Mumbai Avengers

by S. Hussain Zaidi

  Naveen nodded and led him down the left side of the building into a little backyard. They walked together silently, Brijesh thinking about how much he could disclose to Naveen. As they arrived in the backyard, Brijesh walked around to check for any suspicious overhanging branches or lamp posts that might contain a listening device of some sort. Satisfied with the results of his quick scan, he walked to the centre of the backyard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked the vice consul suspiciously.

  ‘I may trust you, but I don’t trust that the Indian consulate is free of bugs and audio surveillance,’ said Brijesh.

  ‘Okay. So what is it you want to tell me?’ asked Naveen, unconcerned by Brijesh’s scepticism.

  Brijesh took a deep breath. ‘We are a combination of undercover police officers from across India, trying desperately to stay incognito and find out who is responsible for the human trafficking of Indians. You are right, it wasn’t a car accident that injured our friend. One of the people involved captured and tortured him. And now, we have to leave Jeddah to carry our findings home,’ he said, virtually in one breath.

  Naveen nodded and then made a quiet suggestion. ‘You should have just stuck to the car accident angle instead of trying to sell me another pile of—’

  Unfazed, Brijesh interrupted, ‘The possible involvement of the ISI is why we are here and today that was confirmed. Who do you think caused that car explosion?’

  The vice consul’s eyes widened slightly as he scratched his chin.

  ‘Now do you understand why I can’t give you any more details?’ asked Brijesh.

  Naveen was unmoved. But he said, ‘Let’s go and check on your friend, because as soon as he is patched up, I want you on the first plane out of Jeddah.’

  Brijesh didn’t know whether this meant that the vice consul believed him or just wanted them out of his hair. But frankly, it didn’t matter all that much, as long as Kang was ready to be moved.

  The journey home was a surprisingly relaxed affair. The quartet sleepily yawned their way out of Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International Airport, having been rushed onto a waiting Air India flight with minimal frisking or security checks. Once they landed, they walked over to the vehicle that was waiting for them. Kang’s steps were a little more careful than usual; he did not want to flex his back muscles or stretch his taped-up quadricep muscle too much.

  Something wasn’t right in the team either. There had been an uneasy tension brewing between them ever since they had left the gates of the Indian consulate in Jeddah. They climbed into the vehicle and Brijesh—who would usually hold the door open for everyone—entered the car first and sat sullenly near the window as Kang sat in the front seat beside the driver. They remained quiet all the way back to HQ, where they would meet Waris and be debriefed. In fact, the only interaction between the teammates was when Laila offered everyone some chewing gum, and they all declined politely.

  Kang was the last to enter the conference room where Waris was supposed to be meeting his lieutenants. Laila, Brijesh and Vikrant were already seated by the time Kang limped in and took a seat.

  Brijesh got straight to it, at last. There had been no opportunity to talk en route.

  ‘How did you escape?’ he asked Kang unflinchingly.

  ‘What do you mean? You were there when I escaped,’ said Kang.

  ‘I saw you running down the stairs,’ corrected Brijesh. ‘I have no idea how or why they let you get away.’

  Kang stood up to face Brijesh.

  Vikrant cautiously positioned himself between the two.

  ‘I don’t like what you’re implying,’ Kang said, anger in check.

  Vikrant placed his hand on Kang’s shoulder and said, ‘No one is implying anything. Don’t worry.’

  Brushing Vikrant’s hand aside and standing straight, despite the pain, Kang said defiantly, ‘No, let him continue.’

  ‘So just how did you get out?’ Brijesh maintained his line of questioning.

  ‘After drilling a hole in my back,’ began Kang, pulling off his T-shirt. ‘You know the gaping, fucking hole they made in my back with an electric drill?’ he asked as he started ripping the bandages off his wound.

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ chided Brijesh, even as Laila jumped up to stop Kang from tearing off his bandages.

  ‘After leaving me to bleed in the hope that I would give up information about all of you, one man came back to keep an eye on me,’ Kang said sturdily. ‘I used all my strength to back my chair into him and push him against the wall. Then I snapped my neck backwards to break his nose and knock him unconscious. The struggle had loosened my bounds and I was able to get out of the knots and make my way out before anyone could come and check. And that’s when I ran into you.’

  ‘Are you sure he was unconscious?’ asked a clearly unconvinced Brijesh.

  ‘NO! Because I was trying to run away!’ raged Kang. ‘Did you expect me to stop and check on him?’

  ‘No, it’s just that it all seems awfully convenient.’

  ‘Be careful, Brijesh.’

  ‘We also never got down to checking you for bugs or tracking devices.’

  ‘Brijesh …’

  Vikrant stepped in again. ‘Calm down, guys. I’ll scan him but then will the two of you settle down?’

  ‘Nobody put any trackers or bugs on me,’ said Kang. ‘And I’ll break the hands of anyone who dares to check me.’

  ‘Please, let me give you a quick scan, just to settle this,’ pleaded Vikrant, as Laila calibrated the signal scanner, which would be able to spot any device that emitted a signal – a vital characteristic of any tracking device.

  Kang reluctantly agreed, but as Laila set about scanning him, his eyes bore a hole through Brijesh.

  ‘He’s clean, Brijesh,’ announced Laila shortly. ‘Now can we please drop this?’

  ‘Then why did they just let you leave?’ persisted Brijesh. ‘The ISI is never so sloppy.’

  Kang lunged at Brijesh.

  ‘Are you calling me a traitor?’ he screamed, as his arms scythed through the air, missing Brijesh narrowly.

  Brijesh elbowed Kang in the chest to create a bit of space and avoid being cornered.

  ‘Are you saying they let me leave because I spilled the beans?’ asked Kang again, as he tried grabbing Brijesh by the throat.

  Deflecting Kang’s hand and retaliating with a swift jab to his ribs, the unflustered Brijesh said, ‘I just want to know what deal you struck with them.’

  That was enough for Kang, who threw a crushing punch, knocking the nimbler Brijesh off his feet and on to the floor. ‘That’s it. I don’t need to put my life on the line and be questioned by the likes of you.’

  Brijesh rubbed his chin and sat up, as Vikrant and Laila tried to defuse the situation, but in vain.

  ‘You decide what you want out of this whole operation,’ said Kang, as he picked his shirt off the floor. ‘For me, the mission is over. Consider this my resignation.’ As he reached the door, Kang turned around for one parting shot.

  ‘You can question my strength, my tactics and my intelligence … After all, I did get captured. But you should never have questioned my integrity, you son–of–a–bitch,’ he spat, turning back towards the door. As Kang’s hand reached for the handle, the door opened and in walked Waris.

  ‘Stop acting like a bunch of kids. That’s exactly what those bastards want!’ he said.

  23

  New Delhi, 31 May 2014

  With Chinese and Pakistani agencies now hot on the heels of Waris’s team and their operation exposed, it was going to be difficult for them to continue their clandestine activities. But Waris believed in providence and its strange ways of helping the righteous. He knew that dawn breaks only after the darkest hour. He waited for that divine signal.

  And like the transformation of water to red wine by Jesus, Waris witnessed the colours of his government changing. He saw a wave of saffron taking hold of the Indian masses.

  The new government’s hardli
ne stance with Pakistani mischief mongers and the prime minister’s attitude towards its government—not to mention his retaliation to heavy shelling at the LoC—bolstered the morale and courage of Waris’s men. The retired army officer and his team had never counted too much on government support. But one lurking insecurity was the chance of them being captured alive by the enemy. They knew they could be used as an excuse to embarrass India.

  However, a tough government at the helm made a difference. A non-negotiating prime minister inspires and emboldens the soldiers to do better and crush the enemy with their entire might and confidence.

  Waris decided that now was the chance to really get to his enemies.

  Aware that the trauma Kang had suffered less than twenty-four hours ago—not to mention his decision to walk out—had made him more than a little cranky. Waris explained, ‘We should definitely strike back, but we can’t go after our targets directly as we’ve done so far.’

  ‘They know we are after them, we won’t be able to work as smoothly now. Of course, there will be restrictions on the movement of our friends Haaris Saeed and bigger hurdles for us,’ Brijesh said.

  ‘So are you saying that we abandon our mission halfway?’ Vikrant asked, eyebrows raised.

  ‘No, we will not abandon the mission at any cost. We’ll kill them even if it means penetrating Pakistani boundaries to get them,’ Brijesh said.

  ‘Rein in your emotions, we’ll get them all right. Even if they are hiding at the ends of the earth. But we need a bit of misdirection, deception … Do you follow?’ said Waris. He turned to Kang. ‘I hope you will reconsider your decision to leave us. If you do, you’ll join the team once they’ve set up the trap and drawn in the targets. I want you to stay in India and recuperate until then.’

  Before Kang had a chance to protest that he was absolutely fine and ready to resume work at once, Vikrant placed his hand gently on the warrior’s wounded shoulder and said, ‘I agree, Kang. You need to rest and we need to find ways to take out our remaining targets undetected. Laila, I need updates on Azhar and Haaris Saeed.’

  Brijesh walked over to Kang, and they exchanged glances. There was no need for words.

  Laila had already grabbed her laptop, flipped open the screen and placed it elegantly on her knees. That image of elegance was shattered moments later when she started hammering at the keyboard, punctuating each command with a bout of curse words. ‘What’s wrong with this fucking thing?’ she said irritably, as Vikrant came over to take a look. All he saw was gibberish.

  ‘Ray, get in here!’ Laila said into the intercom. ‘Could you please access the D-server for me? I need real time updates on Azhar and Saeed.’ Ray walked in with his laptop, placed it on a table and switched it on as the team huddled around. He fiddled with his spectacles and tried to restart his computer. ‘I’m not sure what the problem is. Give me a second or two,’ he said.

  ‘It’s the same gibberish,’ confirmed Laila. Ray looked closer and declared gravely, ‘That’s not gibberish. It’s an error message.’

  Brijesh and Vikrant crossed their arms and looked at Ray, waiting for him to elaborate.

  ‘Oh right, sorry,’ sputtered the nervous analyst. ‘An error message appears on the screen when a computer can’t boot up its operating system.’

  He tried to use a backdoor to access the data on his system but frustratingly for the team huddled around him, there seemed to be no representation of what he was typing onscreen. Vikrant nudged the analyst. ‘What are you typing, genius? There’s nothing showing up,’ he said derisively.

  ‘I’ve figured it out,’ Ray announced triumphantly, lifting his fingers off the keyboard at last. ‘The reason there’s an operating system error is simply because there is no operating system on the computer.’ He grinned at this quick diagnosis of the problem.

  ‘You mean we’ve been fucking hacked and burned,’ seethed a furious Laila.

  ‘What do you mean, hacked and burned?’ asked Waris.

  ‘It means someone broke into our systems and erased them,’ answered Ray.

  ‘It’s like a robber who breaks into a house and steals what he wants and then sets the house on fire to cover his tracks and destroy all evidence,’ said Brijesh.

  ‘There are no coding signatures or tell-tale signs or anything that indicates who it could be. Ukrainians, Syrians, Chinese, Americans – it could be anyone,’ said Ray.

  ‘Pakistanis?’ offered Vikrant.

  ‘Possible, but too sophisticated for the Pakistani hackers. Besides, there’s the fact that their hacker groups are more interested in online vandalism – defacing foreign governments’ websites, etc. The level of encryption we use on our servers is far more complex than that on government websites,’ explained Ray. ‘Also, I don’t think the Pakistanis are at the level yet where they can break this encryption.’

  ‘Without assistance,’ added Brijesh.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘They may not be able to break this encryption without assistance. But with assistance, let’s say from the Chinese, surely they would be able to break into our servers?’ asked Brijesh.

  ‘In theory …’

  ‘That’s how they knew about our plans and were waiting for us at Jeddah,’ Vikrant said, thinking aloud.

  ‘Let’s not forget that the Chinese helped us with Bradley’s location. I really don’t think they would want to screw both India and Pakistan over. But at the same time, playing us against each other is a win-win for the Chinese. Anyway, let’s proceed with caution and reframe the next phase of our plan.’ Waris spoke calmly. ‘We have to assume that Kang’s identity is known to them and so we can only reintroduce him much later in the plan. That works well for us, because he needs his wounds to heal.’

  With the exception of Laila, who was busy typing on her iPad, the rest of the team nodded.

  ‘Good. But that also means that we need another operative in the field. Ray, you will take Kang’s place in the first phase,’ declared Waris.

  ‘… particularly now that security arrangements around Buddhist structures are being beefed up. In other news, a UNESCO team will be departing for Mansehra in Pakistan to participate in an archaeological dig to uncover an Ashoka pillar, believed to be nearly 2500 years old …’ droned the inflection-free voice of the BBC World News anchor.

  An archaeological dig to excavate the remains of an Ashoka pillar that had been discovered in Mansehra was an attractive proposition to the team for many reasons. The first was the obvious: it would give them a way to enter Pakistan. The other reason was that it would act as a perfect tool of misdirection, because if the ISI and other security agencies had their eyes on the dig, it gave the rest of the team a better chance of sneaking into the country undetected.

  ‘It says here that the UNESCO team will be leaving from its Paris headquarters in eight days,’ Laila read off her iPad.

  Waris watched the screen, then turned to say, ‘Vikrant and Brijesh will be the Bangladeshi members of the UNESCO dig. Being “Bangladeshi”, it’ll be easier for them to slip under the radar, while Ray and Laila can enter Pakistan as a couple, Ray in need of a kidney transplant.’ Ray didn’t need to say a word; the expression on his face betrayed his apprehension about suddenly having to turn into a field operative.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Vikrant, as he playfully patted Ray on the shoulder. ‘Laila is more than capable of looking after herself and you.’ Laila narrowed her eyes at Vikrant, who continued, ‘In any case, Brijesh and I won’t be too far away.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re apprehensive,’ said Waris. ‘It’s perfectly natural to be when you’re about to be the bait. But before we push you out of your comfort zone, I want you to get hold of clean computers, encrypt them and use them from a different server to add Vikrant and Brijesh’s names to the UNESCO dig list.’

  He then looked over at Brijesh and Vikrant. ‘Also, I want Ray to contact Sky’s people and get on with the task of creating Bangladeshi passports and identities for Mushfi
qur Mirza and Nasiruddin Rafique. You can decide who will be who.’

  After a moment, Ray piped up, ‘But what happens when they actually have to participate in the dig?’

  ‘Use Wikipedia and learn a few terms. Use them liberally, without actually doing anything,’ said Waris. Laila looked up from her tablet, where she was drawing up a list of the various tools and methods used by archaeologists.

  ‘And what happens when they don’t have any published articles or research papers among them? What if they are not known in archaeological circles? How will we even get Mushfique and Nasir on to the UNESCO list?’ she asked.

  ‘Let me handle that,’ Waris said, ‘and you take care of your end.’

  ‘Why do we have to be part of the dig at all?’ asked Kang. ‘It will just be an additional headache.’

  ‘An additional headache that will save us ten headaches down the road,’ replied Brijesh.

  ‘Speaking of headaches, you said something about a kidney transplant?’ asked Ray.

  ‘What do you know about “transplant tourism” in Pakistan?’ asked Waris. ‘The sale of kidneys is increasingly becoming a way for the poor to make money. After being convinced that they don’t need both kidneys to live and that selling one kidney would make them a lot of money, they agree to the procedure. They are promised large sums of money, but are often duped, or worse, left with terrible infections, blood loss and in some cases, dead.’ He continued, ‘And why are kidneys such hot property?’

  Ray didn’t say a word. He knew he would hear the answer to the question.

  ‘Because where there is this sort of supply, there must be some serious demand. And there is. People from across the world—’

  ‘With the means to travel,’ interrupted Brijesh.

  ‘That’s right. People from across the globe, who can afford the journey to Pakistan, buy kidneys relatively cheaply there, in the “kidney bazaar”’, said Waris. ‘Any questions?’

  ‘Are we going there to sell or buy kidneys?’ asked Laila through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Buy, of course,’ said Brijesh, swiftly.