Weapon of Vengeance

by Mukul Deva

  “Now three terrorists had penetrated the inner sanctum of the mosque.”

  The screen went black as Peled switched to the feed from the security cameras inside the mosque.

  Raiders One, Two, and Five could now be seen rounding up hostages. The majority they chose were Muslims—again deliberate and part of the plan. Only two of the fourteen they took were non-Muslims, both men in their late forties, from their dress and demeanor both Jewish. One a meek-looking schoolteacher. The second, his American cousin on a sightseeing tour. It now seemed unlikely that he’d be utilizing his return ticket.

  Raider One stood guard while Raider Two secured the hands and feet of the hostages. All this while Raider Five could be seen moving from window to window. Every so often, she would raise her weapon and fire.

  Peled’s commentary filled in the gaps.

  “A few hundred meters to the north, the next pair of terrorists, who we now know were called Raiders Seven and Eight, opened fire with their assault rifles at the tourists milling around the Dome of the Rock. Here again, either the terrorists were lucky or the guards not alert, or taken by surprise. Most fell to the initial onslaught. The two who survived managed to put bullets into the attackers, but failed to prevent them from entering the monument. So, with Raiders Seven and Eight inside, both monuments were now in control of the terrorists.”

  Ravinder threw a quick glance around. The others were as caught up in this as he was.

  “As you will note from the proximity of these two buildings”—Peled tapped them out on the screen with a laser pointer—“it would now be extremely hard for the security forces to undertake cleansing operations from the area between them, since they’d be in range from one or both of the buildings.”

  His audience nodded; the predicament of the security forces was obvious.

  “Despite the speed with which the attack developed,” Peled continued, “the IDF reaction was fast.”

  Having studied the lessons of the Mumbai ghazwa, Ravinder knew it was imperative to dislodge the terrorists before they got firmly entrenched. Given time, they would not only be able to secure more hostages or kill more people, but also take up good defensive positions and lay booby traps.

  “By now our counterterrorism units were racing in,” Peled resumed. “Our biggest problem was that no operation could be carried out without damage to the monuments. Considering their religious significance, any damage would incite massive anger in Muslims the world over.”

  It was clear to this audience that this was what the terrorists’ had been banking on. Ravinder could see the others trying to figure how they would have reacted.

  “The counterterror units were en route. Meanwhile the remaining terrorists swung into action. They had also learned the lessons of the Mumbai attack and planned on multiple targets.”

  Once again, the screen sprang to life and the footage of another set of cameras began to beam.

  Raiders Nine and Ten, another pair of pretty girls in their early twenties, could be seen hauling out Micro Tavors from their knapsacks and opening fire on the tourists at the Tower of David.

  Raider Nine was running toward the security post as she fired. She got two of the guards before the others gunned her down. She too disappeared in an explosive thunderclap as Raider Ten raced into the monument.

  “The one who had got inside gunned down everyone she came across.” Peled’s tone hardened; it was impossible not to feel his anger. “Her job was not to secure the monument; it was to inflict maximum casualties and also force our men to come in and get her, thus diverting forces from their primary objective, the Al-Aqsa.”

  Though everyone in this audience had studied the operation and knew what was coming next, they hung on to Peled’s words.

  “As soon as information about this latest attack reached HQ, a section of the IDF response team rushing to Al-Aqsa split away and headed for the Tower of David. Post Mumbai and the changing nature of urban jihad, we were now geared to handle simultaneous, multiple threats.

  “At the same time as the Tower of David was attacked, one-point-eight kilometers to the north, the final pair, Raiders Eleven and Twelve—two more touristy-looking girls—whipped out Micro Tavor assault rifles and headed for the security post guarding the Chapel of the Ascension.”

  Peled clicked the controller, and the feed from yet another set of cameras showed two girls racing forward, firing. They gunned down guards then ran toward the chapel.

  “Here also they simply gunned down everyone in sight.” Peled now was having trouble keeping his emotions in check. Ravinder knew how he felt; in his place, he too would have been livid. Though Peled had started with a well-rehearsed presentation, now it was coming from his heart.

  “As soon as we got word of this attack, another section of the anti-terror units converging on Al-Aqsa bled away and headed for the Chapel. Also, as the threat had enlarged, headquarters began to scramble more forces.”

  On the screen, the footage again returned to Al-Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock. IDF commandos could be seen rushing in and deploying to secure the perimeter.

  The camera feed changed and commando detachments could now be seen arriving at the Tower of David and the Chapel of Ascension.

  “Within minutes of getting there, we began the operation to retake the monuments,” Peled resumed, again using his laser pointer. The units could now be seen deploying sensors and sending in probes.

  Ravinder knew their first step would be to gather maximum intelligence. The security forces would already know the layout. Also, in most such buildings there were always cameras and security sensors. The security forces used these for real-time combat intelligence, which was vital to ensure the building could be retaken with minimal loss of life. Ravinder was glad he was not in their shoes.

  “There is no doubt that the planners of this strike were veterans of such dark ops. They had planned to enhance the psychological impact of their strikes.” Peled’s voice stayed low and intense. “They left all audio surveillance, motion or heat sensors alone. Pinpointing and destroying them would have taken too much time. However, they destroyed all surveillance cameras they could find. These would not only give away their strength but also their weapons, location, and condition. However, they left the cameras covering the inner sanctums of the mosque intact. The terrorists needed these to ensure maximum coverage and eyeballs for their gory finale.”

  Ravinder could see that everyone in the room was still riveted.

  The footage changed again, to the inside of the mosque.

  The raiders could now be seen moving rapidly from one firing position to another; keeping up a barrage; doing everything to deny operational intel to the security forces and to keep them at bay.

  At the Tomb of David, Raider Ten kept firing till she was down to her last magazine. However, her task was complete. As the first commando broke in, she ran forward and detonated her camera bomb. Both she and the commando were annihilated.

  “The Tomb of David was back in our hands. Barring the area around the explosion, the damage was within manageable limits. However, eleven people lost their lives.”

  Peled’s words rang bleakly through the room.

  “At Ascension, Raiders Eleven and Twelve kept the initial probes of our forces at bay, however they too were running out of ammo. They were setting up explosive charges when IDF commandos raced in and gunned them down. Again, their lives ended explosively. The damage to the chapel was minimal. But our loss here was much higher. Four security men and seventeen tourists gunned down.” Peled’s voice now carried a hard, brittle edge.

  The footage flipped again as it returned to the Dome of the Rock.

  Both terrorists had been wounded, Raider Seven so badly that she couldn’t move. Raider Eight could move, but slowly.

  “That is why their shoot-scoot-shoot strategy did not work. Minutes later, the Dome was back in our hands. However, the death toll here was a shocking twenty-six, including three commandos. The damage to the building
was also more severe. But, as you will see now, our problems were far from over.”

  Once again, the footage changed. The inner sanctum of the mosque hove into view. It showed twelve bound, panic-striken hostages. The three terrorists were moving rapidly from window to window, keeping up a rain of fire on the forces outside. The fourteen arches, twenty-seven marble columns on the eastern side, and the same number of stone piers on the west afforded them cover to switch positions.

  Suddenly Raiders One and Two ran back to the hostages. The security camera caught Raider One as she switched on her BlackBerry and began to video record. She was in direct sight of the camera, which revealed tense anticipation on her face.

  At Peled’s command, the feed now fragmented into two.

  On the second half of the screen, Raider Two could be seen lining up the hostages. Starting from one side, she began to gun them down, delivering one shot each to their faces, ensuring that each screamed as she or he saw death coming. Acrid gun smoke furled up in the air.

  Ravinder felt a nauseated feeling sweep through him.

  As Raider Two proceeded, the killing became more brutal. She shot the sixth hostage first in the lower jaw. His soundless scream rang out. Only then did she put one between his eyes. The eighth was shot twice in the knees before her coup de grâce. The eleventh, the American cousin visiting Israel, was begging for mercy when she put the muzzle against his stomach. There was a soundless click as the firing pin slammed down on an empty chamber.

  The kneeling hostage looked up. Amazed. Shocked. Then he vomited. It was so revoltingly real that Ravinder felt as though he could reach out and touch it.

  By now Raider Two was directly in front of the security camera overhead. Probably she was aware of it and had positioned the hostages to ensure it caught their slaughter in gory detail. Dropping the now-empty assault rifle, she unsheathed a wicked knife from her ankle holster.

  The hostage was still vomiting when she reached down, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head back. The knife moved in a quick diagonal slash across the throat. He gurgled and then slumped forward. His blood rained out in droplets on Raider Two’s hands. She licked her lips as she wiped it clean on her pant leg. They all could see the madness in her eyes.

  On the second half of the screen, recording all this on a BlackBerry, Raider One had been moving in tandem with Raider Two. They saw an odd expression on her face; as though she wanted it all to end, yet was fascinated by what she was seeing. Her mouth was slightly, almost erotically, open and her chest heaved. And now and then, her tongue forayed out and moistened her lips.

  By the time Raider Two moved to the twelfth man, her chest heaved, eyes were blazing, and splatters of blood pockmarked her.

  The final hostage did not scream. There was an amazing calm in how he stared at her, perhaps a touch of pity. His lips were moving as though praying … for her.

  The surge of anger on Raider Two’s face at his lack of fear was palpable. Perhaps that he was a Jew fueled her anger. Shifting the knife’s angle, she sliced out his right ear. The hostage screamed now. Though no sound emerged, each viewer could hear the animal-like howl of pain.

  The scream goaded Raider Two on. She sliced off the second ear now. The scream this time seemed to go on forever. Raider Two reversed her hold on the knife and drove it into the hostage’s right eye. The scream ended abruptly as the knife entered the brain and drove life out of him.

  Raider Two stood frozen, with the knife buried in the hostage’s skull. She seemed depleted. As though it were not just the hostage who had died. As though something inside her had died too.

  His mouth dry, suddenly short of oxygen, Ravinder watched; unable to believe the brutality he had witnessed.

  Watching it on the BlackBerry’s 3.25-inch touch screen, Raider One smiled. She began tapping out something on the keypad.

  Yes. She would have needed to get the recording out.

  Raider One watched impatiently as the file slowly uploaded, mentally goading it on, aware that time was now desperately short.

  The transmission must have completed, because she gave a satisfied nod and was putting the phone away when a stun grenade smashed through the nearby window. It exploded with a mind-numbing roar and blinding flash, so bright that it dazzled Peled’s audience.

  The two raiders were reeling when IDF commandos raced in and unleashed a hail of bullets into them.

  Their mission complete, the two terrorists triggered their camera bombs and death claimed them.

  “The BlackBerry handset was also destroyed, so we’ll never know to whom she sent that video.”

  Peled’s comment was cut off as Raider Five raced into the central hall. She saw her teammates were down and reached for the trigger of her camera bomb.

  A commando had turned when he heard her run in and got off two shots even as her hand was reaching for the camera bomb.

  His first bullet missed. The second whipped past her temple. It grazed deeply enough to make her reel and clutch at the wound.

  Like a flash, the commando was upon her. His rifle butt bludgeoned her down. She lay still.

  The carnage was over.

  The silence in the conference room was complete. However, the footage on the screen rolled on.

  The task force commander now raced into the mosque. He came to a stunned stop as he surveyed the horrifying bodies.

  “The last hostage killed was Ean Gellner, the son of Ziv Gellner, who is one of our delegates for this summit,” Peled said softly.

  On the screen, the task force commander turned and said something to the commando who had captured Raider Five.

  “Keep that fucking bitch alive. We need to find out who was behind this. Whoever it is will pay. By God they will.”

  Then the screen went blank and the lights brightened. All in the room were avoiding looking at one another. Silence gripped the room.

  * * *

  “I knew we had to keep her capture from the media.” Peled stopped abruptly.

  “You?” Chance asked, wide-eyed. “You were the task force commander?”

  “Yes,” Peled replied. “I also did most of the post-event investigation. That is why I was asked to come down and brief you all.”

  Another long silence. They all remained stunned and revolted.

  “Who were the others involved?” Jennifer’s voice broke the moment.

  “The mastermind was a Qassam Brigade commander.”

  “Who?” Jennifer again.

  “We are still not sure,” Peled replied with a straight face. No way Israel would officially admit to Yusuf Sharbati’s involvement, not after he had been disposed of in Dubai by a Kidon team barely a week ago. “But we do know that the Qassam commander was funded by someone from the Lashkar-e-Taiba.”

  “Not surprising,” Ravinder remarked. “They’ve been looking for a way to up their profile in global terror for many years now. Of late, they’ve become frantic because their refusal to take up arms against their sponsors, the Pakistani government, has caused them to be tagged as betrayers of Islam.”

  “True.” Mohite added, “That is why they are under huge pressure to redeem themselves in the eyes of the ummah, the community. Not to mention that they want to exploit the gap in leadership of Terror Central, with Osama dead and other senior Al-Qaeda leaders having gone underground.”

  “That could also explain the similarities of the Jerusalem strike to the November 26 Lashkar-e-Taiba ghazwa on Mumbai,” Chance pointed out. “Mumbai was also their doing.”

  “True.” Peled nodded. “We have certain leads about this man but have yet to ascertain his identity.”

  “You know we have a very extensive database on all LeT commanders,” Ravinder offered. “We have lived with these lunatics for decades now. Let us know if we can help.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir.” Peled gave a grateful smile. “We shall take you up on that.”

  “Just share your leads with us, and Mohite will help you to dig up possible matches.” />
  “Right.” Again, it was Jennifer who brought them back to the present. “So that takes care of fourteen people. You’d said there were fifteen. Who was the fifteenth?”

  “There was a thirteenth woman,” Peled said quietly.

  Hell! Again that bloody number. Ravinder swore under his breath. It had become a recurring theme with this damn summit.

  Peled continued. “We do not know much except that she is most probably Caucasian. The terrorist we captured caught a glimpse of her and heard her talking when she’d come to meet the Qassam commander. She says it was a British accent. As of now, that is all we know.”

  The others were listening, but did not catch the unspoken. Ravinder did. He sensed that Peled knew more than he was telling. Unsure why, Ravinder did not consider it correct to pursue this in public and let it pass for now. He listened as the others let loose a barrage of questions.

  It was in a somber mood that the meeting broke up an hour later.

  * * *

  At that moment, barely thirteen miles away, the thirteenth woman, dressed as a tourist, complete with camera, hat, and water bottle, approached Ashoka Hotel. Comfortable jeans, a pale pink T-shirt, and sensible walking shoes completed her attire.

  Taking care to ensure she did not become noticeable, Ruby carried out two runs to and through the hotel. The minute she entered it, she knew she had no hope of going past the main lobby or the restaurants. Disappointed but not surprised, she surveyed as best she could.

  On her first run, she studied the layout and identified ingress points. On the second, she confirmed the observations she had made, double-checking to ensure she was correct.

  By sunset, Ruby had embedded every detail of the venue in her head. Satisfied she had done all she could, she returned to her hotel room and began to work out attack combinations.

  It was not going to be easy. She’d seen cops crawling all over the place, as many in plainclothes as in uniform. Most inner areas in the hotel had already been cordoned off. Roadblocks had been set up on all approaches, and security posts at both hotel gates.

  It did not take her long to realize that a frontal assault would be doomed. It would have to be a covert attack. But a frontal assault could be a useful diversion.