BLOWBACK

by Deva, Mukul

  ‘Add some more of those mini Santas and stuff,’ Asif said after examining the finished product minutely. ‘There! That’s much better,’ he added a few minutes later, when Iqbal had complied.

  ‘How are we going to trigger them?’

  ‘I’ll be doing that with my mobile. Just one text message or call to that phone buried in there,’ he pointed at the pot in which the Christmas tree was planted, ‘and boom...’ He unclenched his palms and threw his hands upwards.

  ‘What a caller tune that will be!’ Imtiaz gave a neighing laugh.

  Asif laughed and clapped Imtiaz on the back. ‘Good one, that!’ With an effort Iqbal joined in the laughter, controlling his horror and disgust.

  They were midway into the fourth bomb when Iqbal looked at his watch. It was nearly half past eleven. He knew it was time to activate the GPS locator. That way Mujib would be with them when the Force 22 team moved in.

  ‘I’m just going around the corner.’ Iqbal made for the door.

  ‘Too many kebabs, eh!’ Imtiaz said with a crude laugh.

  ‘It’s the last door at the end of the courtyard.’ Asif pointed after he had finished laughing. ‘The light switch is just outside, to the left of the door… oh, and the door doesn’t lock.’

  ‘The door doesn’t lock?’

  ‘What difference does it make? It’s only us here. What have you got that we don’t?’ There was another burst of laughter.

  Laugh all you want, you morons. Just one hour more and you will be singing to a different tune. Iqbal cursed them as he made his way to the bathroom at the end of the courtyard. Not only did the rickety metal door of the bathroom not lock, the stink in the tiny, filthy cubicle was unbearable. Blocking his nose with one hand, Iqbal pulled the door shut and held it closed with his foot as he removed his belt.

  ‘You have to turn the buckle clockwise once, then counter-clockwise thrice and then clockwise one last time. That will activate the GPS locator in the buckle.’ Iqbal kept Dhankar’s instructions in mind as he carefully removed the belt from the loops in his trousers.

  ‘Why all these twists and turns?’ he had asked Dhankar.

  ‘To ensure it’s not activated by mistake.’

  ‘And how will I know it has come on?’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘Actually, you will,’ Tiwathia had said with a laugh. ‘When we beat down the door and kick the bad guys’ asses, you’ll know all right.’

  They had all laughed at that. Now Iqbal caught hold of the buckle and began the activation sequence. He was starting to make the final clockwise turn when there was a sudden pounding on the door.

  ‘Hey! If you’re done, I’d like to go too.’ Imtiaz’s yell and the bang on the door startled Iqbal. The door almost flew open and he had to lunge forward to keep it closed. As he did so, his hand twisted and he looked down in horror to find that the buckle had snapped free from the belt.

  ‘Hang on, miyan.’ Iqbal struggled to keep his voice even. ‘I’m almost done... another couple of minutes.’

  ‘Okay, but hurry up, yaar,’ Imtiaz grumbled and began to pace the stretch of courtyard outside the toilet.

  Iqbal couldn’t believe his eyes as he examined the broken buckle in his hand. His heart was thudding. Damn! Damn! Damn! How on earth did this happen? Then he spied the tiny wire running out from the broken buckle. Shit! If these buggers see it, I’m dead.

  Hurriedly, he removed the tiny GPS locator inside the buckle and the cell that powered it. Dropping them in the Indian style commode, he flushed the toilet. He waited for the water to settle and checked that nothing was visible.

  Okay, so that’s one problem solved. But how the hell do I get word out to Colonel Anbu?

  ‘Are you done?’ Imtiaz called out again.

  ‘Coming, coming,’ Iqbal replied irritably. He was about to step out when he realized he was still holding the belt and broken buckle in his hands.

  Asif might notice something... he is so suspicious about everything.

  The tiny ventilation hole in the rear wall came to his rescue. In better days, it had probably housed an exhaust fan to keep the air fresh inside the toilet. Right now it was just a gaping circular hole, eyeing the silent darkness outside. Iqbal knew it would open onto the alley at the rear of the house.

  He chucked out the belt and buckle and finally emerged from the bathroom, making a show of tucking his shirt into his trousers. ‘Go!’ he told Imtiaz, who was pacing outside impatiently, and made his way back to the room with the Christmas trees, his mind in a tailspin. Luckily, Asif was so preoccupied with putting together the last bomb that he didn’t notice anything untoward.

  ‘Come on,’ he said cheerfully, clearly very pleased with their progress, ‘we’re almost done. Just dress that up while I finish this last one.’

  Iqbal put his hands to work, mechanically tagging on the required decorative items as his mind went over the options available to him. He knew Asif wouldn’t allow him out of the house. Suddenly realizing that he was completely on his own, he felt his heart sink and a sense of helplessness swept through him. Tiwathia’s words of caution came back to him.

  ‘Remember that the undercover operative must always be fully self-reliant in every respect.’

  ‘So basically we are going to be totally on our own.’

  ‘That’s the only way to look at it.’

  Iqbal cursed to himself. He knew he had to somehow disable the bombs himself. He had begun to apply his mind to this new thought when Asif stood up and stretched. ‘That’s it then. You finish this and we’re done for the night.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Just then Imtiaz returned. ‘We’re done here; now Iqbal just has to complete the camouflage,’ Asif told him proudly. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you get some tea and snacks ready while I go and lighten the load too.’ He patted his belly, a satisfied expression plastered over his face. ‘Then we can all get some rest.’

  ‘Excellent idea!’ As always, the thought of food enthused Imtiaz. ‘There are still some kebabs left.’ He headed for the kitchen and Asif went to the bathroom, leaving Iqbal alone with the bombs. He knew this was his best chance.

  Iqbal thought back frantically to what Dhankar had told him about disabling bombs.

  ‘When a mobile phone is used to trigger a bomb, it’s switched on only at the time the bomb is actually being deployed.’

  ‘Why? Why not do it earlier when there are no prying eyes around?’

  ‘Right!’ Dhankar had given a short laugh. ‘Can you imagine what would happen if some pesky telemarketer decided to call that number to make some asinine sale?’ He laughed again. ‘That would be pretty funny, wouldn’t it?’

  Without further thought Iqbal pushed his fingers into the flowerpot in front of him, and gently pulled out the mobile phone buried in it. Sliding open the back cover of the phone, he withdrew the tiny white SIM card, inverted it and re-inserted it. Then he replaced the phone cover and pushed it back into the pot. With the contact broken, Iqbal knew that no calls or messages to the phone would go through; the bomb was as good as dead.

  Groping inside the pot of the second tree, he repeated the same procedure. He had just buried the fourth phone back inside the pot when he realized that he could have used one of those phones to get word out to Colonel Anbu. For a moment his hands paused as he thought it over quickly; talking was no good, they would hear him, but he did have the option of sending out a text message. It seemed doable. He was just reaching back into the pot when he heard Asif returning from the bathroom. He quickly pulled out his hand and headed for the door, emerging just as Asif came up to it.

  ‘You done?’

  ‘All done.’ Iqbal’s heart was pounding wildly, as much at the close call as at the missed opportunity.

  ‘Okay, then let’s go and grab a bite.’

  ‘You go ahead. I’ll just wash up first.’ Iqbal needed to be alone for a minute. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Asif could hear it. He headed for the washbasin in
the corner of the courtyard. The cold water delivered him to the present with a snap, bringing some semblance of normalcy.

  When he went back to the kitchen, Asif was saying something to Imtiaz. The minute Iqbal walked in, he broke off and moved away. It was the way he did it that raised Iqbal’s antenna immediately. He knew they had been talking about him and Imtiaz’s shifty demeanour only confirmed his suspicion.

  Iqbal wondered what they had been talking about. Did they see me when I was working on the mobiles? Are they onto me? he thought wildly.

  ‘Come on, Iqbal, grab a bite.’ Asif gestured at the food on the kitchen counter. ‘Imtiaz has heated it up for us.’

  Pushing away the nagging worry and pretending he had not noticed anything, Iqbal forced himself to eat. But the hot, succulent kebabs tasted like cold ash in his mouth.

  They had just finished eating when Asif’s phone rang. As usual, he moved away from them and answered.

  ‘Haan bhai,’ Iqbal heard him mutter. ‘Yes, they’re all done... okay... sure. No problem, I’ll wait for you.’ He ended the call and turned to them. ‘Right, guys, let’s get some rest.’ He threw a quick look at his wristwatch. It was just a shade after midnight. ‘We hit the road sharp at seven-thirty tomorrow.’

  ‘You mind explaining the programme to us?’

  ‘Sure I will, Imtiaz, but tomorrow morning. Right now, I have other stuff to catch up on.’ With that he hustled them away to their room.

  Imtiaz didn’t take long to fall asleep. Iqbal lay in the bed next to his, trying to prevent himself from tossing and turning. The fact that he had managed to defuse the bombs didn’t bring the sense of relief that he had hoped for. Instead, something kept nagging at his mind. He was unable to put a finger on it, but he couldn’t push away the feeling that something was seriously amiss, that he had missed something critical.

  Damn! Had it not been for this idiot, he glared at the man sleeping on the other bed, Colonel Anbu and his team would have been here by now and this operation would be over. Now, even if I manage to alert him in the morning, we won’t be able to take down that bugger, Mujib. All this effort will go to waste. Suddenly, another thought struck him. What if they stick someone else onto me tomorrow morning? Then how will I get word out at all?

  This new worry was beginning to gnaw at him when he heard the main door open. He could hear three or four people moving in the courtyard and in the room where they had been making the bombs. Though he tried hard to make out what they were saying, the unseen men kept their voices very low. Iqbal fought the temptation to stand at the door and eavesdrop again. He knew that if they caught him, they would take him apart mercilessly.

  The muted commotion lasted a good half hour before he heard them exit, and silence returned to the house once more. A moment later, he heard footsteps coming up to the door. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep as the door opened and Asif looked in.

  Asif examined the two sleeping men for a moment before he shut the door again and moved to the adjacent room. And Iqbal returned to his relentless fretting.

  ‘Rest is a weapon,’ Dhankar had told him more than once. ‘The body needs rest far more than it needs food. Make sure you give it that rest whenever you get the chance.’

  Knowing that there was nothing else he could do right now, Iqbal closed his eyes and willed sleep to take over.

  Tomorrow is another day, another battle. It will all be over tomorrow, Inshallah.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The loud, incessant knocking on the door woke Iqbal with a start. He opened his eyes to see that shards of daylight had crept into the room through the curtained window.

  ‘Come on guys, rise and shine. Time to get cracking.’ Asif’s voice was loud as he sauntered in. He was already dressed and looked all set to go. ‘You two have half an hour to get ready... and make sure you shave and put on your Sunday best. Remember, we’re going to church today.’

  Twenty-five minutes later, when Iqbal and Imtiaz entered the kitchen, Asif was there with Khalid. He started off without any preamble.

  ‘Right! This is what we’re going to do. We’ll load one Christmas tree, a few dozen plum cakes and some chocolate fudge packets in each of the four Maruti vans parked outside. Also, one Santa Claus outfit each – make sure you carry one that fits you properly.’

  ‘You never said we would have to wear fancy dress!’ Imtiaz exclaimed.

  ‘Can you think of a better disguise?’ Asif shot back. ‘Just close your eyes and think of what you would say if you were asked to describe a man dressed as Santa Claus. And give some thought to how people react when they see a man dressed as Santa.’

  ‘I see what you mean.’ There was grudging admiration in Imtiaz’s voice. There was no doubt about it, all Santa Clauses looked pretty much the same and any attempt to describe one was not likely to go beyond red clothes, a red cap and a big white beard. And most people would view them with amusement rather than suspicion. ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘I know it is!’ Asif said cockily. ‘Imtiaz, you’ll take the first van and drive to the Green Park church. Stop en route at a suitable place and put your Santa outfit on over your clothes.’

  ‘Why not do it right now?’

  ‘Just a precaution. I don’t want anyone associating the clothes with this house.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Park the van in the area I showed you yesterday. You must try to keep it as close to the church gate as possible. Get the plum cakes and chocolates out and head for stall number seven – that’s the second one to the left as you enter from the main gate. It has already been booked and paid for by one of our people.’

  ‘What if the security guards want to check the packets?’

  ‘Don’t wait for them to ask you. Instead, I want you to start opening the boxes and showing them to the security on your own... in fact, you could even offer one of the cakes or a box of chocolates to them... spreading Christmas cheer, as it were. Okay?’ He waited till Imtiaz nodded.

  ‘Once you’ve got all your cakes and chocolates on the table in your stall, come back and take the Christmas tree from the van. With the tree already assembled, it’s going to be just a little too wide to go through the doorframe metal detector. Make a show of trying to push it through and then, with the right apologies, walk it around the detector.’

  ‘What if the cops don’t allow me to take it in, or want to check it properly?’

  ‘That’s the only thing you have to avoid. If they start insisting, then grumble about not wanting to spoil it and just cart it back to the van and leave it there.’

  ‘What happens to the plan in that…?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Asif cut him off. ‘Just allow me to finish.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘If you manage to get the Christmas tree inside, place it just behind the desk so that the top of the tree is visible, but you are able to dig out the phone from inside the pot and switch it on without being seen. Got it?’ Imtiaz nodded. ‘Good. Now, between 0900 and 0915 hours, activate the mobile phone in the pot, head for the bathroom, get rid of the Santa outfit and leave the church quietly. As soon as you’re out, head for the nearest taxi stand and get out of there. You got that?’

  ‘What if I haven’t been able to get the tree in and it’s still in the van?’

  ‘Even then, by 0915 hours you must get rid of the Santa dress, get back to the van and switch on the phone. But in this case, I want you to stop at the nearest phone booth and let me know.’

  ‘Okay! That sounds simple enough. Where do I go then? Come back here?’

  ‘No! You head back to Pune immediately. Your return ticket is in this.’ Asif tossed him a sealed envelope. Imtiaz was starting to open it when Asif stopped him. ‘No. You do that when you’re alone. I don’t want anyone to know anyone else’s escape route. That way, all of us don’t get compromised...’

  ‘…in case any one of us is taken,’ Imtiaz completed the sentence for him. ‘Yeah, yeah, we know that.’

  ‘Fine. Now
you,’ he turned to Iqbal, ‘will follow the same procedure as Imtiaz here except that you will head for the stall on the extreme right, the one closest to the main door of the church. It has a yellow canopy and a signboard with “Cakes and Chocolates” tagged on the front. Any doubts?’

  Iqbal shook his head after a moment’s thought, trying to visualize the position of the stall on the mental map he had of the church. ‘None,’ he said.

  ‘Fine. The rest of your drill is exactly the same. Now, are you both sure of your route from here to the target?’ Both Imtiaz and Iqbal nodded. ‘Even so, just to prevent any hassles, keep these.’ He tossed two Garmin GPS navigators at them, one for each man. ‘Both have been preset and your routes plotted on them. All you have to do is switch it on and follow the instructions.’ He leaned out and switched on the one in Iqbal’s hands. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Boy! You’re really well prepared this time, Asif,’ Imitaz said with a chuckle as he fondled the sleek navigation device in his hand. ‘Do I get to keep this after the mission?’

  ‘Keep it,’ Asif said with an exasperated sigh. ‘You guys have enough money on you?’ The two men nodded.

  ‘Fine.’ Asif handed over another envelope to Iqbal. ‘That’s your return ticket.’ He turned to Khalid. ‘And you already have yours.’

  Khalid responded with a smug smile; obviously, he was the one who had booked the tickets.

  ‘Now guys, remember the key points; first, you have to get in early so that the parking lot is not full and you can park as close to the church gate as possible; second, make sure you put on your Santa outfit before you reach the church; third, be very polite and helpful, not just to the security staff but to everyone you meet there. Remember that you are supposed to be full of Christmas cheer and you’re selling this stuff to raise money for charity. Fourth, do not activate the phone in the tree till you are entirely ready to move out. And finally, the minute you get clear of the church, take the first available transport and get the hell out of Delhi.’

  ‘What happens once we’ve done our bit? Who does the final activation?’ Imtiaz was not one to stop till all his doubts were cleared.