Brutal

by Uday Satpathy

  Amir nodded. He wanted to say something, but then decided against it.

  Eli continued, “For your safety, our government has decided to move you out of India tomorrow morning. There is a flight to Tel Aviv at 10:30 AM. Your tickets are ready…”

  “I am going nowhere,” an old man interrupted. “My name is Asaf Zahavi. I’m a nuclear physicist at the Negev Nuclear Research Center. I’ve been waiting for this nuclear summit for so long. Do you bureaucrats realize how many of the world’s top scientists are participating in this summit? One incident occurs somewhere in the world and you guys tell me to shut shop and get back like a pussy. No sir, you can count me out.”

  The ‘bureaucrat’ jibe stung Eli hard. He was also surprised at the resistance. He had thought that these men would have been scared for their lives and would leave India without much fuss. This is becoming trickier. He tried to use an emotional approach. “You don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. The Iranians might be planning an attack on you as we speak. By refusing to fly out of India, you’re playing into their hands. You are men of science, I know, but think about your families as well. They don’t want you dead.”

  Asaf Zahavi looked at his colleagues for any rebuttal. None came. So he decided to stand down.

  “It might sound like schoolboy stuff, but please be ready with your luggage tomorrow morning. You all have been put up next to each other’s rooms. That is good. I would request you to be inside your rooms. If you are in any danger, call me immediately,” he said, giving his visiting card to everybody.

  “Good heavens! You’re a professor?” Amir Segal said, looking at his card. “You teach?”

  “I do a lot of things,” Eli said.

  67

  Prakash was jolted awake by Seema’s nudge. He realized that he had dozed off with fatigue. He looked at Seema. After waking him up, she had gone back to her seat on a divan. In front of her stood a plasma TV mounted on the aircraft wall.

  “Wake up, Prakash,” she said, her face beaming with excitement. “This is interesting.”

  He wiped the drool from his face and walked over to her side. A news channel was running on the TV, showing a news item on the recent murder of the Iranian scientist. It was a recent footage, which showed a group of youth being arrested by the Indian Police. They were shouting slogans in Arabian lingo while being dragged.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “A nuclear scientist from Iran has died in a car bombing. As usual, Israel is a suspect. So, an angry group of Iranian students studying in India were staging a protest against Israel in front of the Nuclear Science Summit venue. As you can see, they were arrested by our police.”

  “Why protest in front of the summit venue? Is an Israeli delegation participating?”

  “Yes. Five nuclear scientists from Israel,” Seema said.

  “Too many things are happening in this summit. Have they increased the security at the venue?”

  “Seems so. The Israeli government has already raised an alert for its intelligentsia abroad, especially those visiting India for this summit.”

  Prakash slipped into deep thought for a minute. He asked, “Can these incidents be related to the possible attack Anwar Shah was talking about?”

  “We are talking about Israel-Iran relations here. And the people Anwar Shah was taking about are Indians. What’s the link?”

  “Consider this: What if Iran is sponsoring an attack on the Israeli delegation on Indian soil? Maybe they are planning to use local contractors for the hit,” he said.

  “An Indian group attacking Israeli citizens? That’s unheard of. Will it not spoil relations between India and Israel? In fact, our country will lose all credibility in front of the world.”

  “That’s why Anwar is so scared. An operation of such a scale will create an international crisis. He can’t remain untouched from its repercussions,” Prakash said. “This is a big problem. I’ll have to make a call immediately.”

  “To whom?”

  “To an old friend.”

  Prakash located a number from his mobile phone and dialled it on the phone mounted on the wall. Chetan Vats.

  Chetan Vats was one of the renowned national security experts in India. He was a regular columnist in a lot of newspapers and used to be invited into a lot of talk shows for his views on politics related to the Indian subcontinent. He was ex-RAW and was once rotting in a Pakistan jail for almost nine years, when Prakash had come to his rescue.

  Chetan was deployed in Pakistan when the I.K. Gujral government decided to dismantle RAW’s covert operations there in favour of ‘paratha diplomacy’ with Nawaz Sharif. Sleeper cells were destroyed and spy rings were shut down immediately, creating utter chaos for Indian spies in Pakistan. A lot of them were caught by the Pakistanis and then dumped in their jails to die. Chetan was one of them.

  Prakash came to know about the plight of Indian spies in Pakistan through a friend in an NGO. He covered the news and convinced Globe News to run a campaign to push the Indian government. After six months of vociferous campaigning, the government finally took up the issue with Pakistan. Chetan was finally brought back to India through a spy-exchange initiative.

  Since then, the man had been indebted to Prakash, often helping him with insider information about national security issues. He had a lot of contacts in the Indian intelligence machinery, because of which he often knew about things, which even the police and the Army didn’t.

  Prakash waited for his friend to pick up the phone. Today, of all days, he needed him the most. After quite a few rings, he finally heard Chetan’s voice on the other line. Prakash immediately came to the point. “Chetan sahib, I need some information immediately. It’s extremely urgent.”

  “Kyun, what happened?”

  “I’ll explain later. Just tell me one thing. Are you aware of any security threat against the Israeli scientists who have come to Bangalore for the Nuclear Science Summit?”

  Chetan thought for a moment and said, “Operational intelligence is hardly my area. Nor am I privy to intel pertaining to this summit. However, if there was any serious security threat hovering over this summit, word would have flown. As of now, I’m not aware of any such development. Normally, if the government gets a hint of any such attack, they increase the security level of the people at risk.”

  “Do they have a hint this time?”

  “You’re talking as if the threat level is critical?”

  “It might be. By the way, do you see any increased activity by the Iranians in our country?”

  “Wait a second! Iranians and Israelis in India? What exactly are you talking about?”

  “I want to know if you see any chance of the recent Iran-Israel tussle spilling over into our country, into this nuclear summit.”

  “Why do you think so? Just because Iran is pissed off with the Israelis for killing one more of their nuclear scientists?” Chetan said. “You really think the Iranians will avenge themselves on Indian soil?”

  “Why not? They have done so in the recent past. Haven’t they? What about the magnetic car bomb attack on an Israeli diplomat’s wife in New Delhi? Besides, killing a nuclear scientist gives the Iranians a better justice as compared to killing a diplomat.”

  “If what you contemplate turns out to be true, then we better be worried. Iranian intelligence agencies, especially the Quds Force have been active in India historically because of warm relations between the two countries. But when they decided to carry out attacks on Israel from our soil, we began keeping them at a distance. Our government has not criticized Iran in any international forum till now only because we want their oil. But inside, things are getting hot. We want their agents out.”

  “Do you think the Iranians can use our local criminals to launch an attack on the Israelis?”

  “Yeah. They can. The Quds Force has used local criminals in Azerbaijan to carry out their attacks on American and Jewish targets. They can use the same modus operandi here too,” said Chet
an. “But who told you that the Quds Force is planning such an attack?”

  “I can’t tell you. You have your sources, I have mine. Now, answer this question: If you were an Iranian agent, who would you go to in India for such an attack?”

  “It depends on how sophisticated the attack is. For small time spying and smuggling of arms and people, I can use the channels of Dawood Ibrahim and Chhota Shakeel. The Lashkar-e-Toiba guys did the same for 26/11.”

  “And what if it is a very strategic operation?”

  Chetan took a few moments as if thinking hard. “I can’t think of any name,” he said in a resigned way.

  But his voice suggested that he was hiding something. Prakash probed further, “What about a family called Kushwahas?”

  Chetan was speechless for a full ten seconds. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” he said abruptly.

  “What are you hiding from me Chetan?”

  “You aren’t telling me the whole story. What do you know about the Quds Force and the Kushwahas?”

  “I believe that Quds Force might use the Kushwahas for an attack on Israeli scientists.”

  Chetan remained quiet, letting these revelations sink in. Finally, he said, “The less I speak about this, the better it’ll be. RAW is going to wipe us out if they come to know about our little conversation. So, I’ll have to stop here. One last piece of advice – if what you said is correct, then better brace up for a national security crisis.”

  “Why am I not surprised? The RAW has also used the Kushwahas in the past for its black ops. Isn’t it? That’s why you’re so tight-lipped…”

  Chetan hung up before he could complete his sentence.

  More dirt.

  68

  Tilak Jaiswal stood on the small balcony of his room, admiring the contrast between the serene night sky above and the frenetic rush of traffic below. A similar contrast existed between his expressionless face and his mind getting restless to do the job. A Beretta 92FS handgun was lodged in the small of his back, covered thinly by the leather jacket he was wearing. Three magazines loaded with 9mm Luger rounds were bulging up the pockets of his jacket.

  His mobile phone started ringing. The call was from the same man who had supplied him his kit at the hotel. Tilak picked it up and let him speak first.

  “I think they’ve got wind of the attack,” the man whispered. He sounded a bit unnerved. “None of them came down for dinner. They were huddled up in Room 704 till now. I’ve a hunch that they have got some protection from outside.”

  “We’ve discussed that possibility already,” Tilak said, his eyes tracing a cyclist carrying his cycle in his hands to get out of the traffic. “If there’s anyone from Mossad, we’ll soon know.”

  “There is no ‘we’ now. I’ve done my job. I’ve placed your stuff in their rooms. I’ve given you your weapons. You also have the keys for the fire exit and the kitchen exit. So, I’m going dark now.”

  “OK. But be on standby. And destroy your phone and SIM card only after the mission is over.”

  “Fine. And Good luck.”

  69

  Kushwaha Farmhouse, Jharoda Kalan, Delhi

  Vinod and Sultan were up to something, he could sense it. Vinod was avoiding him, talking to unknown people using a phone different from his own. Had he secretly struck a deal with the Quds Force? He clasped his fingers hard, nails digging into his skin. Why, son, why?

  Vinod could not do all this by himself. That Sultan guy had to be involved. The son-of-a-bitch had gone dark, possibly flown to Bangalore, as informed by a loyalist. This was a worrying development. He summoned his son immediately.

  The door of his room opened. It was Vinod. “You wanted to talk to me, father?”

  “What’s going on behind my back?” Tejeshwar growled.

  “I didn’t get you,” Vinod said with a blank face.

  Tejeshwar stared at Vinod for a few seconds. His son was trying to avoid eye contact. That was a sign of his complicity.

  “I’m your father, Vinod. I’ve run Bastion Corp and all our operations for more than twenty-five years. Now that I’ve allowed you to take over does not mean I can’t run it again.” Tejeshwar raised his voice. “So, DON’T you dare feign ignorance before me. Why is Sultan in Bangalore?”

  “I don’t know. He might’ve some meeting with a client,” Vinod replied, evading his father’s eyes again.

  Tejeshwar shook his head with disgust. Vinod was lying through his teeth. You’re compelling me, son. He tightened his jaws and said, “Do you remember the names Durganath Kushwaha and Madhavkant Kushwaha?”

  “Where is that coming from?” Vinod said in a sarcastic and almost dismissive way.

  “ANSWER ME!”

  Vinod stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Madhavkant was your grandfather and Durganath…”

  “Was my great-grandfather,” Tejeshwar said. “They were the men who started our family and our business. Do you know how we became the most feared family in the country?”

  “I know. So?”

  “You know? Really?”

  “Well… some zamindar stuff you have told a few times…”

  “Hear it again, son. You deserve to know. My great-grandfather Durganath used to be a rich zamindar in Bihar decades before India got independent. But, his life was not a bed of roses like yours. He went through a very tough period. On one hand, the British were arm-twisting him for indigo plantation in his lands. On the other, his own uncles and cousins were plotting against him because of an old land dispute. Those days, being weak meant being marked for death. He had to defend himself. He raised an army of fighters and stockpiled weapons…”

  “So what? He still died,” Vinod interjected.

  Tejeshwar sighed. “He was murdered. Surprisingly, it took only one assassin, and not an army of them to kill him. They hung his body on a tree and let it rot for days. His whole family was slain. His son Madhavkant was the lone survivor, who somehow managed to escape in the dead of the night.” He looked at Vinod’s face for any reaction. He appeared confused.

  70

  Tejeswar continued, “Madhavkant was only eighteen then. But he had a very shrewd mind. He understood very well that the real power existed in the ‘quality’ of his protectors and not in the ‘quantity’. He travelled across India recruiting the best assassins money could get. When he returned to his lands three years later, he had a bunch of extremely deft and ruthless killers with him. Do you know what he did with the relatives who had usurped his land?”

  “He killed them by…” Vinod’s voice trailed off.

  “By?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “He cut off their limbs and tied their heads to poles in a cow-shed. They bled to death painfully. Some died in a day, some died in a week. He didn’t spare even women and children.”

  Tejeshwar looked into the eyes of his son in the same way he looked at his foot-soldiers who had committed a grave sin and were about to vanish. Vinod, however, returned his gaze. Tejeshwar said, “You must be wondering why I am telling you this story?”

  Vinod continued staring at him.

  “Because I wanted you to know that a trait of ruthlessness runs in our family. One moment you are family and the next moment you’re not,” Tejeshwar growled.

  He could sense a streak of fear in Vinod’s eyes.

  He continued, his voice loud and commanding this time, “When I refused the deal with the Quds Force, I wanted you to accept my decision. But you didn’t. You decided to circumvent the old man and play your own game behind my back. The sad part is that you’re still playing the game, this time in front of me.”

  Tejeshwar’s eyebrows curved and his lips became rounded as if a dragon was about to spit fire. “Don’t bring out the ruthless animal in me, Vinod. I don’t want my son to pay dearly. So, without any fucking around, you are going to tell me what you are doing at the nuclear summit.”

  Vinod looked scared. He said sheepishly, “I’ve struck the deal with the men from Quds For
ce. The attack on Israeli nuclear scientists has already begun in Bangalore.”

  Tejeshwar closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh. “Indian law enforcement authorities are going to come after us. Israel and their ally, US – both might come after us as well. Son, you have jeopardized our international business.”

  “No such thing is going to happen,” Vinod said defiantly. “Everybody is going to blame Iran, even if they deny.”

  “What if any of our men are caught?”

  “Don’t worry. Not many are involved here.”

  “How many? Ten?”

  “Much lesser than that,” Vinod replied with a smirk.

  “Are you kidding me? How exactly are our men going to accomplish this mission?”

  “If everything goes as I planned, they don’t need to do anything.”

  “How so?”

  “Because we won’t use men to accomplish our mission. We’ll use something else – NB-67,” he said with a cunning smile. “You can call it one of the most lethal weapons ever created. It makes you kill. Mercilessly. In cold blood.”

  Tejeshwar was aghast. He looked into his son’s eyes. They were bulging out. If eyes could kill and then let out a scary laugh, they wouldn’t look much different than Vinod’s. He had seen those disturbing eyes somewhere. Where?

  Vinod was no longer looking at him. He was talking to himself. “You can’t even imagine how powerful a weapon we’ve got. Think of what will happen if NB-67 is injected into the bodies of soldiers in an enemy’s army. They will massacre their own people. And there’s no way you can detect it in advance just by looking at their faces. One moment you are jolly and cheerful, and the next moment you’re a wild beast. The drug reacts slowly, but decisively. The result will be that we’ll win wars without ever firing a single bullet.”