Eleventh Hour

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  In half an hour, the man was pulling up outside the hotel where Shagufta Bi was waiting with the policewomen. They bid her adieu and one of them even hugged her as they helped her onto the back seat. When the biker started driving towards Jogeshwari, the morning traffic had begun thickening and Mankame smoothly slipped into the stream of vehicles while two others sped ahead, ready to take turns.

  They played the game all the way up to Behrambaug, where Mankame parked his SUV on the main road and walked to the Kadir residence, just in time to see the man waving goodbye to Shagufta Bi before turning his bike around. Mankame walked past the house without slowing down and rounded a corner, after which he called Sonam and updated her. He waited for a good ten minutes before jogging back to the main road and getting into his SUV.

  Halfway to Goregaon, he received a call from Sonam and answered using his hands-free.

  ‘Just heard from our surveillance guys,’ she told him. ‘Shagufta Bi made a call to a satellite phone located in Lakshadweep. Spoke for five minutes to both her sons.’

  ‘Showtime?’ Mankame asked.

  ‘Showtime.’

  Mankame pressed the accelerator and turned on his siren, causing vehicles ahead of him to slowly, reluctantly give him way.

  He could see the biker up ahead, while the RAW members, in their own vehicles, were slowly closing in on him. Sonam pulled up in front of the target, boxing him in, and the entire cluster of vehicles came to a halt in the middle of the Western Express Highway.

  Mankame and Sonam sprang out of their cars, guns drawn, while Awasthi caught the man by the neck and dragged him off the bike straight into Mankame’s SUV. Mankame handcuffed the man and pushed him inside, and Sonam and Awasthi got in on either side. Climbing into the driver’s seat, Mankame sped away as the rest of the IB team cleared their vehicles as well as the target’s bike off the road amidst the impatient honking by waiting cars.

  Ten minutes later, Mankame brought the SUV to a screeching halt outside the Crime Branch Unit X office in Andheri. The man, who had on route identified himself as Wasim, was dragged inside the unit office and brought straight to an interrogation room.

  For the first ten minutes, no one asked Wasim anything. Two of Mankame’s burliest and most experienced constables rained blows on him as he cried out in pain, while the DCP, Sonam and Awasthi just sat on stools in a corner, watching.

  The constables paused for breath as Wasim writhed on the ground. Mankame went over to him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and knelt down.

  ‘They can go on,’ he told Wasim. ‘All day. And then we’ll move on to some more creative methods.’

  ‘What … what do you want to know?’ Wasim asked tearfully.

  Mankame asked a third constable with a kinder face to take Wasim to the bathroom and get him cleaned up before bringing him to the cabin of the inspector in charge of the unit. When Wasim entered the cabin ten minutes later, there was tea waiting for him.

  Wasim sat down shakily and poked at the teacup, half expecting to be beaten up again. When nothing happened, he took a sip gratefully.

  ‘Who hired you?’ Sonam asked.

  ‘He said his name is Rishabh Chawla,’ Wasim said.

  Mankame leaned forward in his seat.

  ‘Really?’ he said.

  Wasim nodded.

  ‘He gave me a set of keys and a cellphone. Told me that he was heading out of the country for a few days and needed me to take care of some things. Paid me Rs 50,000 in cash and promised me more after he returned.’

  ‘What else did he tell you?’ Awasthi asked.

  ‘That one of his men would call me. And that I should do exactly as they say and not ask any questions.’

  Mankame held up a set of keys that he had seized, along with a cellphone and some cash, from Wasim’s pockets after picking him up on the highway.

  ‘Are these the keys he gave you?’ he asked and Wasim nodded.

  ‘One of them is for the bike. It was waiting for me at a garage in Malad.’

  ‘The same one where you left the autorickshaw?’ Sonam queried. They were firing questions from all sides to keep Wasim confused and docile.

  Wasim looked startled but nodded.

  ‘What are the other two for?’

  ‘The house I’m staying in. One for the lock and one for the latch.’

  ‘That’s not your place?’ Awasthi asked.

  ‘I’m an auto driver, saheb. I can’t afford a two-bedroom house. I stay in Kurla but was asked to stay in the Goregaon flat till I was told otherwise. Apparently, the owner had spoken to the watchman and a couple of neighbours. No one was surprised to see me.’

  ‘Where is the owner?’ said Mankame.

  ‘No idea, sir. I have never even spoken to him.’

  Mankame stood up and leaned over Wasim.

  ‘If you’re lying to me…’

  ‘I’m not, sir. I only dealt with this Chawla.’

  ‘You know the owner’s name?’ Mankame asked.

  Wasim nodded.

  35

  Tuesday afternoon, Lakshadweep.

  ‘I’m telling you, it’s madness,’ Hakimi said, struggling to keep his voice low.

  ‘We’re just discussing, uncle. Hypothetically. Let’s just go with the flow,’ Daniel said softly and Hakimi shook his head in exasperation.

  ‘So,’ Vikrant resumed, keeping his voice low. ‘Say we can overpower the ones outside the door. That’s two guards. Which means two Uzis, two Glocks and plenty of ammo. Plus two stiletto daggers.’

  ‘Yes, but Marco sends a couple of others for a random check a couple of times in a day. I’ve seen their silhouettes behind the door in the afternoons. Also, one more person makes an inspection at least once a day. I’ve heard footsteps. And there’s no fixed time for that. Which means that someone could walk in on us while we’re overpowering the two,’ Daniel said.

  Hakimi, Daniel and Vikrant were huddled in a corner, while Vaishali kept the other two, Saahir and Prajakta, company.

  ‘Say we get lucky,’ Vikrant said and Hakimi shook his head again.

  ‘Just suppose we get lucky,’ Vikrant repeated earnestly before turning to Daniel. ‘Can you lead the way to the top deck?’

  Daniel nodded.

  ‘It’s pretty simple to traverse, but we’ll have to be careful. They could be anywhere. Around any corner. At the first sound of gunfire, they’ll come rushing downstairs. Which would have otherwise been fine, but we’re going to have civilians in tow who might get hit by a stray bullet.’

  ‘Stealth and silence are our best options,’ Vikrant concurred. ‘I say we use the daggers as far as possible.’

  ‘How can you two even discuss this?’ Hakimi hissed. ‘You said that five men came aboard with you. That’s sixteen men in all to deal with. Against the two of you. With all of us tagging behind. And who knows how many more are coming aboard?’

  Daniel and Vikrant had different thoughts on this, but held back. Daniel was thinking about the possible mole on board, either among the guests or the crew. He had only whispered it to Gaurav as he was leaving, but had not told anyone else, not even Vikrant, because of his inherent tendency to not trust easily.

  Vikrant, meanwhile, was thinking of the ’93 Cache. He had no idea if Mirza or the others had found out anything more about it, but was pretty sure that the cache had been put to some very bad use. His primary fear was that if they tried to break out, one of the IM Five might detonate a bomb in Mumbai by simply dialling a number. Like Daniel, he, too, didn’t trust people, and he did not want to add to the hostages’ fear and panic, which was why he had not said anything about it even to Daniel.

  The door slid open and two kitchen staff members came in, carrying packed sandwiches and milkshakes in plastic glasses. Earlier, they would hand out the refreshments to the hostages. This time, though, they simply placed the trays on the ground and walked out, followed by the guards within the minute.

  Daniel and Vikrant looked at each other with a sinking feeling.
The time was too short for a surprise attack.

  Morosely, they started eating, both trying hard to think of an alternative plan. Hakimi went over to sit with Vaishali and the others, leaving them alone.

  ‘Where’s the captain?’ Vikrant asked between bites. ‘Sahani, right?’

  Daniel nodded.

  ‘They’ve mostly been keeping him and the crew in the engine room. Before they destroyed the radio, they needed him to keep in touch with land and give the impression that everything…’

  Daniel trailed off and Vikrant looked at him.

  ‘What?’ Vikrant asked.

  Daniel looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot.

  ‘I suspect that we have a mole among us,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The way they took over the cruise liner within three hours was too smooth. They had to have had inside help.’

  Vikrant’s face changed.

  ‘Sahani…’ he said.

  Daniel nodded and looked around once again before he went on.

  ‘Maybe he was needed in the engine room earlier. But now, when the hijackers have contacted the government and the cruise liner is at a standstill, why are Sahani and his crew not here with us?’

  ‘You think…’

  ‘Perfect, right?’ Daniel asked. ‘He knows the cruise liner inside out.’

  Vikrant was thinking hard.

  ‘He doesn’t even have to be one of them. He could have been pressurized in some way,’ he said and told Daniel about Aslam Parkar.

  ‘This is definitely ISI,’ Daniel said and Vikrant nodded.

  ‘There is a 1 per cent chance that Sahani is genuinely needed up in the engine room for something that they have planned. Maybe they’re keeping the guests and the crew separate to thin our ranks or something,’ Vikrant mused.

  ‘Yes,’ Daniel said. ‘But only a 1 per cent chance.’

  ‘And if the captain of the cruise liner, who knows every little thing about it, is with the enemy…’ said Vikrant.

  ‘Then we’re at a huge tactical disadvantage,’ Daniel finished.

  36

  Tuesday afternoon, Lakshadweep.

  The freighter eased slowly past the aircraft carrier, with ten naval guns pointed at it, and made its way towards the cruise liner.

  At the forward end of the deck was a man dressed in black combat fatigues, with a black mask covering his head and face and an M4 assault rifle slung around his shoulder. He was standing with one leg on the railing, and coolly looked at the people gathered on the aircraft carrier’s deck as he passed. He even gave a small salute to Mirza.

  ‘Do you think it’s him?’ Goyal whispered.

  ‘Too hard to tell. The build is right, but I need to see the face,’ Mirza replied.

  The freighter passed around the cruise liner and came to a halt parallel to it, standing between the cruise liner and Kavaratti island, going out of sight of the officers on the aircraft carrier. Two minutes later, the man in black fatigues went aboard the cruise liner with the aid of a rope. Mirza entered the Officers’ Room just in time to see him captured by the camera clambering on the top deck.

  Qureshi came forward to greet him. They hugged and the man patted his back. Then Qureshi handed him the satellite phone. They watched as he dialled and three seconds later, the phone in the Officers’ Room started ringing.

  The naval commander put the call on speakerphone.

  ‘I want to speak to Shahwaz Ali Mirza,’ the caller said in a deep, guttural voice.

  All eyes turned to the veteran spy, who just cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Mirza,’ the man said. ‘Good to see you.’

  ‘Have we met before?’ Mirza said.

  ‘Oh, we have. Lots of times. You just didn’t realize it. Don’t worry, though. This will soon be over and you will have your answers.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A journalist and a cameraman, with a live uplink.’

  The room went silent.

  ‘What?’ Mirza finally asked.

  ‘We want to go on TV, Mirza. Live.’

  ‘What are you going to say?’

  The man laughed.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You never heard of freedom of the press?’

  ‘Get serious,’ Mirza growled.

  ‘You want to get serious? Sure. How about this – get me a television news crew within an hour. If you do, I’ll release some hostages. If you don’t, I’ll kill some. Is that clear?’

  ‘Give me some hostages first,’ Mirza said and there was an audible gasp around the room.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘We are bound to obey you because you are holding our people hostage. You, on the other hand, are not. I need to see some positive gesture on your part that I can use as a basis to get my government to agree to your demand.’

  ‘I think you’ll find your government more than willing to agree to my demand. But sure, I’ll release the kitchen crew. I brought some supplies with me, so I don’t think we’ll be needing food any more.’

  Mirza glanced at the screen and saw Qureshi and the others hauling cartons up to the cruise liner.

  ‘This works the same way as earlier. You send a lifeboat with the news crew on board, I send a lifeboat with the kitchen staff. Anything else?’

  ‘What’s your name?’ Mirza asked.

  There was a chuckle.

  ‘I have been called by many names. But you can call me Marwan.’

  The line went dead and everyone in the Officers’ Room looked at each other for a while.

  Mirza turned to the PMO man, Akhilesh Mishra.

  ‘Talk to the PM,’ he said. ‘Get it done.’

  ‘Isn’t that too much of a risk?’ Mishra asked.

  Mirza sighed heavily and stepped forward, coming close to him.

  ‘I’m really trying to be patient with you, sir,’ he said. ‘I’d urge you not to test me. Do what you do, and let me do what I do. Please, talk to the PM.’

  Without waiting for an answer, Mirza turned and walked away, beckoning Jaiswal and Goyal to follow him. As the three men left the room, Shaina turned to Mishra.

  ‘I’d do as he says if I were you,’ she told him.

  It took more than an hour but at the end of it, a fighter jet carrying a reporter and a cameraman from a leading English news channel was on its way to the aircraft carrier.

  ‘The channel’s going to be touting this already,’ said Mirza sourly. ‘Exclusive. Explosive. Keep watching. It’s going to be a circus.’

  ‘PMO’s going to be besieged,’ Jaiswal mused.

  ‘You seem distracted,’ Goyal said to Mirza.

  ‘Well, he does have a lot on his mind,’ Jaiswal said sardonically and Goyal scowled.

  He was about to respond but Mirza spoke first.

  ‘Any of you feel that these hijackers are being too cooperative?’ he asked.

  Both his underlings looked at him expectantly.

  ‘First, they let the oldies, women, kids and even some of the men go. Now they’re giving us the kitchen staff.’

  ‘Isn’t … isn’t that a good thing, sir?’ Jaiswal asked uncertainly.

  ‘For us, yes. But they’re decreasing the number of hostages they have. With each move, they are left with fewer hostages for them to use and for us to worry about.’

  ‘Well, they still have the captain and his crew, plus four civilians, Daniel Fernando and Vikrant sir,’ said Goyal.

  ‘Vikrant and Daniel could do some serious damage by themselves, and if the captain and his crew join them…’

  Goyal and Jaiswal agreed.

  ‘You think there’s something else going on?’ Goyal asked.

  ‘I think there’s a lot else going on. I think they’re not depending simply on the hostages, that they have some ace up their sleeve that none of us know about.’

  ‘Is there something you want us to do?’ Jaiswal asked.

  Mirza leaned back in his seat, thinking hard.

  ‘Remember wh
at we did while looking for the IM Five?’ he said.

  ‘We looked backwards?’ Goyal asked.

  Mirza nodded.

  ‘It didn’t get us any closer to the five bastards, but at least it unearthed a dual-faced shapeshifter.’

  ‘You want to do that again?’

  ‘We’ve hardly had any time to take a proper look at this mess since it started,’ said Mirza. ‘It’s time to find out what we’re missing.’

  37

  Tuesday evening, Lakshadweep.

  It had taken the government an hour to decide, but in the end, three IB officers told the PMO that they couldn’t pick anyone better than Sanjay Anand for the job.

  Employed with one of the leading television news channels in India, Anand had started out as a crime reporter in Delhi twenty years ago and had climbed up the ranks to become one of the best journalists covering Islamic terrorism. His reports were thoroughly researched and, more importantly, balanced. He was among the few reporters who had not given in to the mass hysteria that television news peddled on a nationwide scale, instead choosing to quietly dish out meaningful and fair reportage. He had fearlessly visited war-torn regions across the country and had also been sent to the Middle East on several occasions, and not once had he displayed any sign of bias in his news reports.

  The PMO contacted Anand’s channel and struck a deal. Till the time Anand actually set foot on the hijacked cruise liner, the channel wouldn’t give out any hint of what they were about to show. The editor, who was prone to get excited at the mere mention of an exclusive, threw a fit but ultimately agreed.

  Anand and a cameraman were driven to the Palam Air Force Station in Delhi, where they were put aboard a fighter jet and flown to the aircraft carrier. There, they had a brief meeting with Mirza, after which Mirza called up Marwan and told him that they were ready. The journalist and his cameraman set off towards the cruise liner in a lifeboat, while the kitchen crew were lowered into the sea in another.

  On boarding the cruise liner, Anand and his cameraman were subjected to a body search, after which they were led to the open-air cafeteria, where Marwan sat, his M4 resting casually across his legs. The camera on the aircraft carrier was zoomed in on the cafeteria as Anand was offered a seat across from Marwan, while his cameraman set up his equipment.