chairs
surrounding the equally decrepit looking table. He sniffed the air. “This place
smells like a…”
“Like
a morgue.”
“Yes,
that’s exactly what it smells like. What in Allah’s name are they doing in
here?”
“Harvesting
organs from the homeless.”
Al-Jahiz
snapped his mouth closed and asked, “You’re joking, yes?”
“I’m
afraid not. They take them from the poor and sell to the rich.”
“That’s
vile. We can trust these, these flesh merchants?”
“ISI
seems to think so. They’ve used these criminals for years. Which reminds
me—” He withdrew a cell phone from his pocket. “—this is the only
phone our contact will call. Now that you’re here, he will want to talk to
you.”
“Me?”
“You
are the commander, remember. Now if you excuse me I will feed your men.”
Grinning, he picked up the tray and left the room.
Al-Jahiz
studied the phone. The history had been wiped. There were no recorded numbers
or messages. With a shrug, he dropped it into his pocket, then managed a smile.
Karim was right. He was the commander. This was his chance to strike. It was
his time to be the sword of Allah.
Karim
returned a moment later. “Your men are very motivated.”
“They
want nothing more than to give their lives for jihad.”
A
knock sounded on the door and they glanced at one another. “Come in,” said
Al-Jahiz. One of the Indian criminals entered dragging a battered sports bag.
He dumped it on the table.
“These
are the uniforms you asked for.”
Al-Jahiz
had trouble hiding his contempt of the slovenly criminal. Not only was he
filthy but a massive gut bulged from under his sweat-stained singlet.
“This
is Neeraj. He’s the leader of our friends,” said Karim.
“The criminals?”
Neeraj
licked his lips as the Saudi counted a handful of rupee notes and handed them
to him. “I prefer the term entrepreneurs. Always good doing business.” He
tucked the money beneath his singlet and left, shutting the door behind him.
“And
you say you can trust them?” Al-Jahiz asked as Karim unzipped the bag and
removed a bundle of khaki clothing.
“As
long as we pay him. Let’s just hope no one makes a better offer.” Karim held up
a shirt. On the breast pocket was a tag that read ‘POLICE’. “We have enough for
all the men.”
Al-Jahiz
smiled. “The Colonel was right to choose you to path-find for this mission.”
“He
chose both of us. Together, we are unstoppable, my brother. Together, we will
deal the infidel blow after blow in the name of Allah.”
CHAPTER
9
RAW
HEADQUARTERS, NEW DELHI
The director paced the sleek
corridors of RAW’s headquarters. He had spent the morning in a budget hearing
reassuring fat cats that their precious funds were spent frugally. It
frustrated the hell out of him and left him in a foul mood. He hated wasting
time. Yet these corrupt nepotistic morons demanded he account for every rupee
when they were lining their own pockets. Entering his office, he saw Major
Jayaram waiting and bit back a curse.
Jayaram
jumped to his feet. “Sir, I have an update on the mission.”
“Proceed.”
The director moved around his desk and upon sitting, poured a cup of tea from
the steaming pot before him.
“Sir,
the para commandos hit the objective at 0500 hours this morning. They seized
the camp and killed in excess of eighty terrorists and an ISI training team.
Upon extraction our air support was forced to shoot down a–”
“Yes,
yes, I’ve already seen the incident report from the Air Force. The Prime
Minister was less than pleased; but that’s not your concern. Tell me about the
terrorists.”
“Our
SPEC-B detachment was able to gather intelligence. Unfortunately, we believe
the terrorist team had departed several hours earlier.”
Frowning,
the director placed the cup down. “Go on.”
“They
got a description of a van. Late last night, it passed through the border
crossing point near Kargil carrying five Pakistanis. A
surrounding the equally decrepit looking table. He sniffed the air. “This place
smells like a…”
“Like
a morgue.”
“Yes,
that’s exactly what it smells like. What in Allah’s name are they doing in
here?”
“Harvesting
organs from the homeless.”
Al-Jahiz
snapped his mouth closed and asked, “You’re joking, yes?”
“I’m
afraid not. They take them from the poor and sell to the rich.”
“That’s
vile. We can trust these, these flesh merchants?”
“ISI
seems to think so. They’ve used these criminals for years. Which reminds
me—” He withdrew a cell phone from his pocket. “—this is the only
phone our contact will call. Now that you’re here, he will want to talk to
you.”
“Me?”
“You
are the commander, remember. Now if you excuse me I will feed your men.”
Grinning, he picked up the tray and left the room.
Al-Jahiz
studied the phone. The history had been wiped. There were no recorded numbers
or messages. With a shrug, he dropped it into his pocket, then managed a smile.
Karim was right. He was the commander. This was his chance to strike. It was
his time to be the sword of Allah.
Karim
returned a moment later. “Your men are very motivated.”
“They
want nothing more than to give their lives for jihad.”
A
knock sounded on the door and they glanced at one another. “Come in,” said
Al-Jahiz. One of the Indian criminals entered dragging a battered sports bag.
He dumped it on the table.
“These
are the uniforms you asked for.”
Al-Jahiz
had trouble hiding his contempt of the slovenly criminal. Not only was he
filthy but a massive gut bulged from under his sweat-stained singlet.
“This
is Neeraj. He’s the leader of our friends,” said Karim.
“The criminals?”
Neeraj
licked his lips as the Saudi counted a handful of rupee notes and handed them
to him. “I prefer the term entrepreneurs. Always good doing business.” He
tucked the money beneath his singlet and left, shutting the door behind him.
“And
you say you can trust them?” Al-Jahiz asked as Karim unzipped the bag and
removed a bundle of khaki clothing.
“As
long as we pay him. Let’s just hope no one makes a better offer.” Karim held up
a shirt. On the breast pocket was a tag that read ‘POLICE’. “We have enough for
all the men.”
Al-Jahiz
smiled. “The Colonel was right to choose you to path-find for this mission.”
“He
chose both of us. Together, we are unstoppable, my brother. Together, we will
deal the infidel blow after blow in the name of Allah.”
CHAPTER
9
RAW
HEADQUARTERS, NEW DELHI
The director paced the sleek
corridors of RAW’s headquarters. He had spent the morning in a budget hearing
reassuring fat cats that their precious funds were spent frugally. It
frustrated the hell out of him and left him in a foul mood. He hated wasting
time. Yet these corrupt nepotistic morons demanded he account for every rupee
when they were lining their own pockets. Entering his office, he saw Major
Jayaram waiting and bit back a curse.
Jayaram
jumped to his feet. “Sir, I have an update on the mission.”
“Proceed.”
The director moved around his desk and upon sitting, poured a cup of tea from
the steaming pot before him.
“Sir,
the para commandos hit the objective at 0500 hours this morning. They seized
the camp and killed in excess of eighty terrorists and an ISI training team.
Upon extraction our air support was forced to shoot down a–”
“Yes,
yes, I’ve already seen the incident report from the Air Force. The Prime
Minister was less than pleased; but that’s not your concern. Tell me about the
terrorists.”
“Our
SPEC-B detachment was able to gather intelligence. Unfortunately, we believe
the terrorist team had departed several hours earlier.”
Frowning,
the director placed the cup down. “Go on.”
“They
got a description of a van. Late last night, it passed through the border
crossing point near Kargil carrying five Pakistanis. A
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