by Mainak Dhar
As more of the spectators came in, Arnab made his way to the VIP box. From a distance, he could already see Aggarwal and Mishti there, but he did not go closer since he did not want to risk being seen by Mishti and being asked why he was there with a VIP Pass. As he watched, Balwant Singh, Sharma and Upadhyay arrived followed by at least a dozen policemen. Upadhyay was in uniform and instead of joining Balwant and Sharma in the VIP box, exited and was soon on his walkie-talkie, presumably going over the security arrangements for the day. Suddenly Arnab heard a loud roar, and turned to see both teams on the field, doing their warm-ups. When he saw Jayantada walking into the box, to be greeted warmly by Mishti, he walked away, losing himself in the milling crowd. The giant screens situated at either end of the stadium were now flashing footage of the toss being conducted on the pitch. Both captains were out in the middle, and as India won the toss and elected to bat, the crowd erupted in another roar. Then, their reaction gave way to loud murmurs and whispers as the screens showed the Prime Minister arriving at the stadium and making his way to the VIP box, flanked by commandos and other dignitaries.
Before the game could begin, Aggarwal himself took the mike, walking to the middle of the ground, exulting in what was already a sell-out crowd and what promised to be a huge windfall for his company.
'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Woodpecker Cup game between India and Pakistan, where you can watch your heroes on the playing field. This is a historic moment when the two nations restart sporting relations.'
The crowd roared in approval as Aggarwal continued.
'Today, we have a special treat for you. Today, we will unveil the newest brand ambassador for Woodpecker. Today we join hands with a real life hero, someone who has won all our hearts by single-handedly standing up for justice. Today, we introduce you all to our own real life superhero. Our own Guardian Angel.'
There was almost a collective gasp as the camera swung to reveal a hooded figure standing on top of the railings above the stadium. Arnab could feel the evening wind blow into his face, standing at a height equivalent to a three-story building. He had changed and climbed the ladders provided as per his agreement with Aggarwal and he stood looking into the camera, his face an inscrutable mask hidden by the hood. Then, as a hundred thousand people looked on in stunned disbelief, Arnab sprinted to the other end of the stadium across the rafters placed along the railings, covering the distance so fast that the spectators saw only a blur of movement. As the crowd erupted in loud cheers, he climbed down a ladder, disappearing into a fire exit. He could hear Aggarwal announcing how the Guardian Angel would appear after each over and finally reveal himself in the closing ceremony, but he was barely paying attention. He had memorized the maze of tunnels and ladders that made up the maintenance, cleaning and fire exits in the stadium and as the match began, he began jogging along them, trying to keep a watch for anything untoward. As he passed behind the VIP box, he could imagine just how furious Balwant Singh would be to know he was there, but be unable to do anything to take his revenge in front of so many people. He did hope, however, that Upadhyay was nearby. His plans included inviting Upadhyay to the party.
Arnab kept his side of the deal with Aggarwal by popping up at the end of each over, to rapturous applause from the crowd. By the time the Indian innings was halfway through, Arnab had completed three rounds of the stadium, looking down from his vantage points. So far, he had seen no sign of trouble, but he kept reminding himself not to get complacent, or to try and see what was happening in the match. The level of applause and cheers he heard told him that the Indian innings must be progressing well, but he also realized that the crowd seemed to reserve even louder applause for him. Arnab had never thought of himself as someone who would love the spotlight, but the thought of his reputation finally being cleared in such a way in front of the whole nation gave him goose bumps. He was not sure he deserved such adulation, but he did feel a lot of people owed him after having turned on him so viciously.
A few more minutes passed, and Arnab was beginning to wonder if he had been barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps there was to be no attack tonight. Perhaps he had just read too much into what Chintu had said. Perhaps it had all just been no more than a coincidence. Exposing himself in the limelight once again, especially with Balwant now at his throat, was a high price to pay for the unfortunate coincidence, but it was hardly something he could not extricate himself from. Aggarwal would get more than his money's worth since the rafters on top of which Arnab was running were ringed with hoardings and banners for his company's brands. Arnab could then quietly disappear, and resume the life he had intended for himself. Join the bank and get on with a life that had nothing to do with the likes of Balwant and Upadhyay. Then there was the small matter of a suitcase filled with ten million Rupees. He decided to think about that later, when he got back home. Increasingly convinced that his patrolling was fast becoming a waste of time, he risked a glance at the match. With two overs to go, India was at 221 for the loss of two wickets, and the iconic Indian player Sachin Tendulkar was tearing the Pakistani attack to shreds, and fast approaching a hundred runs. The crowd roared with manic energy as the little master slammed a ball down the ground and reached 95. Arnab too found himself caught up in the excitement and stopped to watch.
As the fielders got ready for the start of the 19th over, Arnab looked behind him. Far below was a police checkpoint guarding one of the rear entrances to the stadium. There were four policemen on duty, who were probably cursing their luck at being so close to the action but not getting to watch a single delivery be bowled. One of them had a small radio on, and the four men were huddled around it, listening to the live commentary of the game. When Arnab turned his attention back to the game, the batsmen had crossed over and a quickly run series of singles brought Sachin to 98. The crowd waited with bated breath as the Pakistani paceman steamed in to bowl the next delivery. It was a nasty bouncer, one that landed at a good length, but then reared up like a striking cobra. A lesser batsman would have probably been felled by the express delivery, but Sachin hooked the ball. It was an edgy shot, but the speed of the delivery worked against the bowler, and the ball was sent flying over a fielder and beyond the ropes.
The crowd erupted in applause as Sachin raised his bat to acknowledge them. Arnab found himself cheering along, finally feeling that perhaps this was a day when nothing would happen other than a very special game of Cricket. He turned to see what the policemen below him were doing, and the world around him seemed to stop. The four policemen were lying face down on the ground, and there was a group of men, seven or eight in number, all dressed in police uniforms who were moving towards them. As Arnab watched, with a feeling of dread working its way through his spine like an electric current, the men dragged the policemen's bodies along the ground and hid them behind some bushes. Two of the men took the place of the policemen, and to any casual observer, it would seem like nothing untoward had happened. The other men moved into the stadium through the rear gate.
Arnab didn't want to believe it, but there was no disputing what was playing out before his eyes.
It had begun.
THIRTEEN
Arnab stood frozen with indecision and fear. There were two terrorists standing in plain sight, almost directly below him. The others seemed to have entered the stadium. The obvious choice would have been to rush down and confront the men he saw below him first. However, it was also obvious that they were just the look-outs. Those who were going to actually carry out the attack had already entered the stadium, and Arnab had no idea where they would be, since they could easily lose themselves in the hundreds of police uniforms inside. His mind raced, trying to decide on a course of action. A loud noise startled him, making him wonder if a bomb had gone off, but it was the fireworks display between the innings that had begun. As he cleared his mind, he realized that rather than thinking too much about a situation where he was already totally out of his depth, the best course of action would be to go with what he
saw before him. He clambered down a fire ladder and landed behind the two terrorists standing near the rear gate. Both men were facing away from him, focusing on stopping any attempts to follow their colleagues inside, and not expecting an attack from within the stadium.
Arnab saw that both men were carrying AK-47s and realized he would need to make the most of the element of surprise that he had in his favour. He launched himself at the man on the right, landing a hard blow just between the man's shoulder blades. Something made him hold back a bit, since he still was not mentally prepared to cause fatal injuries to anyone, but the power of his blow was enough to send the man flying several feet. He landed face first on the cobbled road, his nose and teeth shattering on impact, the bricks having completed the task that Arnab had begun. While he lay motionless, his friend whirled to meet this unexpected threat. As he tried to raise his rifle, Arnab caught his left hand in a vice like grip, but the man kept resisting. Arnab was looking straight at the man's face through the struggle. He was young, clean-shaven and not much older than Arnab. What Arnab noticed though were his eyes, lit as if from within with hate and fury. As the man struggled to free his rifle, Arnab squeezed harder, feeling bones in the man's wrist crack under his grip. The man's eyes widened in shock as he finally dropped the gun. Arnab was so focused on the man's face that he barely noticed him whipping out a knife with his right hand. The man drove the blade towards Arnab's stomach, as Arnab looked on in horror, amazed at what strength of will, or fanaticism, was giving the man such reserves of strength. Arnab moved out of the way and felled the man with a sharp jab to the face, and stood over his adversary, wondering what kind of men he was up against.
He thought only a minute before deciding that this was not a situation he could handle on his own. He called Aggarwal, and heard the tycoon's blustering voice after just one ring.
'What a spectacle! This is awesome! Where have you been for the last two overs?'
Arnab cut him off, and his tone immediately made Aggarwal stop and listen.
'Please listen to me. I am not joking here. There are terrorists inside the stadium. I am at the back gate, and if you don't believe me, come and see for yourself.'
When Aggarwal hung up without saying anything else, Arnab wondered if he was going to ignore his plea. After a couple of minutes, he wondered if he should call again, but then he saw the businessman sprinting towards him, accompanied by two of his managers. Aggarwal looked at the scene of carnage around him, and then looked straight at Arnab.
'I can clear the VIPs and alert the cops, but we need to be careful. If we spark panic, a stampede with a hundred thousand people inside could kill more people than any terrorist attack.'
Arnab noticed that the two men with Aggarwal were standing ashen-faced, too shocked to do anything, but Aggarwal had instantly taken charge of the situation.
'You go and see if you can find the terrorists, I'll get the PM and the other VIPs out.'
Arnab was about to protest that clearing a few VIPs was hardly enough when thousands of other lives were at stake, but he decided that rather than argue, he needed to go after the six terrorists still inside the stadium. As soon he entered the stadium, he realized just how difficult it was going to be. The area that he would need to cover was huge, and with the various tunnels and passageways criss-crossing the stadium, locating six men was as hard as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. He called Balwant's number, hoping that now the Minister would listen to him, and assist with the considerable police force in the stadium. Balwant's voice was dripping anger when he answered the phone.
'So my superhero, I see you're enjoying your day in the spotlight.'
Arnab hurriedly told him what had happened, but Balwant laughed it off, saying he had no time for games. However when Arnab asked him to check with Aggarwal, the Minister seemed hesitant. When Arnab called him after a couple of minutes, Balwant's tone had changed, the belligerence and sarcasm replaced by an emotion Arnab had never heard in his voice before-fear.
'I believe you. We're working on evacuating the VIPs now and will send some police your way.'
Balwant seemed to be in a hurry, probably waiting to lead the list of the VIPs being evacuated, so Arnab asked him to hang on for a few minutes.
'Sir, these are dangerous terrorists, why don't you send the NSG commandos. I saw several of them near the VIP box.'
Balwant cleared his throat before answering.
'There are only a handful of them and the NSG commandos here are tasked with VIP protection, so they will stay with us. With the PM here, I cannot risk leaving him unprotected. We are sending a heavy police force that will be more than enough and in the meanwhile are asking for reinforcements.'
With those words, Balwant hung up, leaving Arnab fuming. Yes, it was important to get the Prime Minister out of harm's way, but he had hoped that the life of a hundred thousand ordinary people would have counted for something. Then he chided himself for expecting anything more from someone like Balwant. He climbed one of the fire ladders and he had a clear view of the VIP box. He could see movement there, and as he looked more closely, he could see that the PM, Balwant, a few other political invitees and Aggarwal had left. He didn't know how they had managed it, but he guessed that those remaining in the box had no idea of what was going on, as they were still watching the match. There were still several dozen people in the box, Mishti and Jayantada included, and it seemed that unless you were a rich tycoon like Aggarwal or a member of the political establishment, your life counted for very little indeed.
Just then, he heard someone clearing his throat behind him and he turned to see Upadhyay. He was leading a group of a dozen policemen, and Arnab noticed to his dismay that only half were armed with guns, the others carrying riot batons and shields which may have been useful for crowd control but would be useless against armed terrorists.
'So we meet again', said Upadhyay with a hard glint in his eyes. Arnab had no time for settling old scores, and jumped down to face Upadhyay.
'This is all you have? You plan to find and kill six heavily armed terrorists with just these men?'
'I would have thought you would have learned by now to keep your nose out of police business. Let us do our job.'
As Upadhyay started instructing his men to fan out, Arnab heard a series of loud pops from the right. He thought they were mere firecrackers, a part of the celebrations planned during the match, but Upadhyay's reaction told him otherwise. The policeman had jumped at the noise, and Arnab heard him mutter under his breath.
'AK-47s.'
Before Upadhyay and the other policemen could react, Arnab ran towards the direction where the gunshots had come from as fast as he could. He burned away from his mind any thoughts of what Balwant or Aggarwal should have done or not, and whether Upadhyay and his men were up to the task. He was focused on only one thing.
He had to stop the terrorists no matter what it took.
***
Upadhyay and his men took off after Arnab, but with his speed and knowledge of where the maintenance tunnels were, Arnab arrived at the scene well before the policemen were even a quarter of the way there. When he reached the scene of the firefight in the basement parking lot, Arnab was taken aback by what he saw. Two private security guards, presumably on Aggarwal's employ, were trying to hold off three terrorists. The guards had small-calibre handguns, while at least two of the terrorists seemed to have AK-47s. It was a lopsided contest, but Arnab's heart went out to the brave guards who were trying to make a stand. They were crouched behind a car that seemed to be pockmarked with bullet holes, and one of the guards was bleeding from his right foot. The terrorists were behind another car across the parking lot, and as Arnab watched, one of the three terrorists was trying to escape the scene, slowly moving from behind one car to another. Two things came to Arnab's mind-the first was a sense of relief. Rather than scattering as six individuals, it seemed the terrorists were working in groups of three, with two gunmen, presumably the role Arif had been
recruited for, giving cover to one man seemingly carrying no weapons but wearing a large backpack. The second realization was the fact that while the gunmen posed an immediate threat and had to be neutralized, the main attack was to be carried out by the men with the backpacks, and Arnab could not let them get away.
The terrorists had seen him now, and one of them fired a burst at him, sending Arnab scampering for cover behind a car. As bullets riddled the car, Arnab looked around frantically for something he could do. The parking lot was bathed in fluorescent light from overhead tube lights and he shouted to one of the guards.
'How does one turn off the lights?'
The man motioned to a junction box a few feet behind him, and as Arnab frantically motioned to him to kill the lights, the guard crawled to the junction box and switched off the lights. As darkness fell over the parking lot, the terrorists stopped firing, disoriented and unable to see their targets. Arnab took off his glasses and then stood up, surveying his targets. The two gunmen were still crouched behind the car, while the third man was now even closer to the exit.
He saw a scooter parked a few feet away and ran to it. One of the terrorists heard the noise and fired a burst, but in the darkness his aim was off and the bullets missed Arnab by several feet. Arnab picked the scooter up with both hands and whirled it over his head before flinging it at the terrorists with all his strength. His aim was far from perfect and instead of hitting the car as he had intended it to, the scooter hit the wall behind the gunmen, at a height of at least ten feet. As Arnab dove for cover behind the car, he cursed himself for missing, but he had done quite enough, with his superhuman strength more than making up for his poor aim. The scooter had hit the wall at a speed equivalent to at least a hundred kilometres per hour and had exploded on impact, showering the two terrorists below with shards and pieces of metal that proved no less deadly than if Arnab had fired a rocket at them. The two terrorists were flung aside by the force of the impact and both men lay still, bleeding from a dozen wounds. When Arnab heard the security guards roar in triumph, he looked up to see his handiwork. Arnab rushed after the third terrorist, who after having seen his friends' fate, had given up all attempts at stealth and was running flat out towards a door that led to the playing field.