“Hello Neeraj, how are you?” Roshan punched him in the gut doubling him over and threw him against the side of a shack.
Prasad appeared from the other direction and pinned his neck to the wall. “You tried to fuck me, Neeraj. I don’t like being fucked.”
His eyes widened as Roshan screwed a suppressor onto a pistol.
“I told you to call. I told you to tell me what those fucking Pakis were up to. Did you? No, you kept quiet and, when it blew up, tried to run and hide.”
“It’s not that simple,” he whimpered. “They knew about our meeting. I swear.”
“Then why aren’t you dead?”
“They needed my help.”
The lieutenant colonel tightened his grip on Neeraj’s neck. “Then you are a fucking traitor. I told you what would happen if you crossed me.” He jammed a thumb into the freshly stitched wound on his upper arm.
Neeraj screamed and Prasad dropped him to the ground.
Roshan stepped in and pushed the suppressor up against his temple.
“Wait, you don’t have to kill me. I won’t tell anyone anything. I promise,” he whined from the gutter.
“We all know what your promises are worth,” Prasad said.
“I’ll do anything.”
“What could you possibly do for me that I can’t do myself?”
“I can tie up loose ends. I can find people.”
“The men in the burkas. There’s one on the run, do you know him?”
Neeraj shook his head.
“Then you’re useless. Roshan, if you would please.” He took a cigarette from his jacket, lit it, and started to walk away.
“No, wait! The kid, the street urchin, Atal. He was working with them. I swear.”
“So?”
“I can find him. He knows the men in the burkas. They killed two of my gang when we tried to catch the little worm.”
Prasad sucked in a lung full of smoke, bent over, and exhaled in Neeraj’s face. “And why did you try to catch him?”
Neeraj coughed. “The Pakis wanted him. He saw them arrive.”
Prasad looked sideways at Roshan, who pulled a notebook from his jacket and jotted down the boy’s name. “I’ve got another job for you.”
“Yes, anything.”
Prasad smiled at the look of desperation. “I’ll give you a simple task. If you can complete it without fucking up, I might let you live. You fail me again, and I’ll cut your organs out myself.”
Neeraj nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to kill someone. Pay close attention. I’m going to give you a name, a time, and a place. And I’m only going to say them once.”
***
Atal watched from the shadows as Neeraj left the alley. It was just after nightfall and he had been searching for the criminal since mid-afternoon. He followed him for a few streets before the gangster entered a shop. Pulling out his cell phone, he sent a message.
It took the tuk-tuk driver a little under five minutes to arrive. In the dim street-lighting Atal could barely recognize Mirza sitting in the back.
Grinning, he waited by the door of the fabric shop. When his target emerged carrying a bundle under his arm, he stepped into the light. “Hi, fat-guts. Heard you’re looking for me.”
Neeraj’s flabby jaw dropped as he recognized him. Then his face split into a broad smile as he fumbled with the bundle under his arm.
“Careful, you wouldn’t want to drop that,” said Mirza as he jumped from the taxi and relieved Neeraj of the bundle. He jammed the muzzle of his Browning in the criminal’s bulging midriff. “Not your week is it? Now, get in the tuk-tuk.”
Atal’s friend drove across Chandni Chowk with the three of them squashed in the back like a family. Arriving at the new hotel, Atal checked that the front desk was empty. All clear, Mirza guided their captive up the stairs. Once in their room, he shoved Neeraj onto one of the beds.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“Answers, Neeraj, I want answers. We can start with what you were going to do with this?” Mirza unrolled the swath of material, held up the loaded revolver and smiled.
Neeraj sat silently, his eyes darting around the room.
Mirza sat on the facing bed and emptied all but one of the cartridges from the revolver. He spun the cylinder, snapped it shut, then aimed at the man’s groin. “It’s a bit clichéd I know, but I don’t have time to get creative. Now start talking.”
CHAPTER 25
Sonia Jayaram was sitting at her desk reading through the initial NSG report on the Chandni Chowk incident. While twenty-four hours was too early for all the facts to be ascertained, she doubted the report was even a rough representation of the events. The most glaring part, the part that drew her suspicions were scathing comments regarding RAW, in particular Captain Himesh Arjun, the operative who had been killed. According to the report the captain’s actions had compromised the NSG plan, resulting in terrorists escaping and attacking the Imperial Hotel.
Her desk phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello, Sonia Jayaram speaking.”
“It’s Mirza, we need to meet.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Somewhere public.”
There was a pause as she considered the request. “How about the Red Fort? There’s a museum there.”
“I’ll see you there in an hour.” The call terminated.
***
Mirza looked up at the towering Red Fort. Constructed from red sandstone, the walls looked like they had been dyed in blood. After the past few days, it seemed appropriate. Finding a discreet spot where he could watch people moving through the gate, he settled in.
After five minutes and no sign of undercover cops, he joined the throng of tourists and moved through the huge gatehouse into the Chatta Chowk bazaar. Once the lifeblood of the ancient fortress, where merchants sold exotic spices, luxurious clothing, and intricate jewelry, now, it was a tourist trap.
He passed through the enclosed market, pausing at a stall to inspect sunglasses. Using the mirrored lens on a pair of cheap aviators, he scanned the crowd behind him. Then as he moved from one stall to the next, he kept an eye on anyone who seemed out of place. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sonia. It was Prasad and his cronies that concerned him. Once he was confident he hadn’t been followed, he walked out through the gardens toward the Mumtaz Mahal Museum.
Mirza stopped under a tree and sat with his back against the trunk. Through half-closed eyes he inspected the long white building and surrounding area. Spotting no one suspicious, he rose and headed for the meet.
Dropping a coin in the donation box, he entered the museum. The crowd consisted mainly of Indians with only a few foreign tourists. He ambled past the exhibits, stopping to examine a display case filled with antique women’s accessories.
He glanced at his watch. Two minutes late. He casually looked up and down the corridor. Where was she?
“Hello, Mirza.”
At his name, he turned and faced the woman who had touched him. The burka-clad figure shocked him into silence. The last time he had seen Sonia, she was wearing a smart, although bloodied, white blouse. The hazel-colored eyes were familiar as was the faint scent of perfume. “Sonia?”
“Yes, sorry about the outfit. I got the idea from the Burka Warriors everyone’s talking about. Didn’t want to make it easy for Prasad’s men.”
“Quite a popular tactic.” He glanced around. “Were you followed?”
She nodded. “Initially. They’re probably still waiting for me to come out of the ladies room at Old Delhi Junction.”
“Good one.” Mirza turned and faced a tapestry hanging on the wall. “What’s Prasad got to say for himself?”
“NSG has issued a warrant for your arrest.”
“Not surprising, any new crimes?”
“Multiple charges of assaulting a police officer, theft of a firearm, obstructing an investigation, the list goes on.”
“Clearly, I�
�ve been busy. What about Prasad? Is anyone going to arrest him for killing Ranbir and Himesh? Or turning a blind eye to terrorism and organ harvesting?”
“We need evidence. You have to come in and make a statement.”
He laughed. “You think I’d stay a free man? It’s my word against Prasad, and he holds all the cards. If I came in now, he’d blame me for everything.”
She grasped his arm. “Mirza, I owe you my life. You’re not alone in the world. I’ll protect you. So will my brother.”
Mirza looked into her hazel eyes and wanted to believe they could. “I’ve got a witness for you.”
“A witness is good. Do you want to send them to my office?”
“No. I want you to come with me now and meet him.”
“That might not be–”
“Sonia, do you think I’d save your life just to put it at risk again?”
She shook her head. “Fine, I’ll come.”
Mirza led her out of the museum and climbed into the tuk-tuk of Atal’s friend. In less than ten minutes, they arrived at his new hotel. His hand on her elbow, he escorted her up to the room and knocked twice, then once. Atal unlocked the door and let them in.
Seated on the bed, with feet and hands bound with tape and a rag stuffed in his mouth, was Neeraj
“Did he give you any problems?”
“Not a word. Quiet like a mouse.”
Sonia made for the door. “Mirza, I can’t be here. You’ve kidnapped this man. I can’t be a part of this.”
“Wait.” Mirza tore the rag from Neeraj’s mouth. “Tell her what you told me, about Prasad.”
The criminal licked his lips and glanced up at the woman in the burka. “He knew the Pakis were going to kidnap Sonia Jayaram.”
Her face hidden behind the veil, Sonia raised an eyebrow. “How do you know this?”
“I told him I was looking after the Pakis, and he made me tell him everything.”
“He met with you?”
“Yes, I give him information and cash. In return, he turns a blind eye to my business. It’s been that way for years.”
Mirza put his hand on her shoulder. “Prasad knew what they’d planned and did nothing.” He turned back to Neeraj. “Tell her what Prasad wants you to do now.”
“He wants me to kill Sonia Jayaram.”
Sonia stood there in stunned silence. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” she asked quietly.
“Tell her everything,” said Mirza.
“He told me to kill her tomorrow outside of the Delhi Police Headquarters. At three o’clock. I have to wait in the parking lot for her to leave.”
Sonia took off her hijab and sat on the bed opposite Neeraj as she struggled to accept the truth. Without fail, the monthly security meeting finished at three o’clock. Only those who attended would know she left immediately upon the meeting’s conclusion. “That bastard!” She lifted her gaze to Mirza. “I don’t get it. Why does he want me out of the way?”
“I’ve no idea, Sonia. One thing’s for sure, he’s as crooked as they come. He has to be hiding something. Something he doesn’t want you to discover.”
She sighed. “Like the reason he was willing to sit back and let terrorists attack a stadium filled with forty thousand innocent people. The man’s demented.”
“No doubt; and neither of us will be safe until he’s dead. He knew what the terrorists were planning and he did nothing. Then when we stepped in to stop them, he ordered Himesh and Ranbir executed.”
Sonia stood. “No, we can’t kill him. The justice system must prevail. He will be arrested and brought to trial for his crimes.”
Mirza shook his head. “It’ll be his word against mine. Even with Neeraj testifying, there’s a good chance he’ll get away with it.”
“Perhaps, but at a minimum, he’ll be suspended. Then I can have an anti-corruption investigation launched. I guarantee that if we dig, we’ll uncover more than just the Chandni Chowk incident.”
“But everyone thinks he’s a hero. No sane policeman is going to put their career on the line to put him in handcuffs.”
“We’ll need help.” Sonia paused, then a slow smile broke free. “Ranbir was a local cop wasn’t he?”
“Yes, Chandni Chowk markets.”
“Would his colleagues help us?”
“Maybe. But how do we get Prasad into Chandni Chowk. It’s not like they can walk into the NSG compound and arrest him.”
“He’s looking for me,” said Atal. “Neeraj said the Black Cats were looking for me so Prasad could find the last Burka Warrior.”
Mirza tousled the kid’s hair. “What would I do without you?”
***
Atal sat with the other tuk-tuk drivers eating a bowl of curry. He knew he was being watched. The plain-clothed NSG officer had followed him for nearly an hour, but it did not concern him. He knew every shortcut and back alley in the slum. When he felt like it, he could lose the man in the twists and turns.
A few minutes later, he pretended he hadn’t noticed as another two men joined the first. He recognized one as the high-ranking officer who had ordered Mirza arrested. The other was a big guy, an undercover cop he had seen around. They talked for a moment, then his original tail left.
That was Atal’s cue to move. He dropped his bowl on the ground and sauntered down a laneway. He glanced over his shoulder; the boss and his thug were following him.
With a grin, Atal started to jog. Ducking into an alley, he headed away from the markets to an ancient part of the district. A quick peek over his shoulder showed the two men gaining on him. He dashed around a corner, slipped on the slimy cobblestones, and landed on his butt.
The muscle-bound plain-clothes officer aimed a pistol at his head. “That’s far enough.”
A second later, the boss caught up. “I’ve got you now.”
“Do you?” Atal launched himself sideways through a doorway and kicked it shut behind him.
***
“Grab that little shit,” Prasad ordered.
Roshan’s shoulder slammed the door. It sprang open, revealing a courtyard the size of a squash court. Doorways led off both sides. On the far wall, a short set of stairs ran up to another entrance. Hunched on the stairs sat a figure wrapped in a filthy cloak.
“Where’s the kid?” Prasad had his weapon drawn.
Roshan swept the courtyard with his pistol. “Could’ve gone through any of these doors.”
Prasad shook his head. “You there, old man. Did you see a young boy come in here?”
“That depends,” he said.
“Answer me, granddad. Where did the boy go?”
The figure dropped his cloak. “Somewhere safe.”
“Mirza!” Smiling, Prasad lifted his Browning. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Roshan continued to scan the buildings on either side, wary of an ambush.
“And now you’ve found me.”
“And now I’ll be taking you in.”
Mirza remained seated. “I don’t like that idea.”
“In that case, you can die here.” He nodded to Roshan, who stepped forward.
Mirza shook his head. “That’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? Always getting someone else to do your dirty work. Same with Himesh and Ranbir. Had your men shoot them in the back.”
Prasad laughed. “I told you and that arrogant bastard to keep your noses out of my business. But you didn’t. So, your friends got shot. You can’t blame me for that.”
“Yes I can. We brought you the intel. You refused to act. When we realized you were doing nothing, we did what we could. And for that, you had to kill my partner and an innocent police officer?”
“You don’t understand, do you, Corporal? This is my fucking town. I knew about your little terrorist group from the start. Why I chose not to deal with them is none of your fucking business.”
“Maybe not, but I’d like to know why you’d let them kill Sonia Jayaram.”
Prasad smiled nervously. “I don’t kn
ow what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because my friend Neeraj seems to think you still want her dead.”
His smile dropped. “How the hell do you know that?” With his weapon raised, he strode up to Mirza. “You may think you’re smart, but once you’re dead, no one’s going to believe the word of a flesh dealing piece of shit like him.”
Mirza shook his head. “No. But they might believe two police officers and a federal prosecutor.”
“I knew something was off, boss.” Roshan started to back away. As a side door swung open, he aimed his pistol at it. The muzzle of a submachine gun appeared followed by a uniformed police officer.
“Drop your weapons!” A voice yelled as another armed policeman entered the courtyard.
Roshan placed his pistol on the ground and raised his hands.
Prasad glanced over his shoulder at the two cops. “Fuck you.” He spun back to Mirza.
Mirza sprang off the stairs, grabbed the muzzle of Prasad’s weapon and jerked it to the side as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off a stone wall.
Mirza twisted the pistol from his grasp and punched him in the throat.
He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Seconds later, his hands were yanked behind his back and he felt the cold metal of a pair of cuffs. “Release me, you halfwits. Release me or I’ll have your badges.”
The police officer with the handcuffs bent over his shoulder and showed him a badge. “This belonged to a good friend of mine. A better man than you. A family man who you ordered murdered. So if you want to take my badge, I’ll be happy to fight you for it.”
The policeman yanked the NSG commander to his feet and slammed him into a door.
“You think this is over? This isn’t over. I own this fucking town,” Prasad spat, his head held firm against the wood. At the clicking of approaching high-heels, he caught a glimpse of a woman in a tight-fitting business suit.
“Save it for court, Prasad. You’re under arrest,” Sonia Jayaram said.
“This’ll never reach court! You’re a dead woman,” he shot back.
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