Weapon of Vengeance (26 page)

Then Simran was gone.

Leaving behind a mass of pain in Ruby's heart.

*   *   *

It was sixteen minutes to seven when Ravinder finally took up position in the coffee shop. He chose a table in the far corner, from where he could see the whole place. His four cops were strung out, two at tables on either side of the entrance and two in the center.

He scanned the restaurant, taking it one section at a time. A large rectangular room with about twenty tables. He saw no single man or woman seated at any of the tables. Not that he could be sure his corpse was to meet just one person.

No Ruby either.
He did feel relieved.

Six minutes later, a tall, athletic-looking woman wearing a light cotton dress walked in, about thirty, Caucasian. Ravinder studied her; no, her snug-fitting dress could not hold a concealed weapon … not unless a small pistol was taped to her leg.

But … she is still a possible.
Ravinder took note of her position as she sat down at a table in the center.

Then two men entered separately. It became clear they were together only when they sat at the same table.

Another cluster trooped in. It was hard to tell which of them were together and which on their own. The possibles now escalated.

Ravinder maintained a sharp eye on the door; but scanned the coffee shop periodically.

His cop alarm went off as another man walked in. Hugely built. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, which his light green Lacoste T-shirt displayed. Ravinder saw a colorful eagle tattooed on his right arm, only partly visible. He was slouching, as though to camouflage his sense of purpose. But his eyes gave him away. They were moving across the coffee shop swiftly and expertly; too alert to belong to someone not in the game.

Relying on his intuition, Ravinder rose and began to walk casually toward the exit. The money he had left on the table would cover the coffee he had ordered. The four-man team, seeing him get up, got ready to move.

Willing them all to stay calm, Ravinder withdrew the iPhone he'd recovered from Mark's body and dialed the number from which the text had been received. By now, he was almost level with his suspect, who was halfway into the coffee shop, his eyes still searching the tables.

Ravinder noted a puzzled expression on the man's face, but no alarm. Yet. The suspect glanced at his watch; it was three minutes past seven. Then his mobile rang.

The shrill trilling was nearly drowned out by the hullabaloo of the coffee shop, but Ravinder, passing right by him, heard it clearly. He thumbed the iPhone, terminating the call. The trilling ended too.

Ravinder had his man.

Swiveling around, Ravinder gestured to the nearest cop to move. A sharp head shake. He was hauling out his revolver as he did so. Three strides, and Ravinder was behind the man.

Perhaps Ravinder had made a sound, or perhaps the man's instincts were acute, but it was already too late.

The suspect had begun to turn when the pistol in Ravinder's hand crashed down on his head, a powerful blow, with as much force as Ravinder dared. He did not want to kill the man. Not just yet.

As the man stumbled, two of the cops closed in and pummeled him onto the ground. Despite the suddenness of the assault, he fought back hard.

Ravinder felt a surge of satisfaction as they subdued him. One cop slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. The second ran an expert hand over him, checking for weapons.

The man named RG had been taken alive.

Now we will find out what these buggers are up to.…
Satisfaction swept through Ravinder.
At last! At long, bloody last, the break we needed.

*   *   *

Thirty minutes later, they began interrogating RG at Chanakyapuri Police Station. Two hours after that, they were still no closer to any truth.

“He is a tough bastard.” The SHO, Inspector Jai Ram, a short, powerfully built man with a large belly, whom Ravinder had tasked to do this, came into his office wiping his hands on a towel. Patches of sweat stained his rumpled uniform. Despite that, he appeared alert. “Name is Rafael Gerber.” Jai Ram said the unfamiliar name slowly. “Not a peep out of him. Keeps on insisting he's here on holiday and wants us to call his … the German … embassy. Do you want us to give him some third degree, sir?”

Ravinder considered that. It was a sticky wicket he was playing on now. If the man turned out to be innocent, there could be hell to pay; his embassy would raise a furor.

If …
Ravinder knew he wasn't.
There is no way he can be.
He made up his mind. Whether it was the games or the summit, the stakes were just too high. Sometimes one could not play by the rules. The fucking terrorists never did.

“Break the bastard,” Ravinder commanded. “Do whatever it takes, but get him to talk. Fast!”

“Leave it to me, sir. He will talk.” Jai Ram had a cold grin on his face. “You go home. I will call you.” He was twirling the ends of his large Genghis Khan–style mustache. His eyes were pitiless pinpoints. Right now, he was a walking contradiction to the godly name his parents had given him.

Ravinder almost felt sorry for the captive; Jai Ram was going to give him a taste of hell. Then he thought of the stakes, and his heart hardened.
What has to be done has to be done.

“
No, I am staying right here.”

“It might be a long wait, sir.”

“No worries.”

The SHO departed. This was his chance to score points with so senior an officer. Opportunities such as this came but rarely.

Ravinder returned to mulling. Too much was coming together too fast. He could also feel the fatigue wearing him down. Calling for another cup, he tried to caffeine his tiredness away.

He was plowing through his fifth cup when Jai Ram returned, again wiping his hands on another towel. This one was spotted with blood, as were his hands and his shirtfront.

“He is talking.” Ravinder saw a satisfied grin on Jai Ram's face. “In fact, he is more than happy to talk now.”

“Excellent. Who is he, and what is he here for?”

“He is German … a freelancer, a mercenary. The dead guy … Gerber says his name was Mark Leahy … had called him down to India for an operation.”

“What operation?”

“He doesn't know. Says he was to be briefed by Mark when they met today and would be shown the target tomorrow.”

“Was it the Commonwealth Games?”

Jai Ram shook his head. “He has no clue.”

“Damn! Are you sure he is telling the truth?”

“Right now, sir, the motherfu—” Suddenly realizing to whom he was talking, Jai Ram choked off the profanity. “He wouldn't lie if his mother told him to. He doesn't know what the operation is, but he
does
know that Mark has also called in two more mercenaries for it. He does not know who they are, but he was told they are from South Africa.”

That should give us something to work on
. Ravinder thanked the man. “Keep the pressure on him, Jai Ram. Set up a relay of interrogators, and make sure he does not get to sleep. I want to know everything he knows.”

He was pulling out his mobile as he headed out, when it rang. Prophetically, it was Mohite.

“Govind. Just the man I need.” Ravinder could not resist the pleasure of ensuring that Mohite would now have to keep working. It was because of his idiocy that they'd failed to take this Mark alive. “The man we captured at Machan has talked.” He brought Mohite up to speed and quickly told him what had to be done. Then he called Ashish and briefed him also. As long as they were not sure what the target was, both Ashish and Mohite had to be kept in the picture.

Minutes later, an APB went out. The instructions were short. Every available beat constable in Delhi was hauled out.

Every hotel and lodge has to be checked. Before sunrise. The two South Africans have to be found. They may be armed. They are dangerous. Exercise precaution and do not approach alone. All sightings to be reported prior to attempting capture.

Ravinder's car had yet to reach home when hundreds of boots hit the ground. The hunt was on.

Unfortunately, neither Rafael nor the interrogator was to be blamed. Rafael Gerber had not lied. Mark
did
tell him that the other two men were coming from South Africa. What he had forgotten to mention was that both Shaun Ontong and Gary Boucher were Australians. They'd been operating in South Africa, but held Australian passports.

*   *   *

Ruby did not stop crying for a long time after Simran left. The strip of tablets lay forgotten in her hands, mangled. Not that it mattered; they would have been useless. Her pain was beyond medication. The raging conflict had started fragmenting her, loosening the already tenuous hold of sanity on her mind.

“Why did you lie to me, Mom?” She cried out, “
Why?
All these years … my life has been a lie.”

“Your life has not been a lie, Ruby.” From the depths of memory, Rehana tugged at her. Just as always. “Don't get taken in by all this sweet talk. Ravinder never understood me … us … our cause. For him, it had no meaning. He loved the little cocoon he created for himself. You tell me, can the life of one man be greater than the agony that hundreds of thousands of our people have suffered … continue to suffer? Can it?”

“No! But why did you—”

“You cannot falter now, Ruby. We have sacrificed everything to get you ready. You are our revenge.” The dream of Rehana was piercing her. “I could have had a normal life too, but I chose our cause over that. Have you forgotten, Ruby? Have you forgotten what they did to us … to
me
?”

Reluctant though she was, Ruby could not stop these thoughts. They pounded her, hammering her down memory lane again.

*   *   *

Once again, as though it were happening all over again, Ruby found herself back in Palestine. She saw herself get out of the car and walk up to her uncle Yusuf. He was tall, really tall. And gaunt.

Unshaven and red-eyed, he was in nondescript jeans and a maroon T-shirt. A cap pulled down masked most of his face.

“I can never get over it.” He stepped forward and took her in his arms. “Do you know how much you look like your mother?”

“Everyone says so.” Her words emerged as a whisper. She began to cry as Yusuf folded her in his arms.

“I told her a million times not to come back.” Ruby heard him as though from far away. “But she never listened.… You know your mother.… She would never listen … even as a kid.”

Yes. I know my mother.
Ruby wanted to scream, but she had no energy.
Yes! I
knew
my mother.

“Rehana was with the peace marchers, at the front … with the leaders … to hand in a petition. It was a peaceful march … even some international participants from peace organizations. That's when the artillery shell landed … right at the head of the column. Those bloody Israelis … now they say that one of our people bombed the march … but that's a lie … the bastards … they killed her.” Ruby heard him choke. “There was nothing much left of any of them.” He was unable to go on. Then he finally whispered, “Come, let us go inside and you can rest for a bit … you must be exhausted from the flight.”

“No, not yet. I would like to see my mom.”

“I don't think that is a good idea, child. There is not much to see.”

“Whatever is left, Uncle Yusuf, I want to see her. She is …
was
my mother. I want to see her.”

“You are so stubborn … just like her.” Resigned. “Okay. If you are sure.”

“I am sure.”

Yusuf nodded, then went to the man who had driven her from the airport. For Yusuf, going to the hospital was out of the question.
They
would be watching out for him. He had no illusions what would happen if the Israelis got their hands on him.

An hour later, Ruby was at the hospital morgue, her heart pounding. The painful hammering increased as a white-coated, portly attendant pushed open the door and held it for her.

“I want to be alone with her,” Ruby said. Her tone did not leave room for discussion. The attendant nodded as he flicked on the light.

The ghostly darkness dissipated as white light flooded the room. Puffs of icy cold air hung in the freezing room, adding to the chill inside her.

The attendant gestured at the long metal tables in the center. Each had a body, someone who had once been a person with a name, a family, and friends … perhaps enemies too. “The third one from the right.” He pointed and left.

Ruby felt starkly alone. Never before had she felt so alone.

The silence was total, more unnerving than the screams reverberating in her head.

How can Mom be so small?
Her hands felt as frozen as her mind. She willed them to reach out and pull away the white sheet. She saw sickly, yellow-red-black stains on it. Then the body. The tectonic plates of her mind began to slip.

So little was left of Rehana, especially the upper half of the body. Even the lower half was charred, tattered bits of flesh and bone. Surprisingly, the right hand remained untouched, as though the God of Death had wanted it so, to ensure the living would identify her easily. Rehana's favorite blue sapphire ring shone brightly, beckoning at Ruby. That cemented the reality of her death. Ruby now
knew
she would not be coming back.

A huge spurt of vomit surged up, sprayed out, all over the floor, by Rehana's table. Ruby collapsed, right into the vomit. The world around her went black.

Ruby came to in a bed in an unfamiliar room. The light streaming in told her that she had been out the whole night. Yusuf was sitting by her side.

“I told you not to go, child.”

Ruby did not reply.
How to explain? I had to. There was no option.… There never has been … not with Rehana.… Mom is … was … Mom …
She kept looking at him. After a while, she began to cry. Quietly. Soon he too was crying.