by Rahul Badami
Gorbat shrugged. For whom am I doing this? Trains never run on time. Electricity is unavailable for many hours every day. The department is short on resources. Our leaders are corrupt and are unofficial billionaires while we struggle to make even a millionth of what they make.
For whom am I doing this? He asked himself again. Gorbat knew the answer. It was the undying integrity within him that refused to make him surrender to the temptations of corruption and injustice. He did what he did for himself; and for the common Pakistani people. It was the hope for a better tomorrow that directed his actions. And it had been a frustrating fifteen years wait for the ideal tomorrow.
He only hoped that tomorrow would come soon enough.
There was a TV in the foyer tuned to one of the news channels. He wondered what the media would make of it. They would have had a field day. But to his surprise, the news headlines were full of innocuous and boring stuff. He switched to other news channels; there was nothing. No news about captured spies.
Gorbat was surprised. He was familiar with Sohail, and they had worked together a couple of times during his career. The man was brilliant but self-obsessed. He would take any opportunity to toot his own horn. He had been the guest speaker on multiple news shows. It was very unlike him to keep a news like this quiet.
Gorbat called Sohail’s office. His secretary picked up the phone.
“This is Inspector Gorbat Khan of the Quetta CTD. I would like to speak to Director Akhtar.”
“I am sorry, sir. But he left for Sargodha in the morning.”
“Sargodha?”
“Yes, he took his private plane to fly to Sargodha.”
“Okay, please leave him a message to contact me.”
“Sure, sir. I will do that.”
A few minutes later the secretary called him back.
“It's strange. I have been calling him all afternoon for various appointments, but he didn't pick up the phone. I called the ISI office in Sargodha and they say he didn't come. I will let you know as soon as I get in touch with him.”
A germ of doubt began to grow in Gorbat's mind. Sohail had said he would be going to Sargodha in the morning, yet a few hours later he was in Hyderabad overseeing the custody of the Indian spies. Maybe he was still here in Hyderabad. He picked up the phone and dialled the local ISI office in Hyderabad and spoke for a few minutes.
As Gorbat listened, he realized that something was wrong. Very wrong.
One of the things that Gorbat prided upon was his ability to pick up random set of events and merge them into a meaningful whole. It was the ability along with his doggedness that had helped him solve countless cases.
As the disparate pieces of information collided into his brain, he tried to stitch together a narrative that would make logical sense. The Divisional Director of the ISI had left in a plane bound for Sargodha. He didn't go to Sargodha, but stopped at Hyderabad two hours later. The Director's plane was still in Hyderabad, but the Director was missing. And no news was broadcast about the Indian spies.
It all pointed to one thing. Gorbat realized that only one scenario could explain all the facts. The Indians had killed the Director and had escaped.
Gorbat rushed out of the foyer. He had to take Bugti’s car and follow the trail.
The chase was on again.
Chapter 20
“You had a plan for Ormara.” Roshan said, “Do you have a plan for Sargodha?”
Sultan had taken them into a safe house in Sukkur. The safe house overlooked the Indus River. Sultan had provided them refreshments and Roshan had been glad for once. Now that his growling stomach had ceased howling, he could focus on the question that was burning in his mind. He wanted to know what Armaan had planned.
“I am still thinking about it.”Armaan replied. He looked at the team. “I would be happy to hear your inputs as well.”
Hitesh spoke up, “We first need to determine where the missiles are kept. The Kirana hills have numerous missile silos. We will need to figure out which silo is hosting the SLBMs. If you can get me close enough, I will be able to tap into their database and find out which silos have the missiles. The next step will be disabling the security systems for a limited time while we infil into the compound. If everything goes well, we should get access to the missiles without anyone being the wiser.”
“We will need an exfil plan after our objectives are completed.”
“I will drive you to Sargodha and return you to the coast.” Sultan said before anyone could speak.
Armaan shook his head. “No, its best you don't get involved in this.”
“I am already involved. So why not go all the way?”
“But you are a deep asset, not a black ops operative like us. We can find our way.”
“I don’t think so. There are scores of checkpoints on the route, and I have a valid driver's license with my photo. You don't have an ID because your papers were taken away. Plus you don’t have a vehicle. I own a Land Rover. I have put a government label on the car, and everyone thinks a political big shot is travelling around.”
“All right.” Armaan conceded.
“Once the mission is completed, you will exfil the same way you came in. I will drive you back to the coast and ensure that you return safely to the sub.”
“Thanks. A question. Do you have any weapons and tactical gear that we may be able to use?”
“Yes.” Sultan walked over to the far wall and pressed a button under the shelf. A hidden door popped out. Sultan slid the door wide open.
“Here are your toys. Let me know if you need anything else.” Sultan said.
Roshan stared with disbelief at the array of weapons. Every type of gun, rifles and small arms was on display along with various tactical gears. “Seriously, where did you get your hands on these?”
“If you have the right contacts, you can literally walk into a place in Karachi and buy them off the counter. How do you think the terrorists get their weapons?”
“You have a Vidhwansak?” Armaan's tone indicated he was impressed.
Roshan looked at the massive ultra-modern gun that dwarfed all the guns around it. He was familiar with the Vidhwansak, an anti-materiel rifle with a stupendous range of two thousand metres. Roshan had never figured out why they spelled the word ‘materiel’ incorrectly; a term to distinguish the gun as something that could destroy material like barricades and walls; which was different from all other guns which were designated as anti-personnel guns, that is, for killing people. At six feet in length, the Vidhwansak was as tall as a man. It was used by the Indian Border Security Force for counter-sniping infiltrators on the border. It packed such a punch that it could blast a hole through a cement wall even at a distance of two kilometres. It was the perfect answer for terrorists hiding inside terror launchpads.
“Yeah,” Sultan nodded, “you want it?”
“Yes, and also the Night Vision Goggles, M4A1 carbines, the SVD Dragunov, Glock 17 pistols and the F2000 assault rifles with red-dot scopes.”
Sultan picked out the weapons and started to hand them over to the team. He also handed a GPS set, miniature radio earpieces and a tablet to Armaan.
“Yep, these are my kind of toys. Looks like we are all set.”
“Great. We move out in ten minutes.” Sultan declared.
“Let’s go over the plan once again.” Armaan said. “Hitesh, you start first.”
Roshan leaned in close to Armaan as he watched the others join in. They were hidden in a grove of trees two kilometres northwest of Kirana Hills in Sargodha. It had taken Sultan around twelve hours to traverse the seven hundred and fifty kilometres from Sukkur to Sargodha. Luckily, it had been an uneventful ride. They had stopped at a safe house on the outskirts of Sargodha. Armaan had made a brief call to the General and informed that Sultan had brought them safely to Sargodha.
They had already gone over the plan a couple of times on the way here, but Armaan had made them repeat the details to make sure that each person knew their role. Sult
an had driven them within ten kilometres of the facility. From there they had walked stealthily staying away from the main road and keeping to the shadows. Now sitting in the darkness of the trees, Roshan could see the barbed wire fences outlining the border of the facility. He focused his attention back to Hitesh who was speaking.
“Do you want me to start with the overview or just the plan?” Hitesh asked.
“Start from the overview. It’s best if everyone is synced in.”
“All right,” Hitesh said, “The Central Ammunition Depot on Kirana Hills is one of Pakistan's largest munitions and missile storage base. The location of the hills in close proximity to the PAF Base Mushaf makes it ideal for quick weapons loading, deployment and maintenance. The missile silos are not kept at a single location, but rather they are stored deep underground in bunkers spread all over the hill.”
Roshan remembered the satellite images of the Central Ammunition Depot. It looked like a collection of concrete tents spaced hundred metres apart on the foot of the hills.
“Right. What's the evaluation of the security?” Armaan asked.
“We have double-fenced security perimeter with guard towers every two hundred metres. Plus we have search lights that crisscross over the perimeter that will highlight anyone attempting to get in. If we get past that, there are guards roaming inside the compound plus two guards at the entrance to each bunker. If we find a way to reach the bunker without coming to the attention of the guards and having the entire garrison firing a hailstorm of bullets, we will still run into a roadblock. The bunker entrance requires a swipe-in access card and a biometric fingerprint.” Hitesh inhaled deeply. “That's what we are up against tonight.”
Armaan shrugged. “Just another day at the office…”
Ijaz Ibrahim gazed at the panel of sixty inch LCD screens in front of him. He wondered if the Intel he had been provided was wrong. It couldn't be; his gut told him.
Ijaz was the Security head of the Central Ammunition Depot at Sargodha. He had been inducted in this role just a few months back. He had joined Sargodha as one of the deputy security officers in charge of perimeter security. He had come to the notice of his supervisor when he had started unconventional yet effective security drills, brutal training regimens and frequent mock drills. It wasn't long before he was promoted to his designation as Head of Security.
Yesterday, the Divisional Director of the ISI had sent an alert to Sargodha indicating that Indian spies were in pursuit of the Babur-3 missiles and they would soon reach Sargodha. The alert ordered that the Babur-3 missiles be shifted immediately. And when the Indian spies reached the Ammunition Depot, they were to be captured.
Ijaz had duly followed the Director's orders and the missiles were safe; now the only thing left was to capture the Indian spies. He had told his men to be on the lookout for intruders and to report anything unusual to him immediately. He further gave explicit instructions that any intruders be captured alive.
Now, as he scrutinized the activity on the LCD screens, he had only one question in his mind.
When would the Indians attack?
Chapter 21
Roshan crawled in slow motion along the ground, his eyes roving everywhere, ears attuned to the slightest sound, and his nerves on edge. The night was warm and sweat poured down his neck. The olive-green jacket camouflaged his body among the trees, but a metre ahead, the trees ended and then it was an open clearing till the perimeter fence.
Roshan took in the scene in front of him. On either end of him, one hundred metres away to his left and right stood the two guard towers, the sentries atop the towers were barely visible as they stood motionless, but Roshan knew that their eyes swept the area in sync with the searchlights. He would have to stay out of range of the lights. He looked at the barbed fences. The inner and outer fences were spaced five feet apart. He assumed that the fences were electrified barriers electrocuting anyone who touched it. Beyond that, he could see the Weapons Storage Bunkers. As warned by Hitesh, two men manned the entrance to each bunker. The bunkers were arranged like grid points equidistant from each other and continued on barely visible in the distance.
“Markhor One, this is Three. I am in position.” Roshan whispered. A micro radio-cum-mic was embedded in his ear, courtesy of Sultan. The cutting-edge comm piece fit easily inside his ear canal and was virtually undetectable. Everyone had synced in to the secure frequency in advance.
Armaan's voice came clearly as if he was standing next to him, instead of the hundred metres that separated them. “Three, this is One. I see you. Stand by till Four gives the green signal. Four, are we ready?”
“A few minutes more,” Hitesh replied. “I installed a network sniffer and have taken over one of the sentry’s mobile phone. I then masqueraded as a mobile network operator for the mobile and installed a special over-the-air update turning the mobile into a zombie. Now I am using the mobile to piggyback onto the security network.”
“Whatever…” Roshan had never figured out the geek language of computer nerds. “Just let me know when the security system is down.” He scanned the perimeter once again, making sure that no guards were alert to their presence. Armaan had told him to take the lead today and he couldn’t afford to fail him.
“I am in!” Hitesh declared in an emphatic voice. “Three, get ready.”
“Ready to the point of boredom, Four.”
Roshan watched the pattern of the searchlights as he crawled out of the grove. Now, he was in the open and every second mattered. He knew that Armaan had his back. If either of the sentries on the guard towers detected him, the team's scoped silencers were trained on them, and they would be killed before they could raise an alarm. On the other hand, if they were detected they had their escape plan in place.
Sultan had stayed behind in the car five kilometres away. He would be their getaway guy. If everything went as planned, they would not need him to come dashing in like a Formula One racer to extract them out.
Roshan raised himself into a crouch. In a few seconds from now, the search lights would swing away from the fences and sweep the areas further away. It would give him thirty seconds to run the fifty feet to the fence. Hitesh was monitoring the search lights and would give him the green signal to take off.
“Three, this is Four,” Roshan heard Hitesh, “Counting down. Three, two, one, go.”
Roshan dashed forward making a beeline for the fences. He took a quick peek at both towers, but he couldn't see anything in the dark. He would have to trust the team who had their eyes on the sentries. He focused ahead at the fence; his job was to cut through the fence without being detected. As he ran, he pulled out a laser gun in one hand and a roll of canvas cloth in the other hand. He counted off the seconds in his mind as he reached the fence.
I have another ten seconds; Roshan huffed as he unrolled the canvas cloth. The texture of the cloth was brown matching the colour of the ground. He lay down on the ground and covered the cloth over him like a blanket. He hoped that when the search lights passed over him, he would be indistinguishable from the ground around him.
“I am at the fence under cover.” Roshan whispered.
“Copy that, Three.”
He waited panting heavily under the cloth for the next update from Hitesh. A piercing light lit up the cloth like daylight and Roshan fought against the urge to move or fidget as the searchlights probed the ground in front of the perimeter.
Roshan slowed his laboured breath and clenched his fists in an effort to master himself as he glanced at his body that was illuminated under the cloth. He felt alone and exposed. It’s only for a few seconds, he told himself. It was virtually impossible for them to detect him under the cloth at a distance that the tower was.
After an interminable wait that had his heart thudding in his chest, he saw the light sweeping away leaving him in darkness. A moment later, Hitesh spoke in his ear. “Three, you are clear. Get to work. You have twenty seconds.”
The signal indicated that Hitesh had disab
led the security alarms on the perimeter fences. Now he had to cut through the fence.
Roshan got up and swiftly went to work, cutting off a small hole using the laser gun. He just reached the inner fence when Hitesh's voice chirped in his ear.
“Get back under cover.”
Roshan again lay down on the ground and spread the cloth over him. He reminded himself that there was no hurry and he just had to be patient. The light shone down on him once again scrutinizing the camouflaged cloth like a lab specimen under a microscope. Once the light passed off him, Hitesh gave the signal and he now focused on shearing through the inner fence, sweat pouring down his neck. He was almost done when Hitesh shouted in his ear.
“Get back in cover.”
The stress had made him forgot to count the buffer time he had before the search lights was upon him. He didn't even look behind as with a single motion he laid himself flat on his back and scurried to cover himself under the camouflage. In his hurry, he pulled the cover too high over his head and his boots slipped out from under the cover.
Oh bother. He reached down to adjust the cover, but the beam of the powerful flashlight was immediately upon him. He could feel the blood throbbing in his neck and ears; but couldn't suppress it. The boots would give him away. They would look like a pair of dark green patches against the brown soil. He expected a hail of bullets firing over him piercing through his body and killing him. The long seconds passed but the light didn't move at all. Perhaps they were already onto him. He half-expected to hear shouted commands ordering his death, but they didn't come.
Eventually, the flashlight went away, but Roshan's body had gone rigid with fright.
“Move.” He heard Hitesh, but he felt too exhausted. He slowly pulled off the cover gasping audibly. He was completely worn out with the ordeal. He straggled the couple of steps to the inner fence and cut the remaining portion of the fence and then dragged himself lethargically through it. Once inside he collapsed on the ground trying to catch his breath.