by Amar Bhushan
Over dinner, Manini told Jeev that their daughter Maitri had called and was excited to hear that they would be returning to India soon, albeit in ignominious circumstances.
‘I don’t believe that you said that,’ Jeev said.
‘You are partly right. She was of course very excited, but I didn’t use the word ignominious. Anyway, when does our retreat begin?’ she asked.
‘It looks unlikely now. The police don’t want to detain me,’ Jeev said, darting her a mischievous glance.
‘Who will suffer interrogating such a pompous man? I am sure your reputation of being full of yourself must have reached them by now,’ she remarked.
‘Isn’t it good for me to be arrogant if that will save you from going back to India in shame?’ Jeev teased.
Manini merely snorted before going to speak to the cook to finalize the menu for the official dinner they were hosting the following evening.
For once, Aroop Das was happy with Rehman’s performance. He credited the source handsomely for not only providing cables with significant intelligence but also for being instrumental in sourcing dozens of high-value reports from his contacts in the foreign and home ministries and recruiting a serving colonel. He could not understand why Jeevnathan was being pig-headed and not seeing the operational opportunities in running those contacts and enlisting them as regular sources. He discussed the matter with Rajamohan, who felt that Jeevnathan was the right man to judge the local security situation and shouldn’t be pushed into taking any rash decisions. A week later, Aroop took advantage of Rajamohan’s absence from headquarters and discussed the issue with the Chief, in whom he found an ally. The latter felt that caution was the refuge of incompetent officers and told Aroop that he should direct Jeev to meet the new contacts and the colonel immediately. Aroop wasted no time. In a sharply worded cable, he instructed Jeev to not only take over the handling of the three contacts with immediate effect but also to encourage Rehman to rope in as many officials as possible to work for the Agency. He offered to pay any amount for this purpose and sanctioned fifteen hundred dollars as an incentive to the source. In closing, he said that the Chief had reviewed the operation and had found Jeev’s caution inexplicable.
‘So, he has also rallied the Chief to his side to run the station in accordance with his ridiculous ideas,’ Jeev fumed.
However, he neither responded to Aroop’s cable nor sought a meeting with the contacts. His years of experience dictated that one didn’t allow sources to run the handling officers and plan operations. There was no short cut to painstakingly setting up a network of espionage agents to serve long-term strategic interests.
Kabir followed Jeev’s instructions faithfully. He avoided personal meetings but collected reports regularly from the drop boxes. Meanwhile, the colonel started replying to queries that Jeev forwarded to fill in the gaps in information on military matters. Even the cipher assistant had joined Rehman’s covert network. Significantly, every envelope that Kabir retrieved from the drop boxes carried a note from Rehman asking for more money to win over more officials and enquiring about the date and time when Jeev would meet the new recruits to get the best out of them. Jeev maintained a studied silence. When pressed hard, Kabir lied that Jeev was occupied with an operation based out of Dhaka, which kept him constantly on the move.
Then one evening, Kabir was surprised to find drop box 3, from which he had gone to pick up material as per the schedule, empty, except for a hastily scribbled note. Rehman sought an urgent meeting exclusively with Jeev to discuss an issue that concerned the safety of both of them. He wrote that he would wait for Jeev two days later in the Bata shop at Baitul Mukarram market at 7.00 p.m. After contact was made, he would take Jeev to a friend’s shop so they could talk. If the shop was not acceptable as a meeting place, they could talk while walking behind the row of crowded shops to ensure that their conversation was not tapped by the CEU, he concluded.
‘I’ll meet him, but tell him that I won’t wait for more than ten minutes in the shop,’ Jeev said when Kabir told him about the note.
‘Sir, may I accompany you?’
‘He wants to meet me alone, but I see no harm in your covering me from a distance,’ Jeev decided.
Later that day, Kabir dropped a note in drop box 3 confirming that the meeting was on but requesting Rehman to turn up on time. Within hours, the source confirmed on the phone that he would not make Jeev wait.
On the day of the meeting, Jeev left the office early and went home. Over a cup of tea, he told Manini that he would be out that evening as he had to meet someone.
‘But Mortaza has invited us for dinner tonight,’ she reminded him.
‘I’ll call him and let him know we’ll be late,’ Jeev told her before hurrying out of the room to make the call.
She followed him. ‘You know that I don’t like going late to parties. Why don’t you make an excuse and tell him that we won’t be able to attend the dinner?’ she suggested.
‘Mortaza has no problem if we’re late and it’s only seven now. I should be back within an hour,’ Jeev said.
Meanwhile, Kabir reached Baitul Mukarram market thirty minutes early and positioned himself behind a fruit-seller’s kiosk. He surveyed the area carefully and soon spotted Rehman. He was standing near an eatery and talking to a man who left after a few minutes. Suddenly, two persons approached Rehman and confronted him. One of them was well built, wearing white trousers and a light-blue shirt and sporting a white skullcap. The other was of medium height and wore a tracksuit and glasses. After a few minutes of animated conversation, both men moved a few yards away and stood near an electrical shop. At 7.00 p.m. sharp, Rehman walked up to the Bata shop and looked around. Five minutes later, he went inside the shop and sat down on a bench. Jeev was nowhere to be seen. At 7.15, Kabir called Jeev in panic.
‘Sir, where are you?’ he asked anxiously.
‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I want to give Rehman a taste of how it feels to keep someone waiting.’
‘Sir, Rehman has laid a trap. Two men from the CEU are waiting for you. I guess the plan is for Rehman to take you to a predesignated place, where the watchers will subject you to coercive questioning.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Sir, Rehman first met a man who spoke to him briefly and left. Then came the two watchers who seemed to know him; they too spoke to him before taking up positions near a couple of shops, while Rehman went inside the Bata store to wait for you. One of the CEU watchers has a bag in his hand and is now sitting on a bench in a bangle shop facing the Bata store. Sir, I am sure the bag contains a video recorder, which will be used to shoot your meeting with him. What strengthens my suspicion is that Rehman and this watcher waved to one another.’
‘Okay, I will go by your advice. I am going back, but I won’t be at home. I have a dinner to attend and I am not sure when I will get home. Call on 28120164 and ask for me in case of an emergency. That is my host’s number. Let’s discuss our course of action tomorrow,’ Jeev said.
‘Sir, if you approve, I would like to stay here for a while to observe what they do when they realize that you are not going to show up.’
Jeev weighed the situation before responding. ‘Very well, but don’t take any unnecessary risks.’
‘Sir,’ Kabir responded before switching off.
Manini was surprised to see Jeev return early. Jeev told her that he had changed his mind en route; he could not afford to upset his wife, who was a stickler for punctuality.
Rehman, meanwhile, was still inside the Bata shop, clearly on the lookout for Jeev. The crowds were thinning as most of the shops were now closed. At 8.35 p.m., the watcher in the tracksuit went into the Bata shop and emerged shortly after accompanied by Rehman, whom he escorted to where his colleague was waiting. The source appeared to be agitated and Kabir could hear him arguing loudly. Suddenly, the man wearing the skullcap grabbed Rehman by his left wrist and dragged him into the alley behind the Bata store, which was litt
ered with empty shoe boxes. Kabir followed stealthily and, taking cover of the darkness, hid behind a bangle shop. He saw the CEU sleuths shouting at Rehman and shoving him around angrily. All of a sudden, the well-built one stuffed a handkerchief into Rehman’s mouth and started punching him. Rehman doubled over and groaned in pain as he was punched and kicked. The beating stopped only when he finally fell to the ground. The man in the tracksuit helped him to his feet, but the tough guy kept swearing at Rehman and pressing his cheeks hard, probably demanding that he provide the details of his espionage network. Kabir tried to overhear what Rehman was saying but could not hear clearly despite moving a few yards closer. What he could make out was that the tough guy was yelling at Rehman and calling him a cheat, traitor and bastard. The other watcher advised him to own up to his mistake. But Rehman kept moaning in pain and shaking his head as if denying the charges. Finally, both toughies conferred with one another, after which the man in the tracksuit spoke to someone on his walkie talkie. They left as soon as he finished.
Rehman remained where he was for some time, leaning against the rear wall of the Bata store. Kabir hurried to a nearby PCO and called the number that Jeev had given him earlier, asking for Jeev. Mortaza, who answered the call, handed the cordless phone to Jeev, saying that Arun wanted to speak to him. Jeev went out to the verandah to take the call. Kabir informed him that the subject was still in the area but had been badly beaten and sought Jeev’s permission to stay there until he was sure that the watchers had gone for good and the subject had reached home. He also enquired whether he should provide medical assistance to the subject.
Evidently, Kabir was in a panic.
‘Don’t lose the kite but avoid running after it,’ Jeev cautioned. ‘If it flies out of sight, give up the chase and go home. And, under no circumstances will you repair the kite,’ he added, keeping his directions as vague and brief as possible in case Mortaza’s phone was tapped.
Kabir hurried back to the spot where Rehman had been thrashed minutes ago. He saw the source steadying himself, wiping his face with his shirt and then limping to a public booth. From there, he called someone. After that, he took a rickshaw to the Madhumita cinema hall in Motijheel. It was 9.20 p.m. by then. He entered the alley running along the right side of the theatre. At the far end was drop box 7, into which he stuffed a package the size of a small potato. From there, he dragged himself to a nearby tea stall, washed his face, bought a cup of tea and sank down on an empty bench. Instead of drinking his tea, however, he kept looking down at his feet.
Minutes later, the man wearing the white skullcap appeared again. He had emerged from a car on the main road in front of the cinema and was walking towards Rehman. Unaware of the presence of the man, Rehman abruptly pushed aside his unfinished tea, stood up and started walking away from the toughie, his head lowered, looking at nothing but the road in front of him. Suddenly, he felt someone tapping his shoulder. As he turned to look behind him, the man grabbed his wrist, gagged his mouth with a piece of cloth and dragged him towards the main road where, by now, another CEU man was waiting. They held Rehman firmly between them till a car pulled up and the driver jumped out to open the back door.
But before anyone realized what was happening, Rehman suddenly shoved the man holding his wrist; taken by surprise, the man loosened his grip and Rehman wasted no time in wrenching himself free and sprinting away, taking advantage of the rush of cine-goers emerging from the theatre after the evening show. The watchers quickly got into the car and followed. Kabir saw Rehman weaving his way through pedestrians before he was swallowed by the crowd.
‘Sir, I can no longer see Rehman. He has probably been nabbed by the CEU men,’ Kabir reported after a few minutes from a PCO.
Jeev was about to disconnect when Kabir exclaimed, ‘Sir, I can see him now. He’s standing behind Smart video rental, catching his breath. It seems the watchers have missed him.’
‘Okay,’ Jeev said and hung up.
Barely half an hour later, Kabir called Jeev again.
‘Sir, I went and checked the video rental shop. He wasn’t there.’
‘Okay. Go home. We will discuss this tomorrow,’ Jeev said.
‘Sir, should I retrieve the packet that he put in drop box 7?’
‘Not now, maybe early tomorrow morning,’ Jeev advised.
But Kabir was worried. Why would Rehman leave a packet in the drop box after being beaten so badly by the CEU agents? Did it contain something so important that he was willing to sacrifice his life for it? Making a split-second decision, he went to the same tea stall that Rehman had gone to and sat down to have a cup of tea. As he drank it, he looked out for any suspicious activity and when he felt confident that he was not being followed, he went to drop box 7, pulled out the packet that Rehman had stuffed inside and rushed home, taking a parallel route that was more crowded and narrower. He opened the packet only after he reached home. It had a message in Bengali, scribbled hurriedly by Rehman:
‘The cipher assistant has betrayed me. I spoke to Rubeiya and told her that I may not return home alive.’
For more than a month there was no news from Rehman. Kabir kept asking Jeev to allow him to contact the source, but Jeev would not agree. ‘Let the dust settle. We will eventually have clarity on whether the source exposed our relationship during his interrogation, if his claim of betrayal is true, and whether his offer to meet me at the market was part of a conspiracy jointly hatched by him and the CEU,’ he explained to Kabir. Kabir, however, was not convinced about the conspiracy theory.
‘Sir, if he was a co-conspirator, why would he allow himself to be beaten up so mercilessly and then leave the note in the drop box, with murderers on his trail? We won’t have the answers unless you allow me to meet him and check the drop boxes to see if he has left any messages to explain the circumstances leading to his exposure,’ he urged.
‘Forget Rehman. I have no sympathy for him. He is responsible for what has happened to him. I think you need to learn to approach your sources like a nurse or a landlord. No undue attachments and no hard feelings when your patient or tenant leaves. Sources come and go in an operator’s life. You must develop the ability to remain unaffected if and when they disappear,’ Jeev counselled him.
Kabir thought his boss sounded like a mercenary but said nothing, feeling helpless.
‘Come to think of it,’ Jeev continued, ‘Rehman was his own nemesis. He paid the price for his overconfidence. In any case, he has given us enough. You can’t expect such relationships to last forever.’
Nothing, meanwhile, appeared in the vernacular or English newspapers about the arrest of a Bangladeshi national for espionage. Jeev casually asked his legal contacts if they had heard of any such case, but no one could confirm the filing of charges in the courts against any individual for leaking information to foreign agencies. With no breakthrough in sight, Jeev wrote to Aroop, apprising him of the loss of Rehman. However, it was Rajamohan who cabled after a week. He wrote that it was a huge setback and felt that Jeev had been right in opposing the source’s running amok with his initiatives. He hoped that Jeev, being the officer on the ground, would know best how to extricate the Agency from this potentially embarrassing situation.
Arun was, nevertheless, still perturbed. He wished Jeevnathan had made some effort to bail the source out. Over the past few months, he and his wife had come to like Rehman and Rubeiya a lot for their hospitality and warmth. They had regularly exchanged gifts and delicacies on festive occasions, keeping Jeev in the dark. No wonder Arun felt wretched for not being able to do anything for his friend. For nights he couldn’t sleep properly, troubled by vague dreams of Rehman groaning in pain in the interrogation centre and of Rubeiya crying and yelling at him for forcing her to sell their household possessions to survive.
Driven by remorse, Kabir finally decided to defy his boss and check the drop boxes. He began with the one that was right behind an air-conditioning repair shop near his house but which had rarely been used by the source be
cause of its proximity to his house. To his surprise, he found more than a dozen scribbled notes, a few of them ineligible, and an envelope, all covered in dust. He collected them hurriedly and ran back to his house. He placed them on the dining table before carefully opening and reading each one. They were all from Rubeiya. It was obvious she had used that particular drop box because she had wanted Kabir to access her letters easily. Each note was a plea for financial help, but the last one, which was in the envelope, betrayed her extreme desperation. She had taken the grave risk of writing in her own hand and signing her real name. It was heart-wrenching:
‘I don’t know if you have been receiving my letters. In case you haven’t, let me inform you that Nayeem has been arrested. He tried to escape to your country and was in hiding for a few weeks but was eventually caught. They have been interrogating him for over a month. I have not been allowed to see him. I desperately need some monetary help. But please do not visit my house. My cousin Anees, who is a lawyer, knows about the case and has met my husband three or four times. My brother Bashir also keeps meeting him. He tells me that Nayeem looks drained and is unable to speak coherently. Why have you turned your back on someone who put his life at stake for you? Why are you so cold and indifferent? Is this how you repay your friends?’
-Rubeiya’
‘So, Nayeem is his real name. He is neither Rehman nor Shiraz,’ Jeev mused as he finished reading the note. ‘For once, I cannot be angry with you for your foolhardiness. It’s good that you disobeyed me and checked the drop box.’
‘Sir, we must provide financial assistance to Rubeiya immediately. It would be inhuman to abandon her and her children in their darkest hours,’ Kabir pleaded.
‘None of these notes seem to have been written recently. Maybe she gave up on us and approached others for financial help,’ Jeev said.
‘Sir, even if she did, can’t we give her something to meet her legal expenses? If you agree, I can discreetly meet her cousin to find out how much he would need and how far we have been exposed,’ Kabir suggested.
