by M J Anand
Arup wondered where she would go and how far. ‘What is she trying to do?’
Amjad realized Sasha wasn’t far from the Bangladesh border. ‘Sonia, how far is the Bangladesh border?’
‘Eighty kilometers.’
‘In that chopper, its barely fifteen minutes, and once it lifts off, we won’t be able to track it easily.’
Arup had his answer. They needed everything now. He called the Indian Air Force Chief.
Meanwhile, Sasha pulled off Abhimanyu’s backpack and removed the transistor that connected the pad to the satellites. She snatched his wrist pad too. The embedded communication protocols and encryptions the Indians used were now available to her. It wouldn’t help her reactivate the bomb, but in the right hands, the analysis could help them unlock a lot of gateways. Sasha got into the co-pilot’s seat. Someone else was with her too, but Abhishek couldn’t get a view. The cockpit lights went on, and the camera in the rifle’s scope immediately identified them—Rasheesh Kamble, another former Indian intelligence operative.
Amjad knew the helicopter very well, as he had flown it. ‘Hit the rotors as soon as they are of the ground.’ Once airborne, the pilots would be focused on keeping the rotors aligned. It would give Abhishek just enough time to take a few clear shots, especially from the back, given the pilots were blindsided. Hitting the rotor engine would be very difficult, as the MI-35M accelerated quickly, and on the ground, Sasha and Rasheesh had the numerical advantage over Abhishek. Take off was the best moment for Abhishek strike.
Abhishek scanned the nearby forests with his night visions but found no movement. However, he noticed someone hiding behind the trees left to his spot. He slowly approached with his Glock at the high ready. Whoever it was, he was very calm, for he didn’t react even when Abhishek had reached the other side of the tree. With a side swing, Abhishek turned straight in front him, pistol on his temple. It was Siddhartha. He was dead and so were three others next to him.
The third army commando, Maheshwar, was amongst them. The other two were perhaps terrorists. Sasha and Rasheesh had hidden their bodies to avoid any suspicion. He checked Siddhartha pulse; he was still alive but barely. Abhishek took his body to the side and gave him a few injections of IV, for his body would need to survive till help arrived. He heard the rotors.
‘Abhishek, shoot,’ Amjad said.
With the choppers lights on, the drone could spot it, and the command center had a clear view on the screen. The chopper was taking off. Abhishek ran to the rock and took position, but it was perhaps too late. The chopper had gained speed. Abhishek’s bullets missed the rotor and only managed to hit the metal chassis but to no avail.
‘Someone is still alive and hiding in the forest.’ Sasha smiled.
‘We should take him out then.’ Rasheesh turned around the chopper.
Abhishek saw it and ran for cover, for he would be no match for MI-35M’s guns.
‘No, I think we should just go,’ Sasha said.
Rasheesh was halfway through the turn but abandoned the idea at Sasha’s behest. He turned it back, but it was too late. Sasha saw bright lights approaching in the horizon—the Indian reinforcements. Rasheesh took the helicopter straight up with great thrust and quickly gained height over the reinforcements. It would be an easy escape from here, he thought, unaware that a Mirage 2000 already diving down and had him on its lock screen. The Mirage hit them with its 30mm cannon gun, and the tail rotor immediately went out of control. The rogue helicopter crashed downward. Thankfully, the fuel tanks were still intact.
Abhishek ran toward the wreckage and pulled out Sasha and Rasheesh. They were unconscious but alive.
The Indian helicopters had them encircled. One by one, they landed around the crash site, and the commando force of the Indian Air Force—the Garuds—secured the perimeter.
Sasha had gained partial consciousness and knew she was hit. She could barely see anything in the dark sky.
Abhishek gave Sasha and Rashesh an anesthesia, and the Garuds loaded them into their helicopters.
Meanwhile, another set of helicopters rushed Abhimanyu, Siddhartha, and Abhishek to the military Hospital.
Chapter 21 - The Hand
Bagyidaw’s Bungalow, January 23
Four Hours Ago
It was late at night, and the nocturnal animals of the jungle were busy with their hunting tasks. The prey looked for a place far from the hunters, but no place was far enough to hide from the shadow of night. The hunters were tasked with finding chinks in their safety armor. They did it by exploring all the likely locations one by one. The deadliest hunters, however, were the ones who used camouflaged. They had hidden themselves not today but a day earlier, or sometimes even before that. The deadly Indian python was one such predator. It hid for hours and sometimes even days in such corners and waited for its prey to come to him. Not surprisingly, the python managed to kill animals much larger than itself. It struck at the most unexpected time in the safest of corners. The strike was lethal enough to choke even the strongest of cats.
In nature’s balancing act, if the python got its mark wrong, these very cats could still tear it apart. But it seldom got it wrong, because the python had mastered the art of exploiting the vulnerable moments. It quietly curled around the neck and the upper spinal cord of the big cats when they were asleep. It tightened the noose very slowly, and by the time the cats realized it, it was too late. The more they tried, the heavier they breathed and the more they got asphyxiated. If they tried to use their weight and move, the python’s hold would transfer all the force on the spine. The python itself had no bones and could squeeze endlessly till its prey’s spine would break and give way. The cat’s strengths had made it fallible now. The night had turned the hunter into a prey, thanks to the wild card—Python.
Her wait was finally over today. The device Sasha had hidden in the teak house was finally beeping. Like a python, she had stayed hidden for a long time—over a decade. Scanning the jungle, she reveled in the quietness of night. The days of being hunted for the mole that she was would end today. She had patiently waited for it, and now she had to deliver the final blow that would break the enemy’s back. Sasha took her silencer—a Sig Saur SRD9, the latest one available—and fit it into the Glock 19 she had commandeered from the safehouse’s ammunition stockpile. She returned to the safehouse.
At the back gate, two MARCOS were stationed, for that was the most vulnerable point from the jungle side.
She had her right hand in the jacket, like always.
They smiled back at her unsuspectedly.
Sasha moved her hands with the pistol in a flash, and even though the MARCOS trusted her, that wasn’t a friendly move.
Something was wrong, but a second was lost. They started to raise their guns, but Sasha shot—on point through their eyes—and the long night had started. Sasha had gone rogue.
Sasha hid both bodies, for she needed some more time to summon her comrades. Then she took the lift to the basement and walked to the communication room. She knew the ins and out of the communication room by now. Sasha had tested the lift and rehearsed the sequence many times earlier just for this day. She checked her watch. Thapa would be busy clearing the dinner utensils while the commandos would be in the gear room, changing shifts. She entered the vacant room and wasted no time in resetting the transmitters to send encrypted signals—a signal to her comrades lurking in the vicinity to join her. Sasha had been using the communication room, one of the best Indians had, all this while to coordinate for the Cortex attack. It never surfaced, because it was never tracked. She was hiding in their safe corner and using their own strengths against them.
She sent radio messages at preset low frequencies and waited. After fifteen minutes, she saw movement near the entrance road. They had arrived. Since Abhimanyu had left, the security had been heightened. It was to be tested tonight. Sasha locked the communication room, went straight to the stairs leading to the lobby and waited for the first shot. She heard two shots. An
d then a flurry of shots. A gunfight had broken out. They had to kill everyone before anyone or any word escaped the bungalow. All possible communication lines had already been cut. Sasha went to the kitchen to find Thapa as her men spread out in the bungalow. But Thapa had left. Two other commandos lay dead in kitchen. Thapa had killed one of her men. Thapa could have only gone to one place: the communication room. Sasha ran back through the hallway.
Still struggling to comprehend how they could have entered so secretively, Thapa scrapped his way toward the communication room. He knew the only way out was to call for reinforcements and hide in here under a complete lockdown till help arrived. The communication room had a steel room underneath and only Thapa knew of it. He just had to find Sasha and hide in it. Thapa reached the communication room. He couldn’t understand why it was locked. It was an electronic lock they used, and any attempt to unlock it by force or bullets would only interlock it. It also meant Sasha was not here, and he’ll have to find her after calling for reinforcements. This was Thapa’s home, and he knew another way to get into the communications room. Thapa went around the back, climbed a tree and jumped through a very narrow ventilation into a duct that led straight to the room.
Sasha scouted for Thapa in the house. While she didn’t find him there, she heard the noise of a thud—something falling inside the communication room. She returned to it, opened it and saw Thapa about to enter some codes.
Thapa turned around, saw her with a gun and was relieved to see her alive. He smiled. The last expression on Thapa’s face was as much of shock as was of hope. Even in his last moments, Thapa couldn’t comprehended Sasha’s true identity.
Sasha’s team had completely seized the house.
It had been a call from Al Malik himself that prompted Sasha to intervene. Indians had proved to be more than handy, and Aaleyah was activated to service. Sasha kneeled in the communications room and recollected all the vows she had taken. Salvation day had arrived. After more than ten years, she could finally shed her fake identity and embrace her true self.
For her comrades, she was Aaleyah and not just Sasha. Coronated by Al Malik with the title, Aaleyah was akin to a holy figure. They worshipped her; they would die for her. She was the protector of the believers and murderer of the infidels. She served only the realm. Though that was only true in parts, for three men could command her and one had given her an assignment today. Aaleyah finished her prayers and rose. She met everyone in the lobby.
They kneeled.
She signaled them to stand with both hands. ‘All clear?’
‘Yes,’ they responded.
‘Rasheesh, are the wheels in place?’
‘Yes.’
‘It has been taken from the tank and is now on its way to Guwahati. We’ll cross it in about fifteen minutes. We can then join the convoy.’
Like Rupesh, Rasheesh was another renegade Indian soldier—the one who had sold his country for the money, another Indian spy who had defected after a handsome payment from Bilal. ‘We need to activate it and attach a timer. Once the timer is on, no one can prevent it.’
‘Don’t forget, the Indians had Khalid and even the hard disk.’
Rasheesh realized she was abreast with the latest situation. ‘We’ve taken care of it. It has been deleted.’
‘Wow, how did you manage that?’
‘We have friends inside. They don’t know what’s coming their way, and they were easy to convince for a small fortune.’ Rasheesh smirked.
‘We still need a hideout.’
‘You’re right, and I’ve arranged for the perfect hideout to activate it.’
Aaleyah was tracking. ‘Then let’s go. Let the Indians figure out what happened here. I’m sure that will take them a good amount of time before they shift gears.’
Chapter 22 - The Last Laugh
Guwahati Command Center
A large part of the room was jubilant. They had stopped a catastrophe—a global war. It was earned through extreme sacrifice and was well deserved. The celebrations were unlike of men in uniform. It was a mission like no other that he had seen in his career. Arup realized they needed it to release all the tension that had built up in the last few days. The celebrations were in time for the first rays of the morning sun to welcome them to a bright dawn. For once, Arup let his guard down, though he knew a lot of closets would be shaken up to the core now.
Amjad stood in a corner and served himself a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue, top of the line. It was Akram’s favorite drink, and Amjad had hoped to share it with him at the end of the mission. Fate had other plans. Amjad decided to raise the first toast of the mission’s success to Akram.
The country had staved off a nuclear threat, but the forces were only beginning to count their share of losses. The revelations made in the last few days would reverberate for a long time in the halls of Delhi. The veteran administrator in him knew another storm was coming. The far-reaching implications of a mole that had been in the system for ten years couldn’t be quantified. The mole had walked amongst them, had married the best of them, and had become family. Perhaps she had crossed sides, or perhaps she had been an agent since the very beginning. No one knew these details, but these questions needed an answer. Hopefully, they would soon find out. They had her in custody now.
‘Sure it is her?’ Sonia joined him.
Amjad nodded. ‘The face scanner is not human, thankfully. Besides, that was the only face I could see clearly even through that darkness.’
‘And she stabbed Abhimanyu, of all people,’ Sonia said slowly, almost to herself.
‘She has been stabbing Abhimanyu and the rest of us ever since she joined the forces. The one we saw on screen was only one instance.’
The celebratory cheering had moved farther away, and the sun was shining brighter now. The silence amplified the noise of treachery, occasionally interrupted by winds moving down the Himalayas. The rays betrayed their purpose. It was not a new dawn but just another day.
‘I have a feeling this has not stopped yet.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sonia asked, surprised.
Amjad poured himself another glass of the fine scotch whisky and looked at her. ‘She tried to flee with the black tab even after the nuke was disabled.’
‘Escape attempt?’
‘Why go for the black tab then? Why not just fly off?’
Amjad’s logic was frightening for a moment, but Sonia decided to give it a break. Maybe it was just the whisky talking. After all, they just had a hell of a few weeks. The paranoid spy in him needed some rest, for there were more pressing issues now. ‘I’m more worried about Abhimanyu. His wounds are deep and many. A stab and two shots.’
Amjad nodded. ‘I think we’ll be lucky if he survives that kind of blow.’ And added with some hope, ‘But he’s a fighter.’
‘Mentally?’
Amjad glanced at her and shied away from an answer. In that fleeting look, he was desperate for Sonia to be right. Abhimanyu would need more emotional support even if his body survived miraculously.
‘He has been one of the toughest recruits, survived many scars. But this … this is a different ballgame.’ Even with Amjad’s experience, he had never seen anyone go through such odds.
A soldier approached him. ‘Sir, we have a call from Delhi.’
‘At this hour?’ It was six in the morning. The Babus never arrived so early to the office.
‘Sir, the prime minister’s on the line.’
‘Oh …’ Amjad wasn’t in the best frame of mind. He realized a call was due anyway. Amjad walked to a corner and inserted his earpiece.
‘Sir, are we clear to patch him up?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Amjad, the nation owes you a debt. You and your men have saved all of us once again.’
Amjad was moved by a personal call but not enraptured as one would have imagined. ‘Thank you, sir. We’ve suffered our share of losses this time.’
The prime minister sensed his sober mood.
‘I understand. How’s your team?’
‘Not well, actually. We had a few casualties. Akram is dead. Two more MARCOS are critical. And the guy I had selected, Abhimanyu, has been stabbed and shot.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘By his wife,’ Amjad added the minor detail.
‘Sorry, what do you mean?’
‘We’ve been breached, sir. She was one of us. We understand now that she was a sleeping agent. We’ve captured her but not before she had stabbed our mission lead who also happened to be her husband.’
After a long pause, the prime minister said, ‘Be that as it maybe, we have averted a global war. UN office had been put on a high alert. All of that can be put behind now. I’ll await a report from you on the details.’
‘Sure, sir. Sir, one more thing. Radha, the IB Deputy Director, was also a mole. Delhi Police will go public with it with a managed paper trail, but his tentacles had deep roots in Cortex.’
‘Hmm …’ A long silence came from the prime minister’s end. ‘This has gone too deep for our comfort. Perhaps it comes with the rising profile of our country. The important thing is we have it under control now. I’ll wait for your classified report.’
‘Sir.’
‘Amjad, this will shine on your file.’ The prime minister waited for him to acknowledge it, but he was treated with silence. ‘I’ll be recommending you for the post of NIA Director in the new setup.’
NIA was the new nodal intelligence agency instituted as a central body to run counterterrorism and counterespionage operations. It was a standard political reaction to every major attack in the country – a new nodal agency that would flip the existing hierarchies among the spy agencies. So, like every time, substantial personal lobbying was underway on the red carpets of Janpath. The post had just gone to someone who had been the farthest from all of it.
‘Sir.’ He acknowledged it without any hint of exultation and only with a dutybound sense of service. Amjad would now have direct access to foreign counterterrorism and counterespionage agencies, all known Indian assets across the globe and a much larger subset of classified information. He won’t have to call in others for favors; instead, the others would call him for it. In effect, he would be the second most important man in the Indian security apparatus, only next to the National Security Advisor, Amjad’s longtime friend. The only thing to despise was it would also put him at the center of interagency coordination and the politics that came along with it.
