Operation Deep Strike Page 5

  He turned towards Armaan. “I think it bears reminding that I give orders on this ship. Now, go and sit in the Captain’s quarters while we recover your team in the next ten minutes. And that’s an order.”

  Armaan opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it and wordlessly turned around in the direction of the Captain’s quarter. Khurana stared at his retreating figure in disgust. I don’t know what he thinks of himself.

  Khurana turned around and walked over to the hatch opening. “How are we doing?”

  “We’ve got hold of the rope ladder and the first soldier is on his way down.”

  “Excellent.” Khurana said. He motioned to the Sonar. “Are you picking up any activities in the neighbourhood?”

  “None sir.”

  Khurana rubbed his hands. It was the first good news in a long while. They could now get the other two men without event. Patience, he told himself.

  A few minutes later, both men were safely dropped onto the sub. They lowered themselves into the hatch and shook hands with the Captain. The helicopter took off, and the hatch was closed shut.

  Armaan returned. He had a begrudging smile on his face. “Thank you Captain for your help.”

  Khurana nodded. “I know how to execute my responsibilities. Now, onto the next step. I was told by Naval HQ that you would let me know your destination once your team was on board. So where do you want to go?”

  Armaan handed over a sealed envelope.

  Khurana took the envelope and went over to his desk. He unsealed the envelope and glanced at the contents. It was as he expected. They were to chart a course for sector Pandora. He handed over the coordinates to the Navigator. “What would be the ETA?”

  The Navigator glanced at the coordinates, and replied after a moment. “Six hours.”

  Chapter 6

  Roshan opened his eyes and adjusted them to the dim light of the submarine. His back felt stiff from sleeping in the cramped guest quarters. He carefully emerged out of the steel cased bunks and stretched himself. He had been woken up by the voices coming in from the Control Room. Roshan glanced at his watch. It was two am. He had been asleep for four hours. It was enough for him.

  They should be near their destination by now. He looked at the other bunks. Two of them were already empty; only Hitesh was lying in his bunk sleeping soundlessly. Roshan tapped him. “Wake up.”

  Hitesh woke up immediately. “Have we reached the insertion point?”

  “We should in a few minutes. Come.”

  They went over to the Control Room. The hub was abuzz with activity. Roshan located Armaan and Baldev in a corner talking amongst themselves and went over to them. Armaan noticed them. “Roshan, Hitesh, we will reach the insertion point in fifteen minutes. I have discussed the details of the exit with the Captain. The submarine will surface twenty-five kilometres off the coast. We will be using a motor boat to reach the shore. Do you have any questions?”

  “Yes.” Hitesh said. “How are we going to find transport once we are on the shore?”

  Armaan snorted. “Are we on the shore yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then ask me when we reach there. You have a habit of jumping the gun, Hitesh.”

  “Sorry sir.” Hitesh replied in a humbled voice.

  “Does anyone else have another stupid question?”

  There were none.

  “Okay. I will let you know once we surface.”

  Hitesh and Roshan retreated to one side of the Control Room as Armaan and Baldev resumed their conversation. Roshan watched Hitesh sigh inwardly and felt sorry for the poor fellow.

  Hitesh said, “I don’t understand. He asked for questions and I had one. Why request questions if you don’t want to answer them?”

  Roshan placed a hand over Hitesh’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s stressed out about the mission. I have heard about him. He led men bravely into battle, and been shot twice in combat. There’s a lot we can learn from his experience.”

  “Yes, I know all that. But for once I would appreciate that he would respect me as a team member.”

  “I suggest you stay out of his way for some time. Don’t speak unless you are asked, you know?”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks Roshan.”

  Roshan nodded, but deep inside, he didn’t like Armaan’s attitude. This person didn’t look like the Kargil hero who had broken through enemy ranks and taken up combat posts. The intensity was still there, but the direction wasn’t. He acted like a know-it-all who patronized his team members.

  Roshan hoped that the coming days would prove him wrong.

  Baldev watched Roshan and Hitesh leave beaten down by Armaan’s tongue lashing. He had winced through the entire conversation, but didn’t speak out. He didn’t want to embarrass Armaan in front of the duo by speaking out of turn. He squeezed Armaan’s shoulder.

  “It’s Namit, isn’t it?”

  Armaan looked at him for a moment and then turned away.

  “Armaan, I have known you for fifteen years. Maybe more. We have worked on the craziest missions together. You’ve cared for me like a brother. And you know, I’ve done the same. We have been on two missions since Namit died, and in both I saw an emotional intensity in you. As if the mission was something personal for you. You didn’t treat me any differently, but I wondered. And now, ever since Roshan and Hitesh have come onto the team, I’m seeing the extent of the change in your behaviour. Why? This is not who you are. This is not how you treated Namit or others when they joined your team.”

  Armaan looked back at Baldev, but he didn’t say anything. The monotonous conversation of the submarine crew in the Control Room filled in their silence. Finally Armaan spoke.

  “When I went to Namit’s wife to offer my condolences, she accused me of failing her husband. I can still picture her; her eyes were streaked with tears and her voice cut through to my core. I am to be blamed for what happened.”

  “Namit’s death was a freak accident. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Armaan shook his head. “As the leader of the team, it was my responsibility to ensure everyone’s safety. I failed.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. If you had truly failed, the General wouldn’t have given you this mission. “

  “As a leader, I’ve to be hard on myself. Namit died under my command.”

  Baldev was not making any headway to counter Armaan’s line of reasoning. “We have seen our share of death through the years. What changed?”

  “I can’t take away the image of Namit’s wife, her bloodshot eyes accusing me of failing in my duty. I look at Roshan and Hitesh and I wonder if I will lead them to their deaths, or will their incompetence lead to mine. Sometimes I wonder if it’s best I go all alone. Better not to trust anyone, or let anyone else trust you.”

  “You are wrong about them. Roshan and Hitesh are proud to be on this team. They competed against a hundred other capable soldiers to be part of the DIA. They know the dangers. And so did Namit. It didn’t stop him from joining the team and going into Bangladesh. And Namit would have wanted you to continue. You are disrespecting his memory with such thoughts. If not, for the landmine, he would have been here with you, on this very mission.”

  “Only to die now or later.” Armaan spoke in a stiff voice. “I’ll prevent that from happening even if I have to go solo.”

  Armaan stood up and walked over to the Captain leaving an exasperated Baldev wondering what to do next.

  “We should reach the coast in an hour.”

  Roshan shivered in the biting cold of the open sea. They were huddled together in a motorised inflatable dinghy. The temperature had dropped drastically and the howling wind ripped through his jacket freezing him to the core. He looked back at the submarine. Only the black outline of the submarine could be seen against the cloudy grey sky as the submarine slowly sunk in the waves.

  The thunderstorm had ended, but the dark clouds still hovered above them threatening to spill over any moment. Neverthe
less, Roshan was thankful for the cloud cover. Visibility would be low and it would help his team make their insertion into the coast easier.

  Roshan felt a tug in his gut as the boat made its way north. If there were any patrol boats around, they would be in trouble. He pulled out his binoculars and glanced around but the sea was devoid of any ships. Only the low humming of the motors gave them company as he looked around with a wary eye.

  “We will be landing on Makran coast.” Armaan said. “The place I’ve selected is uninhabited and there will be a very low probability for us to be detected.”

  “Makran, eh,” Baldev said, “good choice.”

  Roshan nodded as he listened. The southern border of Pakistan was mostly horizontal and ended into the Arabian Sea. The provinces of Balochistan and Sindh bordered the coast. Makran was located in Balochistan.

  Armaan said, “The General asked me and I told him that Makran is a good insertion point into Pakistan. The coastline is long with many miles of uninhabited shoreline and hills adjoining the shore. It should shield us from prying eyes.

  Baldev steadied the rudder and looked at Armaan. “Do you have any assets in the area?”

  “I have a contact here that will help us move inland.”

  Baldev smiled. “Knowing you, I’m not surprised you planned in advance. I know you have a habit of keeping the cards close to your chest, so I didn’t ask earlier. This contact; is he one of ours?”

  “No. He’s a mercenary. I recruited him last month when I was here. He spouts about his ideology, but deep inside he simply wants money and will sell out to the highest bidder.”

  “You were here last month?” Baldev asked.

  “Yes, on a solo mission. But we will talk about it another time. I can see the shore up ahead.”

  Baldev ripped out his binoculars and scanned the shore. “I don’t see any signs of life.”

  “We will move in closer and then turn off the motor and paddle down till we reach the shore. I don’t want anyone to hear us come in.”

  Half an hour later, they had reached the coast. Roshan’s eyes swept the area. The shore was simply a few metres of brown mud that stretched in an arc from west to east. In front of him, beyond the meagre shoreline, his view was blocked by small rocky hills that stretched into the distance.

  Armaan and Roshan took positions along the shoreline and acted as lookouts while Baldev and Namit gathered the equipment from the boat. The sky was full of dark clouds with dawn still an hour away. After safely placing the equipment on the shore, they shredded the inflatable dinghy and drowned it out of sight.

  “Let’s move out. We will be rendezvousing with our contact four kilometres from here off N10 highway.”

  They quietly made their way through the hills grateful for the natural cover. Each of them constantly kept looking around aware that discovery at this point would threaten the mission before it even started.

  No one spoke, and everyone walked in silence. They made their way through shallow valleys, crossed over the hills till finally Armaan who was in the lead raised his hand indicating the group to stop. Roshan peered over Armaan’s shoulder and saw a wide grey strip that marked the Makran Costal Highway.

  “There’s an abandoned garage on the side of the road. That’s our rendezvous. Roshan, you go first and scout the area.”

  Roshan nodded and then moved forward and crouched behind a large boulder near the road. He scanned the length of the highway. There was no movement of any vehicles. Then he sprinted to the rear end of the garage. It was a dilapidated shed with a broken roof and without a door. He glanced in and confirmed that there was no one inside, except for the remnant junk of vehicle motors and axles. Dust had piled up everywhere. It didn’t look as if anyone had been in recently. He signalled the all-clear to Armaan. They scurried to his side.

  Baldev looked around. “For a highway, this place is deserted. Do you know when our contact will arrive?”

  Armaan looked at his watch. “He should have been here five minutes ago.”

  Baldev said, “You mentioned he is not one of ours. Do you think he can be trusted?”

  “Do you remember our mission in Afghanistan? Always remember Rule Number Two.”

  Baldev chuckled. “You and your rules.”

  “Those rules have saved my life on countless occasions. And yours as well, when you were with me. Don’t forget that.”

  Roshan was curious. “What is Rule Number Two?”

  Armaan quoted solemnly, “Never trust anyone.”

  Roshan thought about it. In a profession of skulduggery and double-talk, who could you trust upon apart from yourself? “That makes sense. Especially in our profession. And what is Rule Number One?”

  Armaan was about to answer when a bright headlight illuminated the dark highway. Roshan instinctively gripped his weapon tightly.

  “Everyone,” Armaan ordered, “stay in the shadows. You’ll be my backup in case we run into a problem. I will see who it is.”

  Roshan, Hitesh and Baldev retreated in the cover of the garage while Armaan stood alone by the side of the highway intently looking at the approaching vehicle.

  The vehicle came to within twenty metres and then parked to the side of the road. The headlights extinguished and the doors opened. Four men emerged and walked up to Armaan. The men were heavyset, bearded and covered in shawls to protect themselves against the early morning chill. One of them spoke.

  “Welcome to Pakistan. I hope your trip went well.”

  But Armaan’s eyes didn’t register the greeting. “Where’s the stuff I asked for?”

  “It’s in the van.”

  “And our transport?”

  “It’s on its way.”

  Armaan nodded and a faint smile creased his lips. “How are your people doing?”

  “Oh, they are surviving, but we Balochis have seen worse. We are happy with whatever support you give us.” The Balochi leader looked around. “Where are your guys?”

  Armaan signalled with his hand and the remainder of his team assembled. “This is Fazal Darzada. He’s the local Balochi leader.”

  The Balochi glanced at the newcomers. “Only four of you?”

  “It’s enough for our needs.”

  “Good.” The Balochi suddenly whipped out a gun that was hidden in his shawl and pointed it at Armaan. “Grab them.” He commanded his colleagues.

  Roshan watched in disbelief as four guns were pointed towards them.

  Things didn’t look good.

  Chapter 7

  Islamabad, Pakistan

  “Sir, you need to see this.” PM Mian’s secretary handed him a dossier.

  Mian Fateh rubbed his sleepy eyes and cursed his job. It wasn’t easy being the Prime Minister of Pakistan. It was three am in the morning, and his entire day had been spent on just one thing.

  Early in the morning at around nine am, he had received an alert that there had been a bomb blast at the Gwadar port. Twenty people had died in the blast, and another forty were wounded. Bomb blasts were commonplace in Pakistan and he knew that the Counter-Terrorism Department would look into it. He hadn’t given it much thought till an hour later when the Chinese Ambassador to Pakistan had called him. One Chinese national had died in the blast and the Ambassador requested, in fact insisted that the PM personally look into the matter and punished the culprits responsible.

  The PM had then excused himself from all non-essential meetings of the day and had met with the Head of the Counter-Terrorism Department and asked to be provided with hourly updates on the Gwadar attack. So far, no one had claimed responsibility for the blast.

  Mian took the dossier and plopped it on the desk. He wasn’t sure if he had the patience to wade through it. He knew his secretary would have gone through the dossier and highlighted the critical points of the report for his consumption. But today his brain was overloaded to the point of exhaustion. He couldn’t bear to read another word that referenced Gwadar.

  “What does it say?” Mian asked his secr
etary. It was best if he listened to the highlights.

  “The modus operandi of the attack suggests that the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi is involved. It is not dissimilar to their previous attacks.”

  PM Mian nodded. “Anything else?”

  “The Lashkar-e-Jhangvi operates from across the border in Afghanistan. Our intelligence sources have noticed an uptick in the chatter between different terrorist cells across the Af-Pak border. It’s not just the Lashkar but even the various factions of Al-Qaeda are communicating with each other.”

  The PM had never understood the love-hate relationship between the different terrorist groups. One day they were friends, the next day they were sworn enemies. Most of the current terrorist groups had fractured from the original Taliban and the Al-Qaeda, and had decided to remain separate. Based on what he heard, it seemed that they were regrouping together. “So, the intelligence community thinks that they have patched up their differences. Why?”

  “The report surmises that the Gwadar blast was just a start. They could be planning something big.”

  Dasht-e-Margow, Southern Afghanistan

  Shafiq looked around him in the faint light of the early dawn. It was still dark, but he could make out the faces of his comrades lying down in the sand, deep in slumber. In a few minutes, they would all be fully awake, ready for another day.

  Shafiq watched his commander Malik through the open door of the tent. Malik was already up in the freezing cold and was talking with the guards on the night watch. Shafiq took off his blanket and grabbed the trusty AK-47 that he kept with him at all times. He checked the barrel to ensure no sand was clogged in it. He removed the chamber and checked the bullets. Satisfied, he cocked the weapon and got to his feet.

  Shafiq straightened his khet partug, the traditional shalwar kameez dress common in Afghanistan. He surveyed the barren area. They had camped in five tents under the shadow of a mountain. Each tent housed ten of them. The tent was made of brown canvas cloth that matched the surroundings. If one looked from afar, the tent would be camouflaged among the huge rocks that lined the foot of the mountain. It was also a perfect cover in case a spy satellite observed them from the sky. It would not be able to distinguish the tent from the ground.