Assassins (22 page)

FIVE

Ravinder, midway through dialing Kurup's number, replaced the handset when he heard Archana call out that Ali had still not reached the office. “It
is
still a bit early. Perhaps we should wait for Ali to get in and then bring both in simultaneously.”

“I agree, sir,” Philip chipped in. “It would be best to bring both in at the same time. If we take the wrong man in first, the right one would get away.”

“You mean if we took the right one in first, the wrong one would escape.” Chance's tongue-in-cheek humor broke the tension.

Not looking forward to the conversation with Kurup, Ravinder was happy to defer it. However, aware time was at a premium he did not wish to waste a moment. “Guys, while we are waiting, I suggest you two present your plans on the targets.” He looked at Vishal and Philip.

Ravinder was confident they would find something of value, either a weakness in the security umbrella or some method of attack, which NIA had not thought of yet.

That should mollify Kurup.

Ravinder joined the others at the conference table.

Philip took the initiative. Flicking open his iPad he accessed his notes and crisply narrated Zardosi's program, from his arrival at Palam airport till his departure two days later. “On twenty-seven December, the bulk of his time will be spent at the Ferozeshah Kotla stadium witnessing the T20 Indo-Pak cricket match. However, the next day there is a meeting and joint press conference with the Indian PM prior to his return to Pakistan.”

“I doubt Binder will try anything when the two prime ministers are together,” Chance commented.

“Logical. Double the security.” Philip moved on to the second part of his presentation. “While considering how best an attack could be mounted on Zardosi I kept in mind the one basic thing that distinguishes a professional assassin from an amateur or a suicide attacker: the imperative to escape. That's why I think Leon is most likely to use a rifle or remotely detonated bomb.”

Watching him, Ravinder felt his confidence soar; the team
had
started performing. Much better than he had expected when he met them yesterday.

“That is also why,” Philip continued, “I think Leon will attempt a strike at the stadium. Either on the VIP box or when Zardosi comes out for the prize distribution.”

“I have requested the director to ensure Zardosi does not give away prizes.” Ravinder made a note to check if his suggestion had been accepted. “It will be almost impossible to keep him secure if he comes out in the middle of the ground. That bloody stadium can hold seventy thousand people and Zardosi would be completely exposed.”

“
Seventy thousand
.” Even Chance, a cricket buff like most Britishers, was impressed.

“Precisely. And given that we are playing Pakistan, you can bet every single seat will be taken. Impossible to keep an eye on such a crowd.” Ravinder's concern showed. “There are scores of possible sniper positions in any stadium … and a dozen other ways to get at Zardosi once he is out in the open.”

“Agreed. That's why their routes are being kept secret and will be heavily guarded,” Philip conceded. “The primary concern is during the cricket match. It is a public event, after all. We
have
to ensure Zardosi stays in the VIP box.”

“I've already spoken to the NIA director about this and I
will
do so again,” Ravinder promised.

“In that case, Leon's best option would be to go for Zardosi with a sniper rifle, either in the VIP box or when he is en route to or from it,” Philip concluded. “Bombs are possible, but chancy from the assassin's point of view, since they may or may not get the target.”

“What about poison?” Archana asked.

“True. Binder has used poison several times, but for both these targets I don't see how he can get close enough.”

“In the VIP box, the hotel, or even at any other event … even prime ministers have to eat,” Archana pointed out.

“
Everything
they eat or drink is going to be closely monitored.” Philip had clearly thought this through. “Also, if the killer is to be certain, he has to ensure his target is the first to take the poisoned food or drink.”

That, too, was logical. If someone else took a fast-acting poison, their demise would give away the game. Conversely, if the poison did not act fast enough or acted first on someone else, there was the possibility of medical attention reaching them in time.

“What about something exotic?” Chance asked. “Soluble thallium salts, ricin … darts fired from something innocuous like an umbrella or pen?”

“Yes, those have been used effectively many times and are possible,” Philip admitted, though a bit skeptically. “They would require Binder to get close to the target. Also, if we are to go by the MI6 intel, then Binder has just been given this assignment. I'm not sure he would have time to put together anything too elaborate.”

 

SIX

Vishal was unable to decide what upset him more: Philip's impeccable analysis, Ashok Verma's imminent capture, or the fact that Ravinder had gotten the team together and energized so fast.

“Well done, Philip. That was good. Vishal, what about you?” Vishal realized Ravinder had addressed him only when he heard his name. “Let us see what you've got.”

Perhaps it was the praise given to Philip, perhaps the choice of Ravinder's words, or perhaps it was merely Vishal's need to win, but he was seized by a compelling urge to outshine Philip. Instinct warned him it was a childish idea and dangerous, but he was unable to help himself. In fact, a part of him
wanted
to flirt with the danger.

“I'm ready, sir, but let me first highlight that I don't fully agree with Philip. From everything I have read about Binder, we should not rule anything out. The man has been in this trade for thirty years. It's safe to assume he can get hold of whatever he needs—no matter how fancy—shortage of time notwithstanding.”

“I agree with that,” Ravinder acknowledged. “It would be best if we planned for that, too.”

“I was just expressing my views.” Philip's discomfiture delighted Vishal.

“That's cool.” Ravinder must have sensed it, too, and moved to smooth things over. “What about your presentation, Vishal? You ready?”

“Of course.” Keen to show he was a cut above, Vishal referred to neither his notebook nor his tablet. Quickly detailing the thirty hours Masharrat would spend on Indian soil, he concluded, “My analysis is that, if the general is the target, Binder will strike during the conference. They are expecting two thousand people to attend. Two thousand people who have
not
been security vetted … basically it's open house to anyone who can cough up the delegate fees. And the Siri Fort auditorium is not the easiest of venues to secure.” He paused, expecting questions. There were none. The lack of reaction irritated him. Spurred on by that and wanting to sow some confusion, he added, “In fact, if I had to do this, I would attack both targets simultaneously.”

“How?” Philip challenged. “Both targets are on stage almost simultaneously. Masharrat is speaking bang in the middle of the cricket match.”

“So what? Masharrat's speech is only ninety minutes.” Vishal's need to show Philip up mounted. “If I were Binder I'd use a second team to go for my secondary target.”

“I see. Which would be your primary?” Vishal was so pissed with Philip that he failed to realize the STF second-in-command was not being deliberately difficult; Philip was genuinely exploring the option Vishal had tabled.

“Obviously, Zardosi would be my first choice,” Vishal shot back, his chin jutting out aggressively.

“Why is that obvious?” Chance leaned into the conversation.

“Because Zardosi, being the prime minister, would be better protected at home.” Vishal sensed his emotions were getting the better of him, but seemed unable to harness them. “Also, keeping in view the current political climate in Pakistan, which white man in his right mind would want to take a trip there? You more than anyone else should realize that white is not the flavor of the month with the Pakis.”

Vishal's aggressive tone irritated Chance, and he made no bones about letting it show. Realizing the situation was escalating, Ravinder stepped in.

“Guys.” Ravinder's pacifying tone made Vishal realize he had almost lost it. “All of you have valid points.”

Vishal was seething, but now had the worst of his emotions in hand. He fell silent. But the room was uncomfortable.

“Also, I would like to point out that not once in all his years as an assassin has Binder ever used an accomplice for anything other than support tasks.” Ravinder let that sink in. “Even the few he used never saw him. The ones that laid eyes on him never lived to tell any tales. At least no one the cops in any country could lay their hands on.”

The silence this time was longer. Vishal felt as though someone had shoved ice cubes in his shorts; he shivered. Luckily Ravinder had everyone's attention and no one noticed.

“Thirty-six hits that can be safely attributed to Binder, in almost as many countries, and not once has he used an accomplice for anything other than logistics, admin, surveillance, or intel support.” Ravinder paused again. “Or as red herrings.”

“That does not mean he never will,” Vishal murmured, aching to have the last word. But Ravinder's words kept ringing in his head; they filled him with dread. He again wondered why Kapil Choudhary had not done the job on Ravinder's wife or daughter. By now Ravinder should have gotten a call from some hospital.

 

SEVEN

Ravinder sensed they had gone the distance with this exercise. “Right, guys, now check the security plans and ensure the threat perception has been fully covered.”

Philip nodded. And Ravinder could see that Vishal was still glowering. Vishal opened his mouth to speak, but Archana preempted him. “Sikander Ali has still not reached the office.”

Ravinder checked the time, almost ten.

Ali should have reached office by now.

“Check if he has applied for leave.”

“I already did, sir.” Archana gave a headshake. “He has not.”

“I see.” Ravinder made up his mind. “Let's give him a little more time. Meanwhile I'll have a word with the NIA director.” Picking up his mobile he dialed. Realizing everyone's attention was on him he stepped out as Kurup answered and briefed him.

“Are you sure?” Kurup asked when he had finished.

“There is no doubt.” Ravinder was relieved Kurup took the news in his stride. “They were the only two at NIA who had complete access to everything sent in by MI6.”

“And me,” Kurup pointed out. “Am I also on your list?”

Ravinder chose not to answer that. “I plan to bring both men in for questioning.”

“Do what has to be done.” Again, Ravinder was surprised at Kurup's lack of reaction; he had expected fireworks. “What about the four on your team, Ravinder?”

It was a fair question and Ravinder had been wondering what he should do about that. “If both your guys are in the clear, then I suppose you had better keep a fresh team ready to replace the STF.”

“Do you have time to get a new team in place?”

“No, but can you think of anything else?”

Kurup could not. Obviously. Just when Ravinder thought they had run out of things to say, Kurup asked. “And why do you assume it has to be an either-or situation? Perhaps there is a mole in both places.”

That thought was even more unsettling.

“Ravinder, we
have
to find that mole.”

Ravinder knew Kurup was right.

The mole … or moles would lead us to Leon. That is the only way I will get my hands on him.

“We can consider putting all the STF officers under surveillance.” It was not the most judicious of suggestions, but Ravinder could think of nothing else at the moment.

“Let me think about that,” Kurup mused. “The manpower issue can be overcome, but we do need to think of the effect on their morale. They are trained officers and it is almost a given they will pick up on the surveillance.” The silence this time lingered longer. “But it is worth considering … let me think about it.”

Ravinder was glad he did not have to make that call. But by the time he put down the phone, most of his equanimity had been shattered. Whatever little remained went flying out the window when he reentered the office.

“You had better see this, sir.” Archana was staring at her computer screen. She looked dumbfounded, her face drained of color.

Displayed on her screen was a police report that had just come in, from the Station House Officer, Munirka Police Station, to the NIA.
Deputy Director Sikander Ali and his wife had been found dead at their home
. The maid who came in to clean daily had discovered their bodies.

“Oh, damn!” Philip, peering at the screen over Ravinder's shoulder, cursed.

“Let's go, Philip.” Ravinder grabbed his mobile and car keys. “You come with us, too,” he told Vishal. “Chance, please hold the fort with Archana.” Having a foreign secret agent around on the scene of a crime was not a good idea; there was bound to be media present.

The three of them ran out.

Vishal had done this several times already and
knew
he had left no clues behind that could connect him with the Ali double homicide, but could not stop himself from doing it again. His worry escalated with every passing minute.

 

EIGHT

Leon saw how the diversionary attack could be launched, or faked, the minute he entered Ferozeshah Kotla stadium.

He had entered from Gate 1, straight into the West Hill stand—four sections of twenty-five rows, each with fifty seats.