by Mainak Dhar
Thapa looked me straight in the eye before answering. ‘Abdul Karzai, the man you killed, was no ordinary Taliban wannabe. He was Aman’s younger brother.’
'Aadi, have you lost your mind? I cannot let you do this even if you've decided that all you want to do is commit suicide.'
I sat there, letting Zoya vent. She had every right to do so. I was not yet fully convinced in my own mind on my course of action. I had shared Thapa's proposal with her and my initial favourable response to it, half hoping that her refusal would help me make up my mind.
Once Thapa had started on his proposal, my own instinctive reaction had been to dismiss it out of hand. To his credit, Thapa had not tried to sell the idea to me to too hard, yet it was also clear from his tone of voice that they were out of other bright ideas. Yet a voice in my head was telling me to think beyond myself. It was the same voice that had made me join the army in the first place and then risk my skin in missions most people would have considered crazy or suicidal. I had told Thapa I would think it over, especially after discussing it with people who might care if I ended up starring in the latest jihadi playlist of decapitation videos.
Rekha was silent, but her disapproval was clear from the way she avoided eye contact with me as we sat around the dinner table at the safe house. I looked at Ravi, who was playing with his food more than eating it. He finally put his spoon down with a sigh and spoke. 'Do you trust this Thapa?'
'I have learned not to trust any bureaucrat or spy. And, he ticks both boxes, but Phadke seems to be a straight shooter. Moreover, this is much bigger than Thapa. I'm sure people have thought this through and concluded it gives them some leverage over this Karzai. Something that gives them a chance to get him before he kills again.'
He sighed even more loudly.
'Stop it, Ravi.'
He looked at me with a slightly bemused expression. 'Stop what?'
'That sighing. I know what that means. You think I'm being an idiot, but you want me to figure it out for myself. Right or what?'
He just shrugged but Zoya answered for him. 'Yes, you're right. This is totally insane. I don't see why you would even consider this.'
Somehow, I had had half a mind to reconsider what I had said to Thapa, but hearing everyone's disapproval made me think again.
'Zoya, more than fifty innocent people have died, and more are dying every day. If I can help stop those responsible for it, isn't that worth it?'
She turned on me with a fury. 'You are not in the army anymore. Don't you get that? For people like Thapa, you're useful so they'll make you feel important to get you to do their bidding. They don’t really care if you live or die, but if something happens to you…'
She choked back the rest of her sentence and walked away. I could hear her slamming her glass on the kitchen counter. I followed, put my hands on her shoulders and could feel her shaking in anger and frustration.
'Look at me, please. Please.'
Zoya turned around and I held her hands.
'I'll be perfectly honest with you. I want to do this to save others, sure, but more than anything else, I want to do this for myself.'
She looked straight into my eyes, wondering what I meant.
'They're going to expunge all the old records and inquiries. I'll get a clean service record again. I can once again call myself someone who served as a major in the army and get all the rank and privileges that go with it. I'll no longer have to pretend that my past did not exist, that somehow I have something to hide or be ashamed of. I spent my childhood dreaming of joining the army and my youth living that dream. But for the last few years, I've had to pretend that part of me never existed. Do you know how hard that is? If this works, I won't have to talk to anyone about my service without wondering if they will ask uncomfortable questions about my past. I'll no longer have to feel like my life has been a waste, that all my dreams, all that hard work, was for nothing.'
She shook her head. 'I understand. Believe me, I do. Or at least, I can convince myself that I do. I want you to be happy. Instead of thinking only about righting your past, why not think about the future? About us? Couldn't you just walk away? Sooner or later, the cops will get this guy and the other terrorists, just like they got that sniper in Delhi. We could move to another city, get other jobs, start over.'
At that moment, it struck me how much she had thought about the future the two of us might share, along with a pang of guilt that I had not thought as much about it.
'Zoya, yes, we would be together, and you would have me. But would you have the full me? The real me? Or, a version of me forever trying to forget and hide from his past, one who always lives with regret? What would that version of me bring to our life together?'
'So, who is the real you? Did I fall in love with someone who was not what I thought?'
I pulled her close. Looking into her eyes, there was nothing I could give her but the honest truth. 'Zoya, what everyone else at the office saw was a shadow of who I am. I'm not a guy who sits in a cubicle and plans for the next promotion and whose greatest thrill in life is a great PowerPoint presentation for the boss. I'm not that guy. I spent three years trying to be that guy. It was driving me crazy. But with you, I've been the way I once was. Spontaneous, living in the moment, willing to give everything for someone and something I believe in and love.'
Before she could respond, I continued. 'It is not just about how we are together. This Karzai is not just a criminal or a gun for hire who will melt away after doing his job. It's personal. I killed his brother. Given the way their minds work in the tribal areas of Afghanistan, it is now a blood feud. How can we ever think of living a normal life together if I'm always wondering if a sniper has me in his sights? Or, even worse, you? I want nothing more in life than for us to have a future together, but I want that to be one where you get the whole me, not a shadow of me. I want that future to be one where I can be sure you're safe.'
Her eyes moistened with tears, but she nodded.
As if on cue, my phone rang. It was Thapa.
'Yes, I'll do it,' I said before hanging up.
With those words, I had agreed to become the bait that would lure in a terrorist killer who was out for my blood.
Act normal, Thapa had said, but despite all my training, I couldn't help stop my hands from shaking as I grabbed the handle of the front door of my apartment.
I looked around the edges of the door and exhaled in relief as I saw that the narrow strip of transparent tape I had put there was still intact. It was a trick I had learned from one of Thapa's ilk, an IB officer who had come to operate with us in Kashmir. It was something he had learned as part of his tradecraft to check for intruders when one returned home. He had said pros would know to check for it, but so far Karzai had sent only hired locals after me, not professionals of the sort he himself undoubtedly was. Even then, my heart was beating much faster than usual as I swung the door open, painfully conscious of how conspicuous a target I'd be to anyone hiding inside, with the lights of the corridor outside behind me. I shut the door and quickly went from room to room, reassuring myself that nobody had come visiting while I had been away. When all was clear, I spoke into the small earpiece hidden in my ear, knowing Thapa would be on the line.
'Nobody here. What next?'
'Head out for dinner. A single guy would do that, right? Make sure your PSO goes with you. Call Zoya and ask her how her holiday is. Do all the stuff you would normally do in case they are watching you.'
As I drove out the gate, I had to give Thapa credit for having thought this through. Zoya was indeed on a short holiday for the weekend with a college friend, and Ravi and Rekha had gone on a supposedly separate trip to Bangkok to be with their son. Their unplanned holidays had been paid for by the government, both to make it seem natural for me to come home since I was alone and for them to get out of any potential harm's way. For someone whose name was on a kill list, it would be unnatural to just get back to life as normal, so I had written an application for pers
onal security. Phadke had agreed to assign me a Personal Security Officer, who was right now behind me. His name was Mithun. He reminded me of many of the soldiers I had served with. Cheerful, tough and ready to follow orders given to them.
'Mithun, join me for dinner. I'll feel like a total scumbag eating in the restaurant while you stand outside.'
His teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled. 'Sir, how can I keep watch if I'm enjoying my butter chicken?'
I grinned back and slapped him on the shoulder. 'I'm not a fat politician or bureaucrat who gets off on having security watch over him. You're doing your duty, and I'm doing mine. Let's eat together.'
But he did have a point about not being able to see if anyone was watching me if we were inside a restaurant. So, dinner comprised piping hot samosas and jalebis at K3, the popular fast food joint in Hiranandani Gardens.
Thapa was back in my ear. 'Risky move, being out there in the open, but in a way, good. If Karzai has anyone watching, they'll be more tempted to make a move.'
Thapa cleared his throat before signing off and I looked around casually, knowing now that Thapa had me in his sights. No doubt he had his own spotters out there watching me. He had told me there would be commandos nearby, waiting to get into action as soon as anyone made their move. We were all hedging our bets that Karzai would not just blow my head out with his sniper rifle, as so far, he had indicated that he wanted me alive. The shrinks Thapa had called in for advice had done their psychological profiling and said that Karzai saw me as a different target from the others on the kill list. The others were a job to be done, for money or ideology. I was personal. He would want to look into my eyes as he killed me and avenged his brother. But that was easy for shrinks to say. They were making up theories sitting in their air-conditioned rooms.
I was out here, waiting to be attacked.
As plans go, Thapa's plan seemed OK. When Karzai's men made a move, his commandos would move in and get at least one of them alive. Then, he would be interrogated, leading Thapa to Karzai. But as most plans go, I was pretty sure not everything would go as smoothly as it had seemed sitting in an office.
'Sir, you do realise something, right?'
I looked up at Mithun and asked him why he was grinning.
'You may be the bait, but I'm the really expendable one. The terrorists supposedly want you alive, my bosses probably want you alive, but what about me? I don’t think my survival ranks high on anyone’s agenda. So, I might as well enjoy another jalebi. Putting on weight or dying of a heart attack seems the least of my concerns.'
I laughed out loud. In the short time we'd been together, I had really enjoyed Mithun's company. Being with him reminded me of being with my men on a mission together.
'Don't be too hard on your bosses. At least they gave you a vest as well.'
Mithun shrugged as if that was small consolation, as he put another jalebi in his mouth. Thapa had insisted I wear a bulletproof vest under my shirt. We all knew it would likely not stop a high-caliber sniper rifle bullet, but would certainly save me from any other small arms or a knife attack.
'Aaditya, you guys should head back home.'
It was Phadke. He had been on the line, but so far had not said anything. This was Thapa's show. For him to intrude like this meant something was seriously wrong.
'A riot is breaking out at the nearby mosque. Crowds are gathering, and riot police has been called in. Get home now and stay there. We can't do much to protect you if a full-scale riot breaks out.'
It had been three days since I had agreed to this, but in those three days things had gone from bad to worse. Fourteen more kills, including two by the sniper and the others by lone wolves. But what was even more dangerous was that the murders were fast inflaming communal tensions. A mob had attacked a mosque in Bandra, alleging that an attacker was taking refuge there. Riots had broken out. Another mosque in Delhi had been vandalised and police had been called out. Still, for a riot to break out where I stood was almost unthinkable. This was one of the most cosmopolitan areas in India I had ever seen. There had never been any history of communal tension here. However, Phadke sounded genuinely worried, and I trusted him.
Thapa cut into the conversation, clearing his throat to signal to Phadke that he was in control. 'I have one of my men nearby. He will escort you to safety. Don't take your car. Just get to the Heera Panna shopping centre. He's there.'
Phadke cut in.
‘I have a couple of policemen in plainclothes parked just a few hundred meters away. Look for the white Innova near the roundabout just to your left. You could just go there.’
I hated the two of them playing tug of war with me in the middle, so my exasperation perhaps showed in my voice when I replied, asking them to make up their mind.
‘Aaditya, go to the Innova. You can probably even see them from where you’re standing.’
Thapa cleared his voice loudly, and I wondered how his wife ever put up with this irritating mannerism. Assuming our super spy had ever married, that is.
‘Phadke, this is my operation. It is my call. That Innova is not as clean or clever as you may think. Two fit men wearing dark glasses, doing nothing and then scooping up Aaditya? Anyone watching would know we had back up ready. We may never be able to lay this trap again. I have a man just a little distance away, who could whisk him away without giving away our plan. Major, do as I say.’
Phadke didn’t say anything, and to be honest, I didn’t want to keep standing around while they debated, wondering who would get to me first, rioters or terrorists, so I signalled to Mithun and we started out for Heera Panna.
That was less than a kilometre from where we were. Mithun and I set out at a brisk pace. I could see that word of the trouble nearby had started to spread. Families were rushing home and a few shops were closing their shutters. Phadke was back in my ear.
'There is a bloody full-scale riot on. Some idiot put a dead pig in the mosque, and a couple of hotheads smashed cars belonging to Hindus. Now there are goons on both sides involved. Stay safe.'
With shutters closing all around us and cops starting to show up, carrying riot shields and batons, there was no point in going slow. I broke into a run, glancing back at Mithun to see if he was catching up. I could see he was straining, but he smiled back gamely as he replied.
'Sir, I won't lose to an officer in a race.'
With that, the two of us ran as if we were boys in a schoolyard, jumping over rocks, twisting and turning around cars. It had been years since I had run like this, and the short time with Mithun was reminding me of all that I had loved about the army – the camaraderie, the brotherhood, and yes, the rivalries that came with fit young men being thrown together, with nobody willing to quit before the others.
We stopped just ahead of the old Heera Panna shopping centre. To be honest, it perhaps wasn't that old, but had never really taken off. What had once perhaps been envisaged as an upmarket shopping centre was now home to a few ragtag stores and coaching centres. By now, Mithun and I were no longer smiling. We had heard shouts in the distance and what had sounded like a gunshot.
'Thapa, we're here. Where's your man?'
'He'll be there. Hang tight.'
'Easy for you to say. You're not in the middle of a riot. Where is he?'
Thapa caught the edge in my voice. When he responded, I caught the edge in his, as if he was trying to control his temper. 'Stay there. Just stay there.'
Mithun had his pistol out and was holding it in both hands, constantly looking around for signs of trouble. 'Sir, I don't like the look of this. It is deserted. The sounds seem to be getting closer.'
'You have kids, Mithun?' I asked.
'Yes, sir, one six-year-old girl.'
I spotted some movement in the alley to our left and gently pushed Mithun behind me.
'You make sure you get back to her. I'm not worth you putting your neck on the line. If there's trouble, we make a break for it. You go ahead. Don't try to be a hero. I'll try to take care
of myself.'
When he looked at me, I could see the determination in his eyes. 'Sir, I will not fail in my duty, no matter what. Plus, you're a good man. I've taken bigger risks protecting corrupt officers and politicians who deserved to die.'
'Hello? Over here.'
I turned towards the voice and saw a thin man hurrying over, wearing a loose shirt and jeans. He stopped near us and saluted awkwardly.
'My name is PC Sharma. I'm from the IB. Thapa sir asked me to get you to safety with the riot breaking out. Just follow me. Our car is parked in the alley over there.'
As we began to follow him, we heard two more gunshots nearby.
Mithun whispered into my ear, 'Sir, he's taking us towards the riot.'
I spoke into the mike. 'Thapa, some PC Sharma is here from your office. I do hope he knows what he's doing.'
Phadke started to say something but Thapa cut him off, clearing his throat loudly to make sure he was the one who got to speak.
'Let us do our job. Do yours and follow him out. The cops are saying three people are already dead in the riot. Get out before it gets even worse and you get caught in it.'
We began running after Sharma and saw a van parked ahead. The back door of the van slid open.
Sharma turned and started to shout something. He was pointing at the van. 'That's not our van! Something's wrong.'
That was when the shooting began.
Sharma was the first to fall, a red stain spreading across his white shirt. I turned around and saw that Mithun had his pistol up and was training it on the van ahead. A mist of red sprayed out from his shoulder as he was hit. A split second later the crack of the rifle bullet passed close to my ear. I looked around frantically and ran towards a car parked on the side of the road, flattening myself behind it.