LASHKAR by Mukul Deva Page A

one ever goes in there and the room has enough space for us to work comfortably.’
    Unlike the outer room with the gleaming Pentium 4 machines the inner room was Spartan. The only modern thing in it was the small television set in a corner. In the other corner stood a small worktable with an assortment of tools stacked neatly on it.
    ‘The packages are in the cupboard. Don’t be in a hurry. One small screw-up, and we all get blown to bits,’ Furkan cautioned needlessly.
    ‘You two unpack and clean out the weapons,’ the oldest member of the team said. He had an aura of authority and was clearly the designated mission leader. He was also the only one among them who had been in active operations before, although this was his first mission on Indian soil.
    ‘You two,’ he indicated Furkan and the youngest man in the team. ‘Stay in the outer room and keep an eye open. No one is to wander in by mistake. Try and discourage people from using the cyber café today. Just don’t get jumpy and do anything stupid.’
    The youngest member and Furkan did as they were told. The youngest member was also the most tech savvy of them all. The two of them fiddled with the computers as they kept careful watch. The few customers who walked in during the day hung around for a few minutes and then left when they showed no sign of moving. Only one persistent young fellow tarried for almost twenty minutes before Furkan told him it was futile to wait. ‘We are upgrading the machines and changing the Internet services provider,’ he said apologetically.
    For the rest of the day the three men worked without interruption, carefully assembling the bombs. There was not much by way of conversation as they all went about their carefully rehearsed tasks.
    When the muezzin called the faithful for the Asr (afternoon) prayer, the team leader who had just finished cleaning all the weapons looked up. ‘It is time for the namaz. After that I want you three,’ he pointed to the men who had handed in the vehicles for servicing, ‘to get the vehicles from the service stations. Make sure you check them out properly. Take a trial run and if you feel anything is even slightly amiss get it sorted out. We don’t want any breakdowns tomorrow.’
    As soon as they finished praying, the designated three moved out from the cyber café separately and went straight to the garages. The three stolen vehicles were collected, checked, test-driven and brought back to the cyber café. The two cars were parked at a little distance from the cyber café and dust covers were placed on them. The motorcycle was wheeled into the inner room where the men fitted used-looking metallic containers on both sides of the rear seat. As soon as the containers were fitted on, the two bomb makers moved in. The bomb itself was a simple device and took ten minutes to assemble. Wiring it up and fitting in the switch took another fifteen. When it was done, they checked the circuit with the tester. It worked fine.
    After sunset the men went to work on the cars parked outside. They worked at a slow and deliberate pace and checked everything repeatedly. They worked with the precision of people who had rehearsed every action several times. The bomb that had been assembled during the day was placed in the boot of the Esteem and the wiring was connected up. A couple of old clothes were thrown over the bomb to conceal it. Next morning, by the time the muezzin called for the Fajr (morning) prayer, all the preparations were in order. Then they set to work thoroughly cleaning up the room and removing any telltale signs. All the scraps of material they had used were carefully bagged in a large garbage disposal bag.
    ‘I’ll take care of that,’ Furkan said, picking up the bag. ‘You guys go ahead and get some rest. We have a long day ahead.’
    The six men dispersed, again in ones and twos at intervals of a few minutes each. They left the café with the satisfaction of people who had completed a