It took Ray a few seconds to understand who ‘DB’ was. He cursed softly under his breath and ran to look for Sky. Before that, he locked the door of the room and slipped the key into his pocket.
Minutes later, Sky walked into the room and bent over the computer. He read the message thrice. ‘DB’ was undoubtedly Daniel Bradley.
‘Reply immediately, Ray.’
‘Are you sure, sir? I mean, I know it’s not a hoax. But this popping up now seems too coincidental. And in our profession, we don’t believe in coincidence.’
‘I almost feel relieved,’ Sky said. ‘I didn’t want to send the team into Chicago. We all know their prospects of coming out clean are bleak.’
‘How do you know Bradley isn’t in any place even more dangerous, then?’ Ray quipped.
‘I don’t,’ Sky said sardonically. ‘That’s why I want you to reply.’
Ray shrugged, leaned over the computer, and typed in his brief reply. He rolled a chair over and dropped himself into it. Sky turned around and looked at him inquisitively.
‘Where do you think Bradley actually is?’
‘I can’t say for sure, sir. I mean, we always knew he wasn’t in that jail,’ Ray’s voice trailed off. ‘But if I were to guess, I think he’d be somewhere in Cuba.’
‘Possibly,’ Sky said. ‘That, or he’s hiding deep in the US. Logistically though, it might be easier to take him down if he’s in Cuba.’
Sky had hardly completed his sentence when the screen of the computer started flashing with an audio call. Ray looked at Sky, who nodded. Ray accepted the call.
‘I take it you’re interested in the information we possess, Sky.’
Sky was slightly surprised that the voice on the other end knew who he was. ‘Since you know my name, it would be kind of you to tell me yours,’ Sky replied.
‘Your name is no secret. Besides, I call you as a friend. We have information that you will find useful.’
‘You haven’t told me your name yet,’ Sky said.
‘What’s in a name?’ the voice replied. ‘Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. We know where he is, thanks to one of the most infamous of whistleblowers.’
‘How certain are you of the intel?’
‘A hundred per cent. I will forward you a CIA document if you agree to my conditions.’
‘I thought we were friends,’ Sky replied.
‘And friends do each other favours.’
‘What do you want?’ Sky asked. ‘If it’s reasonable, we’ll comply.’
‘I want you to give refuge to the said whistleblower,’ came the reply. ‘Here’s a hint. He’s half-Australian.’
There was a long pause. Ray looked at Sky, his mouth open. Sky’s face didn’t betray his thoughts.
‘I’ll need time to decide,’ Sky said.
‘You have ten seconds,’ replied the caller.
‘These kinds of decisions call for time. You’re working for a government agency just like I am.’
‘Five,’ came the response.
Sky shook his head and Ray looked on, amazed. Sky remembered Waris’s conviction the first time he had proposed the idea. He remembered the memorials he had attended for the victims of 26/11. He was this close to finding out where one of the perpetrators lived. He imagined making life easier for the team that had set out to eliminate the terrorists. He imagined all of this in four seconds.
‘I cannot guarantee asylum to Aiden, I need clearance from the Ministry of Home Affairs,’ Sky said.
There was total silence at the other end. Sky and Ray both thought the line had gone dead.
Cheng was thinking. He knew that Aiden was keen on releasing the information. He couldn’t sit on it.
‘I need your word that you will respond soon on Aiden. You can hide him in India or wherever you like, anywhere in the world. But soon,’ he said, at last.
Sky said, ‘I can give you an assurance, not a promise.’ He could tell that Cheng was more keen on sharing the information than he was to acquire it.
‘He is in Uppland, Stockholm,’ Cheng said.
‘Thank you,’ Sky said. ‘We’ll keep our end of the bargain. Soon enough.’
Within seconds the screen flashed, indicating the delivery of a new mail, with an attachment. Ray opened the attachment and they both began reading it. Their eyes widened with disbelief. The classified document revealed a sordid tale of American double standards.
America had an understanding with Bradley that soon after sentencing, he would receive a new identity. He was far too valuable an intelligence asset to be simply given up to India, and needed to be safely relocated. Under a witness protection programme, he was to be moved to a place of his choice in Europe. However, he would be on his own. Bradley had chosen Stockholm. The document ran ten pages long, and had plenty of details of communication between various department heads. It also revealed that Bradley had already shifted to the secret location in April – within three months of the verdict.
Sky didn’t wait to read the rest of the document. He needed to call Waris and alert him before his team left to recce the Chicago State Penitentiary.
15
Stockholm
March was a good time to be in Stockholm, particularly around Lake Mälaren, where a gentle breeze skimmed its surface. The lake itself is the third largest in Sweden and is bound by the provinces of Uppland, Södermanland, Närke and Västmanland. According to Norse mythology, Lake Mälaren was created by the goddess Gefjon when she tricked Gylfi, the Swedish king of Gylfaginning. But the task at hand required a different sort of trickery – the more sinister sort.
The weather at this time of year was the kind that dragged Indian travellers out to Europe and the spot was perfect for a tourist. But, among the recent army of foreigners who had seemingly taken over Stockholm, at least four were not here to soak in the scenery of the visually stunning Scandinavian city. It was also no coincidence that all four were Indians and that they were all staying together in a little suite in an ordinary looking motel off Uppland. Most importantly, the motel—Hotel Fjord—was inconspicuous. Perfect for the team’s purpose.
‘So, if our intel is accurate, this is where Bradley should be located,’ Laila said, her immaculately manicured fingernail circling the map. She tapped a spot on it. ‘One of these little cottages in Uppland.’
‘I’m pretty certain our information is solid. All we need is to zoom in on the bastard,’ Vikrant said. ‘It’s time we nailed him for good.’
Brijesh remained silent, and then with a quick gesture, asked Laila to push the laptop towards him. He began typing, lost in his own thoughts, clearly planning four steps ahead. Kang walked into the room with a large pot of coffee and four styrofoam cups. He sat down next to Brijesh and looked momentarily startled when he saw the screen. Eventually, this gave way to a pursing of lips and a narrowing of eyes.
‘I hate to break this to you, Brijesh,’ said Vikrant, ‘but this is probably not the best time to be surfing for nude pictures.’
Brijesh ignored the wisecrack and quickly spun the laptop around so the rest could have a look at his grand plan. ‘This is what we need,’ he declared triumphantly. Laila stared incredulously at the screen. ‘Go on,’ said Vikrant warily, adding with a wry smile, ‘I’m not sure Laila is into women, though.’
‘Shut up, you pervert,’ Laila snapped. ‘What nonsense is this, Brijesh? We haven’t come to Stockholm for you to spend time with prostitutes.’
‘Why not? We can have some fun on the job!’ Kang grinned. ‘We deserve it, don’t we?’
‘That’s enough, guys,’ Brijesh said, sticking a pin in the conversation while it still remained in the realms of decency. ‘We will be visiting these bordells, but not for the services they offer.’
‘Bordells?’ Kang asked.
‘That’s what brothels are called here,’ Brijesh said. ‘It’s no secret that our friend Bradley is quite fond of the ladies.’
There was a slight pause, during which Brijesh filled his cup
with coffee. He took a sip and continued, ‘We need to go and describe him to the owners of the brothels. Maybe pay them off a bit. Also, maybe, just maybe, there is a chance that Bradley has some favourite ladies in there. And I won’t be surprised if they’re Moroccan.’
‘Why Moroccan?’ Kang asked.
‘Bradley has a special liking for Moroccan girls. Didn’t you glean that from the statement he gave the NIA?’ Vikrant chipped in. ‘Also, his fourth official wife, Ayesha O Talha, told the FBI that he loved Moroccan girls. Not to mention that TV interview where that Indian actor … What was his name?’
‘Erm … I can’t remember but anyway, the actor also revealed Bradley’s preference for Moroccans,’ Brijesh said.
‘Moroccan women, Iranian women, Brazilian women … How does it matter? It’s not as if you’re going to find a Moroccan woman to lead you to—’ Laila paused as she began to put the pieces together. It was a long shot, but at the same time, there was a distinct possibility that Bradley could be located through this network.
‘Well, in that case, looking at these semi-naked women is justified,’ Kang said, as he pulled the computer closer.
‘There may not be too many Moroccan hookers,’ Laila said. ‘I think we should get a list of all those in the Uppland area.’
Kang nodded, with a slightly mischievous grin.
‘Okay, Kang, get to assembling the list immediately. But remember, we are professionals. I hope I don’t need to elaborate on that fact.’
They chuckled.
‘I’ll accompany him,’ Vikrant added, ‘just to make sure he stays professional.’
Brijesh finished his coffee and crushed the cup. He stood up and looked at Laila.
‘Maybe, if they list all the names, I can have a crack at the various women,’ she told him.
‘Yes, they may be more at ease giving you the information,’ he replied. ‘Just list all the bordells in the vicinity so that our bravehearts can go about their Himalayan task with ease.’
Laila smiled and turned the laptop towards her. She cringed for a flicker of a second, and then got started.
Brijesh woke up later than usual. He had wanted to nap for an hour and hit the sack at around 5 p.m. He realized he had been sleeping for hours and it was now close to sunset. He jumped out of bed, and put on a black T-shirt that was lying on the couch. He scratched his stubbled chin, and then looked at the tiny alarm clock. It was 7.30 pm. Poking his head out of the room, he realized he was alone.
He strolled leisurely to the toilet, took his toothbrush and squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste onto it. As he held the ready-to-use toothbrush in one hand, he looked at himself in the mirror and ran his fingertips across the grizzly stubble on his cheeks. This was no way for a soldier to look, especially not a soldier who was on a mission of this nature. What would happen after this operation was complete, he wondered, as the movement of his toothbrush against his teeth became more vigorous.
He walked out of the bathroom, the foamy toothbrush in his mouth, and thought about life on the run, after the operation. After all, if the Pakistanis were able to put two and two together, it was likely they would be on the team’s trail till the end of time, he reasoned. Brijesh made his way into the living area of the unkempt suite and walked past the clutter towards the large window. The team’s suite was on the first level of the motel. The logic was that if they found themselves in a situation where exiting via the main door was no longer an option, they could make their way out through that first-floor window which wasn’t high enough to cause serious injury. But that could work both ways. Defenestrating a combatant from their suite would not have a fatal or possibly even serious effect on him/her. They would just have to hope that the enemy did not find their way to the team’s hotel suite.
He continued to stare out into the distance as he let these thoughts wash over him, breaking his concentration only when he saw Laila jogging towards the motel. In her white tank-top and trackpants, she jogged with the grace of a gazelle and the rhythm of a derby racehorse. Watching her make her way towards the hotel, he felt mesmerized.
Brijesh walked back to the bathroom and spat a mouthful of foam into the sink before rinsing out his mouth. As he sprayed a burst of shaving foam onto his hand and prepared to rub it on his face, he heard the door click.
‘I’m coming in! I hope you’re decent,’ Laila announced cautiously from the door of the bedroom.
‘I’m always decent,’ Brijesh fired back jokingly, as he spread the shaving foam evenly over his cheeks. ‘Good jog?’ he asked.
‘It was energizing. Gave me the chance to take in the local sights and also stay fit,’ she smiled, as she appeared at the door of the bathroom, drenched in sweat. ‘Unlike some people,’ she said wryly, before adding, ‘you know, this is a lovely place. You should get out and see it sometime.’
Brijesh could not help but notice her perfectly toned body, the lithe arms that were both feminine and muscular and the long athletic legs. Beads of sweat trickled down her hairline, her jaw and her neck. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail. Brijesh looked back in the mirror as he ran the razor down his cheek in a straight line.
‘I need to use the shower,’ Laila said, her cheeks reddening under Brijesh’s glance; he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was admiring her.
‘The bathroom will be all yours in ten minutes. Unless, of course, you want it immediately,’ he joked.
She laughed nervously.
‘Irresistible as that offer is,’ she said, ‘we have more important matters to deal with.’
‘We sure do,’ Brijesh smiled, as he resumed shaving. ‘Where are the boys?’
‘Being boys, I presume. At the bordells.’
Brijesh washed his face, then rubbed it with a towel. He vacated the bathroom as Laila walked in.
‘So, how many brothels are we hitting in total?’
‘Six,’ she said. ‘The two of them left after I went for my jog.’
‘Moroccan women,’ Brijesh said. ‘Let’s hope there aren’t many. It will certainly make our job easier.’
‘Getting lazy?’ Laila teased.
‘No,’ Brijesh said.
‘Then?’
‘They’re supposed to be irresistible. It’s better if we have to speak to fewer of them. I’m tired of being reminded that this isn’t the time,’ he said with an exaggerated frown on his face, before getting serious and adding, ‘Also, the fewer people we speak to, the fewer people know we are here.’
Laila nodded, then closed the door on Brijesh.
The time for joking was at an end.
Kang and Vikrant walked into the sixth lane of the red light district of Uppland that evening. Though aware of the gravity of the situation, the two were playing the part of a couple of lads out in town and walked around enjoying the sights and sounds of the area – much as Laila had done earlier in the day, but in a very different setting. The environment here was less crass and overt than that of the notorious red light districts back home in India. A customer was less likely to be intimidated or hassled for being a pervert on these streets. Here, a customer was just that: someone looking for a business transaction.
The girls looked seductively at Vikrant and Kang, as they walked into the brothel. Vikrant avoided their gaze, but Kang seemed to enjoy the attention. Kang knew he wasn’t exactly Adonis, and he knew that these women would leer at the Hunchback of Notre Dame had he wobbled in, but he basked in their gaze nevertheless.
‘Remember, discretion and vigilance,’ Vikrant said to Kang, before adding, ‘and most importantly, keep it in your pants.’
‘I’m only watching. Dekhne ke toh paise nahi lagte,’ Kang laughed.
‘All right, but pay attention. This is where the bordell mamma operates from,’ Vikrant warned.
‘Welcome, gentlemen. How may I help you?’ There was something close to mockery in the voice that greeted them.
The bordell mamma was sitting on a sofa, next to a girl who was smoking a cigarett
e.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Kang said. ‘We would like to hire your services—’
‘It’s odd you would want my services,’ the slightly elderly woman scoffed. ‘I thought I had some pretty fine girls here.’
As Kang went red, Vikrant interjected, ‘What he meant was, we are here to seek your help, ma’am.’
‘What kind of help? You do know that we aren’t a tourist help-desk, yes?’
‘We would like to spend some time with a Moroccan woman,’ Vikrant said politely and then grinned. ‘There’s nothing like a Moroccan woman.’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘You are out of luck then, gentlemen. I only have one girl of Moroccan descent working for me and she is busy. It’s difficult to find them in these parts.’
There was a brief silence. Kang looked at Vikrant for a solution.
‘We’ll just meet her then,’ Vikrant said. ‘Something’s better than nothing, isn’t it?’
‘I’m afraid you can’t meet her,’ the lady said. ‘As I said, she’s busy and not here at the moment. You can hire her later, of course.’
‘Oh, where is she?’ Kang asked nonchalantly.
‘Somewhere in Uppland. Regular customer. Foreigners can’t get enough of her,’ the lady replied carelessly, then added suspiciously, ‘What’s it to you anyway? You’re not a couple of stalkers, are you?’
‘Oh no,’ Vikrant laughed. ‘We just want to know when we can meet her.’
‘Later tonight,’ the lady replied. ‘And just so you know, Nadia doesn’t meet two men at one time.’
That’s okay, Vikrant thought. She’s going to meet a woman anyway.
‘All right,’ Kang said. ‘I’ll be meeting Nadia then.’
‘First,’ Vikrant added.
‘First,’ Kang repeated as he bid the woman adieu.
As they left, the woman picked up her phone, dialled a number she had dialled many times before, and said, ‘Where is Nadia?’
16
‘You’re in big trouble, Nadia,’ she said gruffly, the phone pressed against her puffy face. ‘You forgot to sign out when you went to meet your client. How am I supposed to know where you are? By the way, some Asian fellows were looking for you. Hello?’ Nadia seemed to have hung up before she could finish.
Mumbai Avengers Page 13
