PRIMAL Mirza (A PRIMAL Series Novella) (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

DELHI POLICE HEADQUARTERS

The Intelligence Bureau analyst looked up from his notes.
“In conclusion, we are not tracking any credible terrorist threats to New
Delhi.” He scanned the other members of the National Capital Region Counter
Terrorism working group. Seated around the long table were representatives from
a wide range of organizations: police, local government, and domestic
intelligence agencies. “If there are no questions I will hand the floor over to
the Central Bureau of Investigations.”

There was a
collective sigh as Sonia Jayaram, a public prosecutor, shuffled her documents.
The attractive lawyer was the only woman in the room and one of a handful of
non-uniformed members.

“More of your
conspiracy theories, Sonia?” asked the representative from the New Delhi local
government.

The room filled with
laughter.

Sonia looked up from
her notes and focused her gaze on the man. Her hazel colored eyes flashed with
anger and her manicured eyebrows arched as she pressed her lips together.
“Perhaps you would prefer me to abandon the prosecution of would be terrorists
and focus my investigations on corruption within your office?”

The councilman
squirmed under her glare.

“Very well. If it
pleases the chair, I will continue.” She adjusted her suit jacket and glanced
at the Delhi police commissioner.

“We are all aware of
your investigations, Ms Jayaram. Please update us on any developments.” The
portly chairman referred to her ongoing case regarding the prosecution of three
Pakistani terrorists. The high-profile trial had made the lawyer a prominent
public figure and earned her a seat at the weekly meeting.

“Certainly.” She
flicked to the back page of her notes. “The key assessment to fall out of my
case relates to the likely presence of an extensive Pakistani terrorist support
network here in New Delhi.”

There was a
collective outbreak of voices in the room.

The police commissioner
slammed his fleshy fist down on the table. “Quiet, please. Let her finish.” He
paused. “Then you can discredit her theories.”

The room broke into
laughter and Sonia’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I’ve
interviewed all three suspects. All of them have mentioned an underground network.”

“Of course they
would,” the regional police commander said. “They’re facing the hangman’s
noose. They will say anything to avoid it. The fact is there has only been one
attempted terrorist attack in the last decade and our intelligence capabilities
thwarted it.”

“We have seen nothing
to suggest the presence of an ISI network in New Delhi,” the Intelligence
Bureau analyst added.

“But surely it’s
worth further investigation. For all we know another attack could be planned
for the immediate future.”

The police commander
shot her a hard stare. “Do you think my men sit on their hands? If there was a
speck of intelligence to support your theories we would dig deeper. But there
isn’t. You should leave the intelligence work to the professionals. Perhaps it
would be better to listen to us rather than the rantings of a Muslim fanatic
facing a death sentence.”

“I think that’s a bit
harsh,” the baritone voice of Lieutenant Colonel Prasad, the commander of New
Delhi’s National Security Guard detachment, silenced the room. The counter
terrorism officer was one of the most powerful men in the room. His contingent
of ‘Black Cats’, the nickname given to the elite NSG commandos, had almost
complete autonomy when it came to responding to terrorist threats. With his slick
black hair, dark eyes and cleft chin, he resembled a Bollywood movie star.
“Sonia is particularly well informed when it comes to such matters. In fact her
brother happens to be a major in Research and Analysis Wing.” He flashed Sonia
a toothy smile.

“
RAW
?”
snickered the police commander. “All smoke and mirrors, they know nothing of
domestic security. They don’t even bother to send a representative to this
meeting.”

“True,” said Prasad.
“But that doesn’t mean we should write off Sonia’s theories. The New Delhi
attack was easily disrupted. But we were lucky. I can assure you that it will
not be the last. My men are training to respond to the next incident, despite
the lack of support from the government.”

Sonia gave him a
slight smile.

The commissioner glanced
at his watch and closed his notebook with a snap. “We are all hurting for
resources, Colonel. There just isn’t enough to go around. If you are so
interested in Ms Jayaram’s theories feel free to discuss the matter off line,
because unless someone has something else to add… This meeting is over.”

The attendees
dispersed quickly leaving Sonia to collect her papers. Prasad remained at the
table studying his own notes. “I do believe that you might have something,” he
said as he tucked the notebook into the pocket of his immaculately pressed
black fatigues and rose from the table.

She stood and
smoothed out her pinstripe skirt. “Well you’re the only one who does.”

“They’re fools. One
day very soon, the terrorists will have all their assets lined up and then
boom!” He laughed as he walked to the door. “Maybe then they will take us
seriously when we ask for resources.”

She turned to follow
him. “I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He blocked her way,
flashing a toothy smile. “Perhaps we should discuss this further over dinner?”

Sonia pursed her
lips. “My schedule is very tight.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact I’m due
at another meeting.”

“Surely you could
make time for me.” Prasad let her through the doorway and walked next to her as
she paced down the corridor. Her heels rang on the marble tiles.

“I was meaning to
come to your office this week. To discuss a different matter.”

“Really, and what
would that be?”

“My review of the
terrorist arrests has revealed some shortfalls in the way your men handled both
the evidence and the suspects. I wanted to make sure you were aware of the
issues.” They walked through a security checkpoint and out into the parking
lot. “I will see you later this week.” She smiled. “Thanks again for your
support.”

Her driver pulled up
and she glanced out of the corner of her eye as she got into the back seat of
the Mercedes. Prasad stood watching her and she shrugged off a shiver as she
imagined what he was thinking. A few seconds later, she had opened her diary
and moved on to more pressing matters.

CHAPTER
4

RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS WING HEADQUARTERS

Seated at his desk, the director
of RAW read a document, signed it with a flourish, and dropped it in his
out-tray. He frowned at the pile of paper still occupying his in-tray. It was
going to be a long morning. Hearing the wrap of knuckles on the door, he
welcomed the distraction. “Come in.”

The
door swung open and Major Sachim Jayaram strode into the office, holding a
manila folder.

“And
to what do I owe a visit from SPEC-B? Tell me you have something more
interesting than a financial report.”

“You’re
going to want to take a look at this, sir.” Major Jayaram passed over the file.
“The Kashmir Desk received it this morning.”

“It
better be good, Sachim. I rely on you for solutions not extra reading
material.” The director nodded toward the pile on his desk. “I’ve already got
quite the collection.”

The
major smiled. “That’s what happens when you take a break, sir.”

He
scanned the short report. Brow furrowed, he reached the end of it. “Do we have
anything else?”

“No,
sir. The Signals Intelligence Directorate failed to locate the receiver of the
call.”

“So
we’ve only got the originator?”

“Yes,
or at least a partial hit. At the time of the call, he was located within
Kashmir, on the Pakistan side. We’ve narrowed it down to a ten kilometer zone
in vicinity of the Naltar Valley.”

The
director closed the folder. “Hardly corroborated intelligence.”

“We’ve
been trying to nail down this training cadre for a while, sir. The location
fits with historic reporting. Additionally, this phone has been directly linked
to a number of Lashkar operatives,” Major Jayaram said, referring to
Lashkar–e-Taiba, a terrorist organization.

“Have
you requested imagery?”

“Yes,
sir, but the Air Force is unable to provide assets at this time. What we need
is men on the ground to narrow the search.”

“And
let me guess. You want to send in your operatives?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“And
if it’s a hoax, some low level jihadist running his mouth and making grandeur
claims?”

Jayaram
picked up the document and read from it. “What if it isn’t?”

“
We will strike fear into the heart of India. We will hit them at home.
Their streets will run red with the blood of the infidel…”

He
paused then read another passage.

“Our
training is complete. Targets will be given when we arrive in the city…
”

“If
they manage to conduct a large scale attack and the government finds out we had
this…”

“After
Kargil that’s not something we can afford.”

“My
thoughts exactly. We need to move fast. I’ve already got operatives in the
border region. They can be across by midday and in the area by nightfall.”

The
director stroked his moustache as he considered the options. “Hmmm, very well,
deploy your men.”

“Very
good, sir.” Major Jayaram turned to the door.

“If
they find this bastard and his camp, I want it followed up immediately. Have a
company of
para commandos
on stand by for a
raid.”

“Yes,
sir. Is that all?”

“That’s
all, Major.”

***

CONTESTED BORDER REGION, KASHMIR

Mirza danced the
sputtering Chinese built scooter along the potholed gravel road. Ahead of him,
Captain Himesh Arjun hunched over his 110cc bike, shirt and pants flapping
wildly in the wind. They wore local garb with intricately woven karakul
skullcaps and shawls. It was midday, the sun was bright, but it was still
bitterly cold. Ahead of them, snow covered the mountain peaks.

They had received an activation call while
conducting surveillance training near the town of Kargil. It had taken less
than three hours to cover the short ride to the Pakistan border.

Mirza pulled his bike alongside Himesh and
stopped. The captain looked nothing like the smartly uniformed officer who had
recruited him over a year ago. Today, his face was shrouded in a heavy beard,
his clothes torn, and filthy. Not that Mirza looked like a corporal in the
Special Frontier Force. His beard was ragged and hair a shaggy mop that poked
out from under his hat.

“The border post is just over the next rise,”
said Himesh. “Are you a hundred percent on how we’re going to do this?”

Mirza nodded. “I follow your lead. If they ask
questions, I answer with short sentences using my cover story.”

“Which is?” he asked in Urdu.

“I’m a Pakistani returning to my home village
in Allai. For the last six months, I’ve been working on the construction sites
in New Delhi,” Mirza said in the same dialect.

“Very good.” Himesh checked his watch, a cheap
Chinese timepiece which suited his disguise. “We’ve got a little over ten hours
to locate the training camp. Insertion of the
para commandos
is
still on for tonight.”

“We’re rushing it.”

“Noted, but for once all the assets have lined
up. If this comes off, it’ll set the precedence for rapid response to a real
threat.” He kick-started his scooter and wound his scarf around his face. “And
that’s a step in the right direction.”

They rode slowly, over a rise and down the
ridgeline to the border crossing. The Indian border post reflected the tensions
between the two countries. Only four months earlier, the Indian military had
defeated Pakistan in the Kargil War. As they approached the border, Mirza took
in the heavily armed soldiers manning concrete fighting positions overlooking a
double-layered razor wire fence. The crossing point had only recently been
reopened.

The captain spoke to the guards. A minute later,
they were through the security perimeter and entered no-mans-land. They rode cautiously,
between the single strands of barbed wire that marked the edge of the road.
Small red triangles, hung every ten yards, warned of the presence of lethal
anti-personnel mines.

In spite of the cold, Mirza felt the rubber
grips of his scooter getting sticky with sweat as they approached the Pakistani
checkpoint. Clandestine border crossings always made him nervous.

As they reached a brightly decorated jingle
truck, Mirza sputtered in beside Himesh. High up on the fence CCTV cameras
watched them.

The truck pulled away in a cloud of black soot.
Mirza coughed as a soldier waved them forward.

The Pakistani guard’s face carried a permanent
scowl. “Passports and papers.”

They handed over their documents and the
official scrutinized them, comparing the passport photos to their faces.
Satisfied that all was in order he waved them on to the next queue.

They parked their bikes and waited in front of
the immigration office. The line progressed quickly. Himesh went first. He
answered the security officer’s questions and his documents were stamped. Mirza
moved up.

“Where are you from?” the official asked.

“Allai. I’ve been working construction in New
Delhi.”

“I can see that.” The man studied his
documents. “Why did you go to India? There is plenty of construction work in
Islamabad.”

Mirza glanced sideways at the two soldiers
standing at the heavy sliding gate into Pakistan. They were both watching him.

“That’s true, but the pay isn’t as good.”

The man nodded, but Mirza noted he didn’t seem
convinced. “I also wanted to watch the English team before they came to
Pakistan.” Mirza nodded at the Cricket calendar hanging on the wall. “The test
series is next month and I think we have an excellent chance.”

The official nodded. “Yes, I agree. Our team is
too good for Nasser Hussain and his side.”

“Our batting lineup is strong. With the likes
of Yousuf Youhana they won’t stand a chance.”

“So did you get a chance to see them live?” the
man asked.

“No. The Indian pig foremen wouldn’t give me
the day off. I ended up having to sell my tickets.”

The officer stamped his passport with a smile.
“Perhaps you will have more luck in Islamabad.”

Mirza picked up his documents. “
Inshallah
.” As he walked back to the
bikes, his hands trembled.

‘Everything OK? You ask him out on a date?”

He kick started his bike. “No but I think he
liked me.”

As they rode through the final checkpoint and
continued into Pakistan, sweat dampened his clothing. They were now behind
enemy lines.