Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’

by Siddhartha Thorat

  Khulna, Bangladesh, 15 December: 1300 hours

  At 1300 hours, the first of the trucks left the compound. The RAW surveillance operative was sure there were no Pakistanis in it. It was the advance party. Around 1600 hours, the next three vehicles left the compound. He could see there were Pakistanis in the second SUV. The game was on. He called in his report. High above in the orbit above the earth, a masterpiece of Indo-Israeli cooperation, a spy satellite with less than one-metre resolution, started tracking the convoy. Post the Kargil war, ISRO and Israelis had joined hands to launch a spy satellite tailored to mutual needs. Twenty-four hours earlier, it had been positioned over the Bangladesh territory to monitor the operation. The spy satellite, called CARCOSAT II, could see through rain, clouds or storms. Its infra-red sensors could see at night. Its control station was manned by both Indian ARC specialists and Israeli MOSSAD operatives. To avoid controversy, the control station was based in the Negev desert. Live-feed was received through an encrypted signal in a basement in RAW’s Lodhi Road HQ. A team of ARC and National Technical Research Organisation (NTRO) officers would monitor it on huge five feet by seven feet screens until the operation was over. The main surveillance team bundled into their cars and started back for Dhaka, while four men and two cars followed the convoy at a safe distance. They would keep far back until nightfall. The border roads in the area had few vehicles. After two hours, the convoy stopped for a break at a petrol pump with a small restaurant. The tailing cars slowed down, two RAW operatives got off further down the road and doubled back to the petrol pump. The vehicles were parked a little away from the restaurant with one guard. One of the operatives engaged him in aimless chatter regarding directions to a town nearby while the other sneaked up and attached small powerful GPS transmitters to each of the vehicles. Task done, he signalled the other operative to break-off and both quickly ran and jumped into the tail vehicles. Now they could track the convoy from a safe distance.

  GHQ, Rawlapindi, 15 December: 1900 hours

  The DG ISI was sitting in the most powerful real estate in the land of the pure, the office of the COAS. The COAS was smoking his cigarette and had a glass of Remy Martin at his side. They were waiting for his Military Secretary (MS), a Brigadier, to leave the room.

  “Sir, General Abbas, Brigadier Hassan and the DGMO are waiting in the conference room.” The MS reminded the General as he prepared to leave the room.

  “It’s okay, Junaid. I will send for them once I have had a word with the DG. Please ask my pilots to standby; I want to leave for Islamabad in an hour. You must get the files on recent troop movements ready too.” The MS saluted smartly and left the room.

  The COAS turned to the DG–ISI, “I have read the reports over the last few weeks from Hasan and I must say I am quite impressed; so are we ready?”

  DG–ISI smiled, “We are, General, Hasan will give you a detailed briefing about the operational status of Operation Shamshir. We have been monitoring Indian radio traffic. There doesn’t seem to have been any major announcement or alert. Also the operations at the Pune airport are normal. No alerts have been sounded. Our sleeper agents in Pune have reported no major developments in terms of increased security in the city. The Indians don’t have a clue.”

  COAS looked satisfied, “Last night Mr 10 Percent had called me.” He used the derogatory term for the civilian President of Pakistan, “He wanted to discuss the leadership transition to the next chief. He knows he will never have it so good; the public is disillusioned with the army. He holds too many aces right now. With the US elections around the corner, the Americans will not look kindly upon us hitting back at their drones and the Taliban are too close to victory for us to disturb them now. Afghanistan is almost ours. But until then, we must ensure that the people are behind the army; a 100 percent,” he spoke quietly.

  The DG-ISI added helpfully, “Operation Shamshir will ensure that the country gathers around us. The Indians do not have the balls to attack us. With the election so close and their troops in Afghanistan, no one in the US is going to allow Indians to attack us. It doesn’t matter if our attack fails or succeeds. Indians will be able to trace it to us either ways. There will be a crisis and this time, they will have to do something to placate their population. But eventually, they will have to stop at saber-rattling. Meanwhile, we will show that we are ready for war if it is imposed upon us. That would allow us to move more troops from the western to the eastern sector. With fewer of our boys, the Taliban can regroup faster and prepare to take over Afghanistan when the US leaves. It’s brilliant!”

  It was no secret that the President did not like the DG-ISI He was the Army Chief’s hatchet man. When the current COAS completed his term, the DG expected to become the Chief but the President would never allow that. He knew it. Operation Shamshir would make his chances brighter. The DG-ISI smiled to himself. He could see himself as the Chief very soon. This old man would leave soon. The COAS knew what he was thinking and smiled too.

  The fool thinks all this is about transition. It’s about another extension … for me. He pressed the button for intercom. It connected to his ADC’s cabin outside, “Please send in General Abbas and Brigadier Hasan.”

  Both soldiers came in and saluted. Hasan had a file in his hands which he handed over to the DG-ISI. “Okay, update me on the status of the two teams,” COAS told Hasan.

  “Sir, the two teams are both in position. Team Rashid has reached the Indian border. As soon as I flash a message after this meeting, they will cross the border at 0000 hours and proceed by road to Kolkata airport. A flight will take them to Pune. They will land at around 1200 hours. An agent will drive them to a farmhouse three kilometres away. The other team will already be there. The Mumbai team will start at dawn from Mumbai and be in the farmhouse by 1100 hours. Both teams will use the afternoon to get acquainted with their weapons while their leaders go to the location for a reconnaissance. At 1800 hours, both teams dressed as members of a hockey club will leave with equipment for the airport. They will have tickets for a 2000 hours flight to Delhi, which will never leave the airport. Also, Amin, the agent who arranged the logistics, has flown into Dubai yesterday via Bangkok. He will be back in Karachi tomorrow. Once the team departs for the attacks tomorrow, the Pune agents will also proceed to Mumbai to take the flight to Hong Kong. Our friend in China will get them back to us. We don’t want any of our long-term agents to get caught.”

  He smiled at his own attempt at humour but seeing no response from the COAS, cleared his throat and continued, “I need your signature on the file to execute the orders. Also, there is a pre-dated document which announces cashiering orders for Hamza and Shezad. They are pre-dated by five months. All other documents are ready; as soon as you sign these, we will place them in their personnel file.”

  “For deniability of course,” Hasan added.

  The COAS turned to DG ISI, “You have my approval, Brigadier. Activate the operation. I wish you all luck.” He then took the file from the DG and signed the documents authorising the operation.

  Hasan looked at the DG ISI, who nodded to him indicating that his job was done. “If you will excuse me, sir, I need to go out and give orders for the operation to be executed.”

  It was 2100 hours. He knew it would be 2200 hours in Bangladesh. He called Colonel Khan who was manning the operation room at a secret location near Cherat. Colonel Khan sent the signal via satellite phones, both to Hamza and Shezad.

  14

  Mumbai, India: 2100 hours

  Two choppers landed in quick succession on a helipad created just two weeks back to receive a VIP. More than three hundred thousand rupees had been spent for one hour of use by the politician. The Indian Navy had moved a team of technicians and communication personnel to take over the helipad for the day. They had set-up lights and an assembly area in the clearing next to the helipad. The police and forest guards had cordoned off three kilometres radius to avoid unwitting civilians or journalists tripping on the operation. An affable youn
g PR officer of the local government was camped out just in case the press had any questions. The official story was that a ‘routine drill’ for civil-military forces, inter-operability was in progress.

  The helicopters deposited the NSG teams at the helipad. The operation’s commanders reviewed plans and waited for the orders to come through. A fleet of police vehicles with motorcycle outriders stood by for action. There was dinner for everyone and the men stood down for some hot food.

  Sanjay was sitting in a van near the helipad. He had just received a report that a phone call had been made again to the US from the line and that there was no aberration in the general talk. A live video of the apartment complex was streaming in on two monitors from two different cameras. He was also being updated from Delhi on the movement of the Bangladesh team. He had briefed the officials of the local administration and police that they would go into attack mode within twenty minutes of the Bangladesh team crossing the border. This had been decided in consultation with the DG-Security and Secretary-R. Now all they could do was wait.

  The police were busy too. F1 had moved its men to a fire brigade building close to the target. Traffic was not expected to be a problem, but Javed had organised alternative traffic arrangements in case there was a change in plan.

  In the apartment, the four men had their dinner and were watching Salman Khan’s latest blockbuster on DVD. Shezad had retired to his bedroom. He realised that in less than twenty-four hours they would be getting ready to hit the target. He felt a nervous energy flood through him. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a packet of Marlboros and walked to the picture window as he lit a cigarette. He could see cars driving in and people coming home from work. He too was expecting a visitor. The driver who was to take them to Pune was expected to reach by midnight. He had received the orders from Colonel Khan earlier in the evening to proceed with the final phase of Operation Shamshir. But something was bothering him. He looked out again; he just could not put his finger on it. He threw away the butt and closed the window before pulling the shades.

  “Damn, I had a clean shot!” cursed the F1 sniper who was huddled with the surveillance team. Javed had placed him there as an added insurance, in case something went wrong and the NSG could not take over the scene. There were two others on the roof of the other tower. An F1 team had also been placed in the penthouse on the top floor. Javed would not depend on central forces to defend his city. He still remembered the night of 26 November 2008 when he had lost his boss, a heroic Deputy Inspector General. The time it took for the naval commandos and the NSG to swing into action had cost almost 200 lives. As a professional he was not willing to take that chance.

  Inside the flat, Shezad felt a sense of despair. A day before the operation, he had expected to be buoyant. It reminded him of the morning before the shrapnel had hit his leg in the freezing heights of Kargil. He stared at his watch. It was 2300 hours. His guide for the Pune drive was expected anytime now. He fidgeted with the satellite phone and kept staring at the laptop screen. He had an Indian news channel switched on, but the volume was on mute. On his laptop he was surfing other news sites. There was absolutely nothing else to do but wait.

  Indo-Bangladesh Border, Kumta Village: 2300 hours

  Hamza and his men waited in the shadows as both Aameer and Mehboob went over to a car parked in the dark. His men had quietly assumed a defensive position using whatever cover they could find in the empty garage. There were vehicles being repaired, a vacuum pump and some empty shells of what had been cars. The parked car had blinked its lights in the proper sequence; Aameer was not one to take chances. Mehboob’s sinister-looking band of men had surrounded the vehicle while Aameer and Mehboob went ahead to make contact. Mehboob went to the driver’s side and spoke quietly in Bengali. He returned in five minutes with a reed-thin man with a hollow face and buck teeth. Mehboob waved cheerfully as they approached the group in the shadows of the garage. Hamza slipped the safety catch of his MP5 to ‘safe’ and asked his men to stand down.

  “This is Basharat and he will lead us into India. We have done this before and Basharat has never let us down.” Basharat nodded his head and beckoned them to get into their vehicles. Mehboob explained further, “We will drive for another hour and then from there onwards, we go on foot. Hundred metres from the border, Basharat and his men own a tunnel which they use for petty smuggling. We will use it. Five of my men, your men and Aameer bhai will go down the hole. Others will stay back. Don’t want to attract too much attention.” Mehboob chattered on about his vast experience in operations throughout as he drove the SUV tailing Basharat’s old Suzuki. “We are paying him 200,000 rupees, for only one night’s work. Scoundrel he is. It seems his brother-in-law is in the police station on the Indian side; he supplies him with information regarding the patrol timings of the BSF.”

  A kilometre behind them, the RAW team realised that the vehicles were going exactly in the direction they had hoped. That was a bit of luck. Far above, the geo-stationary satellite beamed live images of the small convoy to the Operations room in Lodhi Road. They followed the vehicles as they stopped and disgorged men into the winter night. An ARC technician called the control room in Israel and requested that the quarry be continued to be tracked closely. The cameras changed to higher infrared resolution as they tracked a group of men forming a single file and slowly moving towards the border. The DG-Security, watching the action live, picked up the phone and called the radio operator in touch with the Special Group (SG) unit on ground. “It’s a Go, I repeat, it’s a Go.” The radio operator spoke into his headset.

  In the forward post of the BSF Major Tenzig’s radio operator took the message and passed it on to his boss. Tenzig quickly moved back to a room where the BSF men, his second in command and the pilots were waiting.

  “The operation is now on.” On cue, the pilots moved towards their choppers, while the BSF and SFF troopers quickly moved to assembly points. As the helicopter rotors started gaining speed, the troops filed out into designated choppers. The five scouts who would shadow the terrorists were on the first chopper. They would be guided by the satellite images being beamed into the Operations room until they established visual contact. Then they would shadow the terrorist force while guiding their own comrades and informing them of any changes in the expected path or change in the number of terrorists until they walked into the ambush. Jungle-trained and light on their feet, the men were silent to the core. Even the weapons they carried were in rubber padding to avoid the noise of metal clinking or glinting. Once Tenzig and his men sprang the ambush, the scouts would open up and close in on the escape route from the planned direction.

  Few kilometres away, a BSF Quick Reaction Team mounted their Tata 207 pickups and Mahindra Jeeps as they prepared to lay the cordon around the operation area and secure the designated landing point or LP.

  It was 0100 hours on 16 December when Hamza’s men emerged from the claustrophobic tunnel and stepped on Indian soil. It had been the stuff of nightmares. The men had to crawl on their bellies for almost 500 metres. The tunnel had two halfway points where a man could sit up and rest. The air had been stale and it had taken them almost an hour to cross the wretched tunnel. “Sar Zameen-e-Hindustan, As Salaamu Alaykum!” Hamza quipped as his men fell into formation. They gathered around for a quick briefing and weapons check. From its position in the orbit, CARTOSAT II was able to pick up a large mass of infrared radiation. Its ultra-sensitive infrared camera zoomed in. Team Rashid was back in the limelight.

  In the control room in Israel and the Operations room at Lodhi Road, the teams gave out a collective sigh of relief. For almost thirty minutes, the entire lot was in a tizzy as the satellite scanned a radius of five kilometres to find the men who had suddenly disappeared underground. The surveillance agents had sneaked upon the parked cars and observed that six men were missing from the convoy which was now embarking on a journey back. After the trucks had left, they had tried to trace where the men had disappeared i
nto the night. It took them twenty minutes to realise that they had gone into a thicket and were slowly lining up to enter a well-type hole in the ground guarded by beefy thugs with AK-47s and Chinese-made knock offs of the HK rifle. The agents had quickly radioed back the information and the same had been relayed to the Operations room. The DG-Security had then asked the technicians to reduce the zoom of the satellite’s infra-red camera and scan for the points at which the terrorists could emerge. It had been a tense hour. The loudspeaker attached to the radio from the field crackled as Tenzig’s clear voice filled the room, “The ambush will be laid five kilometres in on our side of the jungle, around a kilometre from the road head where the terrorists are supposed to mount a vehicle. The BSF field intelligence reports that the TATA 407 truck usually rented by Basharat’s gang is now on the state highway near the border. It has left the village only ten minutes back and calculating the distance, road features and speed of the truck, we are sure that it is heading towards the pickup which has been used by this lot before. So the ambush is pretty certain to succeed. Also our scouts will pick up their tracks in the next one hour. Their chopper has already taken off, we are now boarding our choppers,” Tenzig reported.

  “What time do you expect the encounter to take place?” DG-Security enquired.

  “Around 0100 hours, sir.”

  “Remember, Major, no survivors, but I want the bodies to be brought back. Over.”

  “Roger that, Sir, over and out,” Tenzig had to shout over whine of the Dhruv’s Turbomeca TM 333-2B2 jet engine. He need not have bothered; the DG-Security was already on another call to Mumbai.

  Mumbai, 16 December: 0100 hours

  It was the call Sanjay was waiting for. The terrorists had just crossed the border into India from Bangladesh. Sanjay disconnected the DG-Security’s call and connected with JCP Javed.