CHAPTER 10
NSG COMPOUND, NEW DELHI
Sonia Jayaram was on the phone, sitting in the back of her Mercedes staff car. “I knew it. No one wanted to listen, but I knew it.”
“We think the terrorists are in the Chandni Chowk slums,” said her brother Major Jayaram. “This is all off the record, Sonia. The only reason I’m telling you is so you’ll share any intelligence my men may need.”
“Your men? What about the NSG? I’m on my way to meet Colonel Prasad now.”
“Do not mention this conversation. The intel will already have come through operational channels that doesn’t include your bureau. My operatives will conduct a handover and then it will be up to Prasad.”
“Fine, but I already knew there was an ISI support network in New Delhi. This just proves it. NSG needs to jump on this immediately and arrest the key suspects.”
Her brother snickered. “The Black Cats are just a bunch of testosterone fueled muscle-heads. The only reason we’re letting them in on this is because it’s their turf.”
“They mean well. Just need to be reminded they work for the police, and as police they need to gather evidence.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve got to run. Let me know if you hear anything from the Bureau side of things.”
“I will.”
“Stay safe.”
“You, too, brother.”
Sonia hung up as her driver turned the Mercedes into the security checkpoint at NSG’s New Delhi compound. This was the home of the capital’s Rapid Response Platoon; heavily armed commandos responsible for immediate reaction to a terrorist threat. She wound down her window and identified herself to a black-clad officer as others searched under the car with mirrors.
Once security procedures were completed, the heavy gate rolled open. They drove in and pulled to a stop in front of the colonial-era building. Sonia thought it was one of the most beautiful in New Delhi. An ivy-covered mansion that harkened back to an era when India was a British colony.
She watched as a sharply dressed commando marched down the stairs, and decided the maintenance costs were probably half the amount they spent on gym memberships and uniforms. When the driver opened her car door, she walked up the stairs into the lobby and stopped at the reception desk. “Chief Prosecutor Jayaram to see Colonel Prasad.”
The officer looked her up and down.
Sonia wore minimal makeup with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. An attempt to minimize her sexuality, thwarted by the attractive figure she cut in her tailored skirt and jacket.
“Just a minute, ma’am.” He dialed Prasad’s aide to confirm the appointment.
She smiled as Lieutenant Colonel Prasad appeared in the foyer. As usual, he was immaculately dressed. His black uniform had razor sharp creases. His hair was slicked back. She wondered how much time he spent in front of a mirror each day.
“Sonia, such a pleasure to see you again.”
She canted her head while preserving the façade of enjoying his company. “It’s good to see you too.” Her heels clicked against the polished marble stairs as they ascended the three flights to his office. “I’ve always envied your building. It’s so beautiful. Must require substantial upkeep to maintain it in such pristine condition.”
He stood back and gestured for her to enter his office. “You wouldn’t believe how much. Unfortunately, it comes out of the city council budget and they won’t let me spend it on ammunition or equipment. It seems keeping up appearances is more important than actual capability.” He directed her to a chair before taking a seat behind his desk. “Would you like a drink?” He gestured to the bookcase. Perched among the photos, awards, and plaques was a bottle of scotch.
She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
“You’re probably right. So what new intelligence have you uncovered?”
“I thought we could start with what I mentioned the other day.”
“The ISI network?”
“No. My office is bothered by how your men handle evidence.” She settled back in her chair and watched as his eyebrows rose, almost reaching his hairline.
“The way my men handle evidence?”
“Yes. It’s making prosecution difficult. It seems everything they touch is mishandled or simply not recorded. In the terrorism trial I’m working on, it’s proven to be a significant issue.”
“That’s because we fight dangerous men. There’s not always time for rubber gloves and little bags.”
“I understand that. However, if your men can give me better evidence, then I can ensure the criminals and terrorists you capture go away for life, not just a few years.”
He sighed. “Unfortunately we’re mainly used as a blunt instrument when armed criminals need to be dealt with, permanently. That said, we are improving.”
“I’m not saying your men are incompetent, far from it. But given that they’re officially deputized police handling very sensitive cases, my office thinks they could benefit from some basic training in evidence management.”
“You may be right. It hadn’t been something we’ve placed emphasis on. Our training is focused on combat, weapons handling, close quarter battle.”
“Yes and their skills in that area are beyond reproach. With help from the forensics department any shortfalls in evidence handling can quickly be resolved.”
“I’ll consider it.” He smiled broadly. “But only if you agree to have dinner with me to discuss the details.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m very busy at the moment with the trial. Not to mention I’m still trying to convince the investigators to look into the terrorist support network.”
“Ah, yes, your ISI network theory.”
“Correct, I’m positive it exists. The capital has hundreds of organized crime gangs. If ISI were able to influence even one, the terrorists would have the necessary resources to infiltrate and conduct an attack.”
“True. And I wouldn’t put it past those Paki bastards. I have my own network amongst the gangs. I’ll put out some feelers.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“Think nothing of it. Uncovering this cell would send a wake-up call to the fat cats in the capital. Maybe then, I’d get funding for training. I might even get to run some real counter-terrorism operations.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She rose from her chair. “I must apologize for the fleeting visit, but I have to leave for another appointment.”
“I think we should definitely discuss our cooperation in more detail. Dinner would be the perfect forum.”
She contemplated the offer. Prasad wasn’t an unattractive man, and it might help achieve her objectives. As quickly as the idea entered her head, it was discarded. She hadn’t got this far by relying on her looks and wasn’t about to start now. “Until this trial is over, Colonel, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I have a little too much on my plate at the moment.”
“We’re all busy, Sonia.” He glanced at his Rolex and gestured for the door. “In fact, I have another meeting right now. If you don’t mind, I’ll have one of my men show you out.”
“I can show myself out. Thank you for your time, Colonel.” She made for the door.
“One more thing.”
She stopped and turned to face him.
He looked her directly in the eye as he spoke. “With regards to the training of my men.”
“Yes.”
“This is your first warning. Keep your nose out of my business.”
Her gaze locked with his and a shiver ran up her spine. Turning, she left, quietly closing the door. Her outward demeanor remained calm until she was hidden behind the tinted windows of her Mercedes E-Class. “The man is an arrogant, chauvinist pig,” she said to herself, her hands clenched on her lap.
Her gaze drifted up and she caught the driver’s surprised expression. Angry at her outburst she faced the window as he guided the luxury sedan out the gates and onto the street.
She now knew Prasad was in no way interested in her concerns. His interest in her was purely physical. Unfortunately many men in Delhi were like the NSG commander. They saw her only as an object to be conquered not an experienced prosecutor.
As her car headed back to her office, neither Sonia nor her driver noticed the scooter that had been tailing them since they had left her apartment that morning.
***
Prasad watched Sonia’s car leave. He had another meeting, just not the kind she thought. With a smirk, he turned from the window to the NSG captain seated facing his desk. “She might be a hot piece of arse, but she’s too pig-headed.”
Captain Roshan laughed. “You’re chasing your tail with that one, boss. She’s never going to fuck you.”
Roshan was one of Prasad’s closest associates. He was also a hulking brute of a man who looked like he was about to explode out of his shirt. Scruffy and unshaven, he ran the unit’s covert operations squad. A tight-knit group of commandos who rarely donned uniforms and occasionally handled Prasad’s less than legal activities. Together, the pair supplemented their meager incomes by strong-arming the criminals of New Delhi.
Prasad dropped onto his chair, leaned back and crossed his legs on his desk. “Ever since she started investigating those fucking Pakis, she’s turned into a fanatic.”
“Like a dog with a bone, boss. Too bad it isn’t yours.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t dig too deep.”
“Doesn’t help that she’s on the money. Did you see the message from RAW?”
“About a terrorist group in New Delhi? You think it has any substance?”
“I’m not sure. But they’re taking it seriously enough to send a liaison team.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve gotten spun up over nothing.”
“Do you want me to call our friends in the Intelligence Bureau?” Roshan asked, referring to the agency responsible for domestic security intelligence.
Prasad stood and walked over to the bookshelf and poured two tumblers of scotch. “No, let’s leave them out of this.”
“Then we should definitely put the screws on Neeraj. He’s been on ISI’s payroll for years.”
“True. I’m surprised we haven’t heard from that cockroach.” Prasad handed over a glass and returned to his chair. “Well, if there’s a terrorist cell in town we could certainly use it to our favor.”
“How do you mean, boss? Get in and wrap them up early?”
“No. If we pick them up like last time, the bureaucrats won’t fix our funding. We need something to grab their attention.”
His friend nodded in agreement. “We let them blow something up. Then swoop in and deal out some justice Black Cat style. I like it.”
“Exactly. We’ll need to play this very carefully. We can use the RAW liaison officers as fall guys should it all go to shit.”
“That, I do like the sound of. Those self-righteous bastards deserve to be taken down a notch or two.”
“Have they turned up?”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“Typical.” Prasad downed his drink with a gulp. “Pull that piece of shit Neeraj in. We need to have a chat.”
CHAPTER 11
CHANDNI CHOWK
“Your men are very efficient.” Al-Jahiz studied the maps and photographs pinned to the dining room wall. Within hours of their arrival, they’d converted the room into a makeshift operations center. “Is this the route she uses every day?”
“She has for two days in a row. Tomorrow will confirm it.” Karim added the last of the photos to the board.
“Where are the men?”
“They are all resting.”
Al-Jahiz pointed to one of the photos. It showed a woman in a smart business suit. “She dresses like a whore. An abomination in the eyes of Allah. Deserves to die.”
“And she will. I think the best place to grab her is at a restaurant. Her apartment has extensive security. And from the looks of it, her car might have armor.”
“I agree.” He pointed to the map of New Delhi. “I see she frequents restaurants near the Secretariat. Strike there. We may have the chance to kill some of the infidel leaders.”
“Good idea. That’ll make the mission even more worthwhile…” Karim pointed to one of the room’s remaining bare walls. “Do you want me to start preparing the information for your team?”
“You need sleep, Karim. There’ll be plenty of time in the morning.”
“Our instructors always said the greatest danger when dealing with those willing to make the ultimate sacrifice is time.”
“Patience, my brother. I’m sure we will receive our orders soon. Tomorrow, we will gather more intel and rehearse what we can.”
“When are you going to conduct a reconnaissance?”
Al-Jahiz’s pulse quickened with the thought of seeing his objective. “I’ll go after the midday prayer.”
A knock at the door stopped all conversation. With them finalizing their planning, Al-Jahiz had insisted it be kept locked. He did not trust the criminals, and the suicide team wouldn’t be briefed until the mission was green lit.
“Who is it?” asked Karim.
“It’s me, Neeraj.”
“What do you want?”
“We have a problem.”
Al-Jahiz nodded.
Karim cracked the door slightly. “What’s going on?”
“One of my men overheard a street urchin telling a cop about a new bunch of Pakis in town.”
Al-Jahiz stuck his head through the opening. “What did he look like? Did he have a bruise on his face?”
“I’m not sure. But his name is Atal. A street rat who runs around begging and stealing.”
“I remember him. He led us to the street corner. Is he going to be trouble?”
Neeraj shrugged. “The police won’t listen to him.”
“We can’t have loose ends. Silence him.”
“I know where he’ll be in the morning. He hangs around the tuk-tuks. It will be my pleasure to deal with him.” Neeraj chuckled. “My men will hack out the little monkey’s eyeballs.”
The criminal’s laugh unnerved Al-Jahiz. As he shut the door, he glanced at his friend. “Make sure you pay him. I don’t want to owe that snake anything.”
As he sat, the phone in his pocket started ringing. He lifted it to his ear and listened. A moment later, he tucked the phone away. “We have our orders. The mission will go ahead tomorrow. The game starts in the afternoon and we will hit them after the first couple of hours.”
“When the most people will be there?”
Al-Jahiz nodded. “I’ll check on the target in the morning.”
A smile spread across Karim’s pudgy features. “Glory be to Allah.”
“Glory be to Allah.”
CHAPTER 12
It took Mirza and Himesh more than fifteen hours to get from the crash site to the slums of New Delhi. They’d arrived late at night and were lucky to find a hostel open. Once checked in, Mirza was shocked at their room’s condition. Cheap didn’t begin to describe the two metal-framed beds pushed against the moldy walls and the rust-stained sink. The toilet was down the hall. Too exhausted to care, they ate a late meal and collapsed on their cots.
In the morning, when the surveillance team leader knocked on the door, Mirza jerked awake. “I’ll get it,” he mumbled, rolling out of bed. He staggered to the door, opened it, and motioned a whippet of a man with nondescript features into the room.
“Well?” Himesh asked.
“We tailed the Pakis from the border and lost them just on the outskirts of the Chandni Chowk. Too many vans and not enough eyes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t dwell on it. This was a slap together job. That you weren’t spotted and didn’t lose them earlier is a testament to your team’s skill.”
“Appreciated. We did get a glimpse of the leader. He’s about five foot five with crazy-looking eyes. They kind of bulge out of his head like a bug’s. His beard’s neatly t
rimmed and comes down to about mid neck.”
“And the others?”
“Four of them. All with trimmed beards and dressed like Paki workers.” He passed Himesh a large envelope. “Here are the photocopies of the IDs they used at the border. I’ve also put some of our surveillance photos in there.”
“What about NSG?” Mirza asked.
“I handed the job over to them. They got a copy of the photos but didn’t seem too interested.”
Frowning, Himesh shook his head. “That’s strange.”
“Not sure what’s going on over there. My team’s been reallocated, we’re to report to HQ.” He dropped a black bag on the bed. “Here’s the gear you requested. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“All good, my friend. Thanks again.” Himesh shook his hand and opened the door for him.
When he had left Mirza dropped back onto his bed. “What do you suggest? Head over to NSG?”
“No, not yet. If we go empty-handed, they won’t take us seriously.”
“You think we can find them ourselves?”
“Yes, I do. A few hours now, could save us a lot of heartache in the long run. I’ve worked with NSG before. They move bloody slow.”
“OK, so where do we start?’
“We get out on the street and link up with the local cops. Given there’s over a million people in Chandni Chowk, they could point us in the right direction.”
Mirza’s jaw dropped. “A million?”
“That’s right. You’re not in the Himalayas any more, Sherpa boy.” He unzipped the bag on the bed, pulled out a pair of Glock 19 pistols, and passed one to Mirza along with a holster and a small UHF radio.
Mirza stared at the weapon. “I thought we weren’t allowed to carry domestically without police authority.”
“I know, but if the bad guys are packing heat then so are we.”
***
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