The Dust Will Never Settle

by Deva, Mukul

  Ravinder got dressed and left for office. He would gather more information and size up the threat in its totality. The push-pull between father and cop continued as his car navigated through the traffic.

  It was time to slow down the game and seize control… before it spun out of his hands.

  Ruby’s finger was pressing the final digit of Pasha’s number when she paused.

  Do I really need him? He will probably send some good-for-nothing footsloggers to my aid.

  Do I need poorly-trained zealots breathing down my neck?

  Her finger hovered over the button.

  And can I trust his security? After all, the cops had known about Rizwan Khan. Who else had been blown?

  She made up her mind with a snap.

  I can do this without him. Without anyone.

  Pushing the phone back into her pocket, she began to run again. She had no idea what molecules sweeping through her caused these abrupt mood and energy shifts. If she had, she might have realized that the medications the shrink had prescribed could have kept her sane.

  An hour later, nothing had changed. The reality was stark. She had best acknowledge it and adapt.

  I will have to scale down. She saw no other option. Hell, even if I manage to take down a couple of the delegates it would kill the Summit.

  But then her truant mind started playing games. And you? You think you will get out of this alive? Without your primary and diversionary attacks?

  A wave of sadness overwhelmed her. But, just as abruptly, the double agent took charge, returning to fortify her.

  It doesn’t matter whether I live or die. But they must pay… She stopped running and hailed the first passing cab.

  It was time to get the operation back on track.

  Ravinder marshalled all the data. Everything recovered from Mark, along with a photograph of his body, was laid out on one side of his office table. The items found on Gerber and in his hotel room were on the other side, along with a transcript of his interrogation. In the middle, a paper on which he had jotted down all the contra-indicatory facts that he had gleaned about Ruby. He mulled over everything, identified the gaps that he still needed to fill and put together a list. Then he reached for the phone.

  The first call was to London, to Sir Edward Kingsley, Director of MI6.

  ‘Does this have anything to do with Sir Tang’s visit to Delhi?’ Kingsley asked bluntly. The two went a long way back and the director knew he could talk freely with Ravinder.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Ravinder replied. ‘That is what I am trying to ascertain.’

  ‘I see. Give me a couple of minutes.’ Computers in London whirred into action, but neither Rehana’s nor Ruby Gill’s names elicited anything useful. However, Sir Edward promised to dig deeper.

  Ravinder’s second call was to his counterpart in Tel Aviv, the head of their counter-terrorism task force.

  ‘What did you say the names were?’

  Ravinder could hear the tapping of a keyboard as he repeated the names. They appeared to get an instant response.

  ‘Would you mind if we call you back?’

  ‘I am in a bit of a rush.’

  ‘It will take only a few minutes. Someone here would like to speak to you.’

  Seven minutes later Meir Dagan called him back on a secure line.

  ‘Firstly, I must thank you for all the help with that problem across the border.’ Dagan was aware of the risk India had taken. It would have been disastrous if any members of the kidon team were taken alive. ‘My government appreciates it.’

  ‘A pleasure, Mr Dagan.’ But Ravinder couldn’t keep the anxiety out of his voice. Dagan picked up on it and asked him why. Ravinder told him.

  ‘Before I speak further, I want your assurance that this conversation will remain off the books.’ Dagan got straight to the point.

  ‘If that is what you want.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So be it. Whatever you say will remain with me. Even if I take action, I will not divulge the reasons or the source.’

  ‘Thank you. I must warn you, though, this is going to be unusual. I am not sure if my government would approve of it.’

  ‘These are unusual times, Mr Dagan.’

  ‘They certainly are, Mr Gill. Does the name Yusuf Sharbati mean anything to you?’

  ‘Hmmm… I have heard it… Isn’t he the Qassam Brigades commander who was… who met his end at Dubai a few weeks ago?’

  ‘Yes, the very same. Yusuf was the one who engineered the Jerusalem strike with help from the Lashkar-e-Toiba. His death was our payback.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I think you do.’

  ‘I have no issues with Yusuf ’s death. He got what he deserved. But I am not able to understand what he has to do with my queries.’

  ‘Do you know that Sharbati was not his real name? He took that on as a nom de guerre only when he joined the Qassam Brigades.’

  Ravinder felt a sense of something evil coming at him.

  ‘His real name was Yusuf al-Moghrabi. Does that name mean anything to you, Mr Gill?’

  Ravinder felt sick. ‘Moghrabi was my first wife’s family name,’ he whispered, the shock sinking in.

  ‘Yusuf Sharbati was her brother.’

  ‘But Rehana had said both her brothers had died.’

  Dagan did not say anything.

  ‘Does Ruby, my daughter, know about Yusuf? Did she know him?’

  ‘We do not know. We think she does. We have reason to believe that she met him when she came here for her mother’s funeral. But to be honest, we are not sure. We picked her up the minute she landed in Tel Aviv. The immigration officer kept her engaged while he informed our office. By the time she left the airport we had a surveillance team on her and a beeper in her suitcase. An hour later she managed to lose both and simply vanished into the West Bank. Why would she have done that if she had nothing to hide?’

  Why indeed?

  ‘We picked her up again at her mother’s funeral, but once again Ruby lost the surveillance. When she showed up at the airport the next day, we questioned her. Our man specifically asked her if she knew Yusuf… he showed her his picture. She denied meeting him, even denied knowing him. Our man reminded her that as a British government employee, it was her duty to help us track down a known terrorist.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘“I would if I could, officer. I wish I could.”’

  His words hung between them for a while. ‘And since we had no evidence, we could not detain her.’

  A brief silence took over, broken by Dagan a few seconds later.

  ‘I must also tell you, almost the same thing happened when Rehana reached Israel after the Jerusalem strike. Our computers picked up her name and we mounted an electronic and physical surveillance. We managed to track her to the house of one Abdul Bari, who had been the neighbour and lab assistant of her late father.

  Bari took her to meet Bashshar, the local Hamas man, also a junior Qassam Brigades commander… someone we’ve had our eye on for some time. A couple of hours later, Rehana managed to lose the bugs and the men watching her. The next we heard of her she had been killed during the Interfaith Freedom March at the main square on Abu Bakr street.

  ‘So, though we have no proof that either Rehana or Ruby met Yusuf, their actions were not beyond suspicion. Why else would they have ditched the bugs or the surveillance? Not something an ordinary person would even notice.’

  ‘Hmmm…’

  ‘So, like I said earlier, no real proof. And yes, there is one more thing. Our people recovered a mobile from Yusuf Sharbati in Dubai. One call was made to it, from a satellite phone, which we traced to Pakistan…’

  ‘Yes. Your man, Ido Peled, told us about that.’

  ‘So we put that satellite phone on our monitoring list and then we picked up a call made to it from London.’

  ‘When was that?’

  Dagan told him. Ravinder did the math. It had been made when Ruby was
still in London. But what did that prove?

  ‘Was it…’ He hesitated, knowing this was the key question. If the caller was Ruby, his duty would be clear.

  ‘We have no idea who it was,’ Dagan second-guessed him. ‘The caller didn’t say a word. The satellite phone was answered by a man, who said his phone was low on battery and he would call back. That was it. So all we know is that the call originated from a public phone in central London.’

  Ravinder felt deeply troubled when he put the phone down. He knew he could not stop here. He redialled and minutes later he was on to London again.

  ‘Like I mentioned earlier, Ruby Gill is currently on medical leave.’

  ‘Yes, but I need only to know where she was on these dates.’ Ravinder gave out the dates of the fortnight spanning the weeks on either side of the Jerusalem terror strike.

  ‘Well, she was right here… in England. We cannot say where, but she was certainly in the country.’

  ‘I see.’ Ravinder didn’t know if he should be relieved or disturbed.

  Gyan entered right after he had put down the phone. ‘Sir, the agent from London is here to see you.’

  ‘Send him in.’ Ravinder wondered what Chance wanted, but he was glad to see him. Perhaps he could help.

  They had just greeted each other when Chance spotted the photo of Mark’s body on Ravinder’s table. With the Congo operation fresh in his memory, he recognized it immediately. ‘That’s Mark Leahy. What’s he doing here?’

  ‘You know him?’ Ravinder was surprised.

  ‘Yes. He’s ex-military, did some work for… our government,’ he broke off realizing this was an area he did not wish to go into. ‘Ruby knows him too.’

  ‘She does?’ Somehow Ravinder was not surprised, but it made his heart slump.

  ‘Better than I do. He was her backup for our last operation. Why?’

  Ravinder took a long moment to gather his thoughts and to decide how much to tell Chance. He finally decided to tell Chance everything, except what Dagan had told him in confidence.

  ‘The arms dealer was sure it was a woman?’ Chance asked, trying to hide his shock.

  ‘No, but he believed it was.’

  ‘What do you think the target is?’

  ‘If Ruby is involved, it’s the Summit.’

  ‘What next then?’ he asked, watching Ravinder carefully.

  Ravinder flinched inwardly but met Chance’s scrutiny head on. ‘Then we take Ruby in.’

  ‘Is it that simple, Mr Gill?’ Chance leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With the evidence you have so far, such as it is, our government will blow a gasket if you arrest her. Ruby is a British national – and an MI6 agent. You will not be able to hold her for long – if at all – you can bet on that.’

  ‘It would only be a few days,’ Ravinder pointed out. ‘The delegates start arriving tomorrow. A week at best and it will all be over.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t see that happening. Not unless you are willing to risk a big international incident.’

  Ravinder closed his eyes and pondered. If he arrested her and could not come up with proof, it would be the end of his career. And if he were wrong, it would be the end of a relationship with his first-born.

  ‘Also, if she is involved in any strike,’ Chance pointed out, ‘how likely is it that she’d be operating alone? How can we be sure that arresting her will stop the strike?’

  ‘From what Gerber has told us, we know she’s not alone.’

  ‘Right. And considering the time frame,’ Chance said, ‘she might already have deployed them and others that we may not even know about, right?’

  Ravinder was silent for a while. He knew that taking Ruby in might not actually stop a strike. But he had to be sure he was thinking as a cop and not a father. Finally he nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense.’

  ‘So, then, why don’t we leave things the way they are? We allow her to believe that we do not suspect her and maintain status quo. If she continues staying at your house, not only can you keep an eye on her, she may even lead us to the others.’

  It took Ravinder time to respond. ‘Okay, I agree.’

  Even as he said that he felt a nagging doubt tug at him. Am I doing the right thing? Would it not be simpler to just take her in and…

  Then Mohite rushed in, excited and dishevelled.

  ‘I think we have them, sir.’

  ‘Whom?’

  ‘The two South African mercenaries!’

  ‘Really? Where did you find them?’

  ‘A small guesthouse in Paharganj. One of the whore—’ Mohite checked himself. ‘One of those disreputable ones.’

  ‘Good!’ Ravinder thumped the table, delighted at the break. ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘They’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘Take them straight for interrogation. We’ll be down right away.’

  ‘We?’ Mohite threw a pointed glance at Chance.

  Chance took the hint. ‘I was just leaving.’ He got up.

  ‘No, that’s all right, Chance. Please stay.’ Ravinder turned to Mohite. ‘We are batting for the same side, Govind.’

  Mohite nodded unhappily. Ravinder sensed he’d soon be hearing more about this from Thakur. But he had bigger fish to fry. If he managed to stop a terrorist strike, even Thakur would leave him alone for some time.

  An hour later all the excitement proved futile.

  The only thing the two South Africans were guilty of was having picked the wrong day to visit the wrong whorehouse. And they’d compounded their error by trying to fight off the cops – including breaking the nose of a rather vindictive inspector – and trying to make a break for it when the whorehouse was raided. And that both South Africans were solidly built ex-soldiers had convinced the furious cop that these were the two mercenaries wanted by the ATTF.

  Unwilling to talk openly with Mohite around, Ravinder waited till he was alone before speaking with Chance again. ‘I am going home now. Let me see what Ruby is up to.’

  ‘Do that. Keep her with you as much as possible.’

  ‘Where are you headed?’

  ‘Back to the hotel to check out the deployment again. I am still not happy with how the security guys are responding to the emergency drill.’

  He was walking away when an idea struck Ravinder. He was certain it would work, but it required more than a single pair of hands. He also knew Chance was a man he could trust to make it happen.

  ‘Chance, one second.’ Ravinder called him back and explained what he had in mind. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Using decoy delegates in case of an attempted strike on the Summit… yes, it could work. This is a brilliant idea!’ Chance sounded excited. ‘It will keep them safe and also, if we use armed decoys, give us a chance to take down the attackers.’

  ‘But we’ll need more people.’

  ‘You can count me in,’ Chance assured him. ‘Who else do you have in mind? Mr Mohite?’

  ‘No. He already has too much to do.’

  Chance had already sensed Ravinder’s disconnect with his second-in-command. He didn’t say anything, but felt relieved. ‘What about Jennifer?’

  ‘She should do, but don’t brief her just yet. The fewer who know, the better.’ Pause. ‘Right now women from the West are not too high on my list of trusted people.’

  They both laughed, grim laughs, but desperate for respite, however momentary.

  ‘How about Ido Peled?’

  ‘Peled looks rock-solid. He should be good. I’ll speak to him right away.’

  ‘When the time is right, I can speak to Jennifer.’

  ‘Yes. Between the four of us, we can ensure both floors are sealed off and all the delegates guarded. I will detail four of my people, people I can rely on totally, to act as escorts.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Chance concurred. ‘What about the decoys?’

  Ravinder ran over his options. ‘I think our best be
t is the NSG – the National Security Guard. Their director general, Kaul, is a good friend. He will give us the thirteen decoys we need.’

  The two men ironed out the details of the plan to ensure nothing had been overlooked. The minute an attack was mounted on the Summit, the delegates would be moved to another conference room secured by Ido Peled. Chance would man the eighth floor and Jennifer the seventh, while Ravinder took charge of the control room. The thirteen decoys, who would also be suitably armed, would be moved under armed escort to the alternate venue, the Samrat hotel. The decoys would be used to draw out the attackers who could then be neutralized.

  Satisfied that they’d covered the critical points, they went their separate ways. Ravinder first called and briefed the three guards at his house not to allow anyone out without clearing it with him and also tasked a plainclothes team, three men including the driver, to mount surveillance on his house from sunrise to midnight.

  ‘You must not let Ruby out of your sight even for a minute and at the same time ensure she does not know you are watching her.’ He noted the puzzled looks on their faces. ‘There have been some threats but she refuses to accept protection, so…’ He left the rest unsaid.

  Ravinder’s mind was in turmoil as he started for home.

  As the car hit the road he checked his watch. The delegates would be arriving soon. Athletes had already been landing in droves for the Games. There were uniforms and guns everywhere. Delhi, he sensed, was a city under siege.

  India was leaving nothing to chance. From Kashmir to the borders in Punjab and Rajasthan, the army had swamped every possible infiltration point into India. The Indian Navy had more ships and boats along the coastline than there were fish in the waters. The air space over Delhi was closed and even scheduled commercial flights were being shepherded by the Indian Air Force. Paramilitary forces had barricaded every road and dirt track into the National Capital Region. The Delhi Police had borrowed every available cop from neighbouring states and had swept the streets clean of criminals. New tenants in every residential colony were being visited by a beat constable and their credentials verified.

  As Mohite had succinctly put it to Ravinder, ‘The NCR is locked down tight, boss. Tight as a virgin’s cunt.’