by Rahul Badami
“Are you proposing I do nothing? These terrorists attack us with impunity, and you tell me that I if attack back, I lose. There is a limit to my patience.”
“An attack is best, when there is a sure chance of success.” The General said. “I am looking at this situation unemotionally and I see no good coming out of it. I am not proposing we do nothing, I am just saying that we need to eliminate the terrorist leaders rather than their minions.”
“So how do we do that?”
The General looked at the gathering and hesitated. “I am working on that. I will provide a report in the evening.”
“I will be waiting for that, General.” Inamdaar stood up, indicating that the meeting was over. “We need to give out an unequivocal and strong response to both the terrorists and the Pakistani civil-military establishment. They should cower with fear before they even think of attacking us next time.”
The three Service Chiefs and the NSA left. The Defence Minister Dayanand Mistry stayed in the room. Inamdaar stared at him. The man was from the second largest party in his coalition government and Inamdaar had given the post to him in exchange for the party to support his government. Dayanand was good at politics, but Inamdaar wasn’t sure how good his administration skills were for a crucial post like Defence. He wondered what the man had to say.
Inamdaar leaned back in his chair, “I know you resent me. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
Dayanand said, “Yes, I hate your politics.”
“Good. I thought you would deny that too. I am happy to see that my Defence Minister has a spine.”
“I am not a bootlicker that will do anything you please to keep my post. First, you send a covert ops team; now you talk about a military strike. Your warmongering views will only lead us to grief.”
“Since when did safeguarding our sovereignty become warmongering? Do you want me to simply sit quiet and wait for more Kasabs to kill my people? As PM, it is my responsibility to ensure our citizens are safe now and in the future.”
“And the best way to do that is by initiating black operations that will exacerbate the fragile situation between our countries? Are we ready for war? We can only fight a war for maximum of ten days before our supplies dry up. We don’t have the budget to fight a proper war.”
“That’s because it’s called a Defence Budget, not an Attack Budget. And I am not exacerbating the… what did you call it?… fragile situation. They send brainwashed youths to our country. I am sending lethal professionals who will show them how it’s supposed to be done. Two can play this game, and the onus will be on Pakistan to escalate from here.”
“It will take only a small spark to start a war, and then the very real possibility of nuclear armageddon. As PM, are you prepared for the death of millions?”
Inamdaar leaned forward on the desk and closed the lid of his laptop. He glanced in the direction of Dayanand, but he had a faraway look in his eyes. “A hundred years ago, in 1913, people thought that a World War was impossible. They couldn’t comprehend a global war involving multiple countries in which millions could die. But the War happened and millions did die. And then in 1939 it happened again. With even more devastating consequences. Today, people naively think that no one is fool enough to start a nuclear conflict. They forget the test bombs proposed for Hiroshima and Kokura. Kokura escaped but its good luck turned out to be Nagasaki’s downfall. The cities were nuked just to evaluate the extent of devastation that could be caused by the atomic toys. The nuclear scientists requested the politicians not to test it out on humans, but the power-drunk politicians still went ahead. Loss of lives didn’t matter with the justification that the only good Jap was a dead Jap. That’s humanity for you. We forget history very quickly.”
“What’s your point?”
“The point I am trying to make is that the law of probability and the ignorance of humanity is against us. We cannot comprehend the horrors of a nuclear war, and the scale of its destruction. Just because we cannot comprehend the magnitude, we naively assume it will never happen to us. But history has shown that it has happened, and probability tells us that it will happen again. We conveniently ignore the lessons from history.”
“So, you think we may have a nuclear war in the future?”
“Sixty million died in the Second World War. Two hundred million will die in a nuclear conflict with Pakistan. It’s not a question of if it will happen. It’s only a question of when. You asked if I was prepared for the death of millions. I am not. No leader can be. But at the same time, my self-respect wouldn’t allow me to stand mute while our neighbour keeps bleeding us through a thousand cuts. As Prime Minister, I have my duties to execute. I will perform my karma fearlessly.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Roshan finally found his voice.
He surveyed the bullet ridden bodies under the solitary light of the bunker. The security commander had been so quick, that Roshan hadn’t even ducked when the bullets flew around him. Armaan and Baldev were looking at each other and Hitesh was still rooted to the spot in shock.
“Hold your questions,” Ijaz looked down at the bodies ensuring that they were all dead. The four guards lay in a heap on the floor, their eyes open in death. “This was necessary; otherwise they would have killed you.”
“But why did you kill your own men?” Roshan stared at the dead Pakistani soldiers.
“Because, they are not my men.”
“Not your men?” Roshan couldn’t believe it. “Who were they then?”
“The question is not who they were. They were Pakistani soldier pigs. The question is who am I?”
“Who are you then?”
Ijaz smiled for the first time. “I am a member of the Sayeret Matkal.”
The name triggered a recollection in Roshan’s mind. The Sayeret Matkal was a secretive group within an equally secret government organisation, The Mossad of Israel. Deployed as a special unit of the Israel Defence Forces, the Sayeret Matkal operated in shadows all around the world, spying on hostile governments and exposing their plans.
“You are an Israeli!” Shock was plastered on Roshan’s face.
“I am surprised you recognized the name. Not many of our own countrymen have even heard about us.”
“But what are you doing here?” Roshan pointed at the surroundings. “In Pakistan? In their army weaponisation facility?”
“What does it look like? Pakistan has made its agenda to make a sworn enemy out of Israel. In fact, these illiterate lowlifes go as far as making it a political statement even on their passports.” The Israeli spat. “Their passports specifically mention that it is for travel everywhere except Israel. But they don’t realize that by naming Israel on a Pakistani passport, they unwittingly give recognition to the existence of our state and its power.”
“But why their weapons storage depot?”
“A few years back we were concerned about the nuclear powers of Pakistan. Once a country has nuclear weapons, they get into a different level of warfare altogether. We heard rumours of a dirty bomb being used against Israel. We assembled our men, came to Pakistan and infiltrated into the army and bureaucratic positions to check the veracity of the threat. The rumour didn't turn out to be legitimate, and then we settled down and the mission changed to a long term infiltration campaign. With my induction in Sargodha’s Central Ammunition Depot, I get to know all the movement of all missiles, weapons logistics and new technologies. If a military action is thought of, Tel Aviv will come to know of it long before the Army commanders here in Pakistan know about it.”
“Are you saying you monitor everything that comes and goes from this facility?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you must be aware of the Babur-3 missiles?”
“Yes, it was moved out of the facility yesterday.”
“Oh! Then it’s true of what you said earlier.” A sudden realization came to Roshan. “And Sultan?”
“Your friend in the Range Rover? I am sorry about him. His was a
n unneeded casualty.”
“How did he die?”
“I don't have all the details, but I was told that he lost control of his car while escaping and crashed into a wall. When the soldiers arrived there, he was already dead.” Roshan had seen his comrades dying in conflict. He was no stranger to losing combat brothers, but the pain never subsided. It still hurt him. He looked at his team. The sombre expressions of their faces matched his.
Unlike a soldier in war, a spy dying in enemy territory never got the accolades or attention they deserved. Army jawans would be cremated with full honours. But a spy dying behind enemy territory could only muster the ignominy of an unmarked grave. Roshan knew that Sultan had chosen this kind of life. They had chatted briefly on the way to Sargodha and Roshan knew that this work was a matter of pride for him. Now his family wouldn't even receive a body to mourn upon. It was what Sultan had signed up for. Roshan shook his head. Even he had also signed up for this.
As a soldier, his duty was to follow orders. It wasn't his prerogative to question his leaders and their decisions. He trusted his superiors and knew that whatever mission he was sent to would be a carefully thought-out move in the eternal war to guard India's sovereignty.
This mission had gone south from the moment they had landed into Pakistan.
“So what are you boys doing here?” The Israeli asked.
“We were after the Babur-3 missiles. Only after we reached here did we realize it was moved out.”
“Yes, it was done yesterday. As the Head of Security, I authorized the exit request and verified the goods. They loaded a couple dozen missiles in a van and left.”
“Just a solitary van? They didn't provide any cover to it?”
“No, the Pakistani Army doesn't provide any security cover to their weapons.” He looked at the shell-shocked expression on Roshan's face and continued. “I know what you are thinking. What if a terrorist got hold of the missiles? But you have to understand the Pakistani mindset first. Their priority is not the safety of the missiles. They are more concerned that US spies don't get wind of their plans. America is their biggest threat, even though they won't admit it ever. They share a love-hate relationship with the USA. They want the grants and monetary bailouts, but at the same time they hate the guts of the Yankees.”
“But still, why not transport the missiles in a proper Army deployed unit?”
“A big contingent of army vehicles travelling through the roads will be conspicuous. The Americans already have their eyes everywhere in Pakistan. They have ground assets as well as satellites to monitor anything out of the ordinary. A dozen vehicles will naturally attract more interest than a single lonesome van.”
“Do you know where the van went?”
The Israeli smiled enigmatically. “The destination on the form was listed as Classified.”
“But you do know where it went.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes. Courtesy of the CIA I do know. It went to Project S25 in KP.”
Roshan plumbed the depths of his memory but couldn't recollect anything. He looked over at Hitesh, who nodded. “It is an abandoned mine project in the province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. The Pakistan government abandoned it in a few years ago when they didn't have funds to sustain the mining project.”
“Oh, but they didn't stop the project.” The Israeli interjected. “The project was publicly terminated, but in reality Project S25 continued to receive secret funding from the National Command Authority.”
“The NCA? Isn't that the Pakistani nuclear deployment team?”
The Israeli nodded. “Here's how the CIA came into the picture. In 2010, when the terrorists were creating havoc on the army and taking over vast swathes of land under its control especially in FATA and Gilgit-Baltistan, the CIA sent a high-level delegation to visit the Pakistani Prime Minister. They expressed their serious concern about the terrorists running amok throughout the country, and wanted to know what steps the leadership had taken to lock down its nuclear facilities so that it didn't fall in the hands of the extremists. To their shock, they discovered that the security at the nuclear facilities was rudimentary. The American team offered to provide state-of-the-art security installations to protect the nuclear warheads. The Prime Minister readily agreed and soon after received the high tech security systems to guard the warheads against theft and deployment. But what the Pakistan leaders didn't know is that all of the security systems had micro-GPS trackers installed in them. Once the security systems were installed at all the secret nuclear facilities, the CIA immediately had the locations of all of them. How's that for a double whammy? Not only were the installations secured, but the CIA also knew where they were located.”
“That's brilliant.”
“Yes, it was. One of the installations was at the so-called abandoned mine at KP. And when the CIA learned that we already had a team in Pakistan, they were ready to provide us with info so that we could dig deeper into their schemes. They wanted to nurture assets in the facilities, and our existing team was perfect for them. The destination of the Babur missiles was classified, but our sources reported that the missiles are bound for Project S25. It’s located in Karak district of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. We have a contact there. I assume you want to check out the missiles?”
“Yes, something of the sort.”
“If you are interested, I can speak with my contact there. He would be able to give you access to the facility.”
“Is your contact any good?”
The Israeli smiled. “I believe so. He's the head of the military detail stationed in Project S25. Everyone there reports to him.”
Chapter 24
Shafiq woke up with the first light of dawn. It had become a regular habit with him wherever he was. A faint light was peeking through the window. He didn’t remember the last time he had slept so soundly and comfortably. The beds and blankets were clean and it felt warm sleeping inside a house, unlike the open where the freezing wind would tear through your insides all night long.
They had reached Ghazni the previous evening and had gone straight up to the safe house. The safe house was on the outskirts of the town. The neighbourhood had sparse buildings dotted around. The buildings looked like warehouses of some sort. He realized that their safe house was also an erstwhile warehouse. The ceilings were higher and the room larger than those in typical homes.
Malik had told them not to venture outside, so, Shafiq had simply retired to a room that had been converted into a bedroom and laid himself on one of the beds. Sleep had come instantly; his body tired from the trials of many weeks had welcomed it immediately.
Shafiq rose from the bed and walked over to the window. It had been dark when they had reached yesterday so he hadn’t got to see much of the area. Fog had descended over the area and he couldn’t see the horizon. Only a dull light indicated that morning was on its way.
Zia came into the room. He ignored Shafiq and spoke with the other men who were up and about. “Malik says we are to move in ten minutes. Everyone should join him in front of the garage in five minutes.
The men bustled about. Most of their stuff was in the trucks and hadn’t been offloaded. For Shafiq, it was a matter of simply going down to the garage. The two trucks were lined next to each other, ready to leave. Some of the men had already hopped into the trucks. Malik was busy talking with a couple of men, their contacts in Ghazni who had welcomed them yesterday. Shafiq decided to sit in the back of one of the trucks.
A few minutes later Malik peeked into the rear of the trucks. Satisfied that all the men were accounted for, he gave the order to proceed to Jalalabad.
It was just after noon that they reached Jalalabad. Instead of stopping at a particular place, they passed through the city and took the road east. A few kilometres out of Jalalabad, they stopped at a small settlement which had camels for sale. Malik spoke to the owner while everyone in the truck watched with mild curiosity. The owner left, and Malik turned around to the truck and spoke just two words.
Thirty minutes later, the owner returned. This time he was accompanied with two men. They were bearded, tall, well-built and each carried an AK-47 under his arm. Their eyes were alert and were constantly roving around. As they approached the trucks, Shafiq found their faces familiar. He gasped as he recognized the duo. They were the Kunduz brothers named after the town where they came from. Their names were Nadeem and Nazal. Their tales were legendary. They had been inducted in the war against the Soviets as kids of eight and nine years old; wielding guns too heavy for their frail bodies and ordered to fight against a professionally trained enemy.
Miraculously, they had survived, and over the years, the two of them had fought in almost every major war that had raged through Afghanistan. They had been one of the first to join the Al-Qaeda, and had grown through the ranks. Each devastating assault on their enemies had increased their reputation and their incredible feats spurred on their followers. It was said that they were one of the few remaining core members of the disbanded Al-Qaeda.
Shafiq wondered what the brothers were doing here. As he evaluated the scenarios in his mind, only one thing seemed possible. The Kunduz brothers were going to assist or lead them into the mission. Which meant their mission was going to be a major one.
He wasn’t the only one who had reached this conclusion. Excited murmurs had broken in the group around him. They were all sitting on their haunches in the truck, discussing their mission and the presence of the legendary brothers. Everyone eyed the conversation taking place between the four men and wondered what they were talking about.
After a few minutes, Malik broke away from the group and went to the front of the truck. He beckoned the drivers of both trucks. They stepped out and spoke with Malik and nodded at his instructions. Malik told the co-passengers in the front to disembark and sit in the back. He then invited the brothers to sit next to the drivers.
After everyone was settled in, Malik thanked the camel owner and then told the driver to move on.