BLOWBACK (7 page)
‘Although that’s what the Paki general said in his famous memoirs.’
‘Yeah, right! Don’t you know that in 1999, RAW released a recording of the same guy talking with his Chief of Staff – the COS was assuring him that they had the jihadi groups by their tooties!’
‘Oh well, we know who has got whom by their balls.’ Tiwathia laughed sarcastically. ‘I’ve always wanted to know why the general called the book a memoir because I think it’s one of the best works of fiction I’ve ever come across.’
‘The fact is, there was no way in hell that Pakistan could afford to antagonize the Yanks by openly refusing to take on the terrorists. And they needed that “frontline state in the war on terror” tag so they could continue to milk the Americans of billions of dollars, save their economy, and avoid being declared a failed, terror-sponsor state by the international community. In any case, just to stay afloat they need the billions of dollars the Yanks have been doling out to them all these years.’
‘That’s exactly why, every once in a while, the Pakis catch a few low-level Al Qaeda terrorists and throw them at the Yanks to appease them. The only two or three senior Al Qaeda commanders who have been killed or captured so far are the ones who started refusing to toe the Paki line or those the drones took out.’
‘Don’t the Americans have any sense? Can’t they see how the Pakis are leading them up the garden path? Their own economy is staggering and yet they’re pumping billions into Pakistan. And all the while, a handful of Pakis are coolly diverting this money into Swiss accounts. None of it is reaching their economy, that’s for sure. No money has gone into infrastructure, social services, healthcare or education, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the sad shape they are in today.’
‘As for the military hardware that America has been giving them to fight the terrorists, they’re either using them to arm the terrorists in Kashmir or to strengthen their line-up against India,’ Sami said angrily. ‘The Americans must be really dumb not to know this!’
‘No, MS! The Americans are aware of it, especially after what Salim’s lashkar did at New Orleans and San Francisco last week. God knows how many died and how many more will die in the days to come. Believe me, there’s nothing like having a few thousand of your countrymen killed to give you a rude wake-up call.’
‘Yes, that certainly got them by the short hair,’ Sami agreed. That’s why they’ve now stepped up the pressure on Pakistan to turn off support to terrorists all over the place, including Kashmir.’
‘Which brings us right back to the point I was making, Vikram. The Pakis are turning cartwheels trying to prove that terrorism in India is a homegrown freedom struggle rather than Pak-sponsored terrorism. That’s precisely why we see previously unknown groups like the Indian Mujahideen suddenly emerging on the scene. That’s also why they’re now busy urging militants in places like Assam to carry out terror strikes.’
‘That’s precisely the point I’ve been trying to make, sir,’ Vikram interrupted. ‘When the cops, the Intelligence Bureau and RAW have clear proof that the YPS and the Indian Mujahideen are two sides of the same coin, why don’t we just cut them down and put an end to all this?’
‘That’s assuming we know who
they
are. And even then, what you suggest is very simplistic, Vikram. Terrorism can never be resolved only by the application of military might.’
‘I beg your pardon, sir, but are you trying to say that we should just sit back and allow these crazy bastards to bomb innocent men, women and children whenever and wherever they choose to? Are you...’
‘No! That’s not what I am saying, but the fact remains that fighting terrorism calls for a well-defined offensive-defence, a definite counterinsurgency strategy and constant innovation by security forces. There is no single strategy that we can use to successfully combat it. Any strategy we adopt will have to be a use-and-throw one. In fact, in this battle, the winner will be the one who keeps the basics in mind, but innovates constantly.’
Anbu paused momentarily, recognizing the need to drive home some ground realities to the young officers he commanded.
‘Diplomatically, we have to attack the terror sponsor states. Politically, we have to stop vote bank politics and ensure that economic development is equitable and addresses all sections of society. Our leadership has to work on the root causes of alienation, which allow terrorists to recruit and subvert easily swayed youth. We have to make sure that local support to the terrorists is cut off since without that, they’re dead in the ditch.’
He raised his hand to prevent Tiwathia from interrupting.
‘On the intelligence front, we have to make sure we have our eyes and ears to the ground at all times so we can see an attack coming. Simultaneously, our security forces have to be ramped up to contain the attacks that get through because, despite all our efforts, some certainly will succeed. Militarily, we have to use force to cut down the attackers and force the terrorists to the negotiating table. And legally, we have to bring terrorists, their supporters and financers to book.’ There was another pause as Anbu allowed his words to sink in. ‘You see... it has to be a comprehensive package if we are to deal with this menace successfully.’
‘So, what I understand is that for us – the security forces – the main plank of the war on terror is good, timely intelligence.’
‘Bang on target!
That
is the key. As we all know, there are only three basic ways to gather intelligence – observe it, buy it or steal it. However, in such a fluid and geographically unconfined war, the way to get timely intelligence is either by subverting some terrorists and turning them into informers or sending in our own people to infiltrate the terror groups.’
‘I don’t know how easy it will be to subvert these crazies,’ said Tiwathia. ‘Most of them have been brainwashed so thoroughly that they can no longer differentiate right from wrong. I was going through the Al Qaeda recruitment manual the other day and it exhorted the recruiter to keep the recruit busy with lectures and religious pamphlets, especially those that discuss heaven and hell.’
‘Yes, the recruiter will always try to play on the aspects of Eternal Paradise or Eternal Damnation. This works especially well with new religious converts or those who are not very conversant with the scriptures and can be browbeaten easily. But there will always be people who have become disgruntled with the uncertainity of life as terrorists, or realized they are being misguided and misused in the name of religion... or someone who can simply be bought over with more money.’
‘But I thought these days the typical terror recruit is far more literate and savvy than before, when they were mostly poor, uneducated youngsters who had been lured in.’
‘Obviously! They need savvy terrorists because the uneducated ones wouldn’t last very long against modern security forces. But this is also a major chink in the terrorists’ armour, since the literate ones are also going to be able to see through the hidden agenda and realize they are only being used.’
‘Isn’t that what happened with Iqbal?’
‘Precisely! However, we have to be very careful that the guys we subvert don’t turn on us – or they could cause a lot more damage.’
‘Yes, they could,’ Anbu agreed. ‘In this battle, as in every battle, the key is not allowing the enemy to know what we know.’
‘So subverting one of their guys may be far more complicated and troublesome than the results it may yield.’
‘True, but also remember that trying to send an infiltrator into any terror group is not only a difficult and time-consuming process, it is extremely dangerous for the person trying to do so. They will show absolutely no mercy if his cover breaks for any reason whatsoever.’
‘That goes without saying, sir. It will have to be someone who is highly trained and motivated; someone who can stay the course for a long, long time on his own resources and, more importantly, with inner confidence.’
‘Pity we don’t have James Bond on our side.’ Sami gave a half-hearted laugh.
‘Or Jason Bourne.’
The three Force 22 officers were silent, their eyes again drawn to the terrible scenes being telecast on the screen in the far corner.
‘Or Iqbal,’ Tiwathia said softly. ‘He had the motivation and the training... he was even the right age to have infiltrated the YPS.’
‘More importantly, Vikram,’ Anbu added, ‘Iqbal had already seen through the lies and the deceit. He was fully aware of the dark underbelly of terror and he knew it had nothing to do with religion.’
‘We all know that he was mentally strong…’
‘Yes. Remember how he went back across the LOC alone and took down Maulana Fazlur Rehman at Muzzafarabad? Can you imagine the guts that must have taken?’
Another long silence fell upon the three men. It ended only when Vikram whispered, more to himself than anyone else, ‘Damn! I really wish we had brought Iqbal back with us. Then he would not...’ His voice trailed away. Even the battle-hardened commando was unable to voice the thought that the man who had saved his life was probably dead.
For a long time Tanaz couldn’t believe she was alive. The first two bullets fired by the Pakistani NCO had slammed into the stock of the Uzi in her hands, reducing it to a useless piece of mangled metal. The third had clipped the back of her hand. It had raced along the length of her arm, leaving a long, bloody furrow right up to her shoulder. The wound itself was neither dangerous nor fatal, but the loss of blood could be both. Shaking her head to rid herself of the wooziness, Tanaz sat up groggily. Gritting her teeth, she tore a long strip of cloth from the hem of her burqa and wrapped it tightly along the length of her arm. The biting pain sent a wave of giddiness through her. She pulled herself together with an effort and looked around for Iqbal.
Then she saw the station wagon with its opaque windscreen.
‘Iqbal!’ Tanaz cried out in alarm, her pain forgotten as she ran to the vehicle. Iqbal lay slumped to one side. Through the folds of his shawl, the hole punched into his chest was clearly visible. Fresh blood oozed from it in a shocking, never-ending stream. Tanaz reached out and felt the warm stirring of Iqbal’s breath on the back of her hand; the pounding in her heart receded slightly as she realized he was still alive.
She knew it was imperative that she stop the bleeding and get Iqbal away immediately. It was only a matter of time before someone landed up to investigate the gunfire. Working as fast as she could, Tanaz snatched up a fresh field dressing from the rear seat of the station wagon and used it to staunch the bleeding from Iqbal’s chest wound as best as she could. The sight of the open wound and so much blood sent fresh waves of nausea through her.
Stop it!
her mind screamed. She knew they would not get out of this alive if she did not take charge of the situation immediately. Gradually, reason and training seized control, forcing her mind into overdrive as her hands began to mechanically finish applying the bandage.
The station wagon is finished! Even if it’s not, do I have time to change the tyre? How long before someone else lands up? Should I use the army jeep?
She was still struggling with Iqbal’s makeshift bandage when she heard the deep, guttural sound of engines. Grabbing the Uzi from the floor, where it had fallen when Iqbal had passed out, Tanaz jumped out of the station wagon and spun around to face the new threat coming round the bend.
T
he four vehicles thundered down the track, carrying a wreath of dust with them. They came to a halt just short of the station wagon. The first and fourth vehicles in the mini convoy were Toyota Landcruiser SUVs and the two in between were the Toyota Hiace minibuses that are so common in Pakistan.
There was a long pregnant silence as the unseen occupants of the dust-laden convoy surveyed the gory scene of the shootout. Tanaz’s breath seemed to stop and she gripped the weapon tightly with both hands. Every fibre in her body screamed at her to lunge into action.
But at what? Whom?
The answer to her questions emerged as the doors of the lead Landcruiser opened in tandem and four men stepped out. They were all heavily bearded and dressed in identical dark Pathani suits. All four carried 5.45 mm AK-74 assault rifles in their hands.
With a sinking heart, Tanaz saw the rifle muzzles train on her. There was no way she could match that kind of firepower. The slightest move would mean certain death for Iqbal and her.
‘What happened here?’ the man who had emerged from the co-driver’s seat called out. Marked with an unmistakable Afghan accent, his tone was devoid of emotion, as though he was inquiring about the weather.
‘There was an… an altercation.’ Tanaz tried to keep all traces of fear and nervousness out of her voice.
‘Step away from the vehicle and drop the weapon in your hand,’ the man said, again in the same flat tone.
‘I’ll step away if you want, but I won’t drop my weapon.’ Tanaz made sure she remained perfectly still as she spoke. ‘Not until I know who you are and what you plan to do with us. If you mean us harm, I promise I’ll take at least a few of you…’
Her words brought a faint, derisive smile to the impassive faces of the quartet facing her. ‘Who are you, woman?’
‘I am a believer… a mujahideen.’ Tanaz’s intuition guided her reply.
‘What happened here with them?’ He pointed at the dead army men strewn around.
‘They saw my husband was wounded... they thought I was a helpless woman all alone and…’
‘Where is your husband?’
‘In there.’ She gestured at the station wagon with her weapon.
‘Is he still alive?’
‘Yes, he is, but he is badly injured. I need to get him to a doctor quickly.’
‘Where were you two headed?’
‘We’ve just returned from a mission from across.’ Tanaz gestured vaguely towards the Indian border. ‘We were on our way back to rejoin our group when this happened.’
‘Which group?’
‘The Lashkar,’ Tanaz replied without hesitation, knowing it was the safest one to name since it was large enough to accord them the anonymity they desperately needed right now.
