Panther's Ghosts, page 9
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Hook up the screens for Panther. The satellite feed is on,’ said Dhariwal.
‘Okay,’ said Shiva and hung up.
Five minutes later, at 11:26 PM, the Panther was witnessing Strike 1 live. As usual, Shiva stood behind him in the prime minister’s war room.
18
The Audi was now in front of the Heist team and Lala was inching behind it in the heavy traffic. Rain lashed on the car bonnets like beating drums. The fruit vendors on the pavement, who were used to the heavy rains of Pune, covered their goods with thick blue tarpaulins and watched the traffic inch by. Lala continued slowly behind the Audi when suddenly, Raj, who was looking out of the window at the fruit vendors, jumped out of the car. Before Lala could realise what was happening, Raj rushed to one of the fruit vendors on the pavement, picked up some bananas, left a fifty-rupee note for the vendor and jumped back into the car dripping wet.
‘What the hell is he doing buying bananas?’ asked Geeta looking at the screen.
Dhariwal and Sniper were so engrossed in what was unfolding in front of them that they did not hear Geeta. She looked at both of them, shrugged her shoulders and went back to the screen.
‘The boy is street-smart,’ the Panther said as he watched the screen.
‘Just like his father,’ added Shiva.
The Sprint inched closer to the Audi again and stayed a few feet behind it. With the traffic moving at less than 10 mph and visibility near zero due to heavy rains, Lala was getting frustrated. Suddenly, without warning, Raj jumped out of the Sprint again and went behind the Audi. Lala saw him run to the Audi, dip down and straighten up again. Within a minute, he was back in the Sprint.
‘What was that?’ asked Lala.
‘I just shoved two large bananas into the Audi’s tail pipe,’ said Raj.
Lala gave a look of admiration to Raj. A second later, the Audi bucked once, twice and then stopped. The driver of the Audi tried to get the engine into ignition a couple of times but nothing happened, so he stepped out. Irritated drivers started honking and shouting at him.
Back in the war room, Shiva could not control himself. ‘Yes!’ said Shiva and thumped the backrest of the sofa the Panther was sitting on. The Panther turned and gave him a stern look.
Lala and Raj waited. A minute later, Rafa also got out of the SUV. Raj saw the black bag in the Afghan’s hand and said to Lala, ‘Rafa is carrying the bag with him. So, the Book has to be in it.’
Lala nodded. He pretended to be an irritated driver and honked a few times. The driver of the Audi looked at him and threw up his hands in frustration.
Raj looked at Lala and said, ‘You take the driver. Rafa is mine.’ Lala nodded and got out from the driver’s side. He loosened the stiletto and cupped it in his palm as he walked towards the driver. Raj opened the glove compartment, pulled out the cyanide-tipped dagger from its sheath and slid it inside his right jacket pocket before stepping out of the Sprint. They approached the Audi from both sides.
Rafa was drenched to his skin and peering into the car engine watching the driver tinker around when Raj approached him.
‘You are blocking the traffic, boss,’ Raj shouted over the sound of the rain and traffic.
The Afghan pointed at the Audi and shouted back, ‘It was running fine but it suddenly stopped. I am also running late.’ He held the black bag tightly in his right hand.
‘Happens,’ Raj said, trying to sound empathetic yet irritated that he was stuck because of them.
‘Can you give me a lift?’ the Afghan asked, looking a little worried.
‘I am going to Siangad and I don’t know where you are headed,’ Raj said.
Siangad, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Pune, was the very place where BS Manor was located. The Afghan took the bait. ‘You said you are going to Siangad?’ Kalia Rafa asked, excited.
‘Yes.’
‘Ya Allah, I, too, am going there. Please give me a lift. I will pay you if you want. I am really late,’ Rafa pleaded.
‘Well, okay. What about the car and the driver?’ Raj sounded reluctant.
‘That’s okay. He will manage. Just drop me to Siangad and I will find my way home.’ Before Raj could respond, Rafa turned to the driver and said, ‘Deal with it’. The driver scowled and went back to the car and started tinkering with the engine.
Raj looked at Rafa and said, ‘Please sit in the front because you won’t fit into the back seat. My car is too small for you’. Rafa grunted and quickly walked towards the Sprint and got in. Raj slipped into the back seat directly behind him. Outside, the traffic was getting worse. Angry drivers cursed and fumed as they had to manoeuvre to the far left to get past the two cars that had blocked the road.
Outside on the wet highway, Lala waited till Raj and Rafa sat down and then thumbed a WhatsApp message to a friend: ‘Make the call.’
A thousand miles away in Katyal’s house, the new member in Katyal’s security detail read the message on his cell phone and erased it. When Katyal lost the elections and went back to his constituency, he requested for a security cover which, as per rules, was given to him by the new chief minister. The commissioner who took the instructions from the new chief minister had a direct line to Dhariwal and immediately informed him about the request. As instructed by Dhariwal, the commissioner planted one of Dhariwal’s men in Katyal’s newly assigned security detail. This sleeper plant had come alive to deliver now.
The security guard first checked on Katyal and found him with some real estate broker in the living room discussing a kickback. At home, Katyal always used the landline and never used or allowed his guests to use cell phones while meeting with him. The guests had to deposit their phones with the security at the entrance and then meet him. He kept his own cell phone switched off in the bedroom on the charging dock. A practice he had started after a media house did a sting operation a few years ago where they captured him on video accepting a bribe and post edit on Twitter.
The plant walked into the bedroom, switched on Katyal’s cell phone, pulled out Kalia Rafa’s number from the contact list and made a call to him. Rafa received the call as he sat inside the Sprint cursing his luck. The wet clothes clung to his body and made him feel itchy. The humidity was unbearable and he was feeling claustrophobic inside the small car. He looked at the screen. It said: Katyal calling.
The Afghan thought for a second and then, instead of taking the call, sent a WhatsApp message: ’Can’t talk.’
A second later, he got a reply: ‘Call back when free.’
He texted back an ‘OK’ and slipped the phone into the black bag.
At Katyal’s residence, the security guard archived the entire conversation with Rafa, switched off the phone, put it back on the charging dock and quietly left the room.
On the highway, Lala waited a second more and then walked up to the driver. ‘What seems to be the problem?’ he asked as he slipped off the cap on the cyanide-tipped needle and hid it in his palm. Lala stood next to the driver and peeped into the Audi’s engine. ‘The fuel pipe is out, I think,’ he said to the driver.
‘Is it? Where?’
‘Here, see.’ Lala pointed at a pipe inside the engine with his left hand. The driver leaned over to look at the pipe. It was at this moment that Lala attacked. The right hand came up with the cyanide-tipped stiletto while the left held the driver’s collar from the front and yanked his head close to the engine. Before the driver could react, the stiletto jabbed him three times—twice in the heart and once in the left lung. The driver was a thin, small man and was no match to Lala’s brute strength. The whole thing took not more than five seconds and the stiletto was back in Lala’s coat pocket. The rain lashed heavily and the passing cars could hardly see anything. All they saw was a blurred vision of two guys bent over a car engine. Either way, no one was interested in a broken down Audi on a New Year’s eve—except for three people in the NSA monitor room and two in the war room at 7, Race Course Road.
Lala straightened up, adjusted his sleeves and walked away from the Audi, leaving behind a driver looking deep into the engine in the lashing rain. He was soaking to his bones when he finally got into the Sprint and started the engine. Outside, the blood from the dead driver mixed with the rain and ran into the gutter in the dark night. The traffic was bad and so was the rain, but Lala manoeuvred the car to the extreme left and finally to a service lane that ran parallel to the main road. Ahead, the lane became dark as he turned to the left. The Afghan was squirming in his seat and his big body was itching all over because of the wet clothes.
The Afghan’s cell rang again. It was Mohammad Adnan this time.
‘Where are you?’ Adnan barked.
‘The car broke down, boss. I am taking a lift. Be there soon.’ Adnan had banged the phone down by then, so a petrified Rafa decided to type out an apology to his boss. He was busy typing the message and missed Lala making eye contact with Raj in the rear view mirror. Taking the cue, Raj pulled out the cyanide dagger.
Rafa was still busy typing the message when a powerful hand pulled his head back by his hair. For a big man in a small car, the Afghan was quick. He tried to twist around and reach Raj with his left hand but the hand yanked his head to the left between the door and the head rest. Head stuck in the wedge, Kalia tried to pull himself out of it but not before the cyanide dagger plunged into his throat. He let out a roar of pain and fear, and struggled to reach out to Raj behind him with his right hand as the left was jammed between him and the door. Lala saw that and plunged the stiletto into the Afghan’s heart twice with his left hand as he steered the car with his right into the darkest corner of the deserted lane. The Afghan was being attacked from both sides now. He clamped on to Lala’s throat with his right hand. The Sprint swerved to the left as Lala started choking. The Afghan was very strong and his hand was blocking every bit of oxygen. Lala plunged the stiletto repeatedly into his chest but the stranglehold only got tighter. Raj saw what was happening so he pulled out the dagger and slashed the Afghan’s neck. The Afghan screamed and the body toppled forward as Raj let go of his hair. Kalia fell face forward on the dashboard, gurgling and choking on his own blood. He was still alive when Raj said, ‘Veer Pratap Rana says “hi”!’ The Afghan’s body froze for a second as he realised who Raj was. The body heaved once more and then slumped.
The clock on the dashboard read 12:00. Midnight.
Lala switched off the engine, pushed the body back while Raj got out and pulled the front seat lever and eased the backrest completely. Lala got out and came around to the passenger side. By then, Raj had already picked up the bag from the car floor in front where it had fallen and opened it. Inside, he found a Walter PPK and a black leather book. He removed the Book from the Afghan’s bag, shone the light from his cell phone on it and gave a smile.
‘We got it,’ said Raj, waving the Book at Lala who was busy dragging Rafa’s body towards the driver side. Lala dropped the body on the driver seat and gave Raj a thumbs-up. Then he dipped into the car, placed the Afghan’s legs on the accelerator and clutch pedals, his hands on the steering wheel and then strapped him with the seat belt.
Raj did not waste time either. He called AV.
‘I have the Book,’ he said.
‘Well done. I have sent a message to Rafa’s cell phone. Take his phone, copy it and send it to RP’s phone. I have sent you RP’s number as well. After that, delete my message and erase from the memory as well. Once you are done, throw Rafa’s phone nearby somewhere so that it can be easily found later. Lala knows what to do with the car. I will pick you up in ten minutes.’
Raj forwarded the message to RP from Rafa’s cell phone, wiped the cell phone with a cloth soaked in sanitising liquid and threw it in a bush not so far away that it couldn’t be found by the forensics. The message was simple: Girl in black jacket. BS Lounge. Bar counter. 2 Jan. 9:15 PM. In the meantime, Lala punched a hole in the fuel line with the stiletto. The petrol started pouring out underneath the car. Both Raj and Lala walked a hundred yards away from the car and stopped. Lala pulled out a match, lit it and flicked it on to the petrol trail. The vapour licked the flames immediately and, in seconds, the car burst into flames. They waited for a few more seconds to make sure that the car was completely engulfed in flames and then started walking away. They had hardly walked for five minutes when AV picked them up as promised.
At 7, Race Course Road, the Panther got up, looked at Shiva, smiled and walked back into his office. In the NSA monitor room in New Delhi, Dhariwal looked at Geeta and Arvind and said, ‘Strike 1 was successful.’
The Sniper smiled, turned to Geeta and nodded. As if on cue, she pulled on her jacket and walked out of the room.
‘Take care,’ shouted Dhariwal as she disappeared behind the door. He looked at Arvind and shook his head. ‘Your training has turned her into a robot.’
Arvind shrugged his shoulders, looked out of the window at the city outside and said, ‘No. She has feelings. But only for this country.’ Then he zipped up his jacket and said, ‘I need a drink.’
‘Sure,’ said Dhariwal as he walked across the room to the coat stand and picked up his coat.
It was late in the night and people were out on the roads in New Delhi shouting ‘Happy New Year’ to whoever they could. Alcohol flowed like water, making everyone friendly and talkative.
Across the surveillance office was a local market which boasted of a bar. Dhariwal and Arvind walked a hundred yards, crossed the road and entered it. The bar was crowded and it took them a few minutes to reach the counter. Finally, with a single malt each in their hands, they stood at the bar counter and raised a toast before gulping it down.
‘Happy New Year, my friend,’ said Dhariwal.
‘Happy New Year to you, too,’ replied Arvind.
In Pune, the gods were merciful because though the winds continued to howl, the rain had stopped as AV, Raj and Lala reached Veer’s bungalow. Someone had left the window on the first floor open and it was flapping in the wind like a bird struggling to get off the ground.
All three went to their rooms to freshen up. A long, hot shower was the need of the hour. When Raj came down after half an hour, he found Lala and AV sitting in the living room. Raj walked up to Lala and said, ‘Thank you for everything.’
Lala got up and hugged him. ‘God bless you,’ he said and patted him on the back. Raj nodded to AV who picked up the keys for Raj’s Jaguar from the table and handed them over to him. ‘You drive. I will stretch my legs for a bit,’ he smiled. As per the earlier plan, once the Book was handed over to Lala, AV and Raj were to leave for Mumbai and await further instructions.
‘I will call you later,’ Raj said over his shoulder to Lala as he and AV got into the Jaguar. The Monster idled for a few seconds and then quietly disappeared into the night. Lala watched the road till the tail lights disappeared and then, with a deep sigh, walked back into the house. He came out of the kitchen door a few minutes later with all the clothes, shoes, bags, documents and any other items that were used for Strike 1 and dumped them in the backyard. Then, he opened a bottle of whisky, poured half of it over the pile and lit a match to it, and drank the other half straight from the bottle as he watched the flames lick every item and turn them into carbon. In a matter of minutes, every single piece of evidence related to Strike 1 was burnt to the ground. He went in and came back with a shovel and buried all of it.
‘I think I will plant a mango tree here,’ he muttered to himself as he watched the patch. Once inside, he switched off all the lights and then called Major Inderjit Rathode.
‘I am sending the Book,’ said Lala.
‘Sure. Is Raj aware?’ Inderjit asked.
‘No. Geeta said she will break it to him when the time is right.’
‘Okay,’ said Inderjit and hung up. Before going back to bed, he looked at his daughter’s photograph on the bedside table and said, ‘Raj is going to be pissed when he finds out that his partner in covert operations is his security head’s daughter. That we were all “planted” in his life.’ He switched off the lights and whispered in the dark, ‘We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it.’
The Monster cruised on the Mumbai–Pune expressway, at 110 kmph. The storm had subsided and inside the car the sound of soft jazz was soothing to the ears.
‘What was your plan for the new year?’ Raj asked, breaking the silence. There was no response, so when he turned and looked at AV, he found him fast asleep.
JANUARY 2017
On 2 January, it was cold in Pune. The swanky lounge bar was tastefully done up, with dim yellow and orange lamps casting a faint glow on the ceiling. Though the seating area in the lounge was dark, every alcove and private cabin was bathed in a blue light. The decor was completely white, with splashes of vibrant yellow, parrot green and purple. The bar area had a heavy wooden bar top that was polished with wax and the back wall was fully covered with mirrors so that those sitting at the bar counter could see the dance floor behind them. The DJ was spinning some dance tracks. It was five minutes past 9:00 PM when Geeta entered the BS Lounge. She rubbed her hands to bring back the blood circulation as it was cold outside and she wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather in her short, blood-red dress with a plunging neckline, black fishnet stockings and ankle-length boots. She went to the bar counter and sat down. In the seat next to her, somebody had left the previous day’s newspaper and the headlines read: ‘Don Mohammad Adnan Missing’. She picked it up and went through the article quickly.
‘Don Mohammad Adnan has gone missing. He was hosting his annual New Year’s Eve party at his ranch house, BS Manor. The housekeeper of the ranch said she saw him being escorted by a tall well-built gentleman in his late forties at around 5:00 AM. The security at the gate said the man gave his name as Shiva when he came in. On being questioned as to who this gentleman was, she said she had no clue but both seemed to be having a serious conversation as they left the ranch house and drove away in a white Scorpio with black tinted glasses....’
