BLOWBACK (19 page)

‘Fair enough.’ Sami gave it a moment’s thought as he studied the target area, and then made up his mind. ‘Okay, so five teams each in these three areas and put the last one here... to the south.’ Noticing the query on the man’s face, he explained, ‘Just as a backup… in case they decide to go that way for some reason that we haven’t factored in.’

‘That makes sense.’ The ATTF man nodded approvingly. ‘It’s always best to err on the side of caution.’

‘Tell all our teams to be in or close to the major markets, places of worship, important government buildings and hospitals.’ Sami’s tone was brisk and business-like. ‘But they will all maintain a low profile.’ The ATTF man nodded again and began to reach for his phone. ‘And please make it very clear to everyone – nobody will be in uniform and all weapons will be kept out of sight. The camera guys should be careful to only go for long shots. Tell them to record everything they can. I want the chain of evidence to be as perfect as possible. Okay?’

They all watched and waited as the ATTF officer spent the next ten minutes shooting off instructions to a host of people. When he was finally done, Sami took over again.

‘Let’s split the Bomb Disposal Squad into three teams. Tell them to take up positions at the most convenient police stations in the north, east and west and wait for our orders. I want them ready to move the moment we call them.’

‘They’ll all be in place within fifteen minutes,’ the ATTF officer assured him as he got back on his phone. Sami took the opportunity to call Anbu and bring him up to par.

By the time Sami, Tiwathia and Dhankar left the room and headed out in three separate vehicles, the local ATTF and BDS teams were firmly in position. Everything was going as planned. They all knew that as long as the GPS locators were lit up, it meant that the faulty ICs had not been detected and the bombs would not go off. Even so, the stress of completing the mission was inevitable and unavoidable.

‘Dear god, please keep Mr Murphy far away from us today,’ Sami murmured as the three vehicles headed out. The ATTF officer remained in Sami’s vehicle. It made sense for the command elements to remain together, to cater to the unforeseen eventualities that always arise as a battle ebbs and flows.

The three Force 22 commandos were still some distance away from their destinations when, at the temporary command post at the ATTF headquarters, Ankita saw the first of the glowing dots on her laptop screen separate from the others and begin to move away. It moved very slowly, as though the man carrying the bomb with the GPS locator was on foot. A moment later, another electronic dot began to move; this one too, advanced slowly. And so it continued until, within a matter of thirty minutes, the sixteen glowing dots had spread away from the point of origin and were variously heading north, east and west.

Like evil aliens in a Friday night horror movie
. Ankita could imagine the havoc the bombs would have caused had they not got to them. She suppressed a shiver as she reached for the phone and began to update the three Force 22 commandos and the ATTF teams out in the field.

The strike on Surat had begun.

I
qbal’s head was throbbing as he watched the fifteen men who had assembled in the guesthouse leave one by one. The large, almost airtight room they were in was as dingy as the rest of the guesthouse. It was the kind of place that didn’t ask too many questions of those who checked in and rented rooms by the hour, which was not surprising considering its location in the town’s red light area.

Under normal circumstances, Iqbal would not have even registered the names of the fifteen others, just as most people seldom catch the names of those they are introduced to at parties. This time, however, his newly trained mind captured every name and embedded every face indelibly in his memory. He knew he would be able to put together almost perfect Identikit photos of each of the twelve men who had joined the original team of four that had travelled in from Pune. He was also confident that he would be able to link up the snippets of information that he had systematically collated during the casual conversations that took place while they waited for the bombs to be assembled.

Imtiaz – who, Iqbal had learnt by now, was the designated bomb maker – had wrapped each bomb in a dull blue-green piece of polythene after it had been assembled.

‘The polythene will keep the bomb dry and also hold together the ball bearings and nails that are being used as shrapnel, till the bomb explodes,’ he explained to them as he finished wrapping the first one. ‘Now all you have to do to activate the bomb is push this lever to the right.’ Holding up the wrapped bomb, he showed it to them. ‘Now place it in the target area and move out. Don’t worry, you’ll have at least thirty minutes to get away. Any questions?’

‘Good!’ he said as they shook their heads.

‘As soon as you’re done, I want you to head home,’ Asif told them. ‘Make damn sure none of you starts getting adventurous and goes back to have a look at what you’ve achieved. Okay?’ He looked around at them with narrowed eyes. ‘Remember that just one arsehole can get all of us screwed. Okay?’ He waited till each one of them had acknowledged the order. ‘Right! Similarly, the outstation people will head straight for the railway station or the bus stop.’

‘Grab that and let’s get going.’ Asif’s voice intruded on Iqbal’s troubled reverie. Asif was pointing at the last remaining bomb on the table. ‘Come on, Iqbal, where are you lost?’ His voice tugged Iqbal back to the present. ‘Let’s go, we’re getting late, miyan.’

Picking up the bomb, Iqbal carefully put it in his duffel bag and began to follow him to the door. ‘We’re both going to place this one?’ he asked.

‘Of course! I’ll show you how it’s done. New recruits never operate alone.’

‘You don’t trust anyone, do you?’

‘Like I told you,’ Asif said with a shrug, ‘security is security. Nothing changes. Anyway, how would a newcomer know the correct way to do the job unless we show him?’

‘Right!’ Iqbal didn’t try very hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

‘Why are you always so touchy?’ Asif asked, lowering his voice as they hit the road and began walking east.

‘I don’t like not being trusted,’ Iqbal retorted. ‘After all, why would I be here if I didn’t want to, if I didn’t believe in the cause?’

‘I don’t fucking care!’ Asif snarled back, taking care to keep his voice low. ‘Rules are rules and they are the same for everyone. If you want to play with the big boys, you behave like one, otherwise…’ His voice trailed away, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Realizing he had pushed it as far as he could, Iqbal held his tongue and followed him.

Ten minutes later, they went up to the newly opened Pizza Express outlet in the market in Loktej. Straddled between an electronics showroom on the left and a music store on the right, the glass-fronted, brightly coloured store had a large red plastic dustbin just outside, to the right of the huge swinging glass doors. To the other side were a couple of blue, red and white scooters with large blue food carriers strapped to the rear, the kind used by pizza delivery boys all over the country. A continuous stream of people, mostly youngsters, moved in and out of the three stores, all of them in animated conversation with their companions. Two huge speakers placed outside the music store pounded out the latest Bollywood numbers, adding to the cacophony of the marketplace.

Asif stood on the other side of the road for a long time, observing the target carefully. Satisfied that there was no suspicious activity in progress, he murmured softly, ‘Now watch me,’ and casually crossed the road. Pausing briefly near the dustbin, he threw a quick look around and then leaned down and planted the bomb just behind, making sure it was well out of sight.

Turning away equally casually, he crossed the road again and the two men began to make their way back to the railway station. They had almost reached the autorickshaw stand on the street corner when Asif stopped so suddenly that Iqbal, a few steps behind, almost ran into him.

‘Shit! Did I arm the b – the device?’ Asif whispered, mindful of the people passing by.

‘I don’t know! I couldn’t see,’ Iqbal whispered back. ‘You must have.’

‘I’m not sure.’ Asif looked at his watch. ‘Four minutes gone already.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I think I need to go back and check.’

‘You want me to do that?’ Iqbal asked.

‘Will you? You know what has to be done?’

‘Of course. Imtiaz showed us. The lever has to be to the right, correct?’

‘That’s right,’ Asif said with a nod. ‘Okay, then will you recheck it while I get hold of an autorickshaw? You’ll have to be quick, though… we just have twenty-six minutes left.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Iqbal turned and began to stride back.

The press of people was just a little lighter than it had been earlier and Iqbal was able to reach the dustbin without drawing attention to himself.
In any case
, he thought,
everyone is so caught up with themselves that they seldom stop to notice what others are doing
.

Despite that, his breathing was as uneven as his heartbeat as he reached down behind the dustbin to check the lever. It was pushed all the way to the right. Knowing the bomb would malfunction, he resisted the urge to push the lever to the other side, and got up. Only to stumble into Asif, who was standing right behind him. The shock of finding him there rendered Iqbal motionless for a moment.

‘Shit! You scared me,’ Iqbal exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here? You were supposed to…’

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d know how to do it correctly,’ Asif muttered as he leaned forward and rechecked the lever before leading the way out of the market.

‘You weren’t sure, or you were testing me?’ Iqbal blurted out without thinking.

‘Come on, Iqbal.’ Asif’s smile was unreadable. ‘I just wanted to reconfirm. It has nothing to do with not trusting you.’

‘Yeah, right!’ Iqbal allowed his anger to show this time.

‘And even if I was testing you, do you blame me?’ Asif shrugged. ‘Either way, you passed with flying colours.’ Iqbal looked away, still trying to control the churning within him. It had been a close call.
I wonder what would have happened if I had disarmed it,
he thought with a shudder.
Bloody hell! Tiwathia was so right. You can’t let your guard down even for a moment. You just have to live the lie. There is no other way.

‘Come on, Iqbal! We have only nineteen minutes left.’

The two men rapidly made their way out and were soon inside a rickety autorickshaw they had managed to flag down.

I just hope we’ve done our job well,
Iqbal prayed as he watched the crowds fade away in the distance.
If that bomb goes off…
He shivered.

‘What happened?’ Asif asked, catching the sudden shiver.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Asif smiled condescendingly at him. ‘That always happens the first time. You’ll get used to it soon.’ He laughed. ‘By the third or fourth time, you’ll actually start enjoying it.’

A
s usual, the railway station was teeming with a sense of chaotic urgency when the two men alighted from the autorickshaw and made their way inside. The medley of sounds ebbed and flowed as a train thundered in or whistled its way out, the sounds magnified as they ricocheted off the corrugated roofing over the platforms. Cries of ‘Taxi? Hotel? Coolie!’ added to the pandemonium. The railway platform smell, a strange blend of sweat, tea, food, cold drinks and cigarettes, hung heavy in the air.

Asif halted on the fringes of the crowd and pulling out his mobile, made a short call. Iqbal heard him mutter softly into the phone, ‘Send it now…Yes.’ There was a pause. ‘Good! I’ll be seeing you.’ Asif returned the phone to his pocket and rejoined the crowd of people flowing into the station, with Iqbal in tow.

T
wo hundred and fifty miles away, in Mumbai, the same slim, well-dressed man in his late twenties accompanied by the same short, dark man driving the same maroon Ford Endeavour put away the mobile phone on which he had just answered Asif’s call and turned his attention back to his laptop. This time he was already connected to the unsecured wireless network he had caught a few moments ago.

With light, precise taps on the keyboard he sent out the email that was waiting in the drafts folder. The list of recipients was almost the same as the last time. So was the reaction. Moments later, security forces in Surat and Mumbai jolted into action. This time, however, the action was destined to be differently choreographed.

D
ue to the heavy crowd, it took Asif and Iqbal nearly ten minutes to reach the platform from which their train was to depart. But it was still early and the train had not yet been marshalled onto the platform.

Asif made his way towards a raised television on the platform, the screen aglow with the logo of the local news channel. The sound had been muted; not that it mattered, because even if it had been on full volume, the hullabaloo around would have ensured nothing was audible. And it made no difference to the two men who came to a halt in front of it, one watching the screen eagerly, the other with anxiety.

They had been there for a couple of minutes when Iqbal saw Imtiaz and Abid making their way towards them. None of them acknowledged or spoke to the others.

The news anchor was conducting an animated discussion with a vaguely familiar sports expert, probably an ex-vice captain of the Indian cricket team. They could not hear what either of them was saying, but the focus of the discussion was clear from the news ticker scrolling continuously across the prominent blue bar at the bottom of the screen. Apparently there was some fresh controversy between the selectors and the current captain of the team.

Every few seconds, Asif anxiously checked the time on his wristwatch.
It should have started by now! The first bomb was timed for… what…
Asif checked the time again…
eight... almost nine minutes back. By now they should have got the news on air.

Asif was about to look at his watch again when it happened. The long blue bar at the base of the television screen turned red and a large, bright yellow BREAKING NEWS icon began to flash.