RIP

by Deva,Mukul

  *

  Krishna watched the target disintegrate. When he was sure the target was down, he engaged gears of the Tata Indica he was driving and quickly reversed into the alley behind him, then headed off in the opposite direction. He was crossing the garage when he confirmed that the entrance to the target’s garage was devoid of life and then speed-dialled from mobile number 2. Moments later the ground beneath the garage entrance disappeared in a thunderous roar.

  The backup weapon had to be destroyed too. Krishna knew that the fewer traces they left behind the less the cops would have to work with.

  *

  The second explosion sent several kilograms of concrete and metal flying into the air. Most of it was aimed forward, almost directly at the alley from which Raghav’s car had emerged.

  Several chunks of debris slammed into his windscreen. Starring it. Suddenly blinded Raghav hit the brakes hard. Moving at high speed his car fishtailed, almost smashing into the sidewalk. By the time he regained control of it the Indica was nowhere in sight. It had turned into one of the several side roads radiating out. Raghav sensed it would be futile to try and hunt for it.

  Unwilling to hang around in the area Raghav quickly powered down the window and peering out drove away. Five minutes and a couple of kilometres later he stopped near a deserted alley and they kicked out the shattered windscreen before heading back to the hotel. Raghav was still cursing his bad luck when he alighted and went to his room, where the others had been told to regroup.

  ‘Give it some time then get your men to fan out all around Hassan’s house, especially in that alley where the motorcyclist and car driver had run off. I want them to question everyone they can lay their hands on. Someone, somewhere must have seen something.’

  He wagged an angry, compelling finger.

  ‘One break, Ratnakar. Just one fucking break. That’s all we need. Whoever gets me that, gets a big fat fucking bonus. Tell everyone that.’

  *

  Raghav had just kicked out the shattered windscreen when, barely a kilometre away, Krishna halted the Indica and picked up Kashif and Karan from the roadside tea stall they had agreed to rendezvous at. By now dismantled into small pieces and the SIM cards destroyed, both mobiles used to trigger the bombs were disposed of one piece at a time as they sped away.

  Krishna dropped Kashif at the airport and headed for the hotel. Karan would leave a bit later and take another flight out, since they had all decided to split up and return to Delhi. By now, Kulwant who had planted the explosives early that morning with Kevin’s help, would already have driven off to Pune with him, from where he would catch a flight to Delhi.

  Half an hour later, safely in his hotel room, Krishna watched the news erupt on the TV channels.

  A couple of hours later, having exhausted all possible news channels and confirmed that the cops were still groping in the dark about RIP Krishna switched off the TV. He knew that now all they could do was wait for the government to react, hope that they would finally wake up and take action. He really hoped they would; the killings had started getting to him. Not so much the judge, Kalpana Kumari or Afzal Hassan; all three of them deserved to die. But Hassan’s guards and his driver did not; they had just been doing their jobs. The bystanders certainly did not; they had nothing to do with it.

  Remorse started gnawing at him.

  As the evening gloom deepened, the silence in him started to grow, become increasingly uncomfortable. Deciding he needed to stop brooding and get out of the room he picked up his mobile and called Reena. There was no answer.

  Already feeling low he was suddenly unsure whether she was busy or just not taking his call. This added to his disquiet.

  Maybe she was just being polite when she had given me her number at the airport. Maybe she did not want to turn me down bluntly since I am her best friend’s brother.

  These thoughts depressed him even more. Trying to alleviate his depression he called Sachin and caught up on all the news. Talking with the carefree lad, full of news about things happening at school, cheered him up. But not for long. The dead guards, driver and bystander kept returning to him and despondency returned soon. Then his mobile rang and he saw Reena’s number displayed on the screen. He was surprised at the elation that ran through him.

  ‘Sorry Krishna, I was in a meeting when you called.’ She sounded cheerful.

  ‘No worries.’ Krishna could not stop grinning. He suddenly felt like singing. ‘How is it going? Did you manage to finish your interview?’

  ‘Yes, all done thank you.’

  ‘Great, then maybe you would like to join me for coffee . . . or have dinner with me?’

  ‘I would really have liked that Krishna,’ he was thrilled to note that she sounded like she meant it, ‘but my office wants me to cover this latest attack by the RIP. They have killed Hassan . . . that arms dealer. You heard of it?’

  ‘Of course. They’re talking of nothing else on TV.’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I am not sure what time I will get free, but likely rather late. I suggest you go ahead. It’ll not be fair to keep you hanging. I may not even get free.’

  ‘You have to eat sometime,’ he pointed out.

  ‘You have no idea what it’s like at this end.’ She laughed. ‘We may easily end up with a sandwich and a bag of chips.’

  ‘I understand.’ But he didn’t. Not really. He was unable to control his disappointment. Grow up! He reminded himself. Just because you feel this way does not mean she also . . . That thought shook him. But now it was out in the open and he could not ignore it any more.

  ‘But I can chat for a bit if you want. And I do hope I will see you at Azaan’s birthday party day after.’

  ‘Oh! I thought only Sachin was invited.’

  ‘No, I’d . . . I mean we would like it if you also came.’

  Again he was surprised at how light that made him feel. ‘I would be delighted, if you want me to.’ He was grinning like a Cheshire cat now.

  Now slightly flustered, Reena avoided answering the question by changing the topic. ‘Isn’t this RIP group just amazing? What do you think of it?’

  Krishna’s smile faltered. ‘Well, they do have a point, but . . .’

  ‘But don’t you think it’s wrong? How can anyone take the law in their hands like this?’

  ‘You’re right, I guess. But maybe sometimes people have no choice. These politicians have been taking the country for a ride for too long.’

  ‘There I agree with you, but I don’t think these killings are justified. And this time they have even murdered Hassan’s guards and driver. Not to mention an innocent bystander.’

  Murdered!

  The word hung heavy, enveloping Krishna. Acutely uncomfortable, he tried to change the topic, but Reena seemed consumed by it.

  When he finally put down the phone Krishna was besieged with unease. His face was grey as an overcast dawn.

  Were they doing the right thing?

  Try as he might he could not push away that thought. However, strangely enough, that night the nightmare of IC 814 did not return to haunt him.

  The sight of the dead guards and driver did. Jolting him awake several times.

  Murdered!

  Finally he gave up trying to sleep. The dark room was feeling claustrophobic. Stepping out in the balcony he drank in the cool night air, mingled with the distinct smell of the sea. Far in the distance he could see the necklace-like twinkling lights of Marine Drive. It was a beautiful sight. But tonight it went unnoticed.

  NINE

  RAGHAV ARRIVED AT the airport early and was waiting by the check-in counter when Reena walked up. She looked tired, as though she had not managed to get much sleep. Yet no less radiant. And she did not seem pleased to see him, but kept her expression carefully neutral when he greeted her. Her lawyer had warned her to avoid contact with him, and if it was inevitable, then to do nothing to increase the acrimony already flaring between them.

  ‘Nice coincidence Reena,’ Raghav dissembled,
not wanting her to know that he had changed his flight only after hearing her tell Krishna which flight she would be on. He sensed her discomfort and guardedness, but ignored them. Focused on trying to put her at ease so that he could talk to her about coming back to him, Raghav forced a hearty smile. ‘Do you mind if we sit together on the flight? I really want to talk to you.’

  Much to his annoyance, before she could answer Krishna joined them.

  Raghav noted that Reena greeted Krishna quite enthusiastically. A surge of jealous rage swept through him. His mood was ugly as they all checked in and proceeded to the boarding gate, bound by an awkward silence.

  *

  Engrossed in the awkward medley of thoughts holding them hostage, none of them noticed Vinod Bedi walk up to the check-in counter just after them.

  However, he noticed them, and this time memory kicked in for him right away. He realized why Raghav seemed so familiar.

  Wasn’t he the ADC to the Tamil Nadu governor? His face had been plastered over the newspapers for weeks. The one who was court-martialled for that scam, where houses meant for the Siachen martyrs were distributed between all those politicians? Vinod was sure it was the same man. Not too many army guys who . . . Not quite sure why, he suddenly went still. Army guy? The other man with him also seems like an army guy.

  On an impulse Vinod used his BlackBerry to snap a photo of the trio. He emailed it to his office, ordering Nandakumar to run an identity check on all three.

  Two army guys. Both had flown in to Mumbai the day before the RIP strike. Both were leaving the very next morning. Could be a coincidence.

  Vinod mulled over that.

  Probably is.

  He shrugged.

  Another really long shot. But what the hell, what’s the harm in checking. Not as though we have anything more concrete to follow up on. That seemed to have become a recurring theme for this case. There was no humour in the smile that touched his lips.

  *

  Raghav was still fuming when the three of them boarded the aircraft and took their seats. Reena took the window seat. Raghav quickly sat down beside her. Krishna, suddenly feeling like an intruder, took the aisle seat.

  Why couldn’t the arsehole have sat somewhere else and left us alone? Raghav silently cursed Krishna.

  By now he had remembered even more stuff about Krishna. They had been almost the same seniority, and like most para commandos had run into each other once in a while, during the various specialized trainings they all underwent. Raghav of course never made it beyond a captain’s rank before he was cashiered from service, while Krishna had gone on to become a colonel.

  One of those goody-goody bastards! Raghav remembered that Krishna had always been a high flyer, slated to go places, but then that hijacking incident had happened and a couple of hostages got killed during the take-down.

  A sudden memory jolted Raghav.

  One of the hostages killed had been his wife . . . That is why he had quit . . . Raghav studied him closely now. Trying to recall the rumours he had heard, of the face off Krishna had had with his CO after the incident. The para commandoes were a small community, but Raghav was unable to remember the details, except that Krishna had gotten disgusted with the establishment and quit, hanging up his boots even though he’d been doing really well and was obviously destined to go higher up the food chain.

  Spurred on by some deep-seated instinct, his suspicion grew. Raghav recalled the conversation he had had with Karunakaran the day before. ‘You’d mentioned the cops are putting together a list of likely suspects. Could you ask them to have a really close look at ex-Special Forces types? Especially the ones who have quit recently, or those who were fired. Basically I’m looking for people who may be carrying some grudge against the establishment . . . maverick types.’ Now it seemed prescient. The flames of suspicion flared brighter.

  Could this guy be behind the RIP? Krishna certainly has all the right credentials . . . and the skills.

  Though still unsure, he knew he had to explore his instincts further. ‘So, what took you to Mumbai, Krishna?’ Raghav was trying hard to keep the excitement out of his voice.

  ‘Work,’ Krishna replied shortly. Perhaps it was the suddenness. Perhaps the tone. But the question made him wary and uneasy.

  ‘What kind of work are you doing now?’

  ‘Helping companies design and implement their disaster management and business continuity plans.’ This part was truthful enough. He had set up the company a while ago, a few months after quitting service. One by one all five others of the K-Team had also joined him. And it was working out pretty well. Not only was the product good, their timing could not have been better.

  ‘What’s the name of the company again?’

  ‘Continuity and Resilience.’

  ‘Oh! That’s yours, is it?’ Krishna nodded. Raghav sounded impressed. ‘Have heard some good things about it.’ And he had.

  ‘Thank you. Well, we are the pioneers in India.’ Raghav was unable to keep a note of paternal pride out of his voice.

  ‘Cool. Lots of work in Mumbai? Come here quite often?’ Raghav continued probing.

  ‘We’ve just begun exploring the southern market.’ The alarm in Krishna’s head was louder now. Still not sure why, but sensing they were not quite so innocent, he scrambled to deflect Raghav’s questions. ‘And you, what are you doing these days?’

  ‘A bit of this and a bit of that.’ Aware that Reena was listening, it was now Raghav’s turn to dissemble. He had a feeling that she was aware that he was now doing pretty much nothing; basically living off the pay-off he had received when he took the fall for the guv. And of course, his ‘consulting’ company picking up the occasional contract that came their way, doing mostly industrial espionage work, the demand for which, in the booming Indian economy, seemed to be growing.

  Then the air hostess took over and began to give the usual security demonstration that precedes every flight. All three of them, eager for the respite, pretended to listen with rapt attention and were not really happy that it finished so soon.

  Reena, certain that she wanted no conversation with Raghav, sought cover first; putting on an eye mask she pretended to sleep. Krishna picked up on it and also pretended to doze off.

  Raghav, seated between them, his suspicions about Krishna and the RIP, coupled with the jealousy burning him up, festered. Just when he too was about to fall asleep, the thought struck him, Reena and Krishna; they’d go well together . . . both have so much in common. Sleep deserted him. His anger was like a tangible presence shrouding them.

  For all three of them, it was a long, long flight.

  *

  Vinod’s BlackBerry pinged the minute he switched it on when the flight landed at Delhi. The very first mail was from Nandakumar, about the photograph he had emailed from Mumbai airport.

  On the left. Ex-Captain Raghav Bhagat. 11th Para Commando. Last posted as ADC to governor of Tamil Nadu. Cashiered from service for involvement in the Siachen housing scam. Presently running a consulting company headquartered in Delhi. Nature of business unclear. Employs several other men retired from his unit and other Special Forces.

  Lady in the centre is his wife Reena Bhagat, news anchor with NDTV. They are currently separated. She lives with her ten-year old son, who studies at the Army Public School, Dhaula Kuan.

  On the right is Colonel Krishna Athawale. Retired from the 19th Para Commando. Wife Pooja now deceased. Lives with ten-year old son, who studies at the Army Public School, Dhaula Kuan. Currently the managing director of CONTINUITY & RESILIENCE, a Delhi-based firm specializing in business continuity planning and disaster management, which he runs with five other retired officers of his unit.

  Please confirm if further information is required.

  An eerie sensation crawled up Vinod’s spine as he ran through Nandakumar’s mail. The profiles of both men, especially the last few words, kept hitting him. Their profiles were a perfect match for the RIP.

  Both para commandos.
Special Operations types. Working even now with other Special Operations types.

  Both could be carrying a gripe against the establishment, especially Raghav who’d been kicked out of the army.

  Both had headed for Mumbai a day before the RIP hit. Both were headed back the very next day.

  Could they be the ones he was seeking?

  For some reason the coincidences were too many for Vinod to ignore. He called Nandakumar.

  ‘Did you find out why Colonel Athawale quit the army?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I did.’ There was a rustle of paper at the other end. ‘His wife Pooja was killed during the hijacking of IC 814. The colonel and his team had led the assault on the hijackers.’

  ‘Darn! That must’ve been really tough on the guy,’ Vinod commiserated.

  ‘But that’s not all. Colonel Athawale really lost it when they found out she had been killed by a security forces’ bullet . . . friendly fire. It had to have come from one of his teammates . . . or his own weapon. He insisted they run forensics and tell him which gun the bullet had come from. But his commanding officer refused.’

  Vinod could well imagine why. If it had been the colonel’s gun he would have definitely gone crazy. If it had been one of his team members’ . . . God knows what the man would have done.

  ‘Not only did the colonel quit, his entire team put in their papers with him; they were called the K-Team.’

  ‘Wow!’ Vinod whistled; the son of an army officer himself, he knew enough army officers and could easily imagine what their reactions would have been. Especially these Special Forces types, they always hung together. ‘That’s some story.’ He chewed over it a bit as he headed for the exit. ‘Where are these guys now? This K-Team?’

  ‘They’re the same guys working with him in his company now.’

  ‘Run a check on all of them.’ The coincidences in this case were unnerving. And, given the circumstances of his quitting service Athawale was also likely to be carrying a grudge against the establishment. ‘Dig deeper and see what else comes up. Keep me posted. Also check whether the colonel and this Captain Bhagat had served together at any time.’