Assassins

by Mukul Deva

  His mind in overdrive, ignoring the pain in his elbow, Leon dropped straight down, simultaneously swiveling to face the new threat. The second man was luckily not so large, but was armed with a thick bamboo stick. Having smashed the pistol out of Leon’s hand, the thug was raising the bamboo to deliver a final killing blow on his head. The bamboo was already at the highest point of its trajectory.

  By now Leon was on the ground, his weight distributed evenly on both hands. Using them to pivot, Leon kicked hard, straight at the attacker’s balls.

  The bamboo man’s eyes bulged and he uttered a strangled scream as Leon’s kick landed. Delivered with the full force of desperation by a man who had scant respect for the Marquis of Queensberry, the kick doubled him up in agony.

  But Leon was not resting on his laurels. Again using his hands, Leon jackknifed to his feet and smashed the man’s nose with his knee. Two more rapid blows to his exposed neck and the second attacker went out like a light.

  Snatching up his pistol with his left hand Leon spun around on Batra, aware the danger was not yet over.

  Flask in hand Batra stood frozen, petrified; his goons had never failed him before.

  “You stupid pig! Weren’t you already being paid well enough?” Leon’s tone was low and all the more menacing for that. “Open it.”

  Batra felt his fury. Hands shaking with fear, he complied immediately.

  Leon only allowed himself to breath a minute after Batra had pulled out two 100-milliliter deodorant sprays from the smaller flask. He held them up for Leon, one in either hand. The fact Batra was still alive made it obvious the aerosol had not leaked.

  Leon checked the signed paper seals he had placed on both cans at Seoul; they were intact. He shook them; both cans seemed full. Then he made Batra put them back into the flask before relieving him of it. Only then, placing the pistol against Batra’s forehead, Leon relieved him of his life.

  Batra sank to the floor like a beached whale as the low-caliber bullet, lacking the power to push through and exit at the other end, mashed his brains.

  Leon headed for the door, stopping only to put one more bullet in the head of the second attacker, who was by now showing signs of life. Whether they had meant to hijack his shipment or just rob him, Leon knew he could not let them live.

  Dead men tell no tales and seek no revenge.

  Leon was relieved, aware he was lucky to still be alive. Cursing his carelessness he headed back to his car. He was confident the sounds of repair work ringing through the alley had masked the gunfire, but knew the bodies would be discovered sooner rather than later.

  Dead bodies always get the cops worked up. Not good!

  He rapidly replayed the sequence of events in his head to check he was leaving behind nothing that could lead the cops to him.

  Clear.

  Transferring the pistol to his left hand and flask to his right, Leon got moving.

  Yet his unsettled feeling was mounting, putting him on the edge. Leon did not mind that. He knew the edge would prevent him from any more slipups and keep him alive. But it was draining him fast. By now the pain in his right elbow was bad, rendering his right hand almost immobile. And his stomach was acting up again. Half a mile out he pulled over and popped a couple of Norflox.

  Another mile, driving past Babu Jagjivan Ram hospital, Leon wondered if he should go in and look for a doctor; the pain in his right hand was too much to ignore. It worried him. The bamboo stick had landed hard. Leon hoped there were no broken bones. With the strike just four days away, a broken arm was the last thing he could afford.

  Not for the first time he contemplated aborting. It wasn’t the first time he was going up against alert security forces, but it was definitely the first time they were specifically expecting him. Also it was his first twin target assignment, and that too at such short notice. And now this. Flexing his fingers, Leon wondered if the bamboo had cracked any bones; the pain was terrific.

  Bad enough to forgo the last ten million pounds?

  Despite the pain, Leon laughed.

  Not bloody likely. And not half as bad as what I suffered due to Edward and Ravinder. They stole my life.

  Leon knew this was his best and possibly his last opportunity to get back at them.

  I’m getting too old for this shit.

  And the twenty million pounds from this assignment would be more than enough to afford a peaceful and luxurious life. Enough to wipe out all traces of Leon Binder and begin life with a clean slate.

  No way I’m sitting this one out.

  Steeling himself he drove on. But the pain in his arm soon left him no choice. Reluctant to draw attention by going to a doctor he stopped at the first pharmacy he spotted on Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg and picked up a crepe bandage, a can of Relispray, and a strip of painkillers.

  The pain spray warmed his arm and the tightly bound bandage offered some support but also made driving more tedious. By time he arrived at Jorbagh it was already dark.

  ELEVEN

  Vishal was certain he needed to do something to send Ravinder back to the pavilion. And fast. It had taken the man hardly any time to take charge and press all the right buttons.

  Right through the day, Vishal had watched with dismay as the room buzzed with energy. Barring a brief break for a surprise pizza lunch that Ravinder had called in, they had worked relentlessly.

  Ravinder spent the day either working the phone or on his laptop. Archana seemed to have gone into deep dive mode and was lost in her computer; barring fingers flying across the keyboard, once in a while pushing her hair out of her eyes, and an occasional sightless gaze heavenward, she showed no signs of life. The other three shredded the routines of both targets over and over again. Even the usually dour and taciturn Saina had thrown herself into the discussion, helping analyze weak points in Zardosi’s and Masharrat’s routines and how best they could be attacked.

  Vishal’s anxiety mounted as everything he’d gone through with Leon came up for discussion.

  I need to get word to Leon. We need a serious rethink.

  “Sir, I think I have the list.” Archana spoke up suddenly. Her excitement touched the others. The room went silent.

  “You mean the list of people who knew about the MI6 inputs?” Ravinder jumped to his feet. Archana nodded.

  Vishal immediately spotted the change; Ravinder had started looking tired as evening bore down, but now looked energized again.

  “There are a total of seven people who knew everything.” By now all of them had stopped working and were hanging on her every word.

  Ravinder’s mobile rang. “One second.” He interrupted Archana and took the call. “Yes?”

  “Dad, it’s me, Jasmine. Wanted to ask if you’d like me to pick you up. Jagjit Singh is driving me today. He can take your car back and we can ride together in mine.”

  “I will be a while.”

  “That’s fine. I have just started back from Rekha’s house in NOIDA. I will call you when I reach your office. If you are free by then I will pick you up. Otherwise I will leave Jagjit there to drive you back.”

  Ravinder was happy; he was tired and not looking forward to the long drive home. Eager to get back to Archana, he agreed and ended the call.

  “Yes, Archana, you were saying?”

  “Sir, there are a total of seven people who knew about the inputs provided to NIA by MI6,” Archana repeated. “There are three at the NIA. One is obviously Mr. Kurup the director.”

  “I think we can safely rule him out.” Ravinder waved her on.

  “Then are his two deputies, Ashok Verma and Sikander Ali.”

  Vishal felt he had been suddenly thrown on an ice slab. It took all his willpower to contain his shock.

  That pansy Verma will go down like a ton of bricks at the first sign of trouble.

  Vishal felt Saina, beside him, also stiffen. But he was so engrossed in his worries, it didn’t really register.

  “Okay.” Ravinder absorbed that. “No one else at the NIA?”


  “No.” Archana sounded confident. “I have checked every single paper trail. There are obviously others who knew bits and pieces, but only those three had complete access.”

  “I see.” But Vishal sensed Ravinder’s uncertainty. “You said seven. Who else?” Ravinder finally asked.

  “Four more.” Archana replied. “Here.” She wordlessly pointed at Philip, Vishal, Saina, and then herself. “Logically it had to be one of these seven … who not only had all the intel inputs from MI6, but also knew Goel had been given charge of the STF.”

  The room was still now. Cold and silent. Like the eye of a hurricane.

  “If anyone betrayed Goel, it had to be one of these seven,” Archana repeated.

  The temperature in the room dropped even lower.

  Vishal shivered as cold tendrils of fear slowly made their way up his spine.

  TWELVE

  Ravinder could feel every eye in the room on him. Knowing his leadership was now being tested, he felt the pressure. And the anxiety that every commander leading a new team faces; still unsure of their capability and reliability, and yet having to be mindful of the team’s need to be trusted. Adding to the pressure was his awareness of the rapidly ticking clock; there was much to be done and too little time to do it in. Also, Ravinder could not ignore the fact that his relationship with Kurup was still fragile.

  Kurup will freak out if I point fingers at his senior officers without hard evidence.

  The worry that Archana may have missed something assailed him. Also that she could be right about one of the STF officers being the mole. Or both. Ravinder was not sure which he dreaded more.

  He drew a long, deep breath, forcing himself to stand down; aware pressure and worry would help no one … except the mole and Leon, of course.

  But I have to find the rat. Otherwise we are screwed before we get started. Also, that is possibly the fastest way to get to Leon.

  “I hope you are sure, Archana,” Vishal spoke up. “The director is going to come down on us like a ton of bricks if there is any mistake.”

  Hearing Vishal state his fear out loud made it even more real for Ravinder.

  “That’s true.” Ravinder gave Archana an elevated eyebrow.

  “I am sure.” She repeated, but now sounded a little uncertain.

  “Philip…”—unwilling to take a chance, Ravinder made up his mind—“may I request that you help Archana double-check?”

  It was the right call. Even Archana appeared relieved. “That would be best.”

  “Excellent.” Ravinder was glad Philip concurred.

  His mobile chirruped: an incoming text. Jasmine telling him she would be at his office in five or six minutes. Ravinder noted it was almost seven.

  “Why don’t you guys do that and we can decide on next steps first thing tomorrow.”

  That got a series of relieved nods.

  “It’s running late, let’s wrap up for the day.”

  The nods were more vehement now; everyone was looking tired.

  Ravinder also noticed that Vishal and Saina both looked troubled. Saina, head down, eyes trapped by intertwined fingers, seemed lost somewhere deep in her head. Vishal, brow knitted in fierce concentration, was sitting on the edge of his seat, looking ready to bolt.

  However, because Ravinder was now tired and also eager not to make Jasmine wait, neither of them fully registered on him. Wrapped in thought, gathering up his laptop and mobile, Ravinder headed for the door.

  The day had not gone so badly after all.

  But one more day is gone and we’re no closer to finding Leon.

  And the grim reminder that one of his team could be working for the other side was disconcerting. Unwilling to allow anything to dampen his excitement, Ravinder reminded himself that he had known it was never going to be easy. At least he had laid the foundation properly; hopefully they would get a break tomorrow.

  As for the mole in the task force, let me worry about that later, if the NIA guys are in the clear.

  That consolation lasted only till he reached the gate.

  What if there is a mole at both ends, the NIA and the STF?

  That shook him. He was pondering over it when Jasmine’s car, a silver Maruti SX4, pulled up beside him. Powering down the rear window, Jasmine grinned up at him. As always, he felt a tug in his heart and a loving smile creased his face. Instantly he felt his accumulated tension and worry recede, a bit, at least for the moment.

  “Hello, Princess. Good to see you.”

  “Hey, Dad. You look tired.” She displayed a set of perfect, even teeth. “Come on in.”

  Handing over the keys of his BMW to Jagjit Singh, the driver, Ravinder got into the front passenger seat. Jasmine took the wheel and they drove away.

  THIRTEEN

  Vishal was now in a mad rush. He was aching to talk to Leon and find a way out of this predicament.

  Verma is a wimp. He wouldn’t last long if … when they got to him.

  Vishal knew it was only a matter of time before the net closed in on Verma.

  And then me.

  He forced himself to hold on till he saw Ravinder’s driver maneuver the BMW out of the gate. A quick look into the office showed him that Philip and Chance were clustered around Archana, one on either side of her, engrossed in whatever she was sharing. Saina was at her desk; she seemed tense and lost in thought.

  Deciding he wouldn’t be missed, Vishal headed for his car, keen to call Leon. He was aching to warn him and discuss how best to deal with Verma.

  FOURTEEN

  Jasmine sensed her father’s tiredness. Also, his face looked too red. “Your blood pressure okay?” she asked worriedly.

  “Just tired.” Ravinder sank back into the seat. “It has been a long day.”

  Jasmine’s mobile rang. “Yes, Mom.” She clicked on the Bluetooth headset. “Dad is with me. Yes. We should be home in an hour. I need to stop at Jorbagh to pick up my dress from the tailor.… Of course I can do that. Please text me the list.” She ended the call quickly, knowing Ravinder hated it when anyone used the mobile while driving. “Mom wants me to pick up some cold cuts,” she explained.

  Ravinder, relishing the opportunity to rest, had closed his eyes. He nodded. Then nodded off. A couple of times Jasmine heard him mutter. Then he moaned as though in tremendous pain. She realized he was again in the throes of the same nightmare that had been plaguing him since Ruby’s death.

  By the time Jasmine pulled into the parking lot of Jorbagh Market he was moaning loudly, again and again.

  “Ruby. Don’t do it. There need not be any more killing.” Jasmine heard him plead. She felt tears prick at her eyes; she knew how much pain he had been in since he had had to shoot her half sister.

  Wanting to relieve him from the nightmare, she shook him awake. Ravinder woke up with a start, looking befuddled and tearful.

  Pretending she had not noticed anything amiss, Jasmine said brightly, “Come with me, Dad.” For a moment she thought he would refuse, but then he silently followed her out.

  Ravinder was still logy as he accompanied her to the tailor and then toward The Meat Locker a few shops farther down. They were almost there when the gunshot-like sound rang out; a passing motorcycle engine had backfired.

  It shocked Ravinder. Electrified, he spun around, his hand racing for the shoulder holster that should have been there but was not.

  “Dad,” she began, and then broke off, horrified.

  Ravinder stood frozen, staring at his hand. It was clawed, as though holding a pistol. He looked shell-shocked. Stricken.

  “Dad. Please.”

  But Ravinder was lost to her. His gaze riveted on his right hand. “I shot her with this hand.” A strident whisper.

  His expression was so dark and pain-ridden that Jasmine was terrified he would do himself harm. “Dad, don’t do this to yourself.” She shook him. “Please!”

  Ravinder looked at her then, but still befuddled. He seemed to be in tremendous pain. “I will never
carry a gun again.” He shook his head slowly, tentatively, like a prizefighter regaining his feet after being knocked down. “Never.”

  “That’s fine.” Jasmine realized she needed to be firm. “Don’t carry a gun if you don’t want to. But snap out of this. You did what you had to.”

  “That’s what your mother says, too,” Ravinder said hollowly.

  “And she’s right.” Needing to break his melancholy mood, Jasmine tugged at his arm. “Come. Help me, Dad. Let us get the meat and go home. Mom is waiting for dinner.”

  He followed her into the shop.

  “I will never carry a gun again.” She heard him mutter as they entered The Meat Locker. And she noticed his right hand was still clawed.

  Worry filled her. Jasmine knew she could not allow anything to happen to her father; it was impossible to contemplate life without him.

  Ravinder’s mobile began to ring. Jasmine saw him reach for it eagerly; he seemed desperate for any distraction.

  “Yes, Archana. What?” Jasmine saw his face turn white. Then crumple. He looked thunderstruck as he tiredly put the mobile away.

  “What happened, Dad?” Jasmine was now deeply worried.

  “Goel’s wife tried to commit suicide,” he whispered brokenly, barely audible.

  “Oh!” Jasmine was shocked. “Who is Goel? Someone at your office?”

  “The Special Task Force commander I replaced.” She saw the desolate look on his face. “They found his body yesterday … he’d been tortured and murdered.”

  Jasmine was speechless. And now petrified, suddenly realizing how dangerous this assignment could be.

  Perhaps Mom had been right to get upset at him for taking on this assignment.

  Reluctant to take that road, she asked, “Do I need to take you back to your office … or the hospital?”

  “No.” Ravinder looked befuddled. “Archana said she’s okay now. And the doctors have sedated her and placed her on suicide watch. No visitors for now.” He didn’t feel like telling her what Archana had really said: neither Goel’s wife nor their sixteen-year-old daughter wanted to even see a cop, especially not one from the Special Task Force.