by Mukul Deva
Relying on his intuition, Ravinder rose and began to walk casually toward the exit. The money he had left on the table would cover the coffee he had ordered. The four-man team, seeing him get up, got ready to move.
Willing them all to stay calm, Ravinder withdrew the iPhone he’d recovered from Mark’s body and dialed the number from which the text had been received. By now, he was almost level with his suspect, who was halfway into the coffee shop, his eyes still searching the tables.
Ravinder noted a puzzled expression on the man’s face, but no alarm. Yet. The suspect glanced at his watch; it was three minutes past seven. Then his mobile rang.
The shrill trilling was nearly drowned out by the hullabaloo of the coffee shop, but Ravinder, passing right by him, heard it clearly. He thumbed the iPhone, terminating the call. The trilling ended too.
Ravinder had his man.
Swiveling around, Ravinder gestured to the nearest cop to move. A sharp head shake. He was hauling out his revolver as he did so. Three strides, and Ravinder was behind the man.
Perhaps Ravinder had made a sound, or perhaps the man’s instincts were acute, but it was already too late.
The suspect had begun to turn when the pistol in Ravinder’s hand crashed down on his head, a powerful blow, with as much force as Ravinder dared. He did not want to kill the man. Not just yet.
As the man stumbled, two of the cops closed in and pummeled him onto the ground. Despite the suddenness of the assault, he fought back hard.
Ravinder felt a surge of satisfaction as they subdued him. One cop slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. The second ran an expert hand over him, checking for weapons.
The man named RG had been taken alive.
Now we will find out what these buggers are up to.… Satisfaction swept through Ravinder. At last! At long, bloody last, the break we needed.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, they began interrogating RG at Chanakyapuri Police Station. Two hours after that, they were still no closer to any truth.
“He is a tough bastard.” The SHO, Inspector Jai Ram, a short, powerfully built man with a large belly, whom Ravinder had tasked to do this, came into his office wiping his hands on a towel. Patches of sweat stained his rumpled uniform. Despite that, he appeared alert. “Name is Rafael Gerber.” Jai Ram said the unfamiliar name slowly. “Not a peep out of him. Keeps on insisting he’s here on holiday and wants us to call his … the German … embassy. Do you want us to give him some third degree, sir?”
Ravinder considered that. It was a sticky wicket he was playing on now. If the man turned out to be innocent, there could be hell to pay; his embassy would raise a furor.
If … Ravinder knew he wasn’t. There is no way he can be. He made up his mind. Whether it was the games or the summit, the stakes were just too high. Sometimes one could not play by the rules. The fucking terrorists never did.
“Break the bastard,” Ravinder commanded. “Do whatever it takes, but get him to talk. Fast!”
“Leave it to me, sir. He will talk.” Jai Ram had a cold grin on his face. “You go home. I will call you.” He was twirling the ends of his large Genghis Khan–style mustache. His eyes were pitiless pinpoints. Right now, he was a walking contradiction to the godly name his parents had given him.
Ravinder almost felt sorry for the captive; Jai Ram was going to give him a taste of hell. Then he thought of the stakes, and his heart hardened. What has to be done has to be done.
“No, I am staying right here.”
“It might be a long wait, sir.”
“No worries.”
The SHO departed. This was his chance to score points with so senior an officer. Opportunities such as this came but rarely.
Ravinder returned to mulling. Too much was coming together too fast. He could also feel the fatigue wearing him down. Calling for another cup, he tried to caffeine his tiredness away.
He was plowing through his fifth cup when Jai Ram returned, again wiping his hands on another towel. This one was spotted with blood, as were his hands and his shirtfront.
“He is talking.” Ravinder saw a satisfied grin on Jai Ram’s face. “In fact, he is more than happy to talk now.”
“Excellent. Who is he, and what is he here for?”
“He is German … a freelancer, a mercenary. The dead guy … Gerber says his name was Mark Leahy … had called him down to India for an operation.”
“What operation?”
“He doesn’t know. Says he was to be briefed by Mark when they met today and would be shown the target tomorrow.”
“Was it the Commonwealth Games?”
Jai Ram shook his head. “He has no clue.”
“Damn! Are you sure he is telling the truth?”
“Right now, sir, the motherfu—” Suddenly realizing to whom he was talking, Jai Ram choked off the profanity. “He wouldn’t lie if his mother told him to. He doesn’t know what the operation is, but he does know that Mark has also called in two more mercenaries for it. He does not know who they are, but he was told they are from South Africa.”
That should give us something to work on. Ravinder thanked the man. “Keep the pressure on him, Jai Ram. Set up a relay of interrogators, and make sure he does not get to sleep. I want to know everything he knows.”
He was pulling out his mobile as he headed out, when it rang. Prophetically, it was Mohite.
“Govind. Just the man I need.” Ravinder could not resist the pleasure of ensuring that Mohite would now have to keep working. It was because of his idiocy that they’d failed to take this Mark alive. “The man we captured at Machan has talked.” He brought Mohite up to speed and quickly told him what had to be done. Then he called Ashish and briefed him also. As long as they were not sure what the target was, both Ashish and Mohite had to be kept in the picture.
Minutes later, an APB went out. The instructions were short. Every available beat constable in Delhi was hauled out.
Every hotel and lodge has to be checked. Before sunrise. The two South Africans have to be found. They may be armed. They are dangerous. Exercise precaution and do not approach alone. All sightings to be reported prior to attempting capture.
Ravinder’s car had yet to reach home when hundreds of boots hit the ground. The hunt was on.
Unfortunately, neither Rafael nor the interrogator was to be blamed. Rafael Gerber had not lied. Mark did tell him that the other two men were coming from South Africa. What he had forgotten to mention was that both Shaun Ontong and Gary Boucher were Australians. They’d been operating in South Africa, but held Australian passports.
* * *
Ruby did not stop crying for a long time after Simran left. The strip of tablets lay forgotten in her hands, mangled. Not that it mattered; they would have been useless. Her pain was beyond medication. The raging conflict had started fragmenting her, loosening the already tenuous hold of sanity on her mind.
“Why did you lie to me, Mom?” She cried out, “Why? All these years … my life has been a lie.”
“Your life has not been a lie, Ruby.” From the depths of memory, Rehana tugged at her. Just as always. “Don’t get taken in by all this sweet talk. Ravinder never understood me … us … our cause. For him, it had no meaning. He loved the little cocoon he created for himself. You tell me, can the life of one man be greater than the agony that hundreds of thousands of our people have suffered … continue to suffer? Can it?”
“No! But why did you—”
“You cannot falter now, Ruby. We have sacrificed everything to get you ready. You are our revenge.” The dream of Rehana was piercing her. “I could have had a normal life too, but I chose our cause over that. Have you forgotten, Ruby? Have you forgotten what they did to us … to me?”
Reluctant though she was, Ruby could not stop these thoughts. They pounded her, hammering her down memory lane again.
* * *
Once again, as though it were happening all over again, Ruby found herself back in Palestine. She saw herself get
out of the car and walk up to her uncle Yusuf. He was tall, really tall. And gaunt.
Unshaven and red-eyed, he was in nondescript jeans and a maroon T-shirt. A cap pulled down masked most of his face.
“I can never get over it.” He stepped forward and took her in his arms. “Do you know how much you look like your mother?”
“Everyone says so.” Her words emerged as a whisper. She began to cry as Yusuf folded her in his arms.
“I told her a million times not to come back.” Ruby heard him as though from far away. “But she never listened.… You know your mother.… She would never listen … even as a kid.”
Yes. I know my mother. Ruby wanted to scream, but she had no energy. Yes! I knew my mother.
“Rehana was with the peace marchers, at the front … with the leaders … to hand in a petition. It was a peaceful march … even some international participants from peace organizations. That’s when the artillery shell landed … right at the head of the column. Those bloody Israelis … now they say that one of our people bombed the march … but that’s a lie … the bastards … they killed her.” Ruby heard him choke. “There was nothing much left of any of them.” He was unable to go on. Then he finally whispered, “Come, let us go inside and you can rest for a bit … you must be exhausted from the flight.”
“No, not yet. I would like to see my mom.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea, child. There is not much to see.”
“Whatever is left, Uncle Yusuf, I want to see her. She is … was my mother. I want to see her.”
“You are so stubborn … just like her.” Resigned. “Okay. If you are sure.”
“I am sure.”
Yusuf nodded, then went to the man who had driven her from the airport. For Yusuf, going to the hospital was out of the question. They would be watching out for him. He had no illusions what would happen if the Israelis got their hands on him.
An hour later, Ruby was at the hospital morgue, her heart pounding. The painful hammering increased as a white-coated, portly attendant pushed open the door and held it for her.
“I want to be alone with her,” Ruby said. Her tone did not leave room for discussion. The attendant nodded as he flicked on the light.
The ghostly darkness dissipated as white light flooded the room. Puffs of icy cold air hung in the freezing room, adding to the chill inside her.
The attendant gestured at the long metal tables in the center. Each had a body, someone who had once been a person with a name, a family, and friends … perhaps enemies too. “The third one from the right.” He pointed and left.
Ruby felt starkly alone. Never before had she felt so alone.
The silence was total, more unnerving than the screams reverberating in her head.
How can Mom be so small? Her hands felt as frozen as her mind. She willed them to reach out and pull away the white sheet. She saw sickly, yellow-red-black stains on it. Then the body. The tectonic plates of her mind began to slip.
So little was left of Rehana, especially the upper half of the body. Even the lower half was charred, tattered bits of flesh and bone. Surprisingly, the right hand remained untouched, as though the God of Death had wanted it so, to ensure the living would identify her easily. Rehana’s favorite blue sapphire ring shone brightly, beckoning at Ruby. That cemented the reality of her death. Ruby now knew she would not be coming back.
A huge spurt of vomit surged up, sprayed out, all over the floor, by Rehana’s table. Ruby collapsed, right into the vomit. The world around her went black.
Ruby came to in a bed in an unfamiliar room. The light streaming in told her that she had been out the whole night. Yusuf was sitting by her side.
“I told you not to go, child.”
Ruby did not reply. How to explain? I had to. There was no option.… There never has been … not with Rehana.… Mom is … was … Mom … She kept looking at him. After a while, she began to cry. Quietly. Soon he too was crying.
They were still crying when a man entered. He whispered something in Yusuf’s ear and left.
“It is time.” Yusuf touched Ruby lightly on the shoulder. “We … you need to go. They are waiting.”
“You will not come?”
“I cannot, Ruby. They will be looking out for me. Bid her farewell for me.”
“I will.”
It began to rain as they laid the cloth-covered body into the ground. Surprisingly the lifeless bundle appeared much larger than the … than what Ruby remembered had been left of Rehana.
The rain strengthened as they began to throw mud over the body, covering it, burying it. Soon it was as though she had never existed.
By now it was pouring. Claps of thunder boomed out. Slashes of lightning tore up the skies. Everything was gray. And dark.
Long after it was all over and the handful of mourners had left, Ruby stood in the pouring rain, watching the spot where Rehana’s body had gone. The torrent of water streaming down her face tasted salty. Ruby was surprised that she had again started crying. But she felt no sense of finality … of closure. She knew it was not over. She did not know what, but something unfinished remained. She knew.
Finally she turned and started walking back to the waiting car. That was when the thought struck her.
Someone should pay for this.
The thought festered.
Somebody will.
Yusuf too had dried his tears by the time they got back. Neither had anything to say. Words seemed futile.
“Get some rest. You must be tired.” His hand caressed her head. “We will talk tomorrow.”
* * *
Ruby lay helplessly in the now-dark guest room in the Gill house. The darkness outside slowly faded as a new sun rose. The darkness within her stayed. It lay inside her, cold and clammy.
They should pay for this. Her silent promise now reverberated in her head. I must make them pay.
“So be it.” Ruby did not realize that she had spoken aloud. “I will do my duty, but I will not harm any of the Gills.… They are family too.”
I am not alone. The thought caught her by surprise. I never was.
That was her last thought as she fell asleep. In her still unfamiliar bed.
Unaware that Gerber had been captured and the noose around her was closing.
* * *
Ravinder awoke suddenly, his mind crystal clear.
“Sorry, sir,” the now-dead Nanda was saying to him with a sheepish smile, “I was too far away to get the number, but the car was a cream-colored Toyota Innova.”
In his mind’s eye, Ravinder again saw the cream-colored Toyota come barreling down the road, almost running him down as he ran toward the garden gate. He saw his hand come up to stop it and a blur of motion inside the vehicle, as though someone had ducked. He ran the scene in his head a dozen times, but he couldn’t put a face to the person; it had been too fast, too sudden. His attention had been elsewhere. But Ravinder knew it had been a woman. He did not know why, but he knew.
So, she had been there for the weapons pickup … whoever she is.… Damn! I should have thought of it.… I should have put more teams down to look out for her.… Damn!
Ravinder cursed himself for the lost opportunity. As he fell asleep, he wondered if he would get lucky again … or would that damn woman’s luck continue to hold.
DAY EIGHT
Ruby wearily cracked open her eyes as the alarm on her mobile buzzed. She felt exhausted and unrested, as though she had just fallen asleep. She had. Barely an hour ago. Yet again, she wished that she had not thrown away the medication from the shrink.
Things were at a disastrous crossroads. The only saving grace was that Mark had not been taken alive; he was the only one who had known her identity and the target.
She was about to fall back asleep, when the TV sprang to life; the timer had been set for the morning BBC news.
Much to her disgust, there was no change in the situation in Israel. The IDF blockade of Gaza was still continuing. The turmoil in
the Middle East was escalating. Then the local news came on. Her eyes widened as news of Gerber’s arrest played out. The arrest of a foreign terrorist in Delhi on the eve of the Commonwealth Games was hot news, and the newscaster milked it for all it was worth.
All vestiges of sleep fled. This news devastated her. She hadn’t yet figured out how to proceed without Mark and the Glocks, and now this …
Ruby felt another headache begin to build. She forced herself to get up, put on her tracksuit, and head out of the house. Perhaps a run would clear her head.
* * *
“How is it possible that you have not been able to find those two mercenaries? All foreigners have to register.” The early call from Mohite had shaken Ravinder awake. “Did you get the list from the Foreigner Regional Registration Office like I told you? They have to be on it.”
“We did, sir. And we have been tracking everyone on that FRRO list.”
“Then someone has slipped up.” Ravinder was furious. “They have to be somewhere. Also they cannot check into any hotel without passports.”
“But we have rounded up almost everyone from South Africa who even remotely fits the bill,” Mohite repeated, sounding desperate. “We have nothing … except some very irate South Africans and an even more irate embassy official yelling at us.”
“You handle them. And keep the search going. We have to catch those two.” Well, at least Mohite has something to keep him busy and out of trouble. “There is no time, Mohite. The summit starts day after … In twenty-four hours, the delegates start arriving.”
Putting down the phone, Ravinder sat up and began to think. What have I missed? There had to be something.
He was still brooding when he walked into his study and took his laptop out of its bag. There was a whole day of e-mails to be replied to.
Damn!
The small mark left by water had been wiped clean. Now only a faint ring on the polished tabletop remained. It tugged at Ravinder; irritating him.
He snatched up a paper napkin and scrubbed at it. It faded a bit, but would not go away completely. He was getting up to tell the servant to fetch some wood polish when memory struck.
