Tarek would stay.
A slight breeze was stirring as they stepped outside. The leaves of the trees and shrubs rustled lightly, and the sweet scent of tube roses filled the air. Being with Sahar, alone in the garden after so many weeks without her, was almost too much for Tarek, who wanted nothing more than to have her right there. As they embraced and kissed, his desire became even stronger.
Sahar’s own passion rising, she pulled away, softly saying, “No, wait. Not now.”
Tarek knew she was right. He would have to be patient until the right time came along. Perhaps at some point during the trip to Farakka they could find some time to be alone together.
As Sahar stepped back from him, she squeezed his hand and softly said, “Come this way.”
To Tarek immense surprise, Sahar led him down the garden path and into his room, then closed the door.
A small table lamp burned in the corner, casting a dim yellow glow. Sahar kissed Tarek and pulled a pin from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. She kissed Tarek again, this time much more slowly than the first, and walked to the bed. Looking back over her shoulder at Tarek, she unpinned her silk Sari. It slipped off her smooth skin to the floor.
Sahar stood looking at Tarek, her body perfect and inviting. She was the most delicious sight Tarek had ever seen and he did not, could not, delay in taking her—or perhaps, he thought later, it was she who took him.
53
Now that he was in New Delhi, there was little Tarek could do but wait for HV/30 to call. He expected the next communication with HV/30 to be critical, and might even provide him with the LT team’s target. Once that was known, he and Habibi would have a much better idea of what they could do to stop the team before it struck.
Tarek continued to believe the target would be in Calcutta. The team members all spoke Bangla and were going to Chittagong. From there, it would be a relatively quick trip to reach Calcutta by traveling across the southern part of Bangladesh via Kulna and Jessore. Crossing the Bangladesh-India border would pose no problem for the team members, as they all could easily pass as locals.
Late on the third day, Habibi came through with a nugget of information. His shipping agent’s office in Chittagong had determined that only one ship from Karachi had made port in Chittagong in the last several days: a Moroccan-flagged vessel named the Desert Star had arrived just the previous day. According to its itinerary, the last port of call prior to Karachi was Dubai.
The itinerary matched perfectly with the information about the one that HV/30 had provided Tarek at their meeting in Karachi. If it was the ship that HV/30 and his companions had traveled on, HV/30 hopefully would be contacting him in the near future. All depended on HV/30’s ability to get away from his fellow travelers long enough to find an international telephone exchange.
Tarek did not have to wait long for the call. Mid-morning on his final day in Delhi, Tarek was packing his clothes when his cell phone rang. It was the most welcome sound he had heard in a long time. Taking the phone from the battery charger, he answered, “Yes.”
“Brother!” Tarek recognized HV/30’s voice instantly.
“Mahmoud, it is good to hear your voice. How are things?”
“Things are good, and I have some news but only a little time to tell you, so please listen carefully. We arrived in Chittagong two days ago, and we leave by bus for Dhaka tonight or maybe tomorrow.”
Tarek was surprised. If Calcutta was the team’s destination, traveling by way of Dhaka was taking the long way.
“What is your final destination?” Tarek asked.
“I don’t know,” HV/30 said. “I’ve been instructed to rent a truck or van once we get to Dhaka and to get some food and other provisions. We will pick something up there, a crate with some equipment in it that Osman said we will need for the job. And no, I don’t know what the equipment is or what it will be used for,” HV/30 said, anticipating what Tarek’s next question would be.
“What about the team? Is it intact or have some members split off?”
“No, we are all here.”
“And Sheik Osman?”
“He is here as well.”
“Has anyone contacted the team since your arrival in Chittagong?” Tarek inquired.
“No. Not that I’m aware of.”
“How were you able to get away to call?”
“It was easy. I am responsible for obtaining the supplies for the team. Sheik Osman wants the team to keep a low profile, so they are staying in a guesthouse while I go out to get whatever is needed. Oh, that reminds me. When we get to Dhaka, I am supposed to buy cell phones for each of the team members.”
“Interesting,” Tarek said, more to himself than to HV/30. “Once you make the purchase, make sure you copy the numbers off each phone and give them to me when you are able to call.”
Even as he said this, Tarek realized there would be nothing he could do to exploit the phones since he was on his own and had no access to any technical monitoring systems. Still, as an intelligence officer, the force of habit was too strong. He wanted those phone numbers.
“Alright Rashid, I’ll do it, but I need to go now. I don’t want to stay away too long. I will try to call you from Dhaka if the opportunity comes along.”
“Excellent. Good work my friend. Be careful. Khoda hafez,” Tarek said.
“Khoda hafez,” HV/30 said and hung up the phone.
Tarek felt a sense of relief that contact with HV/30 was now reestablished. That feeling, however, was quickly replaced by a sense of foreboding as Tarek realized that the team was now closer to India, and things were coalescing toward some as-yet-undetermined conclusion.
Tarek considered calling General Ali in Washington to give him a cryptic update. Although he knew there was nothing Ali could do about the events that were transpiring, Tarek wanted someone else to know what was going on. He decided to wait, however, until after the next contact with HV/30. Hopefully, he would then have more details to share with Ali.
He finished packing his suitcase for the trip to Calcutta. As he started down the walkway to the Advani residence, he spotted Habibi coming from the other direction.
“Salaam aleikum,” Habibi said, his voice booming.
“Aleikum as-salaam. You are later than I expected. That is not like you. I was beginning to worry.”
“Oh, I just was moving slowly this morning,” Habibi replied.
“Did you speak with Sahar?” Tarek asked.
“No, the house girl said they were upstairs preparing for the journey. She offered me tea, but I said I would come see you first.”
“Well I’m glad you are here,” Tarek said. He motioned to some patio chairs. “Come let’s sit for a few minutes. I have news.”
Habibi eyes grew wide. “Our friend called?”
Tarek nodded.
“Where was he? In Bangladesh?”
Tarek nodded again. “In Chittagong with the LT team.”
“And?”
“Well, there is a surprise. The team is moving to Dhaka either today or tomorrow. Mahmoud believes that is only a temporary destination, however, as once they arrive, he has been tasked to get a truck and supplies, including cell phones for the team. He also said they will be picking something up in Dhaka, but he does not know what it is.”
“Hmm. Why Dhaka if they are going to Calcutta?”
“They must need whatever is in Dhaka, so to Dhaka they must go.” Tarek hesitated for a moment.
“But?” Habibi said, his eyebrows arching over his wide-set eyes.
“It is always possible my theory is wrong. They may be headed to another part of India and not Calcutta. For all I know, they could even be headed here to New Delhi. The last LT attack here was a couple of years ago.”
“Yes, I know. They blew a shopping market to bits, killing dozens. I doubt the LT would try again in Delhi though, and certainly not Mumbai. Not after all the carnage they caused there. They have heated both cities up too much and, as we have seen, the Indians have a lot of police on the streets. And besides that, why would everyone on the team speak Bangla if they are coming to Delhi?” Habibi asked.
“Well, it could be they need the Bangla to do whatever it is they are going to do in Dhaka.”
“I don’t buy that,” Habibi said shaking his big head like a bulldog with a bone locked in its jaws. “These guys need the Bangla language for their mission in India, and Calcutta is the center of the universe as far as Bangla is concerned.”
Tarek smiled at Habibi’s decisive assessment. “I’m thinking the same thing, Brother. I just needed to hear that you agree.”
“Did Mahmoud say how long they would be in Dhaka?” Habibi asked.
“No. He didn’t know. My guess is it won’t be long—a couple of days probably. Why?” Tarek could tell Habibi had an idea.
“Well, I could fly to Dhaka from Calcutta. That w
ay I would be in position if Mahmoud comes through and provides us with some actionable information. Of course, I would have to bow out of the tour and the commemoration ceremony, but I could tell our hosts that a business emergency has come up and I need to get over to Dhaka to sort it out. I’m sure they would understand.”
Tarek considered for a moment. “As much as I hate to admit it, particularly since I did not think of it myself, it is not a bad idea. Having you in proximity of the team could make all the difference, particularly if Mahmoud can give us some details to work with.”
“That’s right,” Habibi said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but I’m sure I could check some things out if I had some basic leads to go on.”
“And you do have your shipping agent there; he could be helpful,” Tarek said.
After considering the suggestion for a couple of seconds, he made his decision. “Alright Habibi, let’s plan on your going to Calcutta as scheduled, but if we have not heard anything further from Mahmoud by the time of our arrival there, you will need to get to Dhaka.”
“That should not be a problem,” Habibi said, glad for the prospect of action. “I‘m sure there are at least a couple of flights a day between the two cities. The worst part is I may have to fly on Bangladesh Airlines.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Brother, flight time between Calcutta and Dhaka can’t be very long. Once you leave Calcutta, you’ll be back on the ground before you know it.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Habibi laughed.
Tarek relaxed a bit and sat back in the patio chair. “I feel better now. We have a plan and are taking the initiative. I hate waiting around, being dependent on somebody else making a move.”
“I feel the same way. We are taking a little bit of a risk, since the team may not be in Dhaka long enough for me to find out anything, and they still could show up in Calcutta. In that case, you would be on your own until I could make my way back. But by staying here, you will continue to keep your cover should anyone be looking at you.”