by Deva, Mukul
Reaching for her mobile, she sent a short text to Ontong and Boucher. Delivery confirmation arrived seconds later. Ruby deleted the messages and started to dress.
Within minutes she was in her usual baggy black jeans and a loose, full-sleeved, blue cotton shirt. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. She looked just like she had that day in Congo, but without the bulletproof vest and without her weapons. She missed them but knew that even if she had them with her, she would not have carried them. Not today. Not where she was going. Today everything would be improvised, on the fly. She had a plan, not as foolproof as she would have liked, but it was the best she could do, given the constraints and the loss of her key props.
Deep in thought, Ruby missed the sound of someone approaching her room and only became aware of it when the door began to open. Jasmine’s head peeped in. Ruby started. There was no time to make it back to her bed.
‘Ah! You are awake.’ Jasmine smiled. ‘Good. I wanted you to wish me luck. Today is…’ She noticed Ruby’s outfit. ‘Wow! You are dressed so differently. You look so… so cool… Where are you off to so early?’
It seemed to be an innocent question. Was it? Her instincts told her it was, but could she take a chance? What difference did it make? I cannot – will not harm her.
‘Nothing much.’ Ruby held her gaze. ‘Thought I’d step out for some exercise.’
‘Hmm…’ Jasmine’s mouth puckered up. ‘You look so different… so deadly… like a spy!’ She laughed. ‘Anyway, I must be off. I’m late for college. Have to rush. We are winding up early today,’ she pattered on. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come for the Games? I still have all three passes… just in case you’ve changed your mind.’
‘I’m sure, Jasmine. Thanks anyway.’ Aware of the ops clock ticking away, Ruby was aching for Jasmine to leave. ‘And all the best for your moot court. I’m sure you’ll blow them away.’
‘Thanks a lot. Have fun!’ Jasmine started to leave the room with a grin on her face. She turned around and said, ‘And you blow them away too!’
I will, babe. That’s the general idea.
Despite the nonchalant thought, it took a moment for Ruby’s breathing to return to normal.
Now time to eat and get moving. In the distance she heard the gates swing open and Jasmine accelerate out of the drive. Silence returned to the Gill house. Then she heard the dull clang of a bucket, perhaps from the kitchen. Moments later the distant hum of a lawn mower could be heard.
Ruby turned to her ops checklist.
Eat and move.
But she felt no hunger. Generally she wolfed down a healthy breakfast, no matter what lay ahead. Today she forced herself to eat. She had to be on top of her faculties. She finished the cold chicken sandwich Simran had sent up last night and washed it down with a glass of orange juice. By the time she was done, it was time. She checked her watch to reconfirm. Ontong and Boucher would start out in a while.
Grabbing the black tote bag she had packed, Ruby silently went down to the security… or surveillance… car at the gate. She had to time this part perfectly or there was no way in hell she would succeed.
No one heard her leave the house. She confidently approached the surveillance car.
‘I need to go to the hotel,’ she told the driver. ‘Father needs some stuff.’ Ruby held out the tote bag.
Ruby saw the driver exchange glances with the cop beside him, obviously the surveillance team commander. He thought it over, and then nodded. What harm could there be if she was with them?
‘Fine, miss.’ He held the door open for her. Minutes later they were off. The commander decided it would be awkward to call Ravinder and report on Ruby in front of her.
Ravinder ran into Mohite when he emerged from his room. Once again, Mohite was dressed in his Sunday best.
‘Are you going down to meet the minister?’ Ravinder asked, though he already knew.
‘Yes, sir. He is on his way.’
Ravinder checked his watch; twenty past eight. The delegates would be finishing their breakfast soon and going to the conference hall.
‘Fine. Have a look at the lobby security, Govind,’ Ravinder instructed, ‘and both the gates and roadblocks. I’m going up for a round on the eighth floor.’
He was heading for the elevator when he realized he had left his digital radio behind in the room. He went back to his room and found the radio next to the bank of monitors in the corner. The monitors were still on; he’d forgotten to switch them off. He surveyed them for a moment as he slipped the radio into his belt.
On one of the monitors he saw Mohite emerge from the elevator and head across the lobby. The men on the other monitors looked alert. Nothing unusual. Satisfied, Ravinder turned them off and went to the eighth floor.
On the camera set up at the hotel porch, he failed to see Mohite walk out of the hotel gates and head towards the security barrier down the road as the surveillance car Ravinder had deployed at his house drove up.
Despite her best effort to time her arrival, Ruby had reached a little too early. The problem was that she could only say so much to the driver. And asking him to halt outside the hotel might have aroused suspicion.
When she saw Mohite walk out of the hotel and head towards the security barrier, she spotted an opportunity. She told the driver to slow down beside him and powered down the car window.
Mohite turned and spotted her.
‘Good morning, Miss Ruby. How are you?’ Mohite was all smiles. ‘That was such a brave thing you did the other night… We were all so glad that everyone was safe, thanks to you.’
‘Thank you.’ She gave him a bright smile as she got out of the car. ‘It all happened so fast that…’ She shrugged.
‘So, how come you are here today?’
She pointed at the tote bag on her shoulder. ‘I just brought some stuff along for dad. He has not been home since yesterday so I thought…’
‘Ah, the dutiful daughter.’ Mohite gave a big smile, the one that appeared when he needed to impress someone. The boss’s daughter was definitely someone to impress. After all the fuck-ups, just bad luck as far as he was concerned, Mohite was eager for a helping hand. ‘Come, Miss Ruby, let me take you to him.’
Ruby turned to the surveillance team commander. ‘Could you please wait for me to come back?’
‘You can park there,’ Mohite chipped in helpfully, pointing at a vacant slot beside the gate.
‘I should be back soon,’ Ruby added with a smile. Together, Mohite and Ruby began to walk past the hotel gates. With the men from the PM’s security gone, the detail seemed thinner. Ruby did a rapid head count. Ten armed men entrenched behind sandbag fortifications. Enough to stop even a well-organized assault. At least till reinforcements clocked in.
The guard commander saluted as Mohite walked past. ‘Excuse me, madam,’ he called out to Ruby, ‘that bag needs to go through the scanner.’ He pointed at the tote on her shoulder.
‘Of course.’ Ruby placed it on the rollers of the X-ray machine. Similar machines had been installed at all major hotels since the 26/11 Mumbai attack. She wasn’t worried as the bag disappeared inside the machine. It contained nothing except some snacks. It was simply her excuse to get in. Even if Ravinder was called and questioned her, Ruby had an answer ready – she needed to see him since she had decided to return to London.
The surveillance team leader had been explicitly ordered to call Ravinder, but lulled by Ruby and also Mohite’s presence, he did not do so. There was also the fact that while tasking him, Ravinder had ordered him to keep Ruby safe and he knew she was safe inside the hotel. The car pulled into the slot Mohite had indicated and the surveillance team settled down to wait.
Mohite and Ruby had passed the X-ray machine when the whooping sound of a siren became audible. The sound grew louder. Ruby knew what it signified – Thakur was arriving. Just on time.
As Mohite sprang forward to receive him, Ruby checked her watch: ten minutes short of nine.
P
erfect. Ruby permitted herself a small smile. By the time they reached the eighth floor, the delegates would be settling down to their talks.
Thakur’s oily face broke into his politician’s smile the minute he got out of his car and set eyes on Ruby.
‘Ah! So we meet again, young lady,’ he said. ‘How have you been? What you did the other night was very brave! The whole police force is talking about it. Good, good… So, what brings you here today?… Really? Off already? Why?… Come, come, let’s get you to your father…’
Engaged in conversation, Thakur, his two PSOs, Mohite and Ruby headed for the elevators. Seeing the home minister and their DIG, the elevator guard did not question Ruby’s presence.
The mistakes were accumulating.
The avenger had broken past the barrier into the secure zone. Hunting season was open.
Ruby strode forward. She could feel her body gird itself for the coming battle.
Just a few minutes more…
Someone else had been watching for Thakur’s arrival.
Dressed in faded jeans and a full-sleeved blue sweatshirt, the burly, nearly-bald Shaun Ontong stood at the same spot in the park where Ruby had taken position the previous morning. He wasn’t feeling too good; something did not feel right.
Ontong saw the minister’s cavalcade pull up at the porch. He immediately called the only number stored in his mobile. It was a new phone with an unused SIM card purchased specifically for this operation. He’d drop it in some convenient gutter on his way to the airport.
The call was answered by Gary Boucher, who was seated in a van parked one click away from the roadblock outside the hotel, the one further away from Ontong. He was taller than Ontong, whiplash-thin, deeply tanned and had close-cropped hair. Like Ontong, Boucher too was in jeans and a dark green sweatshirt.
‘Five minutes,’ Ontong said tautly. ‘We are on.’
‘Roger. I’m rolling in five.’ Boucher dropped the phone on the seat. He was tense, but far more confident than Ontong. Perhaps because Boucher did not worry too much.
Ontong and Boucher collected their thoughts and rapidly replayed Ruby’s instructions in their heads. They knew they had a small yet decisive role to play today. And both hoped whatever lay ahead of them would be painless.
Adrenaline was pumping through Ontong’s body as he left the park and walked back to the Maruti van. He had already checked the rockets and the launcher. Both were ready to go.
Ontong kept his pace slow and easy. He knew he still had a few moments in hand. Boucher was going into action first.
Boucher was moving by the time Ontong reached his van. He drove at a steady pace. He wasn’t in a hurry and did not have to go far. The shooting position he had selected was just ahead.
The 84mm Carl Gustaf produced by Saab has an effective range of approximately 1,100 metres against troops in the open and can also take on an armoured target 700 metres away. Unlike other such weapons, it uses a rifled barrel to spin stabilize its projectile. Both Boucher and Ontong were comfortable with it, though, like most Aussies, they preferred to call it the Charlie Gusto.
Boucher knew that a rocket launcher team normally comprised two men and could launch four to five rockets in a minute. But with just one man firing and reloading, the rate of fire would drop to less than half, since the user had to bring down the launcher, crack open the rear, slide in a new rocket, close the breech and hoist it back onto his shoulder. But this did not bother him. He needed only to fire twice before he dropped the weapon and melted away. With the element of surprise on his side, it would be a cakewalk. Ontong, coming into action minutes later, might not have that same advantage, but he would be able to exploit the shock of the opening assault. Also a potent advantage.
Taking a deep breath, Boucher pulled over at the spot he had reconnoitred; it was on a curve, a blind spot from the security post in front. Not the optimal position, but keeping in view the security deployment, it was the best possible one.
Boucher quickly moved to the rear of the van and reached for the already loaded weapon and the second rocket, ready for an instant reload.
Taking position off the road, clear of the vehicle, he placed the second rocket near his feet and raised the launcher to his shoulder. The play was out in the open now, no time to dick around.
Mohite halted the elevator on the seventh floor and held the door open for Ruby. ‘Please go to Mr Gill’s room… that one,’ he pointed, forgetting that Ruby had been on the security tour a couple of days ago. ‘I will let him know you are here.’
Ruby walked past the elevator security guards and headed for Ravinder’s room. The ping of the elevator door behind her let her know it had closed. She threw a quick backward glance.
Both the elevator guards had turned to see off the minister and had their backs to her.
Altering direction, she swiftly crossed to the other side of the corridor and headed for Chance’s room. Using the red access card she had purloined earlier, she eased open the door and entered.
Jennifer was returning from her hourly check of the stairwell guard at the end of the corridor when she saw Ruby enter Chance’s room. She noticed that Ruby did not pause at the door, which to her implied that someone had opened the door for her or…
Chance? Wasn’t he supposed to be on the eighth floor? Or did Ruby have an access card to his room? Neither thought felt good. Her relationship with Chance was still too new; she had yet to understand him or feel secure about him.
Also, Ruby’s presence in the secure area alarmed her even though she was not privy to Ravinder’s and Chance’s suspicions. Frowning, she headed down the corridor.
If Chance is two-timing me… Jennifer felt a surge of anger.
Caught up in an admixture of alarm and jealousy, Jennifer forgot to radio her sighting to the control room or call the reserve guard to back her up.
Both were big mistakes.
Ruby halted in the centre of Chance’s room. The curtains were pulled back and light filtered in.
A black, hard-shell suitcase lay on the wooden rack beside the TV. It had been with Chance for as long as she could remember. Having lived with him, she knew his habits. The suitcase was locked. Ruby rotated the numbers of the combination lock. The case clicked open. He was forgetful and always used his birth date as the combination for the suitcase. She sighed with relief. Chance hadn’t changed.
Hasn’t he? She pushed that thought away. Not now, damn it! Focus!
The pistols were exactly where she had known they would be – at the base, wrapped in a piece of thick, soft cloth. She quickly unfolded it and found a pair of classic Browning Hi-Power pistols.
His choice of weapon hasn’t changed either.
Chance always carried a spare pair. Ruby had banked on it. Picking them up, she tested their heft. Perfect. They fit with the comfort of an old sweater.
A silencer and two spare magazines were also wrapped in the same cloth. The magazines, each with a capacity of thirteen rounds, were full.
Ruby did the math. A total of fifty-two rounds in the four magazines.
If that was not enough, nothing was…
Swiftly loading one weapon, she chambered a round, clicked on the safety and slid it into her waistband. Thrusting the spare magazines into the pocket of her baggy jeans, she loaded the second pistol, again chambered a round and began to screw on the silencer. Her fingers were confirming that the silencer was fitted on securely when she heard the door behind her open. Ruby swung around, holding the pistol behind her.
Jennifer entered the room, spotted Ruby and ground to a halt. Behind Jennifer, the solid wood door slowly swung shut. Its click masked the snick of the safety catch being pushed off by Ruby.
‘What are you doing here? Where is Chance?’
Before Ruby could reply, a thunderclap rang out. The windowpanes rattled as the 84mm HEAT rocket fired by Boucher boomed out.
‘What the hell was that?’ Jennifer instinctively turned towards the sound, alarm on her face. Ther
e was another boom as the rocket struck and exploded. This one was closer, much louder. Jennifer ran to the window.
Ruby stood still. In her mind’s eye she could see Boucher bring the launcher down from his shoulder, crack open the loading port and shove in the second round, then raise it to his shoulder and place his eye to the sights. Her body tensed.
Jennifer saw the expression on Ruby’s face. That Ruby had shown no surprise at the explosions registered with her. Jennifer halted in midstride and reached for the gun in her belt. Her hand moved like a blur of lightning.
Equally fast, Ruby’s hand came out from behind her back.
The sight of the silenced weapon almost froze Jennifer, but the point of no return had been crossed. She clawed out her weapon, knowing it was futile, yet hoping.
Jennifer’s weapon started to come level, aligning on Ruby. Her finger had already completed half the trigger squeeze.
Boucher’s first rocket slammed into the roadblock on the road to Ashoka hotel. Fired from 400 metres away, the FFV551 HEAT round decimated the waist-high wall of sandbags and rampaged through the men behind. There were no screams. None of the four men survived long enough to scream.
The six guards at the other end of the road were alive, but overwhelmed by the shock and by the debris that billowed out and now lay like a dark cloud over the roadblock. They were trying to figure out where the attack had come from when there was another massive flare of sound and light.
Boucher had fired again.
The second shot, an FFV441B HE rocket, was aimed at the hotel’s eighth floor. It slammed explosively into the wall of the hotel, missing a window by inches. The thick stone walls stopped the HE round, but Boucher’s job was not to cause damage. It was to create a diversion.
The explosion echoed harshly through the eighth floor, rattling the windows, shattering some. Bits of plaster broke free from the ceiling.
The second explosion masked the plop of the silenced pistol in Ruby’s hand. The 9mm round caught Jennifer in her face, just above the upper lip. The impact threw her backwards. The pistol in her hand fired reflexively and the bullet thudded into the ceiling, sending out gouts of plaster.
