by AJAY
A few days later, he opened his email program and typed, "Santa! Come home this Christmas,"and clicked on the send button.
A week later, an FBI officer met him and asked him to sign a few documents. He seized Aban's passport and the laptop. He was arrested and produced in 65B District Court, which exercised jurisdiction over Ithaca.
The District Attorney presented the call log of Aban's cell phone. It showed several calls made from Lahore to Mumbai on the day of the Mumbai attack. The Mumbai Metropolitan Magistrate had already sent a summons for Aban and the Indian Government had requested Aban's extradition to India so that he could be tried before the Mumbai court.
Aban hired a lawyer, who tried his best to defend his client. The lawyer raised a very valid ground, requesting the court to rethink whether the United States of America could extradite a Pakistani citizen to a country other than that of which he held a citizenship. As per the extradition treaty between the two countries, a national could not be extradited to a third country, in this case India, where a court case was pending against him.
After a lot of deliberation, the Judge reserved judgment, instructing both the State and Aban to be present in the afternoon. The judge retired to his chamber. He received a call from the office of the Attorney General.
The court trial was leaked out to the media, which came running to cover a story of the Mumbai blast accused. In the afternoon, the court pronounced that if a terrorist act had taken place anywhere in the world, where an American citizen was killed, it would be deemed as an Act of Terror against America. Since American citizens were also victims of the Mumbai attack, Aban could be extradited to India, irrespective of Aban's Pakistani citizenship.
Two Indian officers signed a warrant for Aban's extradition. The FBI handed Aban to them. When they came out, media people surrounded Aban and the Indian officers.
One of the reporters directed his salvo at the Indian officer, "Sir, could you please tell us if Mr. Aban Malik is directly involved in the Mumbai attack?"
"When the matter is subjudice in an Indian court, we are not authorized to make any comments,"was the terse response.
Aban shouted, "The Hindustāni agencies are trying to fix me. I'm innocent. This is a deliberate set up against all Pakistan nationals."
The camera flashed and captured many images of Aban being shoved into a rented car.
The car sped to JFK Airport.
Plastic Surgery
A private cosmetic surgery hospital on Al Wasl Road, Dubai, offered a complete makeover solution, using a combination of a cutting-edge laser non-surgical procedure and the more conventional maxillofacial surgery.
Shalim Amār underwent the procedure in July 2009. He revisited the hospital for minor corrections. The laser technique was sufficient to remove small anomalies.
When he came out of the hospital, he was sure that no one could ever recognize him, not even his own family members. Committed to a cause, he was even willing to disown his roots as a descendant of the Nawab of Dir. He was not worried about losing the enormous wealth, which he was to inherit from royalty. He was a satisfied man.
He rechecked his new passport arranged by a trusted friend in Dubai. He had already made several trips to Russia, the Gaza strip, Egypt, India, United Kingdom and many other countries during the last one year.
The next day, he went to the Indian Embassy. The passport officer was impressed with his profile and took no time to stamp a multiple-entry visa.
His chauffeur took only an hour and half to drive the Rolls-Royce Phantom Coupé from Dubai to Abu Dhabi. Finally, Shalim Amār checked into the luxury suite of Emirates Palace. He reconfirmed the schedule with Hussein Pharma about the arrival of a few others. He was to board a yacht with his Indian guests along with Saeed al-Masri, the financial chief of al Qaeda, the following day.
Telephone Number
Eleven months had passed, but the Indian Intelligence had not been able to unravel the mystery of Tupac-II. The images drawn by the graphic experts with the help of the butler of the Intercontinental Hotel were not sufficient. The name starting with Sun… was still a mystery. The telephone number 0321-5023113 was untraceable and also nothing worthwhile was coming in from Indian Agents in Pakistan.
Siddhartha Rana had co-ordinated with several Indian law enforcement and intelligence agencies: R&AW, CBI, the State intelligence, ED and DRI. He was also in constant touch with the international agencies: CIA, MI-6, FSB, Mossad, BND, ASIS, DGSE and Interpol. Although some plots of the Mumbai attack had started to get unravelled, none of the agencies were even remotely aware of Tupac-II.
Finally, in October 2009, an Indian agent in Pakistan rang up Siddhartha Rana, "I've got some very interesting facts about the mysterious number 0321-5023113. As per the Pakistani telecom department, there is no STD code 0321."The caller gave Siddhartha some analogous codes: 07321 of Liaqatpur, 05321 of Khar in Pakistan that did exist. "The last three digits 321 are common STD digits for both the places. However, my hunch is that it should be Khar, in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) of Pakistan, near the Afghanistan-Pakistan border."
"Why do you think it is Khar?"
"Till recently it was one of the strongholds of al Qaeda. I can feel it in my bones that al Qaeda is involved."
"Oh!"Siddhartha sighed.
"This number was used very frequently till the Mumbai attack. I got hold of the shopkeeper, who issued the SIM card. However, the shopkeeper had a very vague recollection of his features. He divulged that he had sold the SIM card to some Gilani. I tried to trace Gilani, but could not. Later on, when I analysed the call record, I found that on 13th March 2007, this phone was powered on at Chitral Airport in Pakistan. It caught the signal till a bridge on the Kunar River on Chitral-Masjud road. After four hours of complete silence, the cell phone started to catch the signal once again when the owner of this phone returned to Chitral Airport. Of course, he switched it off again when his flight took off. Now, the plot thickens here. Four other cell phone numbers followed the same pattern. All caught the network signal till the same bridge, went silent for few hours and again caught the signal from the bridge to the airport. The phone number 0321-5023113 was used for the last time at the JFK Airport, New York. All cell phones became completely silent when the Pakistani Government and the FBI started to investigate. However, one cell phone is still in use."
"What's that number?"Siddhartha was getting excited.
"The number is…"
Siddhartha wrote down the cell phone numbers on a sheet of paper. "Interesting! One of the cell numbers seems to have been issued by an Indian telecom company."Siddhartha was thinking aloud, "This cell phone number is a highly-secured number, issued only to the officers of the intelligence department: R&AW, Military Intelligence and IB. Even the records of these numbers are not kept with the telecom companies. The government of India has a long-term arrangement with the telecom companies, who are paid one-time service usage charges for five years. The DCS-1400 series encrypted calls cannot be monitored or intercepted by any authority since a single dedicated spectrum belonging to the military bandwidth is used."
The man continued, "There is another twist to the story. After a long period of silence, this number is active today once again. I traced that the same number has called a person, who has checked into the Hotel Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi."
Siddhartha was surprised as to how this man in Pakistan could trace an encrypted call. He asked, "From where did he call Abu Dhabi?"
"Indira Gandhi International Airport, New Delhi."
"Where is the present location of the person?"
"Don't know. The line went dead. It seemed as if all traces were swallowed up by the Persian Gulf."
Siddhartha contacted Robert McLean and provided all the details he had got from this man from Pakistan. "Get some information on Gilani. And I need the help of the FBI office in Abu Dhabi to chip in."
Camcorder
A young woman boarded a yacht at Dubai Marina Yacht Cl
ub Canal. She was allowed only her purse and a cell phone while she had to undergo a strict security check. She checked into her room in the lower deck and waited.
Even though no one had boarded the yacht except two security personnel guarding it at the pier, she had to tread very cautiously.
Her voice trembled when an FBI Agent called her, instructing her to retrieve the camera from the small fishing net, hooked to the fiberglass hull. She quickly erased the incoming call number and moved to the intended location.
Wiping away the cold sweat from her hands, she pulled out the rope attached to the fishing net, retrieved the camcorder and moved towards the conference room. She shuddered to think what would become of her if she were caught. Those men would tie the heavy anchor around her neck and let her find a silent place in the abyssal depths of the ocean.
She entered the conference room to find a central location above the conference table for mounting the camcorder. A French chandelier hung above the table. Unable to find a proper location, she moved to a corner to carry out her work.
She pulled out her lipstick and turned the bottom knob to exactly match the 3 O' clock position. A knife popped out from the tube. She cut a small piece of the wooden panelling of the roof and placed the camcorder inside. Only a tiny aperture lens, connected with the night-shot enabled camcorder, peeped out from the tiny hole, almost invisible to the naked eye and ready to capture everything happening at the conference table. Its wide-angle lens and variable aperture could be panned and zoomed remotely from another room.
She turned the lipstick knob in the opposite direction. The lipstick turned into glue. Even though she applied the glue with finesse to fix the wooden panel, she was not sure that anyone could identify the difference between the tampered and the adjacent panels.
To reassure herself that no one could pinpoint the difference, she applied the age-old technique. She shut her eyes tightly and randomly followed a zigzag path and moved in a circular motion. She went to each corner to identify the cut panel. She could not make out any difference.
Finally, she somehow connected an HDMI connection to her Blue Ray Disk Roaster.
Custody
On the Breaking News' segment of every channel in India, Juhi watched Aban's helplessness before the media, "The Hindustāni agencies are trying to fix me. I'm innocent. This is a deliberate set up against all Pakistan nationals."
On the other side of the globe, the Chief of the Cabin Crew of the Air India flight continued with the mandatory announcements while the aircraft taxied to the runway. The aircraft took off from the JFK airport and Aban closed his eyes.
The Mumbai Police took custody of Aban when he arrived at CST, the international airport terminal of Mumbai. They produced him before the Special Anti-terror Court, which remanded Aban to the police custody of the Mumbai Crime Branch for fourteen days of custodial interrogation to discover his links with the masterminds of the Mumbai attacks.
Siddhartha reached Mumbai and briefed the Police Commissioner about Aban and handed over a confidential memo to the Police Commissioner. The Police Commissioner, in turn, asked the investigator Crime Branch to hand over a copy of the case records to the IB.
After fourteen days, the Police produced Aban in court. The media, which had gathered outside in large numbers, was not allowed to witness the court proceedings. The court started the in-camera hearing. Before the judge, Aban's lawyer vehemently pointed out that no case could be made out against Aban since there was not even an iota of evidence, which pointed to his involvement in the Mumbai attack.
When the judge asked the prosecution to file the evidence to the contrary, it failed.
The court set Aban free, stating that the arrest was made on the basis of exaggerated hearsay.
When Aban came out of the court premises, the waiting media surrounded him. One of the reporters jumped out of the barricade put up by the police. His cameraman focused on the man of the moment, "Is it true, Mr. Aban Malik, that you made a call to Mumbai on the day of Mumbai attack?"
"Yes."
"Did you talk to someone who was in the Taj Mahal Hotel?"
Aban nodded.
"Can you tell the name of the person?"
"No."
"Were you in touch with one of the terrorists?"Another newshound jumped in.
"I'll not react to your rhetorical questions."
"Why?"
"I've disclosed the facts before the court."
At this point, Aban's lawyer cut in. "My client reserves the right not to respond. If you want an answer, get the certified copy from the court."
The Police whisked Aban away. Siddhartha was waiting. "You'll have to go to Delhi,"he said.
"Why?"
"As per the procedure, the Indian authority can hand you over only to the High Commission of Pakistan. Someone from your family or any acquaintance, who can produce valid credentials, will be required to identify you before the First Secretary. After that the High Commission will take your custody as a Pakistani National."
"Who will visit India to identify me?"Aban wondered. "The Indian High Commission in Pakistan will never give a visa to our family members."
"Don't worry. I'll do something. Someone will definitely come for identification. After the formality, you can go back home. But you'll have to wait till tomorrow when your lawyer gets the certified copy of the court order."
Aban nodded and Siddhartha left in another car.
The next day, a Mumbai police officer escorted Aban to Delhi. The High Commissioner of Pakistan was furious with the treatment meted out to Aban. He lodged a formal protest with the Ministry of External Affairs, which promised to look into the matter. A man from Nemogram visited the Pakistani High Commission office in New Delhi and identified Aban. Aban tried to recognize the man, but could not. The man signed on the papers and left.
The man contacted Siddhartha Rana from the garden outside the High Commission. He wanted to accompany Aban to Lahore, but Siddhartha Rana strongly advised against it, stating that it would be too dangerous.
The man quickly left the High Commission office and went straightway to Indira Gandhi International Airport. He booked a ticket on Air Emirates to Peshawar via Dubai.
The High Commission arranged for a ticket for Aban, who reached Allama Iqbal International Airport, Lahore two days later. The Pakistani media contingent was eagerly waiting for him. They needed to cover the story of the atrocities carried out by Hindustāni agencies on an innocent Pakistani citizen.
When Aban reached home, he was due for another shock. Nausheen had not come out of the grief of the loss of her husband. She would occasionally sit in some corner of the house, staring blankly at the wall for hours. When Aban hugged her, one evening the dam holding back her tears burst.
She would not let Aban out of her sight even for a moment. Even if Aban wanted to go to the backyard, she would beg him to come back, fearing that gunmen would bring him down as they had his father.
Aban took her to the doctor, but the treatment did not alleviate the condition much. Nausheen was becoming more and more possessive of her only son. She could not afford to lose him.
Each day was getting tougher for Aban too. He had repeatedly watched the video recording of his father bending on his knees, praying to Allah, his wrists tied up, head covered with a black cloth and the sound of AK-47s resounding in the valley. His eyes always stopped at the scene where his father's hand shook violently, scratching his right thigh. He knew from childhood that when his father was under tremendous pressure, he instinctively reached for his thigh. As a child, Aban used to be frightened of that sight, but had slowly learnt to leave his father alone whenever it happened.
***
Aban could see in his mind's eye the trauma his father would have faced before the bullet tore into his body. The horrible incident would not leave Aban even in his sleep. In his dream, it would repeat itself every night and Aban would wake up in a cold sweat when the dream ended with the sound of bullets.
He tried to investigate why his father's body was never found, but whenever he asked the Police and the ISI, they gave the same answer that they could not identify the exact location. When Aban pointed out that the location could be matched to the Buddhist Monasteries in the background of a swelling runnel, pat came the Police reply, "Will a body still be floating in the water after so many months?"
To this argument, Aban had no counter-argument, and the questions remained. "Why would someone kill him? What did his father do to have been deprived of his life in such a gruesome manner?"There was nothing that Aban could do except seek the truth.
He rummaged around every corner of his home including his father's study to find some clue. He read his father's letters, emails and diaries, but could not get any lead. The image file of Túpac Amaru II always mocked him. He tried several combinations to open the file, but could not.
"Was he killed because of this image file?"There was no one to resolve his conflicts, "Where are those four images? How will those mysterious images unlock the password?"
Yacht
An eighty-six feet VIP Yacht sailed from the Dubai Marina Yacht Club Canal. Even though the Gulf Craft brand of the luxury yacht was fitted with laser lights, a DVD player, satellite television connection, iPod docks and LS V10 Bose Music system; Hussein Pharma, while booking the Yacht, demanded a Blue-ray-disk player and a powerful Mac Pro to be made available to its distinguished guests.
Although Shalim Amār Khan did not approve of the presence of any unknown person, Hussein Pharma had acceded to the request of its Indian guests and arranged for a few pretty women. One of the women boarded the yacht in the early morning to oversee the arrangements, the others followed after a few hours. They could rest for some time in the three lower deck cabins reserved for them, later they would have to get ready for the show. The smouldering barbecue grill and the cold vintage wine created a contrasting atmosphere.