The Endgame

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  ‘Al Barq?’ Mirza asked.

  ‘Who is this Al Barq?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Hold that thought,’ Solo said. ‘Let’s talk about something else that has been bothering me. For two months after he got to Mumbra, Ayyub was completely at ease. He didn’t seem to suspect anything even as you set up your surveillance at the building. What happened then? How did he suddenly kidnap Rehmat an hour before the NSG team got there?’

  ‘What’re you getting at, Ben?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Think about it. He seems to have been ahead of everyone. Even Vikrant was saying that Ayyub seemed to know about the BSF officer’s visit the day he announced it to a select few people. At least the way the four Sheikhs acted seems to point to this. Where did that intel come from?’ Solo asked.

  ‘I’ve been quietly checking on call records of a lot of highly placed people in the intelligence community,’ Mirza said. ‘A very small team, reporting directly to me. We haven’t found anything so far.’

  ‘What, you think Al Barq is one of our own?’ Vikrant asked. ‘Someone in the intelligence community?’

  ‘No,’ Solo said. ‘The intel about Mr Kumar’s visit must have come from someone within your government, but the rest of it was Al Barq. I’ve spent hours getting in touch with the people I know over the world and they all tell me the same thing. Al Barq is an Indian national who turned to jihad years ago and has been waiting for the right opportunity. The ultimate one-man sleeper cell, patient to the point of being scary. And this is something they’ve only estimated, based on the chatter they’ve been picking up.’

  ‘Okay, but who is it?’ Vikrant asked.

  Solo stood up.

  ‘A little help?’ he said to Daniel. Both men walked to the next room and came back two minutes later with a bound and gagged Safdar Ghazi between them.

  ‘Tell me how you got him, again?’ Vikrant said. He was starting to get impressed by the Israeli.

  ‘He came back to get Mankame’s bike. I was waiting. Put him in the trunk of his own car and sped out of there,’ Solo replied as Daniel pulled the gag out of Ghazi’s mouth.

  ‘How did you know he’d come back for the bike?’ Jaiswal asked curiously.

  Solo shrugged.

  ‘It’s what I’d do,’ he said before turning to Ghazi.

  ‘Al Barq was with you in the building, right?’ Solo asked him, leaning against the table.

  Ghazi said nothing.

  ‘Who is Al Barq?’ Solo asked.

  Ghazi just looked towards the floor.

  Without saying anything else, Solo stepped forward, a pen knife appearing in his hands as if by magic. He walked over behind Ghazi’s chair, where his hands were cuffed together, grabbed his right hand and shoved the tip of the knife under the nail of his index finger.

  Ghazi opened his mouth to scream but Daniel stepped up and clamped a vicious grip around his mouth. With his other hand, Daniel held Ghazi’s shoulder hard as the man struggled in pain.

  No one in the room felt a single iota of sympathy for Ghazi. Solo removed the knife and slid it under another fingernail. Tears were streaming down Ghazi’s eyes. Daniel continued to hold his mouth shut.

  Ghazi started moaning softly, Daniel’s hand muffling the sound. He groaned once, then again and again.

  ‘I think he’s saying something,’ Mazhar said. He had seen enough torture while he was undercover with the Indian Mujahideen.

  Daniel leaned forward.

  ‘I’m going to take my hand off. If you shout, I’ll snap your neck. Okay?’ he said in a low, menacing voice.

  Ghazi managed to nod. Daniel took his hand off and Ghazi took two deep, wheezing breaths.

  ‘It’s the girl,’ he croaked. ‘It’s that bloody girl.’

  29

  Mankame’s head was hurting.

  He kept his eyes closed, trying to get a sense of where he was first. Realization started coming slowly.

  The first thing he understood was that he was sitting on a chair. Next, that his hands were bound behind his back. Tied, not handcuffed. It seemed to be rope, and a pretty strong one at that. He tried moving his legs and found that they were tied at the ankles as well. It seemed to be the same kind of rope.

  He slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light. It was well lit, with a tube light blazing on one wall. There was a fan set at a high speed. The air was cool. There was one window with sliding glass, which was drawn shut. The room had a single door which was directly in front of him. It was open and he could see movement beyond it.

  He closed his eyes again. The pain in his head was killing him. He was pretty sure he had hit it somewhere when the floor collapsed from under him.

  But most of all, it was the face he had seen looking down at him in the vehicle, before he passed out again, that made his head hurt all the more.

  There was a sound and he opened his eyes. He could see the figure standing in front of him but could not believe what he was seeing. Rather, he didn’t want to.

  Rehmat smiled at him as she came forward and sat down on the floor. She had a mug full of water in one hand and a cloth in another.

  ‘You poor man,’ she said as she dipped the cloth in the mug and dabbed it on the side of his head. He winced, realizing that that was where he had hurt himself. The water was warm.

  ‘Stay still,’ she said gently. ‘Stay still.’

  She continued to dab the soaked cloth to his wound several times before setting the mug and the cloth aside. She went out again and came back, this time holding a bottle of antiseptic lotion in one hand and a set of bandages in the other.

  Quickly, expertly, she cleaned the wound, telling him to stay still every time he winced, and stuck the bandage over it. Then she set all the items in one corner of the room and came back to sit in front of him, a smile on her face.

  ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ she said.

  Mankame couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘They … they turned you too?’ he asked, sounding broken.

  Rehmat threw her head back and laughed.

  ‘Turned me?’ she said, catching her breath. ‘Turned me? Oh, you poor man!’

  She stood up and started pacing about.

  ‘They didn’t turn me,’ she said, clearly enjoying herself. ‘I turned them!’

  ‘Who?’ Mankame asked.

  ‘All of them! Those four poor bastards who laid down their lives in Bandra. So many others like them. Do you know that there are eleven young men in Syria right now who went there two years ago with my help? I arranged everything! Finances, contacts, training videos! And I did it sitting right here in Mumbra. All I needed was a laptop. Do you have any idea how easy it has become?’

  ‘Why?’ Mankame said heavily. ‘Why, Rehmat? Why you?’

  ‘Why not me?’ Her voice was like a whiplash. ‘For years, you people have heaped atrocity after atrocity on us. Raids in our houses in the middle of the night. Our young men picked up and detained illegally for days. Did you know that my own father was tortured in the police lock-up for days on end? Not once, not twice, but four times. After every blast that happened somewhere in the country.’

  ‘Rehmat, come on!’ Mankame pleaded. ‘That’s exactly the kind of thinking I’ve tried hard to save you from.’

  ‘Save me? How? With your bloody sermons? You think you were doing me some favour by funding my rehabilitation centre? All you did was provide me the perfect cover, you idiot!’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Mankame shouted, ignoring the pain in his head.

  ‘Is she?’ an amused male voice asked from the door.

  Rehmat turned and Mankame looked up to see Ayyub standing at the door, leaning casually against the doorframe. He had shaved his beard and his hair was styled in a different way. He was smiling.

  ‘How do you think I did it, Mr Ma
nkame?’ he asked. ‘The house in Mumbra, the so-called kidnapping before you arrived? How do you think I’ve been executing my mission with such ease?’

  Mankame said nothing. Ayyub came forward and slid his arms around Rehmat’s waist from behind. She snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes. Mankame thought he was going to vomit.

  ‘It was her,’ Ayyub said tenderly. ‘It was all her. She took care of everything, manipulated you people so well. You had no idea, did you?’

  ‘I’m going to kill you, you bastard,’ Mankame snarled.

  ‘Stop.’ Ayyub chuckled. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself.’

  Rehmat turned around in his embrace and caressed his face, looking into his eyes.

  ‘You’ve been magnificent so far, Al Muqadam,’ she said softly.

  ‘So have you, Al Barq,’ he said.

  ‘We’re ready for the next part of our plan?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yes. I just received word. The targets have arrived. You need to get ready.’

  Rehmat stood on her toes and kissed Ayyub on the lips.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said. Then she picked up a bag near the bathroom door and went inside.

  Smiling to himself, Ayyub turned to Mankame.

  ‘You people really think you’re going to win, aren’t you? With your international alliances and your satellites and bugs and guns and tanks? You keep trying to win battles, but we’re winning the war. And you know how? By winning the hearts of our people. By turning them to our side one by one, the way Rehmat and I have done. The way hundreds like us are doing across the world, sitting in the comfort of our homes. You think technology was a boon for you guys? You have no idea what it has done for us.’

  Rehmat stepped out of the bathroom. She was dressed in a trendy jeans and T-shirt and was wearing make-up. A pair of slim glasses rested on her nose.

  ‘I’m off,’ she said.

  ‘Call me,’ he replied.

  She nodded.

  ‘Allahu Akbar,’ they both said. He watched her as she left and Mankame heard a door open and close.

  Ayyub turned back to Mankame.

  ‘What happens next,’ he said to the cop, his face changing, ‘is something I’ve been waiting for the last three years. Finally, I will have my revenge, and I will savour it like I’ve savoured nothing else in my life.’

  ‘Your revenge?’ Mankame asked. ‘For what?’

  Ayyub’s hand shot out and clutched a handful of Mankame’s hair.

  ‘For my brother, you motherfucker,’ he snarled. ‘For my Mazhar. Whom you fuckers killed at Lakshadweep.’

  ‘Mazhar? Mazhar Khan?’ Mankame said through clenched teeth, his face twisted in pain.

  ‘Oh, you remember him? You were part of that operation, weren’t you?’

  ‘You’re Ayyub?’ Mankame said.

  ‘Ayyub Khan is dead,’ Ayyub said savagely. ‘My name is Al Muqadam.’

  ‘Ay … Ayyub…’ Mankame said as Ayyub let go of his hair with a jerk. ‘Mazhar is alive!’

  30

  ‘Sierra One, ready,’ Vikrant said into his mic, making himself comfortable on the park bench.

  ‘Sierra Two, ready,’ Shaina responded, nestled comfortably in her perch on the terrace of the high-rise, looking down the powerful scope of her sniper rifle.

  ‘Sierra Three, ready,’ Ben Solo said from the driver’s seat of his car, screwing the silencer onto his pistol.

  ‘Sierra Four, in position,’ Jaiswal said from his car as Goyal and Kadam sat tensely in their seats.

  ‘Sierra Five, standing by,’ Daniel said from his table at the restaurant.

  ‘Sierra Six, ready,’ Mirza said. No one had any idea where he was.

  The action had begun an hour earlier, when Vikrant had got a call on his cell phone while they were all at the safe house.

  ‘Is this Vikrant Singh?’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘My name is Ayyub Khan. And if you’re Vikrant Singh, you know who that is.’

  Vikrant slammed his palm on the table and the others, who had been arguing over their next move, fell silent. Vikrant held one finger up and everyone waited.

  ‘Where are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Fuck where I am,’ Ayyub snapped. ‘I’m told my brother is alive. You have one chance and two hours to prove that to me.’

  Vikrant stood up and went over to where Mazhar was sitting.

  ‘Ayyub, listen to me,’ he said and Mazhar stood up. ‘Mazhar is very much alive and I can bring him to see you right now. Just tell me where you are.’

  ‘I’m not telling you that! I don’t even know if you’re telling me the truth!’

  ‘The scar, Ayyub! There’s a scar that goes down his neck. That’s how you’d said you’d recognize him, just as he recognized you from the broken bridge of your nose.’

  Mazhar lunged for the phone but Vikrant drew away. Daniel stepped in between them.

  ‘Just wait,’ Daniel said, gently yet firmly.

  ‘Is he … is he really…?’ Ayyub sounded like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

  ‘I can bring him to you, Ayyub. Come on! This is me! I used to help you with your studies at one point. Just tell me where you are.’

  ‘No, I can’t do that.’

  ‘Then come to meet me. Somewhere you can get to within an hour.’

  There was a long pause. Vikrant could feel his heart beating.

  ‘BKC,’ Ayyub said finally. ‘I can be at BKC in an hour.’

  ‘There’s an exhibition ground in BKC. A big one near the Asian Heart Institute. Right there on the main road. We’ll meet you there. Okay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wait!’ Vikrant said. ‘Where’s DCP Mankame?’

  ‘He’s alive,’ was all Ayyub said before he cut the call.

  Everyone got to work. Mirza called Shaina and told her where he needed her. Daniel and Solo took Ghazi to the toilet.

  ‘It’ll be a long time before you get to use it again,’ they told him. Within minutes, he had relieved himself and was bound and gagged securely in the inner room. Vikrant called a RAW team and told them to send someone to guard Ghazi.

  At the sixth minute after Ayyub’s call, everyone was in their vehicles and speeding towards BKC.

  They arrived within half an hour, as Mahim was not too far away. Only Shaina was a little late, since she had had to come from the NSG hub in Jogeshwari. Quickly, she entered the building that she had already identified, spoke to the person in charge and made her way to the terrace.

  Ben Solo had called Joseph Samuel en route and apprised him of the situation. Samuel, who was back in India, was on his way but it was decided that he would stay on the sidelines instead of arriving bang in the middle of the operation.

  Vikrant checked his wristwatch, the same one that had a concealed mic in it. It was almost time. He was about to turn around to see if he could spot Ayyub when Ayyub slid in beside him on the bench.

  Both men took a long look at each other. Despite being on opposing sides now, they had shared history together that neither of them had been able to forget.

  Then the moment passed. Ayyub’s face changed and he looked away. ‘Where is he?’ he asked.

  Vikrant turned around and nodded. From the crowds milling about in the ground, Mazhar, who had been watching like a hawk, broke away and started walking towards them. It took him only seconds to get there. Ayyub stood up when he saw him.

  Time seemed to slow down for the two brothers as the years fell away. Suddenly, they were two young boys who had vowed to look out for each other in this cruel, savage world.

  ‘You shaved,’ Ayyub said finally.

  ‘So did you, you rascal,’ Mazhar said.

  They lunged forward and hugged tightly, both fighting to not break down. They held on for a long moment.

  On the bench, Vikrant waited for Mirza’s v
oice through his earpiece to say something about breaking up the reunion and focusing on the mission. Mirza said nothing.

  Finally, Ayyub broke the embrace himself.

  ‘What … what happened?’ he asked.

  Mazhar just pointed to Vikrant.

  ‘He happened. He saved me. He can save you too. Just work with us, my brother. Please, just work with us.’

  Ayyub stepped back. Vikrant stood up and came over.

  ‘Come on, man. Your brother is here. I am here. We’ll do this together. Just like earlier.’

  ‘It might be too late,’ Ayyub said, looking away.

  ‘Okay, let’s start with Mankame,’ Vikrant suggested. ‘Where is he?’

  Ayyub took a deep breath. ‘Bainganwadi. Kurla. He’s alone.’ He gave them the exact address.

  Vikrant spoke into his mic.

  ‘You guys got that?’ he asked.

  ‘Moving out as we speak,’ Goyal’s reply came as Kadam turned on the siren and sent their vehicle screaming into the traffic, much to the fury of the other motorists. Jaiswal, sitting next to him, checked his weapon to make sure it was loaded and then set about calling for an ambulance to the location, just in case.

  Vikrant touched a small button on his wristwatch.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he whispered to Ayyub urgently. ‘I already have a plan in place to take you both out of here. A separate team reporting only to me is waiting to extract you at a second’s notice. Everything’s taken care of. Just tell me what Rehmat is going to do.’

  Ayyub hesitated, then nodded. Vikrant switched his mic on.

  ‘Sorry, mic glitched,’ he said into it before turning back to Ayyub, who was looking across the street at the Trident Hotel.

  ‘There’s a team from the DRDO staying there,’ he said. ‘They’re going to leave for the airport in fifteen minutes. Rehmat has a team standing by to hit them just before they reach the Western Express Highway.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Vikrant said. ‘Some of our best scientists. You guys got that?’

  ‘I’m moving out. I’ll contact the base right now,’ Shaina said.

  ‘Everybody to the spot, now!’ Vikrant snapped into his mic before turning to Ayyub and Mazhar.