Brutal

by Uday Satpathy

  “I opened my eyes three days later in an ICU. The doctors could recover only seventeen pieces of shrapnel from my body. The remaining, they had to leave,” he said. “I came to know that Ojas Patel’s wife was dead. And it was because her body bore the full brunt of the explosion that I was alive. The Naxals had surgically inserted pressure-activated IEDs into all the dead bodies.”

  “Bloody bastards!” Mrinal said.

  Prakash closed his eyes and sat down on the floor near the door. Mrinal also sat beside him.

  After ten minutes of silence, Mrinal said, “Yet another profession which takes its toll on the people involved. My previous profession was also like that. You wanted to know my trade secret, didn’t you?”

  Prakash looked at him, puzzled.

  “People think that I used to be an equity analyst before I took up this current job. I was much more than that. I was an investment banker and an options trader who used to work for a shady group. This group comprised of hundreds of subsidiary companies with cross holdings amongst them. If you can untangle this web, you’ll come across a startling revelation. Its stakeholders are a group of very senior officials of the RAW and the IB.”

  He continued, “Now consider this – every terrorist attack on the country and every international dispute in which India is involved creates a ripple in the financial markets. Look at what happened to the hotel stocks after the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai. They nosedived. What if you know in advance about these threats and play in the markets accordingly? What if you buy a ‘Put option’ knowing perfectly well that a stock is going to tumble? You will make a hell lot of money.”

  “This is insider trading, isn’t it? And it’s illegal.”

  “Yes. It’s illegal. But maybe no one was able to catch these people. Or maybe they chose to ignore them. Whatever! I used to churn out bullshit reports speculating whether to buy or sell a stock. There would be all kinds of calculations and research to indicate a trend. It was all financial garbage. In reality, I already knew the macro trends, which would sway the market. I made a small fortune for myself this way, helped by this shady organization.”

  “Why did you leave it?”

  “Because I was scared. My life was surrounded by terrible news of things yet to happen and I wasn’t able to do anything about it. At times I thought that a few attacks were allowed to happen so that these people could make money.”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “It’s true. I left that organization and went dark for a few years. I’m alive only because I’ve never disclosed my story to anyone. Over the duration of my work, I’d built some strong contacts in the RAW and the IB. These were the people who had made money through my firm. So in a way, we were partners in crime.”

  “That’s your secret sauce?”

  “Yeah. That’s my little secret. These people have access to all the databases of the Government. They can even coerce telecom companies to provide them with information on their subscribers,” Mrinal said. “So now you know how I work.”

  Prakash sighed. How many more mind blowing disclosures?

  * * *

  A faint sound brought Prakash back into the present world. His mobile phone was ringing. Ritesh Pandey. He answered the call.

  “Where have you been Prakash?” Ritesh asked. “No calls. Nothing. I was worried about you.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you. First tell me how’s your investigation going?”

  “The going has been a bit tough at times. But I’ve managed to get my hands on some really explosive material.”

  “That’s good. We’ll talk more on this when you come here. But I was a bit curious about the death of Mohammed Afroz. His autopsy report surprises me.”

  “I haven’t seen it. Can you elaborate?”

  “Oh! Then you don’t know that traces of Etorphine were found in his bloodstream?”

  “Hell, no! What’s this chemical?”

  “Etorphine is a highly potent tranquilizer for veterinary use. Its distribution is extremely regulated. Despite the fact that it has some painkilling properties, its use in humans is almost unheard of.”

  “Then it’s obvious. Afroz was murdered. This proves it,” Prakash said. “What about the gun discovered in the pond at Ambala?”

  “The police got a match. The M107 found in the pond is exactly the gun, which was used to kill Nitin Tomar at Allahabad. But I’m surprised you aren’t aware of all these developments. Are you alright?”

  “Well, I’ve been through some trouble. I am surviving somehow.”

  “Be careful then. I don’t want you to vanish like Seema Sharma.”

  Prakash stood motionless. Did he say Seema? “What happened to … Seema?”

  “She disappeared near Bandhavgarh National Park a couple of days back. Was working on the Nitin Tomar story. Just like you.”

  Prakash felt as if he was stabbed with a dagger. “What! What do you mean by disappear?”

  “It means she’s missing without any trace. Century News has kept the news under wraps. But my sources have confirmed.”

  “Was she alone?” Prakash asked. A throbbing pain rose from his heart, choking his throat with sadness.

  “I guess so,” Ritesh replied. “Poor girl. I remember meeting her once. She was a good journalist.”

  Prakash closed his eyes in grief. “She was my friend.”

  “I am sorry… But, I wonder what she was doing in Bandhavgarh? Do you have any idea?”

  “No,” he said. But he knew what took Seema to Bandhavgarh. The search for Kunal Chaubey.

  “When are you planning to come back?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “OK. Stay safe.” Ritesh hung up.

  Prakash squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back against the wall of the compartment. Why did you go alone, Seema?

  40

  “Drop your weapon!” the man barked, pointing a sub-machine gun at Seema. “Drop it and we can talk. Quick! … I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Seema stood dazed, realizing she had killed a man in a brutal way. But she felt no remorse. Everything still looked like a bad dream. An unfamiliar anxiety was eating her inside. She struggled to stand straight, her hands and legs twitching. Her defensive instincts were not permitting her hand to let go of the knife. Is this what the drug does to everybody? She shook her head, trying to fly back into ‘reality’.

  “Do as I say,” he said again, his voice calm this time. “Please. We haven’t got much time.”

  She looked at him with suspicion. He was completely bald, his brown scalp shining under the sun. Just like the others, he was dressed in military camouflage clothing. But something in his eyes conveyed that he was not going to hurt her. She let the knife slip from her hand.

  “Are you feeling OK?” he said, taking cautious little steps towards her. “I know you’re not. But can you run?”

  With great effort, Seema uttered a few words, “Who are you?”

  “As of now, I’m the only one who stands between you and your captors,” he said, holding her hand. “Let’s get out of here first. You’ll need to run.”

  The man galloped towards a corner of the compound. Seema followed him. In a few moments, they were standing over a large concrete block rising a foot above the ground. It had a number of manhole covers on it. “We’ll use their underground drainage system to escape,” he said, yanking out a loose manhole cover and sliding it away.

  He knelt down and inserted his head into the hole, checking for a way out. “This looks good to me. You get in first. I’ll follow.”

  “There is a metal ladder fastened to the inner rim. Use it to climb down,” he added, helping Seema place her foot on the first rung.

  She had no shoes on her feet. The harsh coldness of the rungs were helping her get back into her senses. As she descended into the darkness, an overpowering smell reached her nostrils. It was the stench of human filth and foul smelling chemicals. When her feet sank into the slurry,
she felt her stomach rebel with disgust. She puked right away.

  “Don’t stop. Keep moving,” a voice came from behind. Her rescuer was hanging from the ladder.

  She looked ahead. There was only one way to go – the one leading outwards from the compound. The tunnel was quite dark where she stood. But at a far end she could sense some light trickling in. She started walking, her feet paddling through the slurry. Her mind recalled the incident an hour back where the person pushing her wheel chair had whispered into her ears. ‘We have infiltrated this organization.’

  Is this man an infiltrator?

  Seema turned around and looked at the silhouette of the man coming behind. “This is not Bandhavgarh,” she said. “What is this place?”

  “You won’t believe it,” he said. “You’re in the outskirts of Delhi.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “Faridabad,” he said and walked past her, leaving her puzzled.

  Faridabad! They have brought me from Madhya Pradesh to Faridabad!

  She quickly realized that she must have been drugged and then moved around in their car.

  “Hey! This is the place where we can get out,” the man said. He was standing under a square shaped hatch over their heads. Light was peeping in through the thin openings around its rim. There were a few metallic steps installed on the tunnel walls for climbing.

  “I’m going up,” he said and started climbing. Upon reaching the top rung, he pushed out the hatch door, creating a squared shaped opening in the roof. He made his way out of the hole and then crouched at its mouth. “Climb up. I’ll pull you out.”

  Seema put her legs on the rungs and started climbing. She gave her hand to him, who then pulled her out.

  She was now out in the open. The tall wall of the compound was now about a hundred meters behind her. The place seemed to be some rural land covered with wild bushes and tall grass. A winding road encircled the land like a garland. She could see a few huts beside the road.

  “We need to reach that road,” he said, pointing in the direction she was looking at. “One of my colleagues is coming for us.”

  While walking towards the road, she studied the man. Dark skinned and muscular, he was probably in his forties. His fitness and gait suggested an army background. Besides the sub-machine gun, he was also carrying a pistol mounted over his belt.

  “Who are you? Tell me,” she probed. “No bullshit this time.”

  “I am Divakar Amre. Used to be a Lieutenant in the Indian Army. Nowadays I work on contract for the Intelligence Bureau,” he said. “Your captors have been under our radar for some time. But IB could never get any substantive evidence against these guys. This organization seemed to be a part of a much bigger scheme. So, IB decided to plant their moles inside this org. I am one of the infiltrators. Are you satis…”

  He stopped and yelled all of a sudden, “Lie down. Immediately!”

  Before she could gather her wits, he shoved her to the ground. The grass blades and shrubs dug into her skin and clothes, adding to her agony. She looked at Divakar with scared eyes. He had raised both his hands. Someone was holding him at gunpoint.

  “I’ll take care of this,” he talked under his breath. “Just keep lying there.”

  He started walking and disappeared from her view.

  41

  Vinod Kushwaha was smoking his fifth cigarette of the day. He was sitting in the same discussion room where they had hosted the Iranians. He puffed out smoke from his mouth, making a smoke ring in the air.

  “What do you think of my plan, Sultan?” he asked the man sitting beside him. Vinod knew his trusted comrade would always give him the right advice, devoid of bias or fear.

  “Frankly speaking, it scares me. It can make or break us,” Sultan said, with a brooding expression in his eyes. “Bade Sahib will not be happy.”

  “Your Bade Sahib has become trapped in his old school of thought,” Vinod hissed. “He fears taking risks. I don’t. And in our case, the returns are lucrative enough to take that risk.”

  He added, “In today’s world, nations don’t fight each other in public. They go for proxy wars and covert operations. The demand for mercenaries and contractors who can carry out these black ops is rising. This Iran assignment can get us a pie of the covert operations market globally. That’s big.”

  “What if the Israelis find out about us? Can we afford to invite the wrath of a country?” Sultan argued. “Remember the 1972 Munich Olympics? Guess what the Israelis did to the Palestinian killers of their eleven athletes?”

  “Enlighten me,” Vinod said with a smirk.

  “The Mossad chased each and every conspirator throughout the world over the next decade. After killing them, they used to send bouquets to their families with a message saying ‘We never forget and never forgive’.”

  Mossad, Israel’s national intelligence agency, was widely respected and feared in the world for their clinical efficiency and ruthlessness. They used to get ample support from Jewish communities spread globally, making them all pervasive throughout the world.

  “I don’t think it would come to that. If everything goes as per my plan, Iran and Israel will have their own axes to grind. No one will blame us.” He made another smoke ring in the air. “You just wait and watch.”

  42

  Seema raised her head slightly and peeked through the tall leaves of grass. About ten meters away on the road, two men in military camouflage clothing stood face to face with each other. Divakar had raised his hands and was protesting animatedly. Thrusting a gun onto his chest was another man, whose car was parked behind him.

  We have been intercepted, thought Seema clenching her jaws. God help me if Divakar fails to convince this man. She deliberated what she would do in case he gets popped. Keep lying down or bolt from this place? Running seemed to be a better option, because she expected the grassland to swarm with mercenaries in a matter of minutes. Now that her nausea was gone and her body was responding to her mind, she could make a quick dash for the huts far away.

  She saw Divakar passing his ID card to the man, who glanced at it for a second and dropped it on the ground. The soldier ordered him to kneel down. He first refused, but complied when the man shoved his gun harder into his chest.

  This is not looking good. Seema realized she had to do something soon.

  The faint hum of a vehicle distracted her for a moment. Far down the road, towards her right, she saw a couple of SUVs rushing menacingly towards Divakar. The vehicles had come out of the facility behind her. We are finished. Her mind began racing. She couldn’t think of any great idea. What she finally did left even her surprised.

  She shouted, “They are coming, Divakar!”

  The soldier swivelled his gun sideways, in the direction of her voice. But, by doing this, he had made a big mistake, which he didn’t have any time to realize. Divakar pulled out his pistol in a fraction of a second and shot him in his head.

  “Get in the car!” he screamed, searching for the car keys in the dead man’s pockets.

  Seema picked herself up and sprinted towards the car. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the two vehicles closing the gap between them fast. As soon as she settled into the front passenger's seat, Divakar got in from the driver’s side. He had the keys with him.

  “Here we go!” he said, starting the engine and speeding away from the pursuers.

  Seema eyed the rear view mirror. The SUVs were coming after them. She looked at Divakar worryingly.

  “I know,” he said, pushing the accelerator further.

  “Who was the man you killed?”

  “One of their security guys. He knew you have escaped, but was doubtful of my involvement,” he said, looking at her. “But, what you did was foolish. You could have…”

  “I saved your ass.”

  Divakar nodded and then said, “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

  “Now, how do we lose these guys?” she asked, pointing at the rear view mirror.

  “I have a pl
an. You’ll have to take the wheel from me when I say.”

  Seema nodded slowly, with hesitation. What’s he up to?

  She looked ahead along their path. It was a two-lane road at best. And thankfully, no traffic was coming their way, allowing Divakar to top a hundred kilometres per hour. Their car raced past a massive cargo truck, its engine huffing-and-puffing like a T-Rex going for the kill. They must have advanced about hundred-fifty meters from the truck, when all of a sudden he reduced the speed of their car and brought it to a groaning halt. Screeeeeech! Right in the middle of the road. Seema’s heart missed a few beats. What the…

  “Get into my seat,” Divakar ordered, dashing out from the car. “And keep the engine running.”

  Within seconds, Seema realized what Divakar was trying to achieve. Crazy son-of…! She jumped into the driver’s seat, and looked into the rear-view mirror, wide-eyed.

  He stood on the road, the massive truck rushing towards him like a bullet. The next moment, he took out his pistol and aimed it at its driver. The bearded man, a sardar, looked at him with terror. Divakar fired three bullets in succession – one smashing the windshield of the truck, one tearing into its front grill and the last one ricocheting off its fenders on the right side. The sardar whirled his steering wheel in panic. In response to this sudden movement, the trailer and the gigantic container placed over it swivelled about the engine compartment, sweeping the road like a blackboard duster. Sqrrrrrrrrr. The driver pumped the brakes with all his might, desperately trying to stop the vehicle from swerving off the road. Vapours and smoke rose from the place where its tyres sheared against the road. Crank. Crank. Crank. Crank. An ear-piercing sound of metal, grinding, twisting and rattling, filled the air as dozens of tonnes of mass came to a stop, hardly a few metres from Divakar.

  Seema kept staring with disbelief, her heart in her mouth. The truck was now standing on the road diagonally, blocking the traffic completely. Their pursuers were stuck on the other side of the barrier. Divakar dashed towards her car and took the passenger’s seat.