Operation Deep Strike Page 10

  He sat down in front of Shafiq. “My hunch was right. Zia’s in Malik’s tent.”

  “What were they talking about?”

  “I don’t know.” Hafeez said. “I couldn’t hear them clearly. Malik’s tone was low as he spoke with Zia.”

  Shafiq wondered at what Hafeez had said. Zia was the wrong man for the job. But then, they both could be assuming incorrectly. Zia and Malik could be talking about any number of things unrelated to their mission. He answered the unspoken question in Hafeez’s mind.

  “Only time will tell.”

  Chapter 13

  Gorbat watched the jagged mountains of Balochistan rush past as he flew over them. From his vantage point atop an MI-17 helicopter, the landscape was full of mountains devoid of greenery. It had been an ordeal to get the helicopter assigned for the last-minute trip. He had gone to the top floor of the building that housed his department. The entire floor was the office of the Inspector General of Police. The IGP was alone in his office speaking on the phone.

  Gorbat had decided it would be best that he made an in-person request to lease the helicopter. The CTD had only one helicopter for the entire Balochistan province. Gorbat still couldn't fathom the rationale behind the government procuring a single helicopter to cover terrorism in an area that spanned almost half of Pakistan. Gorbat waited till the IGP finished his call and then explained his request. The Inspector General tried to stonewall his request, but Gorbat was equally persistent.

  “Why can't you go there tomorrow using one of our jeeps?” The IGP asked. “What's the need to leave right now?”

  Gorbat said, “Sir, this is a matter of national security. The Indians bombed the Gwadar port. We still aren't sure how many of them came to our country, and if someone else from our end was involved. We need to track them before trail goes cold. An hour delayed is an hour lost.”

  “What evidence are you hoping to collect?”

  “I don't know sir, but I know that I will find something.”

  “That doesn't reassure me. It doesn't justify utilizing a helicopter. Aviation fuel is expensive as it is.”

  Gorbat knew that he was getting nowhere. He had served under the IGP for many years. This was unlike him. He changed tactics.

  “Sir, you can see my track record. I have closed ninety percent cases that were assigned to me. You can rely on me to do an honest work.”

  “Yes Gorbat, your work is good.”

  “So please understand this is important. I need that helicopter only for a few hours.”

  “I am sorry Gorbat, I cannot do that.”

  “Why sir? You once said that national security is our highest priority. What's the real reason?”

  The IGP look around to ensure that they were alone. He then spoke in a low voice. “The Chief Minister will commandeer the helicopter tomorrow for a trip to Gwadar.”

  “The Chief Minister? But why are we giving him our own helicopter? The helicopter is assigned to the Counter Terrorism Department. What happened to his own?”

  The IGP said, “The Chief Minister gave his helicopter to his son as a wedding gift.”

  “What!” The words stopped in his mouth. Gorbat had never come to terms with the politicians. “The helicopter was given to serve his post. It was assigned to a designation, and not to an individual. How can he think of it as his own?”

  The IGP shrugged his shoulders. “Its best we don't get into it. The Chief Minister told me to get a helicopter ready for his visit to Gwadar tomorrow. I couldn't say no to him.”

  Gorbat hung his head. He wanted to be in Makran tonight and get to the root of the issue. He had hoped to inquire around and then take the helicopter back home to Quetta in the morning. But now that didn't seem possible. Quetta was around eight hundred kilometres from Makran. It was an eleven hour journey by road. By helicopter it took three hours. He looked up as an idea formed in his head.

  “Sir, if I take the helicopter tonight to Makran and have the pilot drop me there and return to Quetta, the helicopter should be back well before the Chief Minister needs it. Please understand, this is important.”

  The IGP thought for a long time as he weighed the pros and cons, and he finally said yes. But Gorbat wasn't enthused. Even if he completed his inquiry by morning it meant that he would return to Quetta by road. He wouldn't be able to spend much time with his son on his birthday.

  A sudden jolt due to an air pocket brought Gorbat back to the present. The night was dark and the only illumination came from a nearly full moon that peeked through intermittent clouds. The wind swirled through the windows and buffeted his body threatening to tear off the seat belt that secured him. But Gorbat's face was set in dogged determination. His colleagues used to say that once he started a case, he wouldn't let go till he was able to resolve it. He had been pensive yesterday after the bombing had taken place and he couldn't secure any leads, but now with the Indians dead he could relax.

  The case was almost resolved. But there were still some unanswered questions. Who killed the Indians? And if they were armed how were they killed?

  “We are there.” The pilot said.

  Gorbat watched as the dark grey shape of the Arabian Sea materialized in the distance. He hoped he would have the answers soon enough.

  Gorbat was out of the helicopter as soon as it touched the ground. He thanked the pilot and the helicopter took off immediately. As he stood on the ramp, the coastal humidity engulfed him. The night was warm and within a minute, his clothes were drenched in sweat. Inspector Bugti was waiting for him at the helipad. They had met each a few times over the years on both formal and informal occasions.

  Bugti waved him over. Gorbat was happy to see him. Bugti was one of the rising stars of the police force. He was dedicated to his work and was good at investigations. The only problem with him was that he had no scruples in asking for commissions for his work. He would demand money for services rendered as a police officer. Gorbat had learned to ignore this aspect of Bugti. He got straight to the point.

  “Did you get custody of the bodies?”

  “Yes, I did. The forensic guy is looking over them.”

  Gorbat was pleased. Bugti understood that Gorbat would want the details of the case and had already involved the forensics in it. “Did we get any clues as to how they died?”

  “Yes,” Bugti hesitated. “I will let the forensic person explain it to you.”

  After a few minutes ride they arrived at the Makola Police Station. It was a two-storey building with a couple of vehicles parked in front of it. They entered the place. Gorbat looked at a couple of police officers conversing in one corner. He followed Bugti as he ascended the stairs.

  “Nisar is our forensics expert.” Bugti pointed at the man. “He will brief you.”

  The introductions were made quickly and then Gorbat settled into a chair as Nisar started talking.

  “Here are the photos of the victims.” Nisar handed a score of photos to Gorbat.”The first thing you will notice is that all of them were shot in the head. Ballistics testing have revealed that all four bullets were from different guns and they were fired upon from close quarters. I have taken the DNA samples. We will look for missing persons in the vicinity and hopefully have a match soon.”

  Gorbat looked up from the photos. “Missing persons? Bugti must have given you the background of this case. These are Indians, not locals.”

  Bugti spoke, “The bullets that killed them don't match any of those that are used locally. All victims were killed via a headshot, indicating that their opponents were professionals at killing. It appears that the victims were our own people and they were killed by an unknown professional group that you assume to be Indian spies.”

  Gorbat's heart sank. The Indians were still at large. If they weren't killed, then...

  “But, who are these victims?”

  “All four were exceptionally fit with toned bodies, their ages range from mid-twenties to thirties. They could only be law enforcement personnel or Army peop
le. I checked around and all the police in the neighbouring districts are accounted for. That leaves the Army. I have asked that any reports of missing persons be brought to my notice immediately.”

  Just then Bugti's phone rang. He picked up the phone and listened for a few minutes and then hung up.

  “We just got a report of four Army men missing.”

  “Army men?”

  “Yes. The call came to us downstairs. My man has gathered the details and is coming up to report.”

  Gorbat thought about how the scenario could have unfolded. It appeared that the Indians had beached on the shore using the inflatable dinghy, and then shot the Army men. It still wasn't clear why they had killed the men. Based on the accuracy of the headshots, it appeared that the Army men didn't get a chance to retaliate back or they hadn't even realized that an attack was imminent. They had probably all been shot simultaneously, Gorbat surmised. A standard operating procedure of special forces worldwide. Go in and knock them hard before they even had a chance of knowing what hit them.

  One of the policemen Gorbat had seen below came up with a file in his hand. Bugti said, “What did you find?”

  “We have the names of the Army officers and the Jeep number. The four Army officers had departed at four am for a routine patrol, but didn't return back. They were to report for an important assignment at seven am, but they didn't turn up at the appointed hour. A search was conducted by the Army but didn't yield any results. They are asking for our assistance in the search.”

  “Okay, call them back and inform them that we have four bodies that need identification. It may well turn out to be their missing officers.”

  Gorbat interrupted, “Did we find the jeep at the site of the bodies?”

  “No, only the bodies.”

  “Okay, run a country-wide alert for the Jeep number. If they locate the jeep, they should not take any action, and just report it to us.”

  Bugti turned to the junior officer. “You heard him. Do it.”

  The man left and then Bugti said, “It appears the Army men were killed by your unknown Indian spies.”

  “The Indians must have used the jeep to make their exit. If they are still using it, maybe we have a chance of catching them.”

  “So we wait till then?”

  “No, we have to proactively search for them. If the assailants are Indians, and I am betting on that, then this is not your usual counter-terrorism operation. Take me to the site where the bodies were found.”

  Half an hour later Gorbat was crouching on the ground next to the N10 highway as he examined the tread marks of vehicles. He spent some time walking around and observing the surroundings. But it was in a dilapidated garage that he stopped and beckoned Bugti.

  “Look at this.” Gorbat pointed at the floor. He had finally found what he had been looking for. On the ground were four empty cartridges. “They must have hidden here and shot the Army officers from this position.”

  He continued looking around the garage. Cobwebs strung across the roof in unbroken strands and a layer of dust covered the walls and open shelves, but the ground was undoubtedly disturbed with multiple footprints. He looked around but couldn't find anything else.

  Gorbat walked out of the garage, “There were three vehicles here. Two of them look to be vans, and I am guessing the third was the jeep. The jeep went east from here.”

  “Do you think they were headed for Karachi?”

  “It's possible.” Gorbat thought for a minute. “Here's what we will do.”

  “There's a check-post up ahead. What do you suggest?” Roshan asked.

  He was driving the Army jeep. It was still early morning and they had traversed more than three hundred kilometres on the N10 National Highway. They had slowed down on the outskirts of Karachi as they joined in the early morning trucks that were bound for Karachi and Hyderabad. They had queued up behind one of the colourful trucks that were ubiquitous on the Pakistani roads, and further up Roshan had glimpsed a check-post with a sentry noting down the license plates as the vehicles came to a stop in front of an imposing looking barrier spanning the road.

  “Pull off the safety's on your guns.” Armaan responded. “I don't think they will stop an Army vehicle, but be ready to make a quick exit.”

  Roshan's heart hammered wildly as they closed in on the check-post. He counted the guards. There were six of them. He glanced at his team. They displayed their guns prominently in front of them. It was a subtle cue if the Pakistanis knew who they really were. Don't mess with us. But they were still outnumbered two to one. With Roshan at the wheel, it left only three men against the six guards. If they already knew the presence of his team, Roshan couldn't begin to comprehend the complications in their mission.

  It was going to be a bloodbath. And then an open run among the survivors, if any.

  The truck in front of him passed the gate; it was their turn.

  Taking a deep breath, Roshan eased the jeep to a stop. He gave his best smile to the sullen guard, who glanced at him with envy. He noted down the number and was about to say something when the supervisor in the guard house called out.

  “Aziz, come here for a minute.”

  Roshan watched with bated breath as Aziz walked over to his supervisor. A moment later the supervisor and Aziz came out and walked over to Roshan. The supervisor smiled at Roshan and said, “I am sorry for the delay Lieutenant. I was just telling Aziz here that he should never stop anyone from the Army. I apologize on his behalf.”

  The supervisor gestured to Aziz and he opened the barrier. The supervisor passed them through.

  As they passed the check-post, Roshan breathed a relieved sigh, echoed by the other three. “Done.”

  The check-post supervisor kept looking at the men in the Army jeep till they vanished out of sight. He had no idea who they were, but the license plate of the jeep had been flagged. The flag had a note that the occupants were not to be stopped, but to report the find to a phone number in Counter Terrorism department.

  He picked up the phone and dialled the number.

  Gorbat's mobile rang. He picked up the call. The voice on the other end spoke.

  “Is this the CTD?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “We were told to contact this number for a vehicle alert.”

  Gorbat narrowed his eyes. “Where are you calling from?”

  “We are at the Karachi western check-post. A jeep bearing the corresponding number just passed through.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I will be there in a few hours.”

  Gorbat looked at Bugti. “I just got a call from the security officer in charge of the Karachi check-post. The Indians passed through.”

  “Karachi, eh? Your assumption that they are going to Karachi was accurate. But what is their mission?”

  “I am not sure.” Gorbat said.

  “I think we will come to know after we apprehend them.”

  “Right, we will. Bugti, I will need to borrow your car. I’m going to Karachi.”

  “Sure. Just drop me off at the police station.”

  They had just got into the car when Gorbat's mobile buzzed again.

  “CTD. This is Inspector Gorbat Khan.”

  “This is the security in charge for the Karachi North check-post. The jeep number highlighted in the circular just passed our check post.”

  “Thank you for letting me know.”

  Gorbat looked at Bugti with a hint of frustration. “Karachi is not their destination. They just exited north of the city.”

  “Where do you think they are headed?”

  In response Gorbat picked up his mobile phone and scanned through his contact list and then tapped on a number.

  “Inspector Mehdi speaking.” The voice on the other end answered.

  “Inspector Mehdi, this is Inspector Gorbat of the Quetta CTD,” Gorbat said.

  “Yes sir.”

  “You saw the vehicle alert that I sent?”

  “Yes, we did. The local authoritie
s have been alerted on it.”

  “They need to be more than alert. The jeep is on its way to you.”

  Chapter 14

  Shafiq greeted the dawn with a smile. The lure of the unknown thrilled him. The day had finally arrived. Today they were going out to an unknown journey to an undisclosed location. It was everything they had been preparing for weeks. He looked around and saw that most of the men were already up and about. The training and discipline had strengthened the men’s resolve and they were now eager to prove themselves.

  As the men assembled out of their tents, Malik greeted them. Normally grim-faced, Shafiq thought he detected a hint of a smile on Malik’s face as he addressed the crowd.

  “Brothers, we are moving out in two hours. We have been told to move north to the outskirts of Jalalabad where some friends will join us and then we will be given further instructions.”

  The crowd shouted in excitement to his announcement. Malik waited for the din to die down and then continued.

  “We will now need to wind down the camp and retrieve everything we have and pack it into our truck. Start loading the weapons first. Time is of the essence.”

  The men dispersed off to collect the armaments. Numerous crates of weapons were picked up one by one and loaded into the two trucks they had. Both trucks were nearly half full by the time they finished.

  After the weapons, the men focused on the food supplies. They considered the weapons their number one priority. If they were caught in a precarious situation, they would prefer to be hungry, but not unarmed. It was better to die a hero’s death painted in one’s blood, than a slow one from hunger. And of course with a weapon you had a chance to take revenge if your comrades died.

  The food supplies consisted mainly of dry fruits. It didn’t take up much space and was very useful in case they were pinned against enemy forces in a siege-like situation. A dozen large containers stored up to a month’s supply of nutrition; and they had replenished their stock only a few days back.