Eleventh Hour

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  Then the jailbreak occurred and from that moment onwards, Mazhar and the others were constantly accompanied by someone or the other from the module, on orders from Munafiq. There was no way he could have contacted Vikrant, and Vikrant had guessed as much, which was why it was so important for him to get on the cruise liner himself.

  Vikrant, on his part, had told no one about Mazhar, not wanting to risk the young man’s life in any way. He had only told Mirza when they stepped out of the Officers’ Room on the aircraft carrier, and Mirza looked ready to explode.

  ‘Are you telling me that you’ve had a man among them all this bloody while?’ Mirza said, struggling to keep his voice down.

  Vikrant shrugged.

  ‘Eleventh hour, remember?’ he said.

  ‘Boy…’ Mirza began but Vikrant cut him short.

  ‘Sir, please. There’s no time. I need to get there and get in touch with him. Together, with him and Fernando, I can help put an end to this,’ Vikrant told his mentor.

  Mirza thought for a good two minutes before responding.

  ‘I’m smelling something off here,’ he finally said. ‘Don’t make a move till I signal you from here. We need to be sure we’ve got it under control from both sides.’

  Now, as he stood on the balcony, Mazhar Khan smiled for the first time in years.

  After the operation was officially declared under control, Vikrant, Daniel, Vaishali and Mazhar underwent a lengthy debriefing that went on all night. Vikrant was grilled for hours about Khan and Akhilesh Mishra even went as far as to state that Vikrant had made a mistake by not revealing earlier that he had a man on the inside. At which point Mirza had lost his patience.

  ‘Exactly how many years of experience do you have in the field of espionage, Mister Whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is?’ he asked bluntly, bringing his face inches away from the bureaucrat. Mishra realized that he was at a disadvantage, but everyone else in the room knew that his ego was going to get in the way of basic common sense. The naval commander was about to intervene when there was a knock on the door and Shaina poked her head in.

  ‘We’ve finished searching the freighter,’ she said.

  ‘And?’ the naval commander asked, welcoming the change of subject. Even Mirza moved away from Mishra and turned to listen to her.

  ‘We found two DPVs and wetsuits to go with them in the hold,’ Shaina said.

  ‘Exit strategy,’ Vikrant and Mirza said at the same time.

  ‘Wait, what?’ a confused Vaishali asked.

  ‘Diver propulsion vehicles. Used for underwater navigation. They come equipped with breathing gas. Think scooter, but underwater,’ Daniel explained to her as well as to an equally confused Mazhar.

  ‘Wetsuits are suits worn underwater,’ he added.

  ‘Do we have DPVs?’ the IB man asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ the naval commander answered. ‘The navy SEALs do, but several other countries manufacture them for recreational purposes. Quite easy to obtain.’

  ‘That was their exit strategy,’ Vikrant added. ‘Munafiq and Marwan were going to slip away, leaving the others to die on Lakshadweep.’

  ‘Motherfuckers,’ Mazhar Khan said.

  The rest of the debriefing went off relatively smoothly and soon, Mirza and his team, along with Vaishali, Daniel and Mazhar, were put on a plane and flown to Delhi, where they were all booked into massive suites at the government’s expense.

  ‘I’d suggest multiple suites,’ Vikrant told Akhilesh Mishra. ‘Some of us might want a little privacy.’ He looked at Daniel and Vaishali. Daniel grinned and Vaishali blushed.

  The PMO also booked the rooftop bar at the hotel, and Vikrant, Mirza, Daniel, Vaishali, Shaina, Goyal, Jaiswal and Mankame, who had flown down from Mumbai, got together that evening. The hotel manager was told to make sure they weren’t lacking for anything.

  For a short while, Mazhar found himself to be the centre of attention.

  ‘Is there really no cache?’ Jaiswal asked him, sounding disappointed.

  ‘Well, if there is, I don’t know where it is,’ Mazhar said. ‘But from what Marwan told us, it’s all one big lie concocted by some bright motherfucker in the ISI way back in 1993, which was kept alive down the years.’

  ‘That list?’ Goyal asked.

  ‘Marwan gave it to us. We were supposed to partly burn it and then plant it in that van.’

  ‘What was the point?’ Mankame wondered.

  ‘Yeah,’ Shaina chipped in. ‘Why go through all this trouble?’

  ‘Well,’ Mirza said. ‘Why not? It kept us chasing our own tails first, and then kept us scared enough. And the payoff? Access codes to the naval database through Dweeprakshak. They knew they were never going to be able to keep Lakshadweep. The plan was to leak all the navy’s secrets to our friendly neighbour.’

  ‘A plan that fell flat on its face, thanks in no small measure to Mazhar Khan,’ Vikrant said from his end of the table. Daniel and Vaishali, who were sitting with him, raised their glasses enthusiastically and everyone else joined in, while Khan shifted in his seat and went red in the face.

  The group partied till late in the night. Goyal and Jaiswal had to be escorted to their suite by Khan and Mirza, both teetotallers. Daniel, Vikrant and Mankame stumbled behind them, singing ‘Ab tumhare hawale watan sathiyon’ together, completely out of tune. Vaishali and Shaina, reasonably in possession of their senses, followed them, shaking their heads at the ‘boys’. Daniel and Vaishali retired to their suite, there was a separate one booked for Shaina and the rest of the ‘boys’ had a third suite for themselves.

  And so it was that only Mazhar Khan and Mirza woke up early the next morning. Mirza joined Mazhar on the balcony and half an hour later, the two men offered namaaz together.

  After that, they both sat down in the balcony with a pot of tea between them.

  ‘What was the hardest part?’ Mirza asked.

  Khan looked away.

  ‘Killing the guard,’ he said. ‘During the jailbreak. He was corrupt, abusive and communal to the core. But he didn’t deserve to die.’

  ‘You had to,’ Mirza said softly.

  ‘Yes,’ Khan agreed. ‘Qureshi told me that I had to kill him. Any reluctance on my part would have decreased their confidence in me. I did what I had to. It’s not something I’m proud of.’

  Mirza laid a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘If it helps,’ he said gently, ‘some really evil men are dead because of you.’

  The conversation continued till the others woke up and started filing into the balcony with hangovers of varying degrees.

  ‘I’m giving you all two hours to make yourselves presentable,’ Mirza told them. ‘We’ve got one last thing to take care of.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Vikrant said, rubbing his head. ‘Let’s finish this bloody thing already.’

  49

  Friday afternoon, New Delhi.

  Mirza and his team, along with Daniel and Shaina, were felicitated at a special ceremony at the Prime Minister’s Office premises, in the presence of the entire cabinet and senior officers from the armed forces as well as law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Also present were Maharashtra Chief Minister Yashwant Pradhan, State Home Minister Sudarshan Raskar, Maharashtra DGP Paramjeet Singh Kalra, Mumbai Police Commissioner Virendra Sinha and NIA chief T. Rangaswamy.

  Prime Minister Parmeshwar Naidu shook Mirza’s hands and held them for a long time before letting go.

  ‘My pleasure, sir,’ Mirza said. ‘My pleasure.’

  After practically blackmailing the prime minister of the country two days ago, Mirza had made him call Munafiq and tell him that he was ready to hand over Lakshadweep to him. This bit of deception was necessary to give Munafiq the illusion that he was in control so that when Mazhar finally revealed his identity, the surprise would have maximum impact.

  ‘I’ll be making a formal announcement in an hour,’ Naidu had told Munafiq. ‘I just wanted to let you know, as a show of good faith.’

  Mirza had t
hen sat with Naidu and made a list of false access codes to the naval database, which the latter could give Munafiq in case the need to stall for more time arose. Munafiq, in a rare display of overconfidence, had gathered the IM Five on the deck and started giving them a pep talk much earlier than anyone had imagined.

  When Mirza called Shaina, he told her to be prepared to provide support to Vikrant and Daniel, and ordered Goyal to deliver the signal. He had also informed Goyal about Mazhar Khan, to make sure the double agent wasn’t shot dead by some trigger-happy commando.

  Naidu moved on to Vikrant, who was in uniform, and pinned a medal to his chest.

  ‘Welcome back to the force, SP Vikrant Singh,’ Naidu beamed, and Vikrant saluted him.

  Next, Naidu walked up to Daniel, who had had his old army uniform flown up to Delhi on an SPG chopper for the occasion.

  ‘Major Fernando,’ he said. ‘You have served the country even after discarding the uniform. There is no greater compliment I can offer a soldier.’

  ‘I consider myself fortunate, sir,’ Daniel said.

  Naidu leaned closer.

  ‘I am also happy that my daughter has found the right partner, and does not share my lousy judgement when it comes to making life choices,’ he said softly.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Daniel said earnestly.

  Naidu then presented medals to Goyal, Jaiswal, Mankame and Shaina.

  ‘I’m told that the fine shooting out there is just one in the long list of your exploits, Major,’ he said to Shaina, who beamed.

  Everyone missed Mazhar and thought that he deserved a place of honour with them. However, they also realized that it was not possible.

  Just before they’d left the hotel for the PMO, Mazhar had said his goodbyes. He was being spirited off to an undisclosed location, where he would begin life anew under a new identity.

  Mazhar and Vikrant had hugged each other, and Vikrant thanked Mazhar for everything.

  ‘You realize you’ll always have a target painted on your back?’ Vikrant asked.

  ‘Frankly, sir, even if I’d died on that cruise liner, it would have still been worth it,’ Mazhar said. The two men had parted ways with barely held back tears.

  Now, everyone milled about, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Naidu and Vaishali sat in a corner, talking earnestly. Mirza watched from a distance and nodded in satisfaction. They had a long way to go, but a beginning had been made.

  Naidu stood up. ‘Join us for tea, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said to the guests of honour, taking Vaishali’s hand.

  Pradhan and Raskar went over to Naidu and had a short conversation, after which they left. Pradhan patted Vikrant’s shoulder on his way out. Kalra and Sinha had already left. Rangaswamy went over to take his leave when Naidu said, ‘Oh, Rangaswamy, join us for a second, won’t you?’

  The whole group trooped inside Naidu’s office and made themselves comfortable around a large table on one side of the office. Mankame, who was the last one to enter, locked the door from inside and nodded to Mirza, who immediately went over to where Rangaswamy was sitting and pulled up a chair in front of him.

  Rangaswamy looked at Mirza, then around him. Daniel and Vikrant were standing on either side of his chair, and Naidu was standing behind Mirza’s chair, while the others were gathered around. Nobody looked happy.

  Rangaswamy raised his eyebrows. Mirza sighed.

  ‘The PM told me that after he got elected, he had asked an IB officer to check on Vaishali,’ he said.

  ‘And?’ Rangaswamy asked.

  ‘I didn’t think of asking him who it was at the time. But later I got to thinking, how did Munafiq know something that even the PM’s personal secretary didn’t?’

  Rangaswamy’s face changed.

  ‘You were in the IB back then…’ Mirza said. ‘I’m really praying to God that I’ve got this wrong, but you were the IB officer that the PM had asked…’

  ‘Stop,’ Rangaswamy said, looking at the floor.

  Everyone waited as he struggled to find words.

  ‘They … they told me they were his political rivals… They said they… Some sort of political conspiracy…’

  ‘So it was you,’ Naidu said, looking furious. ‘I mean, after all the trust…’

  ‘How much did you get?’ Mirza asked.

  Rangaswamy winced.

  ‘How much?’ Mirza repeated.

  ‘Fifty … fifty crore…’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, sir! After all those years working together?’ Mirza was seething.

  ‘It was … it set me up … my future… Being honest comes with a price, Mirza. And everyone around you pays that price,’ Rangaswamy muttered.

  Before anyone could see it coming, Mirza drew his fist back and punched Rangaswamy on the jaw.

  50

  Friday evening, New Delhi.

  ‘So, RAW, huh?’ Daniel asked as he blew smoke through his nostrils.

  Vikrant puffed at his cigarette.

  ‘Let’s hope neither of us punches anyone,’ he said, smirking.

  Before they left his office, Naidu had told Mirza and Vikrant that he had recommended a posting in RAW for both of them. He also told Daniel that if he ever thought about rejoining the army, there would always be a place for him. Mirza, being Mirza, had drawn Daniel aside half an hour later and asked him to consider working as an asset for RAW.

  ‘Yeah, well. At least your godfather didn’t punch a diplomat from another country,’ Daniel said, and both men laughed.

  ‘Time to go, lads!’ Mirza called out. The two men stubbed out their cigarettes and everyone walked into the Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. The PM had made some calls and CRPF officers were waiting to usher them straight through. They checked in their luggage and were led to the VIP lounge to wait till their flights were announced. They had all been booked into business class, courtesy of the Indian government.

  Daniel and Vaishali had decided to travel together for a while to get to know each other ‘under less stressful circumstances’.

  ‘No cruises this time, please,’ Daniel had told her.

  Mirza, Vikrant and Mankame were going to Mumbai, where Mirza and Vikrant would wind up their pending work and move to RAW. Shaina, after seeing everyone off, would go to the NSG headquarters in Palam for a formal felicitation programme. Goyal and Jaiswal, meanwhile, were going back to the Bhopal office of the NIA.

  Fifteen minutes later, the flight to Bhopal was announced. Goyal and Jaiswal shook hands with everyone and hugged Vikrant.

  ‘Try not to fight, boys,’ Mirza called out as they walked away.

  Next, Daniel and Vaishali’s flight to Coimbatore was announced. There was another round of handshakes and hugs that ended with Daniel and Vaishali both hugging Vikrant at the same time.

  ‘You’re a good person, Vikrant,’ Vaishali said softly. ‘Stay that way.’

  Vikrant squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘I’ll see you around,’ he told her, giving one of his rare smiles.

  Turning to Daniel, he said, ‘I’m really happy for the both of you. Something tells me you’re making the right choice.’

  ‘Speaking of choices…’ Daniel said, gesturing with his eyes towards Shaina.

  Vikrant merely nodded. Daniel stepped back.

  ‘Look sharp, Toothpick.’

  ‘Stay alive, Madman Dan.’

  Daniel and Vaishali left hand in hand, waving goodbye.

  Mankame spread himself out on a couch, replying to congratulatory messages from his peers back in Mumbai, while Mirza went back to exchanging gossip with spies across the world on his phone.

  Vikrant headed over to Shaina.

  ‘I never said thank you,’ he said. ‘You know, for that awesome sniper cover you provided.’

  Shaina shrugged modestly.

  ‘Just doing my part,’ she said dismissively.

  Vikrant took a deep breath but Shaina spoke before he could.

  ‘Vikrant, I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘I’m really, really
sorry. I led you on when I myself wasn’t sure and then I just … I know it left you broken and I have spent so many days wishing I could take it all back…’

  Vikrant let her finish.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said finally. ‘Really, it is. You made the choice that made the most sense to you at the time. That’s what we all do. That’s what we all can do. So, yeah, it’s okay.’

  He patted her shoulder.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘I hear you’ve got a great career ahead of you. I should know. I’m RAW.’

  Both of them chuckled. Vikrant turned to walk back to his seat.

  ‘Vikrant…’ Shaina said hesitantly.

  Vikrant turned again to face her.

  ‘Can we … I mean … you want to catch up once I’m back in Mumbai?’

  ‘Shaina,’ Vikrant said after a pause, ‘forgiving you is one thing. Trusting you or anyone again … that’s not going to be so easy. I’m sorry, but there is no other way to say this.’

  Shaina took it well.

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said.

  At that moment, the flight to Mumbai was announced.

  Shaina went over to shake hands with Mirza and Mankame, after which she came back to Vikrant.

  ‘Stay out of trouble,’ she told him.

  ‘Nope. You stay safe.’

  ‘Nope,’ she said, returning his grin, and walked away.

  Vikrant caught hold of Mankame’s shoulder and led him towards the smoking zone.

  ‘What the hell, boys?’ Mirza grumbled.

  ‘One last smoke,’ Vikrant said, pulling out his pack.

  ‘GODDAMMIT, lads!’

  Acknowledgements

  Eleventh Hour, though fiction, is inspired by and derived from real-life events – a vast stash of RDX that has remained undiscovered since the serial blasts of 1993 and the Indian agencies totally clueless about it; the jailbreak in Bhopal of five men bound by a common mission; the hijacking of an Indian ship and a commercial vessel by Somali pirates and, of course, Pakistan’s designs to spread terror in India and their intention to usurp Lakshadweep in 1947.