by Mainak Dhar
The American stood back, nodding to the masked man next to him.
‘Tough, like you’d said he would be. Now, major, you will tell us what you know about Project Lotus? What you’ve come to know about it from Indian intelligence?’
I unclenched my left fist and exhaled as I felt the burning sensation spread across my hand. Another nasty scar to add to all those I had accumulated over the years. If I lived long enough to admire my collection, that is.
The American was still staring at me, as if he expected me to say something. “Make this easy on yourself, major. Because you know we will get the information out one way or another. If not you, then your sniper pal. One of you will talk. We have been gentle on that girl, but now the real fun starts. And, then we kill you all and be done with it.”
I was no braver than the next man, or tougher, my officers had drilled that into me. What made me who I was, what made my brothers in the Paras who there were, was that we could be scared, hurt, cut, shot, and still keep going. I was going to need all of that training, all of that self-belief if I was to last long enough to have a shot at getting Rachel out. By then, that was what I had narrowed my goal down to.
I had more or less reconciled to dying here when I had decided to step into the lion’s den in return for my family’s safety. I knew Karzai thought the same.
Besides, both of us had led lives where we knew that every day might be our last, every mission might be our last. But now knowing what Rachel was all about, and what she knew, it would be worth it if we could get her out.
I had had little by way of an operational plan, but we had spent the night in the little room with Rachel talking over what we could do. Ultimately, it had come down to me and Karzai huddling in a corner, and I had asked him one simple question. ‘We may die here but we get her out. Does that work for you?’
‘Yes, major. I had long decided I had nothing to live for. At least, it’s good to have something worth dying for.’
That sealed it and I had held Karzai’s hand. We had looked at each other. No more words were needed. We were brothers in a way that most people would never understand. A brotherhood formed not by birth, but forged by the things we had seen and experienced together.
We had spent the rest of the night talking over our options. Well, whatever of the night we had to ourselves, because they had come in the early hours of the morning for me. But we had the beginnings of a plan…
The longer I could last this beating, the longer I had to come up with something that could be workable and would allow me to get Sandberg and his men into the fray.
I was snapped back to reality by a hard blow to the face. It was the fat American’s masked friend. By the way the blow stung, he knew what he was about.
The American was looking at me, amusement on his face.
‘What happened, major? Cat got your tongue?’
I closed my eyes. This is where I tested my ability to bullshit convincingly enough, building off what Rachel had told us.
‘Daniel Ross.’
The man’s eyes widened as he looked at me, waiting for me to continue.
‘You’re Daniel Ross. Once an officer in US Military Intelligence. Don’t know if you were born rotten or being in assorted shitholes made you rotten, but rumours started flying about you being a fixer on the side, arranging payoffs, playing tribal leaders against each other and so on. Quietly dismissed, since you weren’t the only one involved. Naming and shaming everyone would be politically inconvenient when there was a war on terror to be waged and won.’
Ross snapped a finger and a man got a chair for him. He settled on it in front of me, and lit his cigar again.
‘You are going to be fun. Keep going, major.’
‘You started a company specialising in private military contractors called Darkstream. Your old contacts and buddies came in handy. With the war on terror now bogged down, the US government was happy to use your men to do the dirty work they didn’t want US troops involved in. Lots of allegations of human rights violations, lots of rumours of corruption and excess force being used, but nothing stuck. You became filthy rich, till you suddenly wound up your company and retreated from the public gaze. Some said you were involved in real dark ops, which made scrutiny inconvenient, others said the US government quietly ordered you shut down for all the crap you did. Yet others said you were still operating through a network of companies, which continued the work, but with little that led back to you. Now, you show up here among supposed ISIS terrorists and strange Chinese men. What a story.’
He actually clapped and the masked man next to him tapped his foot impatiently.
‘Ross, should we get on with it?’
It was the first time I had heard him speak. While his English was fluent, I caught the hint of an accent.
Then it dawned on me, that as I usually did, I had barged right in. Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile. Or, in this case, give me a brick, and I’ll go for the bloody Great Wall of China.
‘What’s with the mask? Are you just butt ugly or do you fancy calling yourself Masked Manchurian or something? From your messed-up English, I’m guessing you’re Chinese.’
Ross smiled at the man. ‘Take it easy. He’s just trying to get your goat. He seems to be really good at that.’
Ross stubbed his cigar down again on my left hand, right where he had done it before. He pressed down harder this time. I couldn’t help but swear out aloud.
As he ground the cigar in, I took several deep breaths, clenching and unclenching my fist, but nothing really made the pain go away. When he removed the cigar, he lit it again, taking his time, showing me that he hadn’t been rattled by anything I had said, and then took a long drag of it before he spoke again.
‘All of that you could have got from the bitch in there. All the bullshit up on conspiracy sites. Now, tell me something interesting.’
‘Qui bono. Why are you here? Why do you care about this plane and this lady so much? The supposed terrorists are just a smoke screen, aren’t they? Rachel didn’t connect all the dots, but what she told me was enough for me to do so.’
‘So, tell me, major. What are these connections you’re making?’
‘You made a killing here. Your boys got lucrative security assignments from Americans in these parts. You spotted a new business opportunity in drugs. Got in bed with some like-minded bastards like Sai and Karimi, and Project Lotus was born. The problem was getting all those drugs out to the US, wasn’t it? That’s where having some US troops here helped – they kept the Taliban and ISIS from controlling the land and their flights gave you a way to get the drugs out to the US, where I assume you have your biggest market. Maybe, you had a few pilots or crew on your payroll? With the US withdrawing troops, and the Talibs and ISIS at each other’s throats, your business must have suffered.’
‘Go on, major, you’re doing well. I can see you’ve certainly gone beyond what Rachel might have told you. So, why do you think we hijacked this plane?’
I knew I was essentially grasping at straws, trying to string together a story that would make him think I knew more than he might assume, leading up to what I thought would be our only real chance.
Well, now that I had started, I had no choice but to keep barreling on.
‘That’s easy, isn’t it? Rachel told me how a whistleblower in your company contacted her in Mumbai a few days ago, gave her codes to a Swiss bank locker where a lot of dirt on you is kept. She was planning to take the information straight to the authorities. Given some of the names involved, she wanted to talk face to face with her father and the US President instead of sending out any communicating on the email or by phone. Being the daughter of the former US President and a journalist of repute would mean that she could get some fast action. I don’t know the details of how you did it, but you caught on, probably eliminated the whistleblower and planned this. I have to give it to you – it was a good plan and kills many birds with one stone. You eliminate Rachel and the threat of the codes getting out;
you make this look like an ISIS job and get the US to react and put boots on the ground again, which allows you to get the drug business to thrive again.’
I could tell by his expression that I was more right than wrong.
He sat back in his chair, the humour gone from his face, looking at me thoughtfully.
‘I had underestimated you. Now, tell me, major, how deep are you in this? Are you working for the Indian government? When we discovered you on the flight, I thought it was just gravy on top, that I could get some payback for the damage you did in Mumbai. Now, I’m wondering if you were there on purpose.’
The masked man moved towards me and slapped me. It stung and I resolved that somehow, someday, I would make this man pay.
As he raised his hand again, I shouted at him. ‘Hold it, Fu Manchu. We are trying to have a civil conversation here. Ross, tell him to back off.’
He slapped me again, and I saw that Ross was just watching him.
Had I missed something here?
I had assumed Ross was the boss and the Chinese were his hired help. Mercenaries, perhaps? Had I totally misread who was in charge?
The masked man slapped me once more, drawing blood as he split my lip.
‘Shut up. I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Now, I will ask the questions and you will answer.’
It was clear that Fu Manchu was a harder nut than Ross.
I had made the mistake of assuming that the rich, white guy was the boss. That teaches me to be more sensitive to diversity when it comes to villains.
‘Shoot. I mean, ask questions if you don’t understand the nuances of spoken English.’
Another slap.
I could see this guy got pissed off easily, which was a good thing to know about an enemy.
‘We do not have any records of your involvement with Indian intelligence, but you can tell us more about how deep you and your sniper friend are, major. Did the Indians get you on board after Mumbai?’
I thought for a second, earning another slap.
This guy was really pissing me off, but I used that second to decide that if I was to dig a grave, I would dig it deep enough but only for myself. No point taking Karzai down with me.
‘Aman knows nothing. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right place if you consider that his being there helped me get my family out. He was trying to start over in a village here and if you think torturing him will get you any intel, you’ll just waste your time.’
The man yanked off his mask, and I saw that he was indeed Chinese.
It is strange how the mind works, especially when one is close to death. I noticed that he had a handsome enough face, close-cropped hair, with sharp cheekbones. He could have been a model, except for the jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face and his eyes.
I remembered what the village elder had said to me.
I was looking into a predator’s eyes. I also knew that the moment he allowed me to see his face, I was a dead man.
Well, dead men don’t need to worry about the risks they take, so I barreled on.
‘I was on a holiday. Why the fuck would I take my wife and baby along if I were actually on some secret mission for the government? It was my dumb luck that I was on that flight. You recognised me and thought you’d get payback. I imagine having so many of your pals rolled up must have hurt your network in India. Now, I have a question for you.’
He smiled and looked at Ross. ‘You’ve got to love his balls. He thinks he is in a position to ask me questions. Let me humour a dead man. Shoot.’
‘Ross, I get. He was running a racket here and when he saw it under threat, he acted. Not a bad plan, as I’ve said. Take Rachel. The evidence against him is off the board and it gets the American troops back in play, and he gets his drug running off the ground again. But what the hell are you doing here? Chinese special forces, no less. Or rather, not so special, from the men we killed out there.’
I saw the surprise in his eyes at the mention of special forces. Then his eyes narrowed in rage as I mentioned his dead men, confirming he wasn’t another gun for hire.
‘Your men, I suppose. Men you commanded? My handler was right in his guess that you were here on a mission sanctioned by the Chinese government. But what the hell does China have to do with a rogue US drug dealer and this shithole we all find ourselves in here?’
‘You can ask all the questions you want, major. I don’t have to respond, do I? The same can’t be said for you. Tell me who your handler is. What he told you.’
Careful, a voice whispered in my head.
I was mixed up with boys who played in the big leagues. If I were entirely honest with myself, I was out of my depth. These guys and their masters could reach all kinds of places and do all kinds of harm. If they tortured me enough, I may well take Dhar’s name, and I didn’t want to put the man or his wife in danger, so I volunteered the information.
‘No idea who he is. Never met him. Spoke to him only once. I was given a sat-phone number to call if I needed help and I called him. That’s when he told me all sorts of interesting things about your crew, not just to try and get my family to safety, but to get more intel and help to those in your team who are actually working for the Americans. How much do you actually know about the men Ross has on this job? You sure you can trust them?’
Ross looked at me, his eyes narrowing, rage in his eyes. ‘Shut the fuck up, asshole! My men have been with me for years.’
I looked at the Chinese man, rolling my eyes.
‘You trust this tub of lard? He has made his life double-crossing people. Why do you think I managed to get away when they were transporting me? How do you think Karzai knew where to get us? My handlers were in touch with one of Ross’ men, someone the CIA, working with Indian intelligence, had been cultivating. He’s a low level operative, didn’t know the big picture, but a good asset to have on the ground as they investigate Ross and have someone on the inside to take him down.’
Ross slapped me, but clearly his days of being in the military were in his distant past. Years of handling keyboards and slide pointers, and indeed counting cash, instead of being in the field meant that his soft, fleshy palm didn’t really hurt me.
When he winced as he pulled his hand back, I couldn’t resist a smile.
‘Stick to your cigars, fat man. When we were on the plane, one of your men told me he was working with Indian intelligence, that I need not worry about my family. How do you think I managed to get into that village so easily and get my wife out? Your Chinese bosses were smarter than you and got Rachel and my son out, otherwise it would have been game over right there and then. You would have been lying dead now under the rubble of this base after American bombers were through with it.’
I saw the first flicker of doubt in Ross’ eyes. Now that I was on a roll, I carried on in the same vein. It only goes to show that one should never underestimate how far being able to bullshit with a straight face can get you.
‘If you don’t believe me, why do you think one of your boys came to talk to me alone? What do you know about what we chatted about? Who else he might have spoken to? Do you really think a loyal man of yours would have told me his background before he joined you? Or, do you train your people so poorly that they reveal their operational knowledge to prisoners?’
The Chinese grabbed my collar and slapped me again. I was beginning to think he needed more constructive outlets for his aggression. I wasn’t sure how much more slapping my face could take. This time he made a solid contact next to my right eye, and as I blinked away the tears that followed, I was sure my eye would be swollen for quite some time.
‘I will come back and finish with you. Tell me what you know. Stop messing around.’
Everything depended on how good my combination of guesswork, luck and sheer bullshitting was.
I replied, but was looking Ross straight in the eye. ‘Khalid.’
Ross shook his head dismissively, but I could see doubt in his
eyes. I didn’t know their history together but Ross had not struck me as the kind who would know his people personally. He led from an air-conditioned conference room.
The Chinese guy slapped me again.
Damn, that was getting really irritating, so I spat at him and finished. ‘If you don’t believe me, consider this. I know he worked with the CIA in the SOG. How the hell do you think I know that? And, he’s not alone. There’s a grunt in your team. Big guy, does a good job of looking stupid, but he’s being paid by the Americans. His name is Rasool.’
Ross looked at the Chinese with the look of a man, who is suddenly looking incompetent in front of his boss. I still didn’t get what leverage the Chinese had on a rich, powerful man like him and what their role in the whole deal was, but I had sensed the way that Ross’ men felt about the Chinese, so I kept going.
‘The Indians know you are Unit 7. No big, fucking state secret there. Khalid and his buddy helped me take out one of your men in the village down there.’
I had read the man right. Ross was a fat businessman, but this guy was a soldier. He was pissed knowing that the name of his unit was public and that one of his men had been killed by subterfuge.
The Chinese man glared at Ross. ‘Get your men off this outpost and into the village now.’
With that, he stormed out of the room with Ross in tow, leaving me with just two masked men guarding me.
My eye was half swollen shut, my hand was burned, and my lip was bleeding quite freely from all the hits I had taken.
Despite all that, I began to grin.
It was showtime.
Eleven
‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
I didn’t really expect much from the two men in the room with me, but I wanted to get their attention, and if I was lucky, to get them to come closer to me.
‘Pee in your pants,’ one of them said.
So much for empathy. But the man, who had spoken, came closer and stood in front, holding his assault rifle across his body, looking at me through the slits in his mask.
‘You sure pissed the boss off. You’re going to regret it, because he’s going to get the Chechen to work extra hard on you.’
