by Deva,Mukul
With a see-you-later wave Raghav reluctantly moved on. He wished he had been able to talk to Reena alone.
Krishna caught the slight exhalation as Reena released the breath she had not realized she had been holding. It took her a while to regain her composure, but eventually her smile also returned.
*
Vinod Bedi was the last man on board, thanks to a last-minute call from the home minister when he had been about to leave home.
Coming up behind the air hostess, he heard her ask a well-dressed, fit-looking man standing in the aisle to move on. There seemed to be something familiar about the man. Vinod was sure he knew him . . . or about him.
He was pushing memory buttons to recall his name, or where he had come across the guy, when Reena caught his eye. He recognized her immediately. Not surprising, since she was a familiar face for anyone who watched television in India. He also noticed that she was looking very stressed and guarded. The sight of her momentarily took his mind off Raghav.
By the time Vinod stored his carry-on in the overhead compartment and took a seat his mind had turned to what lay ahead in Mumbai. An errant arms dealer, who, if the RIP had its way, would die in the next twenty-four hours. Also anxiety that this was possibly also their last chance to get their hands on the RIP. Vinod was itching to reach Mumbai.
Settling down he shut his eyes and began to sift through and refine his action plan. He had instructed his man and some cops from the Mumbai Special Crimes Unit to meet him at the airport. Vinod wanted to be sure he missed nothing in his briefing.
Time was critically short and there was a ton of work to be done.
The familiar-looking man who’d been blocking the aisle and the stressed-out newscaster soon faded from Vinod’s mind.
*
It took a while for her feelings to settle. Unwilling to allow herself to be perturbed any further Reena turned to Krishna, determined to resume their conversation. Before Raghav had intruded, Krishna had been regaling her with stories, of remarkable incidents in his journey as a male single parent. Reena needed him to engage her again. Her mind still in some turmoil, and unsure where to re-start their conversation, she unwittingly picked up the thread from Raghav’s last remark.
‘Why did Raghav refer to Colonel Grewal as a virgin?’ Then she flushed, realizing what she had said, unsure how Krishna would interpret it. Reena wanted to kick herself.
Equally flustered by the run-in with Raghav, and still caught up in the storm of unpleasant memories it had unleashed, Krishna replied without thinking, ‘Because he was such a perfect . . .’ he broke off, horrified that he had almost said it out loud to a lady. He turned bright red, then recovering fast, added hastily, ‘perfectionist . . . a very hard taskmaster.’
Perhaps she caught the unsaid and deduced the rest. Perhaps it was just the stricken expression on his face. Or perhaps it was an over-reaction from the shock of the sudden encounter with Raghav. Reena laughed. A merry, tinkling laugh.
It echoed through the cabin. Above the roar of jet engines madly revving for take off.
Then there was a slight jerk and the aircraft left zero point, hurtling down the runway. Soon they were off.
*
Four rows behind them, and acutely aware of Reena’s presence, Raghav heard her laugh. His resentment and jealousy burned brighter.
They seem very comfortable with each other. Is anything going on between them?
The angry flame strengthened.
So Krishna Athawale . . . first you saved my life. Then you stand in judgement on me. And now you’re gunning for my wife. Think again my friend. I’m not going to let that happen. Not on my watch. She’s mine.
The flight passed painfully for him. Raghav could not wait for it to land. All he could think of for those two hours was how to broach the topic with Reena again; he wanted to plead with her for a second chance.
Leaping to his feet the minute they landed and the seat belt sign was switched off Raghav headed for Reena. However a fat old lady trying to retrieve her bag from the overhead compartment blocked the passage. By the time she was done and Raghav managed to push past, Reena and Krishna had already exited the aircraft and boarded the bus ferrying passengers to the terminal. When Raghav, who could only manage to catch the next bus, finally caught up with them near the baggage carousel, they were shaking hands, about to part.
‘When are you returning to Delhi?’ Raghav heard Reena ask.
‘If all goes well, by the early morning flight day after. You?’ Raghav could see her smiling cheerfully. There was now no sign of the stiffness with which she had greeted him. The fact that Krishna had still not released her hand irritated Raghav; he felt it was way too long for a handshake. The fact that Reena did not appear to have a problem with it did not escape his attention either. It angered him even further.
‘Most probably the same.’ Krishna finally let go her hand.
‘Oh well, then maybe we can fly back together.’
‘Or, if you are free sometime tomorrow maybe we can catch up for coffee?’ Krishna asked impulsively.
‘Let me give you my number and let’s play it by ear,’ Reena replied, secretly pleased and hoping he would call. ‘I’m not sure how the day will pan out.’
They were exchanging numbers when Reena noticed Raghav come to a stop behind Krishna. The expression on his face was not pleasant. Before either of them could react, she heard someone calling out her name and turned to see the NDTV cameraman waving out to her from near the exit gate. Grateful, she made a quick escape. Leaving Raghav fuming. And Krishna uneasy; he was finding Raghav’s presence awkward. The dark scowl on Raghav’s face did not help.
There was an awkward silence between the two men. Egged on by a compelling need to end it Krishna blurted out. ‘You come to Mumbai often?’
‘When I have work,’ Raghav replied shortly, now in a hurry to get moving and see where Reena was headed. He had made up his mind to follow her and check into the same hotel. Maybe that way he would get a chance to talk to her alone. Raghav could feel the urge growing in him uncontrollably.
The two men parted ways.
The expression on Raghav’s face as he sped away was downright ugly. Luckily Krishna did not notice it.
*
Neither did Vinod who had exited the aircraft at the end and entered the arrival hall as the two were leaving. He did see them shake hands before they parted. Once again, he wondered why the flamboyant, slightly younger man seemed so familiar. Come to think of it, so did the other one with him.
One thing is certain; they both are army guys.
Their ramrod straight postures and the way they carried themselves was unmistakable. Self-assured for those who knew these army types. Arrogant, for those who did not. But Vinod Bedi did; the son of an army officer himself, his family had more than a fair share of them.
The cop’s mind could not help take note of it. But then he saw his team waiting for him and got busy with them.
*
Ratnakar was waiting for Raghav near the arrival hall gate. He was taken aback by Raghav’s angry urgency. Traffic was heavy but they finally managed to catch up with the distinct NDTV van Reena was travelling in. They followed it all the way to a downtown hotel.
Raghav saw her enter, gave her a few minutes and then checked into the same hotel. However any hope he may have had of setting up an ambush meeting with her vanished within minutes. Putting his overnighter in the room he was about to head down for the reception area when Karunakaran called.
‘Where are you?’ the minister asked without preamble.
‘Just got into Mumbai, sir.’ Raghav felt like throwing his mobile away, but knew he could not. ‘I will be joining my team at the target at first light tomorrow.’
That’s fine, but are you sure he is the one RIP will target?’
‘I have deployed teams at the other possible targets also, but like I was telling you earlier, to my mind Afzal Hassan seems the most logical choice.’
‘
For your sake I hope you’re right.’
Disturbed by Karunakaran’s not-so-subtle threat Raghav spent the evening working the wires, ensuring his men were up to speed at all the arms dealers they had identified as possible RIP targets. By the time he got free and ran down he learned from the front desk that Reena had already gone out. His temper was raging by the time he returned to his room.
Ratnakar, who had the misfortune to be with him, had a tough time coping with him.
Raghav did not even come to know when the remnants of the night fled away and the new day arrived.
The day that one more man was slated to die.
EIGHT
AFZAL HASSAN, ARMS dealer and Mr Fixit for several powerful politicians, the man who was slated to die that day, was aware that having a fixed routine was a security risk. Considering the kind of work he did and especially in the wake of RIP’s threat, security was his most pressing concern these days.
Consequently Hassan varied his routine every single day. That, and the presence of his armed security guards, all of them ex-NSG people, hired from the best security agency in the country, made him feel safe. The car full of cops sent in by Vinod in the wake of the RIP threat had reinforced his already extensive security. A sniper on his rooftop added to his complacency.
However, like most people Hassan had also made a mistake with the smaller details. That rendered him vulnerable.
In his case the little detail he forgot was the exit to his garage. Though Hassan changed cars regularly, picking one at random only when he was about to leave, he forgot that his garage had only one exit and entrance.
His security expert also failed to note that when Hassan exited the house and turned into the flow of the traffic, just hundred metres down the road was a traffic island. Due to this all vehicles moving on this stretch of the road had to slow down, more often than not to a walking pace.
There were many such other weaknesses, but for Kevin, tasked to recon the target and evolve the most suitable attack plan, these two were more than enough.
Krishna, who had double-checked the plan with him last week, agreed. The main attack would be delivered at the traffic island, a venue open to attack from all sides and almost impossible to secure properly.
However, K-Team had decided that if the primary attack on the traffic island failed they would deliver a secondary attack at the garage entrance. He was aware that the second option would possibly entail more collateral damage and casualties, but . . . if it has to be so, then it has to be. Krishna had explained to K-Team.
So far they had managed to take out their targets without blowing anyone else away. But they all knew that could change any time.
*
These thoughts ran through Krishna’s head as they waited for their target to emerge. Suddenly the security barrier began to rise. Krishna saw a deep blue Mercedes nose its way past the barrier. In the rear seat, sandwiched securely between two guards rode the fifty-eight-year-old, short and slightly bald Afzal Hassan. Another guard sat in front, in the co-driver’s seat. Krishna knew that all three guards and the driver would be armed.
Like all the other cars belonging to the target, Krishna knew that the Mercedes too was armoured. The body and toughened glasses were more than capable of stopping a high-velocity 7.62 slug fired at point blank range. Krishna also knew that the undercarriage had been hardened, but not enough to stop a souped-up landmine; generally not considered the weapon of choice of most urban criminals. Kevin had penetrated the computers of the security firm that had done this work on Hassan’s cars and re-confirmed this.
‘Moving now,’ Krishna said into his headset.
‘Roger that,’ Karan replied crisply. ‘I’m rolling.’
‘So am I,’ Kashif chipped in.
‘Both packages are armed. Ready to rock.’ Kulwant’s voice came slightly muffled, as though he was in an enclosed space with poor connectivity.
Krishna had already checked that both mobiles kept on the seat beside him were working properly, but he did so again. Their batteries showed full charge and signal strength was good. Both had a number prominently written on their screens with a white permanent marker, 1 and 2.
By the time Krishna looked up Hassan’s Mercedes was almost midway to the traffic island. From where he was parked Krishna had a good view of both strike sites.
As the Mercedes drew up to the traffic island, Krishna saw a motorcycle come careening around the corner. It was moving fast, too fast to take the corner safely. The rider appeared to lose control, skidding and slamming into the front end of the vehicle.
Coming up right behind him, also in a stolen vehicle, a Maruti Zen, was Karan. From this distance Krishna sensed more than heard the screech as Karan slammed on the brakes, ensuring that between the Zen and the fallen motorcycle, the Merc was now hemmed in.
Kashif leaped up as soon as the motorcycle hit the ground. The bike caught in the Merc’s fender prevented it from moving forward.
In the dead of the night Kulwant, the demolitions expert, had made several chalk markings in several spots; unobtrusive, but visible to one who knew they were there. Rapidly double-checking that he had impacted at the right place, Kashif began to back away from the Mercedes, waving pleadingly, as though apologizing for the accident.
Knowing they were safe inside the armoured car, none of Hassan’s protectors made a move to alight, waiting instead for the rider to pull his bike away and the Maruti Zen to get out of their way. Then seeing the motorcycle rider making apologetic gestures as he backed away, one of them quickly checked for any hostile threat and spotting none opened the door.
Backing away till he was in the lee of the Zen that had stopped a few metres away Kashif then turned and began to jog away. Karan leaped out of the Zen and ran after him, as though trying to stop him. Only when they had disappeared into the alley at the corner did Kashif shed his helmet. They continued moving briskly away.
Seeing the motorcycle rider run away, chased by the driver of the Zen, the security man was initially perplexed, and then his training took charge. He still did not know what the threat was, but he sensed something was amiss. He knew he had to get his protectee out of there. Fast.
He noted the cars piled up behind and realized it would be tough to back the Mercedes out. The fallen bike and Zen in front ruled out that way too. To the right was the traffic island. And to the left of the Merc yet another mob of vehicles.
With no other way out he turned to hustle his protectee out of the car.
*
Manning the rooftop across the road with Ratnakar, Raghav saw the motorcyclist begin to back away. Then he saw him turn and begin to run. At the same time he saw the driver of the Zen dismount and begin to chase after him. Raghav’s instincts began to scream. Still not sure why or how, but he knew the hit was going down.
‘The bike rider.’ He nudged Ratnakar, who was wielding a sniper rifle. ‘Take him out. Now. Quickly.’
Ratnakar, who had been scoping the area on either side of the road, swivelled rapidly in the direction pointed out by Raghav, but by the time he managed to get the bike rider into view Kashif had ducked into an alley.
‘Damn!’ Knowing that it was too late for even their ground team following the target to intervene, Raghav pounded his palm with his fist.
And down below, at the crowded intersection, the world went up in a furious, flaming roar.
*
The minute he saw Kashif turn and Karan run after him Krishna re-dialled the last number from the mobile that had number 1 written on its screen.
Strapped below the metal sewer cover was fifty kilograms of RDX. It had been expertly shaped and deployed in a metallic cone by Kulwant; ensuring the brunt of the explosion would be funnelled upwards. Powered by the mobile strapped with it, the RDX roared to life.
Halted directly above the sewer cover was the Mercedes. If it had all gone precisely as per plan the target would have been almost directly on the explosion. As it turned out the explosion caught th
e car almost in the middle of the boot. And, goaded by his security officers, Afzal Hassan was almost out of the car by now. Even so, it was enough.
The huge car buckled and shuddered as the powerful explosion ripped through it. Then it blew apart. No one inside survived. Neither Afzal Hassan, nor his guards or the driver. Nor did the man in the car halted alongside. A couple of other bystanders also suffered injuries even though the armoured Merc absorbed the bulk of the explosion.
*
The explosion ripped through the air, audible for miles around. Even as a cloud of dark debris billowed out, Raghav tapped Ratnakar. ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here before the cops reach.’
As they ran for the stairs he growled into his headset, ‘Get out of the area. RV at the hotel in sixty.’
Both his ground teams, one on either side of the Hassan house, moved out.
For some reason Raghav had been pretty certain that if RIP chose this target, the hit would be carried out at or near the house. He could not put his finger on it, but he had been sure.
Perhaps because that’s the way I’d have done it. That thought nagged him. Has to be a Spec Ops Team. That thought kept coming back to him.
He was still cursing that tiny piece of bad luck when they reached Ratnakar’s car and scrambled.
If Ratnakar had managed to take out that motorcyclist they’d have been able to unravel the whole bag of tricks. One man . . . any one man of the RIP . . . dead or alive . . . that is all they needed to get their hands on.
Their car was headed out of the alley when he saw another car, a white Tata Indica hatchback, reverse into the alley and then speed off purposefully in the opposite direction, away from the traffic island where the target had been downed. There was only one man in the car. Tall. His head almost fully masked by the car’s relatively low body. But there was . . . Raghav’s instincts began to scream again. Again, without knowing why, he just knew that the man in the Indica was involved with the RIP hit in some way.
Raghav hit the accelerator hard. His car jolted forward and hit the road scant metres behind the fleeing Indica. Raghav was about to memorize its number plates, just in case they lost the car, when a gust of flame billowed out in front of him and everything went to hell.