Operation Deep Strike

by Rahul Badami

  Shafiq walked up to him and said, “Malik told me to report to you.”

  Zia nodded at him and then continued to address the unit. “I am no coward to sit behind while my brothers fight the enemy. Rest assured that I will be fighting from the front, shoulder to shoulder with my valiant comrades, ready to sacrifice my blood for Allah. Just observe and learn from me. We will devastate and destroy all those who come in our paths. There will be no stopping us…”

  Shafiq tried to stifle a yawn as Zia went along in his monologue. At the first pause of Zia, he edged in. “Zia –”

  Zia looked at Shafiq with displeasure. He didn’t like being distracted in the middle of his speech. “What is it?” he snorted.

  “Hamza said that this will be our biggest mission ever?”

  “Yes, it will be. It will be bigger than the destruction of the Twin Towers. People will talk about it for decades; our enemies will whisper about it with fear in their hearts, and our friends with pride. We will be honoured on earth, and blessed in heaven…” Zia started another torrent of words.

  “Zia –” Shafiq interrupted him again.

  Zia glared at him. “What is it? Why do you keep interrupting me?”

  “I just have one small question.”

  “Yes?” Zia asked bluntly.

  “What is our mission?” Shafiq asked.

  Zia opened his mouth as if he was going to let go another torrent of words describing the mission. His mouth stood open and stuck for words. “Er, I don’t know.”

  Shafiq kept a straight face, but the crowd laughed. Zia’s face turned red and he looked to explode like a sizzling stick of dynamite. He turned towards the group. “What’s so funny? We are on an important mission here. I am told to report in some time to Hamza. They are going to brief the unit commanders on the mission.”

  “Oh, I see,” Hafeez chuckled. “The way you were droning on. I thought you had masterminded the entire plan for the mission.”

  The laughter was more pointed this time. Even Shafiq’s lips escaped a suppressed smile.

  “I will be back in some time. Hamza needs my help. I have more important things to do than slouch here like you all are doing.” Zia brusquely excused himself and left.

  “Well,” Hafeez slapped Shafiq on the shoulder, “you certainly put a lid on that empty vessel.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I was just asking a valid question.”

  “No, you did well. You should have listened to him earlier. He was already in full swing with his praises about the mission before you came in.”

  Shafiq winked. “It’s good I missed it.” He then turned serious. “Hafeez, my brother; what do you make of Hamza’s speech today?”

  “I am surprised that he brought together three different groups, in fact four, counting ours. It means that the leaders have patched their differences for now. They are working together on this new mission, whatever it is. And the most satisfying aspect is the promise that it will be bigger than 2001. I can’t wait to learn what they have planned.”

  Shafiq nodded quietly. “Even I have been thinking the same thing. We will find out soon enough.”

  Hafeez left. But Shafiq’s mind still burned with a thousand questions. He had to know what was being planned.

  Shafiq went over to his room and pulled out the chest. He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 28

  “You have the plan against the terrorists ready?” PM Inamdaar asked the General.

  “Yes,” Singh replied. “I didn’t talk about it during the meeting because it’s a private project I was already working upon. I am not ready to disclose it to the others.”

  Inamdaar looked at him with a keen gaze. “You were already working on a plan to eliminate the terrorist leaders. This was before today’s attack in Srinagar?”

  “Yes. We are already working on a classified mission for many months now.”

  “What is the mission about?”

  “We are using HUMINT assets in Afghanistan and Pakistan to track terrorist threats in India. Our assets are deep undercover in some of the terrorist organisations. The assets will assimilate and rise within the ranks till they understand the organisational hierarchy and locate the key leaders. The eventual goal is to eliminate all high value targets in the terrorist organisations.”

  “Why didn’t you inform me about this earlier?”

  “Plausible deniability, sir. This is a black op. If someone would have asked you, you would have straightaway denied the existence of such a mission, simply because you didn’t know it existed. And the questioner would have been satisfied because the answer came from the top.”

  “Are these assets our men?”

  “Some are, some aren’t. From dedicated undercover professionals to dissidents, we are using every trick in the book to scourge out this rot of terrorism.”

  “Have we had any success so far?”

  “It is a game of patience. If the hunt for Osama and Mullah Omar has taught us anything, it’s that the leaders rarely show themselves, even to their own gangs. But when they do, our men will let us know.”

  Shafiq knelt down and picked up the Quran from the chest. He flipped through until the end till he found what he was looking for. Nestled between two pages was a bug. It appeared to be squashed between the pages, but Shafiq knew that it was a marvellous feat of engineering.

  The bug was grey in colour with stripes of dark green. It could be easily camouflaged anywhere. He looked at the thin, transparent wings that actually were rotor blades able to lift the bug and fly it anywhere. A micro camera was mounted atop the bug along with a highly sensitive microphone that could be used to remotely observe any ongoing event.

  Shafiq carefully placed the electronic bug in his palm and kept the book back in the chest. He then pulled out one of the spare magazines and slid out a fake cover to reveal a thumb-sized joystick that controlled the bug.

  As Shafiq glanced at the bug and the controller, he was reminded of a time long back when he had been given the devices. It seemed like it was in another lifetime.

  A lifetime that he had left behind forever.

  He was born as an orphan in a rural town of Haryana in India. He had grown up among scores of other abandoned orphans in a rundown NGO's basement. They provided him with rudimentary education and craftsmanship skills.

  He moved to Shimla in his early twenties hoping that the tourist city would help him carve out a meagre living. He started selling trinkets to the tourists. But only a few months in, he found himself almost out of money as the local police asked him for 'hafta', a weekly protection money to allow him to sell the trinkets on the roadside. After the cut given to the policemen, he found that he was barely making a profit.

  Disgusted with the ill-treatment, he vowed to get even. He donned a Senior Inspector's uniform and walked in to where the policemen were counting their illegal cash. He admonished the policemen for their corrupt ways and confiscated the money.

  But the policemen were not fooled for long. Three days later he was caught and the Senior Inspector whom he had impersonated looked at him across the table. Another person who looked like a government official accompanied the Inspector and he looked at Shafiq with curiosity. Instead of being offended, they were amused.

  The government official had a job for him. It would be dangerous and it required skills that he had. Would he be interested? If he would be willing to do it, they would let him off without any charges. For Shafiq, the choice was clear, and four months of training later, he found himself in the Indian embassy at Zahedan in Iran. The Iranian city, strategically located at the westernmost tip of Pakistan, was an ideal infiltration point into Pakistan.

  His job was to go across the border from Iran into Pakistan and gather intelligence on the government activities, exploit the social fault lines of Pakistan and recruit the local Balochi people. He proved to be good at his job. He spent months at a stretch engaging with the local folks, understanding their needs and expanding his influence right up
to the Naval base of Ormara, where he posed as a rich Pakistani businessman who had contacts with international defence companies. The naval elite naturally flocked around him, eager to curry favours with him, hoping to get a cut out of any defence deals that he could garner them.

  The deception was perfect, and the trap was set. Over a period of two years, he asked probing questions about the naval capabilities under the guise of tendering naval contracts. It was such an unprecedented success that as soon as a new naval project was started, within a couple of days, the complete details were available in New Delhi.

  But the utopia didn’t last long. Spies were present on both sides of the border, and soon the Pakistani establishment realized that their secrets were being leaked almost on a zero day basis. Rather than being exposed and burned, Shafiq’s bosses told him to return to Zahedan. They would give him a different assignment.

  When Shafiq heard about the new mission, he almost balked.

  Go into Afghanistan and join a dreaded terrorist group, his superiors told him.

  This was worse than the Pakistan mission. If the terrorists got wind of who he really was, he would be tortured mercilessly. There would be no Geneva conventions to protect him and no consular access if he was captured. He would be on his own.

  But Shafiq finally took it. The Pakistani mission had given him a confidence boost that he could impersonate and deceive anyone. Not the least, the illiterate terrorists. The General himself arrived in Zahedan to brief him on his mission. His presence indicated to Shafiq how critical the mission was. General Singh informed him that he would be a deep cover agent and his mission would be to identify the organizational structure of the various terrorist groups, gather actionable intelligence and eliminate their leaders at an opportune moment.

  Shafiq was flown into Afghanistan where he met the top brass of the National Directorate of Security; NDS for short. The NDS was the covert intelligence agency of Afghanistan. There he spent a couple of months with the NDS agents familiarizing himself with the various rebel groups peppered through Afghanistan. After the formal training was completed, a dissident rebel helped his induction into the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi group.

  He had been content to spend at least three years to discover his way to the top terrorist masterminds. Now only nine months in the mission, he had found them all together in one place. As he looked at the hi-tech bug and its controller, created in the DRDO labs; he realized that today was the reason why he had dedicated his past few months.

  After taking out the bug and its controller, he closed the chest and kept it back in its place. He got up making sure that no one had observed him and he quietly exited the room.

  It was time to gatecrash a meeting.

  He would be the literal fly on the wall.

  Shafiq placed one hand on the villa wall and glanced up at the open balcony on the mezzanine floor that had been designated as Hamza’s suite. He was at the rear end of the villa. The sentries had been kept at the front; none were stationed in the back. The leaders were speaking in hushed tones. But the pitch of quiet excitement reached his ears. He couldn't overhear them without getting close enough, and without risking being detected. Detection would mean being ready to field all sorts of unpleasant questions about his presence in the sacred space of their leaders. He had anticipated the challenge and hence he had brought over the miniature bug.

  Shafiq pulled out the bug from his pocket and pressed an almost invisible button on its underside. The artificial wings started rotating. The activity caused him to smile. It felt as if he had revived a dead insect. He took out the controller and pressed a button. The bug started flying in the air.

  Quieter than the real bug, it moved in the direction Shafiq directed it to. He slowly directed it upwards towards the balcony. The bug flew through the open balcony into Hamza’s room. A one inch square video screen embedded onto the controller showed him the room had a tall ceiling. He saw the three leaders were huddled together on a sofa. He discovered a small closet on one side of the room and gently landed the bug on it. The voices were clearer now. He leaned forward and listened intently.

  “Are you completely sure this will be a success?” Shafiq could see Akbaruddin ask.

  Hamza Bin Laden answered, “Yes, there's no doubt in my mind. We should go ahead. All the preparations are done. We captured the engineer and brought him over. Initially, he was reluctant, but once he realized who our target was, he was only too happy to see our mission realized.”

  “That's good to know.” Akbaruddin turned to the third person in the room. “How are we going to take control of the missiles?”

  Mushtaq said, “We are going to use suicide bombers similar to how we operated at the Wah cantonment a few years back.”

  “But wasn't that mission a complete failure? Once the suicide bombers killed the guards, they responded immediately. You couldn't even get past the outer security.”

  “We have learned from our mistakes. Moreover, this facility is not as well-guarded as Wah. We have a definite advantage here. They won't be expecting us. The facility is thirty minutes away. Our brothers will rush in, kill everyone and launch the missiles. We will stay here and await the good news. Once our brothers return, we will announce to the world the biggest attack they had ever seen.”

  Shafiq's heart dropped in his stomach. What abominable plan were these terrorists hatching? And it involved launching missiles? He listened closely, dread rising in him with every word spoken.

  “The engineer will accompany the group. He will help launch the missiles. And once the missiles strike its target, our enemies will die.”

  Shafiq felt the trepidation grow within him. He wondered who they will launch a missile against.

  He continued listening.

  “So it’s settled then, we will launch the missiles and completely destroy New Delhi. The Indians will be headless once their power centre in Delhi is wiped out. Soon we will celebrate the victory of our soldiers against the infidels.”

  Chapter 29

  ... completely destroy New Delhi.

  The words clanged inside Shafiq’s head. He felt the bile rising in his stomach making him sick. It was a nightmare scenario. A barrage of missiles to be launched on New Delhi. But how? Where could the terrorists get access to those kinds of weapons? He racked his brains trying to figure out the terrorists’ modus operandi. They had mentioned an engineer. Probably, they had abducted him and now based on what he overheard; the missile engineer was now willing to work for them.

  It made sense. The engineer would be happy if the target was Pakistan's arch enemy India. Who wouldn't want to launch a missile that will take down the enemy? And once the missile launched, there would be no way to destroy it. Missiles didn't come with an Undo button. They were of the fire and forget breed.

  Shafiq had to figure out a way to stop these madmen. A missile attack would be an unambiguous and unprovoked act of war. India would retaliate strongly, couldn't the terrorists see that? Or were they so engrossed in hurting the adversary that they didn't realize it would hit back?

  He couldn't sit still. He had to do something.

  As he evaluated, his actions, Shafiq realized he had only two options left with him. One was to invoke an unprecedented call into HQ. The second was to stop around hundred terrorists from launching the missiles and foiling their plan. But he realized he couldn't act unilaterally. He would have to call into headquarters and tell them what he had discovered.

  Shafiq exited the area and made his way to the entrance gate of the resort from where they had arrived earlier today. A couple of guards were there but they barely looked at him. They were only interested in people coming in.

  “Are you guys not joining in the celebration today?” Shafiq asked.

  “No, we are on guard duty tonight.” One of the men replied.

  “Oh, sorry to hear that. Well someone has to be alert while the others are not. You are doing a good job. I appreciate it.”

  Shafiq knew that the guards
would question anyone that would be coming inside. Now that he had a brief chat with them, he knew that they would remember him and wouldn't ask any questions when he returned. It would only take him a few minutes anyway.

  He turned right at the entrance and walked along the compound wall to a cropping of boulders around two hundred metres from the entrance. He looked back, the entrance wasn't visible. The guards wouldn't be able to observe him here. And the snow was undisturbed. No one had come in here since the last snow fell.

  He sat down and pulled out the pseudo magazine. It had one more function that he was grateful for. It was also a powerful communication device. He pressed a button and the one inch screen displayed a set of controls. He initiated the communication with a special number that was to be used only in emergencies.

  His mission was one of the pet projects of General Singh. The number that he entered would put him right through to the General. Within one ring, the phone was picked up.

  A voice said, “Identify yourself.”

  “Immortal Chief, this is Tazi Spay.” Shafiq said, using the project's call sign for Afghan hound.

  There was a silence for a moment, and then the General said. “I hope you have something mission-critical to report, otherwise you wouldn't have called me.”

  “Yes sir.” Shafiq replied. He then proceeded to tell the General everything he had learned about the terrorists’ plans. “I am in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. You will see my coordinates on your console. All the major terrorist leaders that we have been searching for are here.”

  “Do you know from where they will get their hands on the missiles?”

  “No, I only know that they plan to execute the mission today.”

  “Okay, find that out. What are your chances of eliminating the HVTs without being detected and escaping?”

  “There are over a hundred terrorists here. Guards are present at the outer entrance as well as in the villa where the leaders reside. I would consider my chances to be less than one percent.”