by Deva, Mukul
‘Be very careful,’ Control replied sharply.
Murray did not bother to reply. No longer restrained by Langer's calming presence, the young, excitable agent threw the car in front of the No Parking sign a few feet further down the road and, getting out, raced behind the two men striding away from him. What the hell! City Hall can live with the ticket.
It took Murray barely a minute to catch up with Langer. Now the two agents were just twenty feet behind Segan and closing in fast.
‘I'm going to grab him from the back. You take the right flank, just in case,’ Langer hissed at Murray.
‘No.’ Murray pulled at his arm, ‘Let me tackle him, you back me up.’
The older man assimilated this before he nodded. ‘Okay! Go ahead.’
By now they had more than halved the gap between them and the man they were hunting. Both agents reached for their handguns and separated laterally from each other as they stepped up the pace. Another five or six strides and they would have brought Segan down.
That was when fate interceded.
‘HEY! YOU! SIR!’ THE TRAFFIC COP WAS ANGRY. HE HAD SEEN Murray literally throw his car in front of the No Parking sign and walk away. That irked him no end. No sir! Not on my watch! Stepping forward, he hailed Murray loudly. Both Federal agents turned instinctively. So did almost everyone within earshot. Erik Segan was one of them.
The cop saw the guns in the hands of the two Feds when they turned. Nothing in their dress or demeanour gave away their profession. In any case, people rarely tend to notice dress or demeanour when confronted with guns. Instantly, the cop's survival instincts soared and he, as most armed men are wont to do in such circumstances, went for the gun at his belt reflexively.
When Segan turned, he saw two men brandishing handguns a few feet behind him. A little further away from them, he saw a cop frantically grabbing for his gun.
They've found me. Erik automatically assumed the worst. Every fibre of his guilty mind and body shook in panic. How? How the hell…. For a moment, the shock froze him.
Most of the other people around also turned to see who the cop was yelling at. Many of them saw the guns in the hands of the two men apparently confronting the cop. Some saw the cop snatch his gun out of the holster. The panicked screams that erupted differed in tone, content and duration, just as the directions the suddenly galvanized crowd scattered in also varied. However, the panic was widespread and it was instantaneous. It added to the confusion enveloping the minds of the four men involved in the high drama.
Murray saw the cop reach for his gun and, working on the same survival instincts as the cop, threw up his hand in the air as he shouted a warning. ‘It's okay! We're Feder.…’ That was about as far as he got. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten about the gun in his hand.
Murray's words were lost in the cacophony of sound emanating from the panicked crowd. The traffic cop saw the gun hand of the excited man come up. He presumed it was coming up at him. By now his own weapon had cleared the holster and was halfway up. Without wasting any more time or thought, he fired.
At the ten feet distance separating the two men, it is extremely doubtful that anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of firearms would have missed. The traffic cop's knowledge was a little better than that in any case. His bullet clipped Murray neatly in the right shoulder, tossing him around in a half circle before felling him. And there he lay screaming, adding to the confusion all around.
Langer watched in horror as Murray collapsed to the ground. He gave an equally horrified look at the cop who had fired and then instinctively turned to see where his quarry was.
Erik Segan was watching the whole sequence open-mouthed. He saw Langer turn and look at him. Their glances locked for one infinitesimally small nano-moment. That was enough. Segan knew that Langer had been coming for him.
The glance seemed to trigger some release valve inside Segan's head, snapping him out of his shocked reverie. He turned abruptly, and began to run. Weaving through the crowd, he headed straight towards the Fairgrounds Racing Track. The blood in his veins began to pound harshly and the distance between him and Langer increased as his stride lengthened. As Erik ran, his beloved guitar fell away and his free right hand reached into the knapsack slung over his other shoulder. Grabbing the largest can he could lay his hands on, he drew it out of the knapsack. As he ran, he began to unscrew the timer cap so that he could release the virus manually.
Langer and the cop, who was by now totally shaken and confused, saw Segan break into a run. The tableau was still frozen in their minds when a frantic woman darted between them. Using that momentary distraction, Langer decided on his immediate priority and, bolting into the thick of the crowd, began to race after the fleeing fugitive who was fast receding into the crowd. The time for finesse was long gone.
By the time Segan reached the Gentilly Pedestrian entrance to the Jazz Fest, he had managed to arm the first can and was trying to arm a second one. Freeing it from the knapsack, he finished unscrewing the timer. Then he stopped to face the man chasing him. Chanting his final prayer, Segan waited for his enemy to come within striking range.
O Allah, you are my Lord. There is none worthy of worship except You. I rely upon You. You are the Great Lord of the Throne. Whatever God wills happens and whatever He does not will does not happen. There is no power or strength….
There was no longer any fear on his face or in his heart.
The hunted had become the hunter.
All around him, a frenzied crowd swirled.
Sprinting up the road, Langer suddenly shuddered to a stop, his chest heaving from the exercise. Open-mouthed with amazement, he saw that the subject had stopped and was calmly waiting for him.
Karl stood Christ-like with both his hands extended outwards and slightly upwards. The sound of his harsh chanting rose above the hullabaloo of the crowd and filled the air. In both hands he held long metallic spray cans. Both cans pointed towards the sky.
Remember! Mai Hu's instruction came back to Erik Segan as his fingers closed on the release knobs. The aerosol is heavier than air, so if you spray it upwards, it will be better dispersed by the breeze and will cover a larger spread on the ground.
Langer had no clue what the subject was holding in his hands, or what he was trying to do. He just knew that he had been repeatedly warned to approach with extreme caution. He had just seen his partner fall, albeit to friendly fire. His mind was already too cluttered to absorb any more. The weird man with the weird cans in his hands and chanting a weird, prayer-like chant drove him beyond the purview of cohesive thought. Closing up to Erik Segan, he drew his gun, aimed straight at his head and fired.
The heavy, leaden slug covered the remaining few feet between the two adversaries and smashed the contented expression off Segan's face. As the death dealer fell, the release buttons of both cans remained firmly pressed.
Unknown to Langer and unseen by anyone, the deadly Variola Major virus from both aerosol cans slid silently out into the atmosphere. It wafted away in the lively breeze, and settled amongst the panicked maze of people milling around. Some of it settled on Langer as he walked up to the fallen terrorist and began to check him for weapons and any sign of life. The deadly Variola virus wormed its way into his nostrils and entered his body. He did not know it then, of course. Just as he did not know that twelve days later, he would be one of the first people to die. So would his wife and the teenage daughter he doted on, who would pick up the dreaded disease from him.
But that would happen later. Much later. Before that, many more people were destined to die. Salim's killing spree had just begun.
Strike Two
URUMQI SPECIAL WEAPONS FACILITY, CHINA
THE GRIM, UNIFORMLY GRAY COMPLEX COMPRISED OVER THIRTY large buildings. A sixteen-foot high double fence of barbed wire stood sentinel between the complex and the surrounding areas. The complex itself appeared like an ungainly duckling in the midst of a Macbethean heath, starkly devoid of any growth or veg
etation. On all four points of the compass were tall towers manned by grim looking guards. Machine guns stared ominously from the shaded tops.
Most of the buildings in the inner cordon were linked by a series of tunnel like paths, quite like the tentacles of an octopus. A large part of the inner complex lay almost a hundred feet below the ground, safe from prying eyes and almost any kind of bomb that a potential adversary might throw at it. And rightly so, since the chemicals and viruses stored there were dangerous beyond belief. If they ever got free, the havoc they unleashed would outdo any damage that any bomb could do. On the surface, at the edge of the inner compound, was situated the main conference hall, which was used for all large facility meetings and presentations.
The conference that had been scheduled by Mai before his departure for Delhi, was due to begin. However, in the wake of Mai's death, the conference had little to do with the agenda that had been set by him; it was about Mai himself. Maybe that was why people started trickling into the conference hall well before the stipulated time. The hubbub of unsubstantiated rumours and mindless chatter filled the long rectangular room. Most of them were still trying to fully understand what had happened. Despite the discovery of explosives in the primary lab and the specimen storage areas, and the totally shocking end to Mai's wife, no one was quite clear exactly what had transpired, mainly because of the MSS-ordered clampdown on all information. The only thing they knew for sure was that new and far more suffocating security procedures had been inflicted on the facility since then.
‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, SETTLE DOWN PLEASE.’ MAI'S erstwhile deputy, who was now officiating as the Facility Director, finally called the meeting to order. It took several loud and very unscientific yells for people to take their seats. By then the conference was already twenty minutes behind schedule.
However, the electronic timers on the large aerosol cans came alive exactly on schedule. Mai had taped these cans inside the air-conditioning ducts that led into the conference hall.
Activated by the timers, the release valves of both cans opened with a silent snap and the thick oily vapour began to trickle out. The VX Gas ventured out of the aerosol containers into the ducts. Swept along by the conditioned air, it was delivered into the room through a vent located at the upper end of the wall running along the left side of the conference hall.
The result was almost instantaneous and absolutely spectacular.
The seven men and two women occupying the seats along the wall were senior researchers and key players in the Chinese chemical weapons development program. In fact, some of them had been actively involved in the design and development of the timer-activated aerosol cans lying in the air-conditioning duct just seven feet above them.
All nine of them began to gag and choke almost simultaneously. Faces contorted in agony and muffled shrieks erupted as, one by one, they toppled like ninepins. Blood and faeces spewed out as their bowels went out of control.
The panic exploded through the room as those seated in close proximity to the afflicted moved forward to help. All of them died in a similar fashion, within minutes.
Then the fear hit like one gigantic screaming wave and people rushed wildly towards the exit. Not many made it out alive.
By the time some semblance of sanity was restored, and the room was sealed and the air-conditioning system shut down, the deadly VX released in the central conference hall and the primary laboratory had taken out most of the senior scientists and administrators of the facility.
An hour later, a total lock down of the facility was firmly in place.
Nothing moves in or out. Not till the containment people have scoured the place from top to bottom.
Given the secrecy that afflicted the Chinese regime, not even a hint of the disaster that had struck down their top-secret biochem facility reached the media, domestic or international. But the truth was that, in one fell swoop, Mai's strike had eliminated over fifty-three people, and had set the Chinese biochem program back by at least a decade.
Strike Three
NEEMRANA FORT PALACE
BARRING HAMEED WHO, LIKE MOST KIDS HIS AGE, WOKE UP early on Sundays and school holidays, the holiday makers at Neemrana were all fast asleep when Yakub Khan awoke. For the first time in many years he came awake instantly and sprang out of bed with alacrity. His head was clear and, despite the pangs of anxiety starting up inside him, he was eagerly looking forward to the next few hours.
‘Good morning, abbu!’ Hameed greeted his father with a big smile and a bigger hug. ‘Can I watch television?’ he asked with the innocent guile of the young.
‘No, Hameed!’ Yakub replied softly with a laugh. ‘Not so early in the morning.’
‘Then what should I do? I'm bored.’
‘Come.’ Yakub beckoned. ‘I'll give you a bath and get you ready. Then you can go out and play.’
‘No, thanks.’ Hameed shrugged, an exasperated, exaggerated gesture. ‘I'd rather sleep.’ He shoved his head back under the covers. Yakub gave a fond laugh. Kids! All the same. Shaking his head, he headed into the bathroom. The faster I go, the faster I can get back.
Hameed waited till he heard his father lock the bathroom door from inside. Then, reaching over to the bedside table, he picked up his father's mobile phone, switched it on, muted the volume and happily began to play Snake. He was still at it when he heard Yakub at the bathroom door. Quickly flipping the lid closed, Hameed put the phone back on the table and put his head back under the bedcover as his father emerged from the toilet.
The phone was still powered on. And it was sending a steady, continuous signal towards the cellular phone tower two kilometres away.
ATTF OPS ROOM, NEW DELHI
CHAUHAN WAS CONFERRING WITH A DOZEN LIEUTENANTS on a dozen phones when the SIGINT (Signals Intelligence) man exploded into the room.
‘We have a lead on him,’ he yelled excitedly.
‘Who?’ Chauhan asked irritably.
‘Yakub Khan, sir,’ the man replied, a little more calmly.
‘Yakub Khan. What!’ Chauhan's irritation vapourised into excitement. ‘Where….’
‘His mobile phone just came on, sir. It has been tracked to a hotel in Neemrana. We have a live track running on it.’
‘Fantastic!’ Chauhan reached for the nearest phone. ‘What are the closest resources we have to Neemrana?’
‘Only the local cops. Otherwise our closest dedicated assets are either at Jaipur or closer home at Gurgaon.’
‘Okay, get me the Neemrana SHO. Now!’
‘Let me get him on the line and call you back, sir.’ Seven minutes later. ‘Sir, Inspector Meena is on the line. He is located just two kilometres from the Neemrana Fort Palace hotel.’
The inspector was still groggy with sleep when Chauhan began to speak. It took Chauhan's first two sentences to jolt him awake rudely and fully.
Eleven minutes later, Inspector Meena was on his way to the hotel with the two cops he had hauled out of the police chowki closest to his house.
Despite the early hour, and the fact that all three cops had been unceremoniously pulled out of bed minutes ago, they were all armed. And they had just been given the license to kill. Chauhan had been clear about that.
Find him! Take him down! Dead or alive, I really don't care. Though if you do manage to take him alive, I will personally ensure you get the President's medal and at least one out-of-turn promotion.
That was why all the three cops were not only armed, they were motivated and raring to go. And such men are dangerous.
YAKUB THREW A GLANCE AT THE CLOCK ON THE WALL AS HE exited the bathroom. It's already six-fifty. I need to move fast, otherwise I'll be hitting the rush hour traffic all the way from the Gurgaon border to Nehru Place. Throwing on his clothes, he grabbed the car keys and his mobile phone from the bedside table, and hurried out. A few minutes later, he was on his way. The Tata Safari had barely left the resort and turned towards the Jaipur-Delhi highway when the posse led by Inspector Meena hurtled up to the ho
tel entrance and screeched to a halt. Getting hold of the receptionist and prying the required information out of him took up a few more valuable minutes.
‘WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU MISSED HIM?’ CHAUHAN was beside himself with rage when the call came in. Then, controlling his anger and frustration, he took a deep breath. ‘Can you at least give me the details of his vehicle?’ He noted the colour and registration number that Inspector Meena had gleaned from the hotel staff. ‘Did you meet his family or go to his room?’
‘No, sir,’ Meena replied. ‘I didn't want to alert them that anything was amiss. They would have called him on his cell otherwise.’
‘Good thinking!’ Chauhan heaved a sigh of relief as he cut the call and turned to the SIGINT man. ‘Where is he now?’
‘We have him on the highway, sir. He is heading for Delhi. Should I get the Gurgaon people to send a team out for him? They can intercept him on the highway.’
‘No! Wait….’ Chauhan turned back. ‘Where are the Force 22 officers right now?’ he asked the second aide.
‘They're operating out of the NSG base at Manesar, so I guess they should be there now. Should I check?’ He got on the phone when Chauhan nodded. ‘All four of them are there,’ the man said, a moment later. ‘The call is being transferred to them.’
‘Great! Let me handle it now.’ Chauhan took the phone, and when Squadron Leader Rajesh Tiwari of Force 22 came on the line, he briefed him.
‘Don't worry about it, Mr Chauhan. All four of us are right here, and we're ready to move immediately. Just hook us up into your comm network and tell SIGINT to keep us updated at all times.’
‘Don't worry about that,’ Chauhan assured him. ‘It will be done immediately. But tell me, where do you plan to intercept him?’
‘I was thinking of the toll barrier ahead of Manesar. In any case, all vehicles have to halt there, and there are always people milling around, so Yakub Khan will not have any reason to be suspicious. We don't know for sure what he is carrying and how he can trigger it, so we definitely don't want to spook the son-of-a-bitch.’
