Brutal (21 page)

I
t was late
in the evening when Sultan came out of the airport. He had been thinking about the mission throughout his flight. The plan looked solid on paper. Tilak was already inside the hotel, ready to take care of any exigencies. The exit plan had also been chalked out properly. The only thing that he thought could possibly sabotage their mission now was the presence of Mossad agents.

The death of an Iranian scientist would definitely have rung alarm bells for the Israelis, he thought. That too when the scientist killed was of no strategic importance to Iran. From Israel’s perspective, it could mean only one thing – Iran has sacrificed its own scientist to build a case against them. And it would be followed by an attack against the Israelis. If he knew the Mossad well, they wouldn’t take things lying down.
Who knows, they might already have moved their assets into the hotel.
That could be a serious problem.

As he stepped into the parking lot, he felt his mood improve a bit, thanks to the cool and pleasant weather outside. Sultan saw a bearded man raising his hand for him a few meters away. He was standing beside a small hatchback.

He walked towards his escort. No conversation happened between the two. No pleasantries were exchanged. Sultan placed his bag on the rear seat and took a seat beside the driver. “You know where we need to go, don’t you?”

The man nodded.

The grave silence continued as the car nosed out of the airport. Sultan opened his mouth again only when they were halfway through their journey.

“Do you have the details of all the people who checked-in into Le Regalia today?”

That was a crucial piece of information. He wanted to know if anyone from the Mossad was inside the hotel.

“Not yet,” the man replied. “One of our hackers is still trying to get into their system.”

“Tell him to make it fast. We’ll have to neutralize these agents as soon as possible.”

A
ll the weariness
in Prakash’s eyes evaporated instantly when he set foot into the Gulfstream IV private jet owned by Anwar Shah. The plane was a marvel.
Strictly
f
or the filthy rich.
He took a seat opposite to Seema in one of the plush beige-leather chairs.

He had lost almost all his tension in the admiration of the jet, till his gaze fell on Seema’s moist eyes. She had just got off from a call.

“You spoke to Vidisha?” he asked.

She nodded.

“What did she say?”

“She was happy to hear my voice. But she seems to have made peace with the fact that I won’t be around her most of the days. She thought I had gone out to cover one of my news stories,” Seema said with a sad tone. “Well, I could’ve been dead.”

“She’s learnt to cope with life.”

“I feel guilty when I find her different from the other kids. Mohit’s death has taken away her childhood, her innocence.”

“I can understand. It happens with people when they realize they have grown up in life. Not many people remember that moment. Do you remember yours?”

Seema shook her head. “Do you?”

Prakash nodded. “I remember the second, the exact moment I realized I had grown up. It was a cold evening nineteen years ago, when I was returning from my tuitions. There used to be a deserted railway level crossing on my way. Like every day, I was waiting on my bicycle for the train to cross when I heard a faint shriek. Far away, I could see a group of people drag a man towards the railway tracks. They were kicking and raining blows on him mercilessly. After a while, when the victim stopped resisting, they carried him and laid him on the tracks. I stood there motionless with shock as the train ran over the man. The killers got into a jeep parked alongside the road. I noticed that two of them were policemen. Before driving away, one of them stared at me with swagger, blowing out cigarette smoke from his mouth. He didn’t care who saw him committing the crime. The look was seared into my soul. After that incident, the world no longer looked a nice place to me. I had just seen its darker side. The reason I told you this story is that I believe your husband’s death has made Vidisha grow up. Don’t worry; she’ll understand the world better than her peers.”

Seema remained silent and started looking out the window – at the unending dark sky. After a few moments, she said, “Do you think I should quit this job?”

“And do what?”

“Well, I can take up a 9 to 5 desk job. I can write. I can become a teacher,” she said with a shrug. “These last few days have made me appreciate life more. I want to spend more time with my daughter.”

“Yes, you can start your life again. It’s a decision only you can make. Still, you’re one hell of a reporter,” Prakash said with a smile. “But once you become a teacher, just let me know.”

“Why?”

“There could be a scoop for me. How does it sound? ‘Super-woman becomes an ordinary -woman’.”

Seema laughed.

Prakash was glad to see the smile on her lips.
She deserves it.

He looked at his watch. Bangalore was still one hour away.

T
he banquet hall
was abuzz with conversations amongst the finest minds in the world. Scientists, engineers and technologists were busy networking with each other over the dinner. However, the contingent from Israel was conspicuous by its absence.

Someone curious might have noticed that a large order for dinner that had come from Room 704. The five scientists from Israel had assembled in that room at the behest of Eli Cohen, a man from the Mossad.

Eli was a burly man who could almost frighten people with his physique alone. But, his bearded face and sharp academic eyes behind his specs gave him the look of an intellectual. He had been living in India on a non-official cover since last five years, employed as a professor of Hebrew Literature and Philosophy in a university at Pune. Besides spotting and recruiting spies, usually called HUMINT assets, he was also involved in organizing Israeli cultural events in India. No wonder, his case officer was the Cultural attaché in the Israeli Embassy at New Delhi.

The relationship being friendly between India and Israel, Eli had never got into troubled waters in India for his espionage activities. RAW was not an issue till now. The problem was the Quds Force of Iran, which wanted retribution from Israel for killing their nuclear scientists over the years. Recently, they had blown up the car of an Israeli embassy personnel in New Delhi. It was this backlash from Iran he had always feared, because they didn’t mind killing civilians.

Yesterday’s killing of yet another scientist in Iran seemed to have made matters worse. Fearing retaliation from Iran, Israeli embassies around the world had issued alerts for all of their intelligentsia travelling abroad. In India, the situation was grimmer. No less than five top nuclear scientists of Israel were participating in the nuclear summit. There was a serious threat to their lives.

Even though the Indian government had increased the security outside the hotel, Mossad didn’t want to take any chance. Their plan was to move the scientists out of India by the first flight to Tel Aviv tomorrow morning.
That means they need to survive this night.

Eli had therefore arranged a meeting with all of them in one of their rooms. He wanted to apprise the scientists of the threat to their lives and tell them to leave India the next morning. But when he looked at their faces, he saw nothing other than derision towards him. There was no trace of any fear.

Wary of what reaction he would face, he chose to stand and address the people who had taken seats on the bed and the chair. “As you all know, a nuclear scientist from Iran was supposedly killed by some unknown people yesterday.”

He saw a few smiles form on their faces.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“The phrase ‘unknown people’ sounds interesting to me,” said one of them sarcastically. “I’m glad our people had nothing to do with it this time.”

The man appeared to be the youngest of the lot. Eli placed him in his early thirties.

Convincing these pricks was going to be tough, he realized. “Who killed the scientist is not that big an issue as of now Mr….?” he stopped to ask the young man his name.

“Amir Segal.”

“So Mr Amir, even if one of their scientists dies of something as common as a car accident, there are a lot of people who are going to blame us. And then there are a select few of them who will want revenge. They won’t sit and relax till they’ve killed an equal number of Israeli scientists. You, Mr Amir, are very far from home as of now. It’s only a few people and I who stand between you and the assassins waiting for you. So it would be great if you can listen to what I am saying… and with some respect.”

Amir nodded. He wanted to say something, but then decided against it.

Eli continued, “For your safety, our government has decided to move you out of India tomorrow morning. There is a flight to Tel Aviv at 10:30 AM. Your tickets are ready…”

“I am going nowhere,” an old man interrupted. “My name is Asaf Zahavi. I’m a nuclear physicist at the Negev Nuclear Research Center. I’ve been waiting for this nuclear summit for so long. Do you bureaucrats realize how many of the world’s top scientists are participating in this summit? One incident occurs somewhere in the world and you guys tell me to shut shop and get back like a pussy. No sir, you can count me out.”

The ‘bureaucrat’ jibe stung Eli hard. He was also surprised at the resistance. He had thought that these men would have been scared for their lives and would leave India without much fuss.
This is becoming trickier.
He tried to use an emotional approach. “You don’t understand the seriousness of the situation. The Iranians might be planning an attack on you as we speak. By refusing to fly out of India, you’re playing into their hands. You are men of science, I know, but think about your families as well. They don’t want you dead.”

Asaf Zahavi looked at his colleagues for any rebuttal. None came. So he decided to stand down.

“It might sound like schoolboy stuff, but please be ready with your luggage tomorrow morning. You all have been put up next to each other’s rooms. That is good. I would request you to be inside your rooms. If you are in any danger, call me immediately,” he said, giving his visiting card to everybody.

“Good heavens! You’re a professor?” Amir Segal said, looking at his card. “You teach?”

“I do a lot of things,” Eli said.

P
rakash was jolted
awake by Seema’s nudge. He realized that he had dozed off with fatigue. He looked at Seema. After waking him up, she had gone back to her seat on a divan. In front of her stood a plasma TV mounted on the aircraft wall.

“Wake up, Prakash,” she said, her face beaming with excitement. “This is interesting.”

He wiped the drool from his face and walked over to her side. A news channel was running on the TV, showing a news item on the recent murder of the Iranian scientist. It was a recent footage, which showed a group of youth being arrested by the Indian Police. They were shouting slogans in Arabian lingo while being dragged.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“A nuclear scientist from Iran has died in a car bombing. As usual, Israel is a suspect. So, an angry group of Iranian students studying in India were staging a protest against Israel in front of the Nuclear Science Summit venue. As you can see, they were arrested by our police.”

“Why protest in front of the summit venue? Is an Israeli delegation participating?”

“Yes. Five nuclear scientists from Israel,” Seema said.

“Too many things are happening in this summit. Have they increased the security at the venue?”

“Seems so. The Israeli government has already raised an alert for its intelligentsia abroad, especially those visiting India for this summit.”

Prakash slipped into deep thought for a minute. He asked, “Can these incidents be related to the possible attack Anwar Shah was talking about?”

“We are talking about Israel-Iran relations here. And the people Anwar Shah was taking about are Indians. What’s the link?”

“Consider this: What if Iran is sponsoring an attack on the Israeli delegation on Indian soil? Maybe they are planning to use local contractors for the hit,” he said.

“An Indian group attacking Israeli citizens? That’s unheard of. Will it not spoil relations between India and Israel? In fact, our country will lose all credibility in front of the world.”

“That’s why Anwar is so scared. An operation of such a scale will create an international crisis. He can’t remain untouched from its repercussions,” Prakash said. “This is a big problem. I’ll have to make a call immediately.”

“To whom?”

“To an old friend.”

Prakash located a number from his mobile phone and dialled it on the phone mounted on the wall.
Chetan Vats.

Chetan Vats was one of the renowned national security experts in India. He was a regular columnist in a lot of newspapers and used to be invited into a lot of talk shows for his views on politics related to the Indian subcontinent. He was ex-RAW and was once rotting in a Pakistan jail for almost nine years, when Prakash had come to his rescue.

Chetan was deployed in Pakistan when the I.K. Gujral government decided to dismantle RAW’s covert operations there in favour of ‘paratha diplomacy’ with Nawaz Sharif. Sleeper cells were destroyed and spy rings were shut down immediately, creating utter chaos for Indian spies in Pakistan. A lot of them were caught by the Pakistanis and then dumped in their jails to die. Chetan was one of them.

Prakash came to know about the plight of Indian spies in Pakistan through a friend in an NGO. He covered the news and convinced Globe News to run a campaign to push the Indian government. After six months of vociferous campaigning, the government finally took up the issue with Pakistan. Chetan was finally brought back to India through a spy-exchange initiative.

Since then, the man had been indebted to Prakash, often helping him with insider information about national security issues. He had a lot of contacts in the Indian intelligence machinery, because of which he often knew about things, which even the police and the Army didn’t.

Prakash waited for his friend to pick up the phone. Today, of all days, he needed him the most. After quite a few rings, he finally heard Chetan’s voice on the other line. Prakash immediately came to the point. “Chetan
sahib
, I need some information immediately. It’s extremely urgent.”

“
K
yun
, what happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Just tell me one thing. Are you aware of any security threat against the Israeli scientists who have come to Bangalore for the Nuclear Science Summit?”

Chetan thought for a moment and said, “Operational intelligence is hardly my area. Nor am I privy to intel pertaining to this summit. However, if there was any serious security threat hovering over this summit, word would have flown. As of now, I’m not aware of any such development. Normally, if the government gets a hint of any such attack, they increase the security level of the people at risk.”

“Do they have a hint this time?”

“You’re talking as if the threat level is critical?”

“It might be. By the way, do you see any increased activity by the Iranians in our country?”

“Wait a second! Iranians and Israelis in India? What exactly are you talking about?”

“I want to know if you see any chance of the recent Iran-Israel tussle spilling over into our country, into this nuclear summit.”

“Why do you think so? Just because Iran is pissed off with the Israelis for killing one more of their nuclear scientists?” Chetan said. “You really think the Iranians will avenge themselves on Indian soil?”

“Why not? They have done so in the recent past. Haven’t they? What about the magnetic car bomb attack on an Israeli diplomat’s wife in New Delhi? Besides, killing a nuclear scientist gives the Iranians a better justice as compared to killing a diplomat.”

“If what you contemplate turns out to be true, then we better be worried. Iranian intelligence agencies, especially the Quds Force have been active in India historically because of warm relations between the two countries. But when they decided to carry out attacks on Israel from our soil, we began keeping them at a distance. Our government has not criticized Iran in any international forum till now only because we want their oil. But inside, things are getting hot. We want their agents out.”

“Do you think the Iranians can use our local criminals to launch an attack on the Israelis?”

“Yeah. They can. The Quds Force has used local criminals in Azerbaijan to carry out their attacks on American and Jewish targets. They can use the same modus operandi here too,” said Chetan. “But who told you that the Quds Force is planning such an attack?”

“I can’t tell you. You have your sources, I have mine. Now, answer this question: If you were an Iranian agent, who would you go to in India for such an attack?”

“It depends on how sophisticated the attack is. For small time spying and smuggling of arms and people, I can use the channels of Dawood Ibrahim and Chhota Shakeel. The Lashkar-e-Toiba guys did the same for 26/11.”

“And what if it is a very strategic operation?”

Chetan took a few moments as if thinking hard. “I can’t think of any name,” he said in a resigned way.

But his voice suggested that he was hiding something. Prakash probed further, “What about a family called Kushwahas?”

Chetan was speechless for a full ten seconds. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” he said abruptly.

“What are you hiding from me Chetan?”

“You aren’t telling me the whole story. What do you know about the Quds Force and the Kushwahas?”

“I believe that Quds Force might use the Kushwahas for an attack on Israeli scientists.”

Chetan remained quiet, letting these revelations sink in. Finally, he said, “The less I speak about this, the better it’ll be. RAW is going to wipe us out if they come to know about our little conversation. So, I’ll have to stop here. One last piece of advice – if what you said is correct, then better brace up for a national security crisis.”

“Why am I not surprised? The RAW has also used the Kushwahas in the past for its black ops. Isn’t it? That’s why you’re so tight-lipped…”

Chetan hung up before he could complete his sentence.

More dirt.