by Deva, Mukul
FIFTEEN
Making sure he maintained a discreet distance, Tiwathia followed the terror team as they ploughed through the busy railway station at Surat. He made sure there were a few people between them as he watched the four men exit the station. Then he reached for his mobile and called Sami.
‘We are here,’ he said.
‘Yes, I can see you,’ Sami replied. Tiwathia did not look around to try and spot him. ‘We’ve been waiting for you guys to clock in.’
‘Good. So I’m letting them go now.’
‘Do that. We have people in place to take over.’
Tiwathia allowed the distance between him and his quarry to increase before he spoke again. ‘You got them? The two guys behind Iqbal and the one in front.’
‘Got them.’ There was a pause as Sami spoke to someone. ‘Come out now, turn left, and then wait for me.’
Tiwathia did so. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the four men he had tailed climbed into autorickshaws and vanished into the crowded city in pairs. He knew the tails would be on them, he could now relax.
About two minutes later, Sami pulled up next to him. He was behind the wheel of an umarked police Maruti Gypsy. ‘Hop in, dude.’
‘Where are we operating from?’ Tiwathia asked, jumping in beside him and throwing his duffel bag in the rear, where two cops in plainclothes sat.
‘The local ATTF headquarters,’ Sami replied. ‘The Old Man coordinated it.’
‘Cool.’ There was a pause. ‘I wonder where they’ve gone.’
‘Why wonder? We have people on them. In any case, we’ll know the minute they assemble and power up the bombs because the GPS locators will come on.’
‘Yeah! If Dhankar and Iqbal haven’t screwed up.’
‘They can’t have.’ Sami was as confident as he was optimistic.
Dhankar and Iqbal had not screwed up. The first GPS locator embedded in the tiny ICs came alive just as the clock struck four. By 1645 hours, one by one, all sixteen locators were glowing red dots on the screen of Ankita’s laptop.
‘That’s a guesthouse.’ The local ATTF officer tapped on the map spread out on the table. ‘It’s in a rather shady part of town – the red light area.’ He added, ‘We have fourteen people in place around it. Should I tell them to move in now?’
‘No!’ Sami’s tone was sharp. ‘You guys will function precisely as we direct you to.’ Then, softening a little, he explained, ‘This op is just a part of the bigger picture, so we have to be very careful we don’t screw up – okay?’
‘Sure.’ The ATTF man nodded. His orders had come from very high up, and were very clear – they were to cooperate fully with these guys. Whoever the hell they are, they seem to know what they are doing. That’s good enough for me.
He listened as Sami explained the plan in detail before he nodded. ‘Fine, I get it. So where do you want me to position my people now?’
‘Explain this area to me first.’ Sami gestured at the map. ‘Considering where these guys are right now, what would be the main markets, important buildings… you know what I mean? Show me the places that are most likely to be targeted.’
‘Here, here and here.’ Unhesitatingly, the ATTF officer tapped the map, indicating the areas immediately to the north, east and west of the guesthouse. ‘That’s where they would head if they’re looking for crowded, soft and high value targets.’
‘Fair enough.’ Sami gave it a moment’s thought as he studied the target area, and then made up his mind. ‘Okay, so five teams each in these three areas and put the last one here... to the south.’ Noticing the query on the man’s face, he explained, ‘Just as a backup… in case they decide to go that way for some reason that we haven’t factored in.’
‘That makes sense.’ The ATTF man nodded approvingly. ‘It’s always best to err on the side of caution.’
‘Tell all our teams to be in or close to the major markets, places of worship, important government buildings and hospitals.’ Sami’s tone was brisk and business-like. ‘But they will all maintain a low profile.’ The ATTF man nodded again and began to reach for his phone. ‘And please make it very clear to everyone – nobody will be in uniform and all weapons will be kept out of sight. The camera guys should be careful to only go for long shots. Tell them to record everything they can. I want the chain of evidence to be as perfect as possible. Okay?’
They all watched and waited as the ATTF officer spent the next ten minutes shooting off instructions to a host of people. When he was finally done, Sami took over again.
‘Let’s split the Bomb Disposal Squad into three teams. Tell them to take up positions at the most convenient police stations in the north, east and west and wait for our orders. I want them ready to move the moment we call them.’
‘They’ll all be in place within fifteen minutes,’ the ATTF officer assured him as he got back on his phone. Sami took the opportunity to call Anbu and bring him up to par.
By the time Sami, Tiwathia and Dhankar left the room and headed out in three separate vehicles, the local ATTF and BDS teams were firmly in position. Everything was going as planned. They all knew that as long as the GPS locators were lit up, it meant that the faulty ICs had not been detected and the bombs would not go off. Even so, the stress of completing the mission was inevitable and unavoidable.
‘Dear god, please keep Mr Murphy far away from us today,’ Sami murmured as the three vehicles headed out. The ATTF officer remained in Sami’s vehicle. It made sense for the command elements to remain together, to cater to the unforeseen eventualities that always arise as a battle ebbs and flows.
The three Force 22 commandos were still some distance away from their destinations when, at the temporary command post at the ATTF headquarters, Ankita saw the first of the glowing dots on her laptop screen separate from the others and begin to move away. It moved very slowly, as though the man carrying the bomb with the GPS locator was on foot. A moment later, another electronic dot began to move; this one too, advanced slowly. And so it continued until, within a matter of thirty minutes, the sixteen glowing dots had spread away from the point of origin and were variously heading north, east and west.
Like evil aliens in a Friday night horror movie. Ankita could imagine the havoc the bombs would have caused had they not got to them. She suppressed a shiver as she reached for the phone and began to update the three Force 22 commandos and the ATTF teams out in the field.
The strike on Surat had begun.
Iqbal’s head was throbbing as he watched the fifteen men who had assembled in the guesthouse leave one by one. The large, almost airtight room they were in was as dingy as the rest of the guesthouse. It was the kind of place that didn’t ask too many questions of those who checked in and rented rooms by the hour, which was not surprising considering its location in the town’s red light area.
Under normal circumstances, Iqbal would not have even registered the names of the fifteen others, just as most people seldom catch the names of those they are introduced to at parties. This time, however, his newly trained mind captured every name and embedded every face indelibly in his memory. He knew he would be able to put together almost perfect Identikit photos of each of the twelve men who had joined the original team of four that had travelled in from Pune. He was also confident that he would be able to link up the snippets of information that he had systematically collated during the casual conversations that took place while they waited for the bombs to be assembled.
Imtiaz – who, Iqbal had learnt by now, was the designated bomb maker – had wrapped each bomb in a dull blue-green piece of polythene after it had been assembled.
‘The polythene will keep the bomb dry and also hold together the ball bearings and nails that are being used as shrapnel, till the bomb explodes,’ he explained to them as he finished wrapping the first one. ‘Now all you have to do to activate the bomb is push this lever to the right.’ Holding up the wrapped bomb, he showed it to them. ‘Now place it in the target area and move out. Do
n’t worry, you’ll have at least thirty minutes to get away. Any questions?’
‘Good!’ he said as they shook their heads.
‘As soon as you’re done, I want you to head home,’ Asif told them. ‘Make damn sure none of you starts getting adventurous and goes back to have a look at what you’ve achieved. Okay?’ He looked around at them with narrowed eyes. ‘Remember that just one arsehole can get all of us screwed. Okay?’ He waited till each one of them had acknowledged the order. ‘Right! Similarly, the outstation people will head straight for the railway station or the bus stop.’
‘Grab that and let’s get going.’ Asif’s voice intruded on Iqbal’s troubled reverie. Asif was pointing at the last remaining bomb on the table. ‘Come on, Iqbal, where are you lost?’ His voice tugged Iqbal back to the present. ‘Let’s go, we’re getting late, miyan.’
Picking up the bomb, Iqbal carefully put it in his duffel bag and began to follow him to the door. ‘We’re both going to place this one?’ he asked.
‘Of course! I’ll show you how it’s done. New recruits never operate alone.’
‘You don’t trust anyone, do you?’
‘Like I told you,’ Asif said with a shrug, ‘security is security. Nothing changes. Anyway, how would a newcomer know the correct way to do the job unless we show him?’
‘Right!’ Iqbal didn’t try very hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
‘Why are you always so touchy?’ Asif asked, lowering his voice as they hit the road and began walking east.
‘I don’t like not being trusted,’ Iqbal retorted. ‘After all, why would I be here if I didn’t want to, if I didn’t believe in the cause?’
‘I don’t fucking care!’ Asif snarled back, taking care to keep his voice low. ‘Rules are rules and they are the same for everyone. If you want to play with the big boys, you behave like one, otherwise…’ His voice trailed away, leaving the threat hanging in the air.
Realizing he had pushed it as far as he could, Iqbal held his tongue and followed him.
Ten minutes later, they went up to the newly opened Pizza Express outlet in the market in Loktej. Straddled between an electronics showroom on the left and a music store on the right, the glass-fronted, brightly coloured store had a large red plastic dustbin just outside, to the right of the huge swinging glass doors. To the other side were a couple of blue, red and white scooters with large blue food carriers strapped to the rear, the kind used by pizza delivery boys all over the country. A continuous stream of people, mostly youngsters, moved in and out of the three stores, all of them in animated conversation with their companions. Two huge speakers placed outside the music store pounded out the latest Bollywood numbers, adding to the cacophony of the marketplace.
Asif stood on the other side of the road for a long time, observing the target carefully. Satisfied that there was no suspicious activity in progress, he murmured softly, ‘Now watch me,’ and casually crossed the road. Pausing briefly near the dustbin, he threw a quick look around and then leaned down and planted the bomb just behind, making sure it was well out of sight.
Turning away equally casually, he crossed the road again and the two men began to make their way back to the railway station. They had almost reached the autorickshaw stand on the street corner when Asif stopped so suddenly that Iqbal, a few steps behind, almost ran into him.
‘Shit! Did I arm the b – the device?’ Asif whispered, mindful of the people passing by.
‘I don’t know! I couldn’t see,’ Iqbal whispered back. ‘You must have.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Asif looked at his watch. ‘Four minutes gone already.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think I need to go back and check.’
‘You want me to do that?’ Iqbal asked.
‘Will you? You know what has to be done?’
‘Of course. Imtiaz showed us. The lever has to be to the right, correct?’
‘That’s right,’ Asif said with a nod. ‘Okay, then will you recheck it while I get hold of an autorickshaw? You’ll have to be quick, though… we just have twenty-six minutes left.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Iqbal turned and began to stride back.
The press of people was just a little lighter than it had been earlier and Iqbal was able to reach the dustbin without drawing attention to himself. In any case, he thought, everyone is so caught up with themselves that they seldom stop to notice what others are doing.
Despite that, his breathing was as uneven as his heartbeat as he reached down behind the dustbin to check the lever. It was pushed all the way to the right. Knowing the bomb would malfunction, he resisted the urge to push the lever to the other side, and got up. Only to stumble into Asif, who was standing right behind him. The shock of finding him there rendered Iqbal motionless for a moment.
‘Shit! You scared me,’ Iqbal exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here? You were supposed to…’
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d know how to do it correctly,’ Asif muttered as he leaned forward and rechecked the lever before leading the way out of the market.
‘You weren’t sure, or you were testing me?’ Iqbal blurted out without thinking.
‘Come on, Iqbal.’ Asif’s smile was unreadable. ‘I just wanted to reconfirm. It has nothing to do with not trusting you.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Iqbal allowed his anger to show this time.
‘And even if I was testing you, do you blame me?’ Asif shrugged. ‘Either way, you passed with flying colours.’ Iqbal looked away, still trying to control the churning within him. It had been a close call. I wonder what would have happened if I had disarmed it, he thought with a shudder. Bloody hell! Tiwathia was so right. You can’t let your guard down even for a moment. You just have to live the lie. There is no other way.
‘Come on, Iqbal! We have only nineteen minutes left.’
The two men rapidly made their way out and were soon inside a rickety autorickshaw they had managed to flag down.
I just hope we’ve done our job well, Iqbal prayed as he watched the crowds fade away in the distance. If that bomb goes off… He shivered.
‘What happened?’ Asif asked, catching the sudden shiver.
‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Asif smiled condescendingly at him. ‘That always happens the first time. You’ll get used to it soon.’ He laughed. ‘By the third or fourth time, you’ll actually start enjoying it.’
As usual, the railway station was teeming with a sense of chaotic urgency when the two men alighted from the autorickshaw and made their way inside. The medley of sounds ebbed and flowed as a train thundered in or whistled its way out, the sounds magnified as they ricocheted off the corrugated roofing over the platforms. Cries of ‘Taxi? Hotel? Coolie!’ added to the pandemonium. The railway platform smell, a strange blend of sweat, tea, food, cold drinks and cigarettes, hung heavy in the air.
Asif halted on the fringes of the crowd and pulling out his mobile, made a short call. Iqbal heard him mutter softly into the phone, ‘Send it now…Yes.’ There was a pause. ‘Good! I’ll be seeing you.’ Asif returned the phone to his pocket and rejoined the crowd of people flowing into the station, with Iqbal in tow.
Two hundred and fifty miles away, in Mumbai, the same slim, well-dressed man in his late twenties accompanied by the same short, dark man driving the same maroon Ford Endeavour put away the mobile phone on which he had just answered Asif’s call and turned his attention back to his laptop. This time he was already connected to the unsecured wireless network he had caught a few moments ago.
With light, precise taps on the keyboard he sent out the email that was waiting in the drafts folder. The list of recipients was almost the same as the last time. So was the reaction. Moments later, security forces in Surat and Mumbai jolted into action. This time, however, the action was destined to be differently choreographed.
Due to the heavy crowd, it took Asif and Iqbal nearly ten minutes to reach the platform from which their train was to depart. But it was still early and the train had n
ot yet been marshalled onto the platform.
Asif made his way towards a raised television on the platform, the screen aglow with the logo of the local news channel. The sound had been muted; not that it mattered, because even if it had been on full volume, the hullabaloo around would have ensured nothing was audible. And it made no difference to the two men who came to a halt in front of it, one watching the screen eagerly, the other with anxiety.
They had been there for a couple of minutes when Iqbal saw Imtiaz and Abid making their way towards them. None of them acknowledged or spoke to the others.
The news anchor was conducting an animated discussion with a vaguely familiar sports expert, probably an ex-vice captain of the Indian cricket team. They could not hear what either of them was saying, but the focus of the discussion was clear from the news ticker scrolling continuously across the prominent blue bar at the bottom of the screen. Apparently there was some fresh controversy between the selectors and the current captain of the team.
Every few seconds, Asif anxiously checked the time on his wristwatch. It should have started by now! The first bomb was timed for… what… Asif checked the time again… eight... almost nine minutes back. By now they should have got the news on air.
Asif was about to look at his watch again when it happened. The long blue bar at the base of the television screen turned red and a large, bright yellow BREAKING NEWS icon began to flash.
Two unexploded bombs have been discovered at… the headlines screamed. Simultaneously the news anchor’s demeanour changed and he began to talk even more animatedly. Almost immediately, the shell-shocked sports commentator was banished to the sidelines.
Unexploded? Asif’s face changed hues when the contents of the news ticker hit him. He turned to glare at Imtiaz, who was also watching the screen, confusion and bewilderment written all over his face.
Just then the train arrived on the platform and people began to scramble on board.
