Operation Deep Strike Page 12

  Baldev noticed it, but not too fast. “Brace for imp–”

  The truck smashed sideways into the jeep.

  Roshan’s entire body jarred from the shock of the collision. His body crashed like a rag doll against the frame of the jeep. A wave of excruciating pain rippled through his shoulder and legs as he hit the frame. The shock of the pain resonated and vibrated through his bones. A shattering sound rend through the air as metal crumpled against metal with incredible velocity. Roshan moaned as he clutched his body fighting to stay conscious. He focused his eyes on the sight before him. Their jeep had gone off the paved road, and was hurtling along the side of the road strewn with pebbles and gravel. Baldev was struggling to get the jeep back on the road. The front passenger door was crashed in, and Armaan flopped motionlessly on the seat, either unconscious or dead. Roshan had no time to find out as a blur caught the corner of his eye.

  The truck was making another pass at them. It accelerated as it reared to the opposite end of the road ready to smash into their jeep. Roshan looked ahead. A tunnel was coming up. The intentions of the truck driver were clear. Their jeep would get sandwiched in between the truck and the tunnel wall. Baldev had the accelerator pressed to the floor, but the truck was still speeding alongside them.

  “Hold tight.” Baldev yelled as they entered the tunnel. Roshan gripped the seat in front of him with one hand, while he pointed the handgun at the truck driver as he swerved again towards them. He had only one chance at making the shot.

  He fired three shots.

  A split second later he realized that all three rounds had missed the driver. The truck kept accelerating towards them ready to crush them into pulp.

  “Baldev!” Roshan turned to Baldev to warn him. Baldev’s eyes were not even on the road. His entire focus was on the truck as it came within striking distance. Roshan saw a movement of Baldev’s feet followed by a screeching sound. His body jolted forward as Baldev hit the brakes and then pulled the hand brake hard.

  Roshan watched as everything moved in slow motion. The truck's bulky profile loomed over them as it overshot past them and closed the area in front of them. The rear corner of the truck scraped the front of the jeep as it streaked to their side of the road.

  Roshan looked at the rear of the truck. The tarpaulin was wide open and four soldiers had them in their sights ready to fire at them. Roshan watched with a blank expression as the men leaned in their guns making last second adjustments as they prepared to fire. They had avoided getting crushed by the truck, but he had forgotten about the men inside the truck.

  There didn't seem to be any escape.

  Roshan watched the men in the truck, paralyzed with fear. He knew his gun was at his side but he would be dead before he could even raise it against them.

  “Move.” he urged Baldev and then realized that their jeep had screeched to a standstill. The hand brake had worked too well for their own good.

  They were a sitting duck.

  As Roshan looked at the men about to kill them, the truck slammed heavily against the tunnel wall with a resounding crash. The men in the rear lost their balance and toppled off the truck. Roshan pulled out his gun and he watched Baldev do the same as they took advantage of the changed situation. He brought the FN2000 assault rifle in front of him and pointed it at one of the fallen men. He was grievously injured from the fall. A squeeze of the trigger and the man was put out of his misery. Roshan moved his barrel in the direction of another man and squeezed off a couple of rounds through the man’s body. The man died instantaneously. Baldev in the meanwhile had neutralized the other two.

  “We need to get out of here.” Hitesh said. It was the first word he had spoken since the crisis unfolded, yet his tone was steady. He glanced back. “Now.” His tone became high-pitched.

  Roshan looked behind them. The second truck was coming straight for them. Baldev had already unlocked the handbrake and moved the vehicle into first gear. Roshan reloaded his gun as he took another peek behind him. The truck had covered the distance between them rapidly and was almost upon them. He looked in front. They were behind the first truck that had crashed into the wall. The intention of the second truck driver was unmistakable. The truck was going to ram into them, crushing them against the rear of the first truck.

  Their jeep was moving but not fast enough. In a flash, Roshan brought around his gun and pointed it at the driver and pulled the trigger, unleashing a hail of bullets. He watched the windshield of the truck shatter into a thousand pieces. The driver slumped back into his seat, dead. The truck slowed a fraction, but the momentum was unstoppable as the truck barrelled into the rear of their jeep.

  Baldev hastily turned the steering wheel as the jolt threatened to pummel them into the crashed truck in front of them. He furiously changed gears trying to outpace the rear truck which was still barrelling ahead right in line of the first truck.

  Baldev swivelled the steering wheel hard as the truck loomed in front of them. The jeep started steering sideways, but it was going to be close. Roshan reached out and gave a sharp tug on the steering wheel. At the last moment, their jeep whisked out of the way. The trucks crashed behind them sending splinters of glass and scraps of torn metal in all directions.

  Roshan sighed in relief but the relief was short-lived. A figure raced across the road and a bloodied hand clamped itself onto Baldev's neck. Roshan realized it was the driver from the first truck. Baldev instinctively tried to free himself but the driver swung the steering wheel with his other hand. The jeep swerved off the road and hurtled straight into the tunnel wall. The impact of the crash loosened the grip on Baldev’s throat and he swung his massive elbow into the driver's face. The blow knocked the driver unconscious and he fell on the road.

  Shots whistled past them. Roshan turned around and watched as six men emerged from the rear of the second truck and raced towards their vehicle. A jeep with more soldiers was approaching from behind the second truck.

  They were going to be overwhelmed in half a minute.

  “Give me covering fire.” Baldev yelled as he switched into reverse gear. Roshan and Hitesh started firing and the men scurried around as they tried to avoid the hail of bullets.

  Their jeep picked up pace and the men became more desperate as they came out of their cover to unleash a fury of bullets at the rapidly escaping jeep.

  “I am out of bullets.” Roshan said as he reloaded his weapon.

  “So am I.” Hitesh said as he ducked his head in the leather seat of the jeep as another relentless fusillade of bullets shot overhead.

  “We are almost there.” Baldev pointed to the exit of the tunnel. He had pinned the accelerator to the floor.

  Suddenly, a loud pop sounded as one of the incoming bullets punctured the rear tyre. Roshan gripped his seat with white-knuckled fingers as the jeep careened out of control at high speed and flipped on its side. Roshan could see the ground coming fast at him.

  His head struck something and everything turned dark.

  Chapter 16

  Inspector Mehdi looked at the four unconscious intruders in the jeep and swore. He had lost a lot of good men today. Curse these Indians. As the head of the Counter Terrorism Department for Hyderabad, he had put in an elaborate trap to snag them. Two trucks and a dozen men to capture four men, and they had nearly escaped. He was going to make them pay for what they had done. He pulled out his mobile and tapped a number.

  “Inspector Gorbat, I have captured the intruders.”

  He heard Gorbat’s relieved voice on the other end, “Thanks for letting me know. I will be in Hyderabad in three hours.”

  Inspector Mehdi disconnected the call and looked at his men. “Handcuff them and confiscate their weapons. I don’t want them to pull another trick.”

  The pain felt like small waves lapping up a beach. Receding and coming, receding back and coming again. He could bear the small waves, it were the intermittent big waves that he dreaded. They rushed in, the wave of pain as it approached unmistakable from
the others. It was rising up towards him. He could sense it clearly. It was bigger than the others. He gritted his teeth as the wave of pain approached. It was already hurting, and then the wave splashed all over his body swamping him in intolerable pain.

  Roshan woke up.

  He saw the untiled cement floor with its rough texture cover his area of vision. He realized he was lying face down. His tongue was sticking out and pressed to the floor. His mouth was dry and tasted full of cement powder. He coughed, the movement sending a spasm of pain through his shoulders and feet. It was then that he realized his hands were handcuffed behind his back, and even his legs were manacled. He managed himself into a sitting position and looked around.

  They were in a jail. Four barren walls greeted him. A row of vertical steel bars made up a solitary door on one end. Roshan glanced at Armaan who was lying next to him. He had regained consciousness and was looking outside beyond the bars. Hitesh and Baldev were at the other end of the wall talking in low whispers. All of them were bound the same way he was.

  “Isn't there something that our government can do to get us out of here?” Hitesh tugged with futility at his cuffs.

  Baldev shook his head. “You knew the consequences when you signed up. This is a black op; the government will disavow any connection to us or our activities. We are persona non grata.”

  “So what do we do when they start interrogating us?”

  “We are not sure how they were alerted to our presence. We have to first figure out if they suspect we are Indians.”

  “And what if they do?”

  Armaan interrupted, “Shh, someone's coming.”

  Hitesh and Baldev broke off their conversation and nudged themselves away from each other. A moment later, the key clinked into the lock, followed by the sound of the bolt sliding open.

  Roshan watched as a heavyset tall man entered and glanced at them one by one. His eyes finally settled on Armaan. He roughly pulled Armaan to his feet.

  “Are you the leader?” Inspector Mehdi asked.

  Armaan didn't answer. He stared straight ahead.

  Mehdi paused for a moment and then brought his fist crashing into Armaan's stomach. Armaan's knees buckled and he doubled down in agony collapsing on his feet.

  “I have very little patience for spies. You Indians think you are so smart. But we are better.”

  They know who we are; Roshan felt a wave of nausea engulf him.

  Mehdi grabbed the hair at the back of Armaan's head and pulled him up. Roshan saw Armaan grimacing in pain. “You are going to die a slow and torturous death. There's no point being brave about it. Everyone eventually succumbs and tells all.”

  Armaan still kept quiet. Roshan saw the commander's eyes redden with fury. He pushed him back and walked to the others. He pulled Hitesh to his feet.

  “A young face. Do you want to die today?”

  Hitesh looked at Armaan for guidance but Armaan's face was impassive. Mehdi noted the glance. He smiled. “So this person is indeed your leader.”

  Mehdi pulled out a gun and walked over to Armaan and placed the barrel against his temple. Mehdi looked at Hitesh. “You have three seconds. Tell me everything or watch your leader die.”

  Roshan’s heart sank. Things were going from worse to horrible.

  The chain of command of the Pakistan Counter Terrorism Department was efficient. After Mehdi had informed Gorbat, Gorbat in turn reported to his boss that they had caught the Indian spies. Within a few minutes the news had reached Islamabad.

  To the Prime Minister.

  It wasn’t every day that one caught spies. The Inspector General of Police had phoned the PM and informed him of the developing situation in Hyderabad and the definite possibility that they had entrapped a team of Indian spies.

  PM Mian Fateh nearly choked on his tea. “Indian spies?”

  “Yes, Mian sa’ab. They were caught just a few minutes back. We are yet to interrogate them but I thought you would like to be made aware of the situation. They could be the ones behind the Gwadar blast.”

  “Get all the information that you can extract from them. I want names, places, mission details, their local supporters, everything.”

  “Yes sir.” The IGP hung up the call.

  Mian resented what he had to do, but his position required him to take a strong action. And he knew that he would.

  Jagdish Inamdaar. How he hated the man. Mian knew when he heard of his candidature for the Prime Ministerial post, that he would sweep the elections and become the next Indian PM. When he had called in to congratulate the new PM, Inamdaar had been cold to his effusive praise. It wasn’t unexpected, given the vitriolic speeches against Pakistan he had given during his election rallies. He claimed multiple times that if he were elected PM, he would put Pakistan in its place. And the electorate had lapped up his words with glee.

  These Indian spies were undoubtedly the malicious handiwork of Inamdaar. Mian had to tell Inamdaar that his game was up with the capture of the spies. He looked at the phone, resentment spreading through him. Inamdaar was an impossible man. Arrogant and rough. Mian didn’t like dealing with him.

  Mian shook his head and furiously dialled the numbers on the phone. Someone had to tell Inamdaar off.

  In New Delhi, Prime Minister Inamdaar looked at the incoming call on the hotline. He smirked. Mian Fateh. Probably calling to request more of our surplus grid power. He picked up the phone. PM Mian Fateh came straight to the point.

  “We found out who is behind the Gwadar blast.”

  It wasn’t what Inamdaar was expecting the Pakistani PM to say. He wasn’t sure why he would call him personally to share this information. “I am glad to hear that.”

  “No need to be so happy. It was your men behind the Gwadar attack.”

  My men? The call was going completely off script. Inamdaar wasn’t sure where he had got the information, but his allegation was baseless. “Mian sa’ab, you have been misinformed –” Inamdaar began.

  “Oh, have I? We just caught your spies in Hyderabad. The truth will be out soon.”

  Inamdaar was fast losing his patience. He tried again. “We had nothing to do with Gwadar.”

  “Lies. Your spies are terrorising and killing my people.”

  “Enough!” Inamdaar exploded. “I will not listen to a person who heads a country which has a history of fomenting terrorism in our lands. You think we kill your people. Your extremism is of your own creation. Your people are killed by Pakistani terrorists. Stop blaming us.”

  “I’ll know soon. And if I find you’ve sent in spies, then –”

  Inamdaar had enough of this talk. He butted in. “Then what? What can you do? Nothing. You searching for my spies? All right, I have five thousand spies all over Pakistan, okay? If you open the door of your cabin, you will find a few outside watching your every move. Find them and hang them. Good day.”

  The apoplectic shrill reaction of Mian was still echoing in the receiver as Inamdaar slammed the phone down.

  That’s that. Inamdaar told himself. Now to get back to work.

  But first, he had to call General Singh. He wanted to make sure that it wasn’t really his men that Mian had reported as caught in Hyderabad. Inamdaar had shown bravado in dismissing Mian’s claims, but if it was true, it would turn to be an uncomfortable situation.

  “What!” General Singh felt like a clammy hand had gripped his heart.

  “That’s what Mian said,” Inamdaar’s angry voice poured through the speakerphone.

  “I’ll contact my men and check out for myself. Though I doubt it. My men have gone to Ormara and not Hyderabad.”

  “Okay, keep me informed.” Inamdaar hung up.

  Singh stared at the speakerphone wondering who the Pakistanis had caught in Hyderabad. Armaan periodically updated him on the status during his missions. He was already due for an update. He should have called back hours ago. But Singh wasn’t too worried. He completely trusted Armaan. Armaan had delivered on countless missions against impo
ssible odds. If he was late, there would be a reason for it.

  But the doubt still lingered. What if it were his men that were caught?

  And what were they doing in Hyderabad?

  “So, you have decided to be difficult, eh?” Inspector Mehdi glowered at Hitesh.

  Roshan watched Hitesh turn pale under the inspector’s steely gaze. The commander had evaluated Hitesh as the most inexperienced of their group. Roshan looked around to see if they could make a hasty escape. There were two machine-gun slinging sentries just outside the metal door. Their unwavering eyes were ready for any eventuality and their guns were pointed right at the group. Moreover, they had no idea how many other policemen were present in the building they were detained in. Their hands were tied behind their backs; Armaan had a gun pointed to his head, and he had a few seconds to live.

  Their situation was hopeless.

  “One.” Mehdi smirked maliciously as Hitesh turned green in trepidation. The inspector seemed to be enjoying himself. Armaan's head was bowed and his face was an impassive mask. Roshan wondered what was going through his mind.

  “Two.” The inspector intoned. Hitesh looked at Baldev for an answer, and Baldev gave him an imperceptible shake of the head. Was this how they were going to die? Roshan wondered. He watched as the inspector pulled back the safety catch of the gun.

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside followed by a voice. “Sir?”

  One of the officers of the CTD stopped outside waiting for a response from his superior. Mehdi turned to him and grunted impatiently, “Yes?”

  “The Divisional Director of the ISI is here. He wants to speak with you ASAP.”

  Mehdi didn't respond. He stared for a long time at Armaan, and then at Hitesh, and then put his handgun back in its holster.