by Mainak Dhar
‘What will you do, Ashutosh? These people have taken out a lot of high-ranking officers and wiped out anyone who has tried to oppose them. Unless I have evidence, nobody will believe me. You won’t be able to touch him. For now, the less you know, the better for you and your family. Call the hospital if you want to confirm that Zoya was taken by someone claiming to be the police.’
I was taking a big risk in opening up to Phadke, but I knew that if I was to save Zoya and expose Sai, I couldn’t do it by myself, even with Karzai and Ravi helping. I watched as Phadke seemed to think it over.
Finally, he poured himself another glass. ‘What do you need, Aadi?’
I told him.
It would have been a brilliant time to take a walk along the seaside, with a cool breeze coming in and hardly any traffic close to midnight, but I wasn't there to enjoy the walk or the scenery near Worli Sea Face.
Far from it.
I spotted the bungalow I had been summoned to across the street and took in my surroundings before I went closer. There was a van parked a dozen feet away. While it looked like nobody was inside, I wouldn't put it beyond Sai to have a spotter in it. In fact, I would have been disappointed if he hadn't put someone there to watch me as I approached.
Without telling Phadke the exact address, I had asked him to get his men to take surveillance photos of the street under the guise that he was investigating a tip-off about a drug smuggling ring. Phadke had sent the photos to Ravi’s mobile. They had allowed us to plan our operation.
There was a guard shack in front of the bungalow. As I crossed the road, I saw a man wearing the uniform of a private security agency – the kind of 'rent-a-cop' you see in many high-end apartment buildings, offices, or indeed bungalows. The difference was that most of those personnel tended to be out-of-shape, middle-aged men whose only real use was deterrent value because someone in some sort of uniform was present. The man in front of me was young, had the toned physique of someone who was an athlete or professional soldier. He did not have any visible weapons, but I was sure that he would be armed. He gave me a long, appraising glance, perhaps making his own, likely similar, conclusions about me.
'Sir, I'll need to check you. Please spread your arms and stand there.'
I did as instructed. He did a far more thorough job of patting me down than most airport cops would. I had very little to hide – the only things I had on me other than the clothes on my back were my mobile phone, a set of keys and the belt I was wearing. He spoke into a concealed mike on the lapel of his shirt. The gate opened up an inch. I saw two men there, hard men like the one who had checked me. Inside the premises, the men were not shying away from displaying their wares. Both carried MP-5 submachine guns slung across their shoulders.
Sai might have been many things, but he clearly believed in getting high-quality men to do his dirty work. It was obvious that his government salary wasn't paying for all this. I wondered how much he had made off his escapades in Afghanistan that he could afford what was increasingly looking like his own private army.
As I passed the two guards inside, three more men armed with MP-5s approached me. I noted that the men inside were all dressed in black, wearing bulletproof vests, like the men who had assaulted the building where I had been held. What kind of influence would Sai need to have to get his private army to lead that assault versus the cops or the NSG? Could he really pull such strings and get away with that?
As I stepped into the bungalow, I began to wonder if I had seriously underestimated what Sai was capable of.
Two men were flanking me, keeping their distance, seeming not to look at me, but a quick glance told me that the safeties on their guns were off. They were ready to shoot if I tried anything, which I had no intention of doing. Yet.
We walked through a corridor that opened into a spacious living room. There were comfortable-looking sofas, a large flat screen TV, a really fancy-looking bar and paintings on the wall. Amidst it all, there was Sai sitting on one of the sofas, sipping Scotch from a glass. He grinned when he saw me.
'Welcome, Major. So nice of you to join me. Would you like a drink?'
I politely declined and sat down on a sofa facing him. He just sat there for a while, smiling as he took in my changed look and sipped his drink.
'You continue to amaze me. Really, you must have more lives than a cat. When that building came down, I never expected to see you again.'
'I'm sorry to keep disappointing you. Now, can we get down to business?'
He cleared his throat and nodded at his men. They relaxed and took a step back, but did not leave the room. The message was clear. He was willing to talk, but the threat of death was always hovering over me.
'So, Major, here we are. Since you want to get down to business, let's cut to the chase. Why shouldn't I just have you shot now and dispose of the young lady as well? I presume you've thought that through and believe you have something to bargain with.'
I put my hand in my pocket and I felt the men behind me tense.
'Relax, it's just my phone.'
I put my phone down on the table, selected the file and pressed Play.
Sai just sat there, his hands thoughtfully steepled under his chin, his eyes betraying no emotion as he listened.
'Seven Six Two. I trust you've done what was needed.'
'Yes. The major is dead as is Sinha. I've got the passport and money. Should I leave?'
A hiss of static, followed by an irritated clearing of the throat.
'Yes. But wait for my men to pick you up. They will make sure you get to your destination.'
'Roger. What should I do with the rifles? Should I dispose of them or leave them here?'
'That's not for you to worry about. A team will come to sanitise the building. Just leave everything and go.'
'Roger.'
As I picked up the phone and sat back, Sai smiled, but his eyes hardened.
'How did you get that?'
'I had a gun to Karzai's head.'
He regarded me curiously. 'And then?'
'I killed him before getting away.'
He cleared his throat, then sighed before sitting back on his sofa. 'So you think you know it all. Who will ever believe that it's me on the recording? Tapes can be faked.'
'Yes, but it will cause some inconvenience to you, no? The media loves good conspiracy theories. Imagine, the new IB chief in cahoots with a terrorist sniper? There's a copy out there, ready to go out to the media if Zoya and I don't get out safely.'
'Do you think this is a movie, Major? You show up with evidence, blackmail me and walk away into the sunset with the heroine? That's not how the real world, my world, works, my friend.'
'I spoke to Sinha before he died.'
Sai’s eyes hardened, the first time his smug expression disappeared, replaced by a scowl.
'Sinha told me about Project Lotus. I know it all.'
To my surprise, he leaned back and laughed for several seconds, and then poured himself another drink from the bottle on the table in front of him.
He cleared his throat, laughed again, then looked at me, the grin back on his face. 'You've done more than anyone could have expected, I'll give you credit for that. But you know nothing, Major. You know nothing at all.'
One of his men moved closer to me. I could feel the cold barrel of the gun against the back of my neck.
The other man crossed the room and opened the door. 'Ma'am, could you please come outside? Mr. Sai has some news for you.'
He came back out and stood beside the door, which opened after a few seconds.
Zoya stood there. She looked pale. Her clothes were disheveled. On seeing me, she froze. She seemed to take a few seconds to just register what she was seeing, who she was seeing, in front of her.
'Aadi?'
She called out my name questioningly and began to rush towards me, when Sai got up and stood between us. In his hand was a small pistol. It was not a weapon to kill with at range, but close up, it was deadly enough.
'Zoya, stop!'
I began to get up, but the man behind me reversed his gun and brought the metallic stock down hard, striking just below my neck. I staggered forward. Even as I did, I knew he could have killed me if he had wanted to, but clearly Sai wasn't done. He turned to Zoya, his voice polite, as if we had all gathered for tea.
'Ma'am, please have a seat. As you can see, we have discovered that your friend, Mr. Ghosh, is alive. It's just that we need to have a discussion before you can be reunited.'
The armed man next to her stood by, his gun pointed vaguely in her direction. When I looked at his face, I could see none of the sneer Sai had. If anything, I could see a hint of distaste on his face. Whatever this man had become, whatever he had sold his soul for, he did not enjoy this. Perhaps, he had once been a soldier like me, and no soldier relishes being reduced to being an armed goon who terrorises women and children. That told me something. Something I could perhaps work with when the time came.
It might not sound like much, but then the odds were stacked against me, and I'd take whatever I could by way of leverage.
Sai sat down again, pouring himself another drink. I had no doubt he was very smart and ruthless, and experienced enough to not let any pressure show on his face, but he was at least three drinks down. That could give me a little bit of an edge later. One of my instructors had told me that in a street fight, given that many of them broke out where alcohol was somehow in the picture, the one who won was often simply the one who was more sober.
'Now that the lady is with us, I'd love to learn what else you know, before you're together.'
I wanted to get up and wipe the smirk off his face, but with a gun pointed at Zoya, I had to stay calm, focused. I knew Sai had no intention of letting us go. He wanted to know what I had learned and whom I had shared it, so that there would be no loose ends.
'I heard from Sinha about Project Lotus. He didn't know of your involvement, but then I had a chat with Karzai. He told me the version of Project Lotus you'd fed him. Stupid of you to keep the same name for both sides of your story. Or, perhaps smart. Perhaps, there was a real Project Lotus somewhere. Basing your stories, in fact, helped you make the paperwork more authentic and give you the cover you needed for what you were doing.'
He nodded, much like an appreciative teacher would when a student gave an intelligent answer. 'Good job. Your talents were wasted in the army and then certainly while sitting at a desk. You'd do well in my line of work.'
I ignored him and continued. 'Of course, hearing your irritating cough on the radio gave you away, as did what I saw during the raid on TV when you showed up in person with your goons and then blew them up. You're one sick bastard, do you know that?'
Sai just nodded. But then I was telling him what he had already guessed I knew.
Now it was time to rattle him and throw in some educated guesses. 'Lucky for you that a drone strike took out Karzai's family. That poor fool actually believed the crap you fed him about it coming from Indian intelligence sources. That your kill list was that of officers who had ordered the strike.'
He laughed. The cold-hearted bastard actually laughed. 'Oh, the intelligence did come in part from Indian sources. Me. It was helpfully passed on to the Americans by a Pakistani friend. It looked totally legitimate. All the paperwork indicated that insurgents were hiding there, stockpiling weapons while civilians had been driven out. We even faked a bloody intel photo. But I can't take all the credit for that op. Most of the ideas came from a friend. You see, those villagers weren't clearing their fields and growing poppy. A few of them were threatening to complain to the government about us. They had to go. Imagine my delight when I found out that the op gave me leverage to get someone with Karzai's talents in on my op. The American fools never knew better.'
I was looking him straight in the eye, seeing if I could sense any emotion at all as he boasted about killing dozens of innocent villagers. There was none.
The man actually poured himself another drink and took a sip. 'Major, sure you don't want a drink? This is good stuff.'
'Actually, I wouldn't mind one. And, don't be such a bad host. Offer the lady a drink.'
That caught him off-guard. I doubt he had expected me to have a drink ahead of what was, in his mind, undoubtedly going to be my end. He got up, walked to the bar and fetched me another glass which he put some ice cubes in and then topped with the Scotch.
I took it from him, noting that in all this, he had left his pistol lying on the sofa. I took a small sip, and waited for him to offer a glass to Zoya. The break in the conversation allowed me to get a long look at her. She was pale, but seemed to be holding up and smiled when she caught my eye. She raised her glass in a toast, and my heart broke at that simple, brave gesture.
'Zoya, when we're out of here, I promise you I'll make up for all this. We'll go on a nice holiday and sip your favourite wine on a beach.'
She smiled as Sai sat down opposite me, clearing his throat.
I continued, instantly going on the offensive. 'How about Karimi? When did you get him in on all this; or, were you cooking up criminal schemes way back in Oxford?'
His eyes widened. I knew my guess had paid off. He drained his glass and slammed it back on the table and winced as he realised he had let his irritation show.
When he spoke, he cleared his throat loudly, and raised his voice, clearly the anger and perhaps the alcohol overriding the training which had helped him keep his composure so far. 'You think you're so damn smart, don't you? Sitting there, pretending to know it all. I…'
I cut him off in mid-sentence. 'So, you ran your drugs racket with your buddy Karimi in Afghanistan. Both made some money. Then he was on his way up in the world with the coup and you had the chief's job in your sights. You decided to clean up the evidence of what you had done. Why? Was it because someone began talking? Some retired officer suffering from a conscience?'
The urbane smile and good manners were gone. Now, I saw Sai as he really was, with a feral look in his eyes, a wild animal cornered and about to lash out. 'I kept you alive to see if you had learned anything of real importance and also if you could have passed on that information to anyone. Looks like you don't know anything.'
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
He smiled, as he leaned back. 'You're right. Karimi and I are old friends. We saw certain possibilities that the others didn't. But you're a fool if you think I am at the centre of this. Do you think I could have pulled this off by myself – engineering such an op under the nose of the bloody government? You can't even begin to imagine the people who are involved in this. Before them, you are just a bug to be quashed underfoot. So am I. They are the ones who needed the clean up. The new government is going after stashed money, they needed to tie up loose ends. A nice quid pro quo with Karimi helps. If they can use him and his assets to destabilise the current government, they increase their chances of coming back to power.'
He cleared his throat and emptied his glass in one gulp, now beyond caring how drunk he was getting. 'The man killed in front of you was the key. Thakur used to lead the anti-narcotics squad. While in service, he did a lot to trace the drugs finding their way into India and got some good leads. My employers kept him on a short leash and prevented him from pursuing many ideas he had that could have actually led him to the heart of our racket. He retired, but the stubborn old codger never stopped digging. The new government was more indulgent. There was talk of him coming back to head a task force to probe the drugs route from Afghanistan. I intercepted chatter about him having suspicions about some of my employers. That was a few months ago, about the same time that Karimi was making his move to seize power. It was a simple matter of pulling this plan together. Eliminate Thakur and every other officer involved in Lotus. The collateral benefit to my employers is that the government looks weak, that it cannot protect its own soldiers and policemen from terror attacks in our cities despite all the brave talk of surgical strikes. Everyone wins.'
I picked up my phone from where it had been lying near my leg. 'I hope you realise I dialled out and others are listening in and recording all this.'
'Others? Media jokers who can be bought or threatened into silence by my employers? Or, friends of yours? We will hunt them all down once we're finished with you. You have no idea whom you have picked a fight with, Major. This is a war you cannot win. And, you plan to fight it with your bloody cellphone and amateur detective work?'
I put my phone down on the table, looked at the man behind me and then at the man next to Zoya. 'Were you guys in the army?'
They looked at each other, unsure as to how to respond.
'Whatever you've done, I'm sure you thought it worth it because this piece of shit offered you more money than you would have made in the army. Now, you know what he's about. He has the blood of hundreds on his hands, including many who served in uniform. Walk away and I will not hurt you. Just leave Sai to me.'
Sai stood up and threw his glass against the wall, shattering it. 'Shut up! Are you insane? Threatening me? I have three more men outside. They will kill you the moment…'
I took a sip of my drink and leaned forward, looking Sai in the eye. 'There's nobody alive outside...'
Doubt crossed Sai's face and he motioned the man behind me to go check, as he picked up the pistol on the sofa.
As the man opened the door to peek out, his face was rocked back, obliterated by a single 7.62mm shell.
'Zoya, get down!'
That was all I had the time to say before I launched myself at Sai. He was bringing up his pistol. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zoya throw her glass at him. Sai fired, but he missed by a foot or more. He had fired at the same time as the heavy glass had struck him on the right shoulder. I landed on his side of the table and had the keychain out of the pocket, the single, long key I had filed to a sharp edge between my knuckles.
As Sai tried to aim his pistol at me, I slashed down, slicing through his arm. He took a step back, howling in pain. I had no time to check what was happening behind me – my worst fear was that the guard would have killed Zoya for throwing the glass. But as it turned out, he did hesitate, perhaps wondering which side he was truly on. That did not save his life, however. I heard the sound of breaking glass and a dull thud. I knew Karzai had not failed me. The other guard was also down.