Assassins (10 page)

Backups are always good.

From that day he had also ensured that every safe house he selected had at least two entries and exits, the more the merrier.

Leon pulled out his mobile. It was a brand-new Samsung Galaxy S Duos. A dual-SIM phone and perfect for his purpose. Both lines were hooked onto Hotspot Shield, a commercial VPN service, which he used to effectively mask his current location by switching server countries randomly. Launching the Notes app, Leon tapped open the list of six serviced apartments he had culled from the Internet before coming to India. The two he had checked out before Sarita Vihar had not made the cut; both had only one way in and out; absolute deal breakers for Leon.

The next serviced apartment on his list was in Jorbagh, which Google informed him was a posh residential colony located in central Delhi
.

This apartment listing had four photos, all of which appeared promising. However, Leon had by now realized that Kodak and reality rarely ever saw eye to eye.

Tapping the address on Google maps, Leon instructed his phone to chart out the route and began to follow it.

Half an hour later he drove past a quiet old but primly maintained bungalow located beside Jorbagh market. Slowing down, he surveyed the house. By now last light was almost upon him, but it was still bright enough to give him a fair idea of the layout.

Worth exploring.

He drove on till he found an isolated side lane to park in. Surrounded by the gloom, after twenty minutes in the backseat, the aging American hippie had been replaced by a much more staid-looking British travel writer. The well-worn tweed jacket, turtleneck pullover, fashionable horn-rimmed spectacles, and neatly tied ponytail went well with the new persona of Noel Rednib.

Life had also taught Leon Binder the wisdom of keeping every operational identity apart and sheltered from the others. That way he would run out of options only when all his identities got blown. For
that
to happen the cops needed a lot of resources, even more luck, and tons of time. By then Leon would be long gone.

Parking on the other side of the market, he walked back to the bungalow with the serviced apartment and rang the doorbell. The stocky, sixty-plus lady who came to the door had a pleasant, motherly feel. And, from the way she peered at him through thick bifocals, Leon sensed she was half blind.

This is getting better and better.

“Good evening, ma'am.” Leon reverted to the clipped London accent he had grown up with. “I would like to have a look at the service apartment you have advertised.”

She seemed delighted and, chattering incessantly, led him up to the right portion of the house, the part looking out on the road in front and the market across from it.

“What do you do, young man?”

“Not so young, ma'am.” Leon laughed. “I'm a travel writer. Here to do a piece on the Golden Triangle.” Leon knew that is how most tourists referred to the Delhi-Agra-Rajasthan circuit.

“Ah, but isn't that what everyone does? There is a lot more to write about. Every bit of India reeks with so much history.” She bestowed a benign smile on him. “We used to travel so much when Mr. Kapoor was alive. He was a civil servant, you see … so life was good. Now, of course.” She sighed. “But I shouldn't be complaining … life could be so much worse.”

From that and the general condition of the house, Leon guessed money was now tight; the furniture and fitments were neat and clean, but had seen better days.

“Well, here we are.” She showed Leon in.

“This is just what I need.” Leon did not need to fake enthusiasm. The one-bedroom suite was as warm and cozy as its pictures on the website.

The absent-minded Mrs. Kapoor sealed the deal by forgetting to ask Leon for identification. Leon liked even more that the bungalow had no other occupants, barring her and the equally geriatric couple who worked there. But it was the treadmill in the garage that clinched the deal; Leon hadn't exercised for ten days and could feel his body, used to a five-mile run every day, stiffening.

A half hour later, Leon was alone in the apartment. He felt strangely at peace for the first time since he had reached Delhi. Aware he had caught a break with this house.

Don't get complacent.

He cautioned himself, aware complacency was his deadliest foe. But the bed looked inviting and Leon was unable to resist the temptation to take a load off his feet. Lying there, looking through the large French windows, he could see the colony market across the road.

THE MEAT LOCKER
. The neon sign above the corner shop beckoned, reminding him it had been a while since he had eaten.

I'll grab a bite when I step out to meet Vishal.

Unwilling to expose this safe house to anyone, he had already decided to meet Vishal at Sarita Vihar.

As if on cue his mobile rang. Vishal.

Giving him the Sarita Vihar address, Leon got ready to leave. Though he still had an hour and a half, Leon factored in the time to change back to the American hippie persona, a spot of food, and the drive across town.

The mission was back to the forefront of his thoughts by the time he put down the phone. The knot of tension inside drew tauter as his mind sifted through the operational details and began to work out the outcomes he wanted from his meeting with Vishal.

Though he knew meeting Vishal was important, the risk of additional exposure made him uneasy. It reminded him that there were too many firsts on this mission, and most of them not the good sort.

I need to be more careful.

Opening his laptop, Leon retrieved the file Fatima had emailed him on Vishal Bhardwaj and went through it.

Within minutes, Leon realized Vishal's dossier was what people in service call a
steady
record. Peppered with a string of small but regular successes. None individually earthshaking, but collectively enough to show a steady worker. The best way to justify regular promotions, yet not to expose himself to any major risk or controversy. Leon knew this was how most cops on the take survived and flourished.

Interesting.

Leon then mulled over everything Verma had shared with him.

Vishal's handling of the kidnapping, interrogation, and elimination of his boss, Goel, was ample testimony of his ruthlessness and the precision with which he planned and operated. The fact that he had gotten away with it, from right under the noses of his STF colleagues, confirmed he was smart, too.

The photograph with Vishal's dossier drew Leon's attention. It showed a well-built clean-cut man crossing the road and getting into a maroon Ford Fiesta. The date stamp showed it was recent. The man's demeanor showed he had been aware of the camera. Leon studied him: tall, dark and …
hungry looking?

And such men are dangerous.

But if he were not, what use would he be to me?
Leon rationalized. But he knew he'd need to be on his toes; accomplices such as this could be as deadly as the cops hunting him down.

And what could be more dangerous than a cop gone rogue?

That reminded him of Edward and Ravinder. Both had been hovering just below the radar ever since his conversation with Ashok Verma. So far Leon had kept them at bay. He pushed them away again, aware they would unleash memories and emotions he did not wish to deal with.

Not now.

Not whilst in the thick of such a crucial operation.

 

FOURTEEN

Vishal was excited. Since he had learned he would be working with Leon Binder, he'd pored over Binder's file with the enthusiasm of an evangelist, absorbing every detail of the thirty-six operations executed by him.

Allegedly executed by him,
Vishal corrected. Barring the first few, possibly when he had been perfecting his tradecraft, Binder had seldom left any traces.
The man is a fucking ghost. But a rich one, if he's carried out even half the hits attributed to him.
Just the one Binder client the cops managed to arrest had confessed to paying Leon a million dollars to take out a business rival.
And that was over seventeen years ago. And here I am, content with pocketing a few measly thousand rupees in weekly kickbacks.

The more Vishal thought about it, the more the idea of doing something big appealed to him.

Why not? But not like Binder. He's a bit of a wimp. I'd like my hits to be spectacular: high-decibel affairs, so people sit up and take notice. The kind the media will rave about for years.

What had started as a random thought when Verma had approached him on Fatima's behalf, to join the Special Task Force and help the Binder mission, grew into an obsession with every passing hour. His success at kidnapping, interrogating, and then terminating Goel boosted the idea.

That's why he was so turned on by the prospect of meeting Leon.

I could learn a lot.

However, he didn't need a doctorate in logic to understand that when such dangerous men, wanted on every continent, allowed you to see and thus identify them, the implications were seldom good and often fatal. That fear had gnawed at him ever since he had gotten the message from Verma. However, eventually the excitement and his aspirations to be an international and famous gun for hire won the day.

As instructed by Leon, once outside the apartment in Sarita Vihar, Vishal texted him. He thought he saw the curtain of one of the front windows move, but the movement was so slight he was not sure he hadn't imagined it.

Then the door cracked open.

Vishal felt another pulse of anxiety, as though life was warning him not to enter. He almost succumbed. But his unquenchable thirst for excitement and his aspirations again won the day, propelling him forward.

Why worry? What's the worst that can happen?

Settling his jumpy nerves he pushed open the door and entered.

Brightly lit, clean but sparsely furnished room. No trace of any personal belongings anywhere. A half-empty half-liter bottle of Coke Zero and the debris of a Subway sandwich littered one end of an otherwise bare dining table. Vishal assimilated the room and analyzed the implications.

Safe house. Recently acquired.

Vishal sensed Leon did not live here. He respected the professional precaution. Admiration for the long-haired and unkempt man seated by a coffee table at the far end of the room climbed a notch. Though Vishal was surprised how bulky the man was, almost overweight; he'd expected a lean mean fighting machine. Then he realized most of the bulk appeared to be layers of clothing. Vishal also noticed that Leon's right hand stayed out of sight. He was certain it held a gun. That was disconcerting, but Vishal had not expected otherwise. He pushed away the spike of fear that jabbed him and forced a smile, trying to play it cool. “Hi.”

“Hey there. How are you doing, Mr. Vishal? Come right in.” Leon called out. Not even a hint of a smile, though.

The fact he did not rise to greet him irked Vishal. It made him want to create an impact that would command respect. He was trying to think of something when he spied the chessboard on the coffee table beside Leon. The board was in play. Studying the pieces Vishal noted it was a recently started game.

“That's an unusual opening gambit … the Torre Attack? Isn't it?”

“You're familiar with it?” Leon was impressed. “Not many people are.”

“I try to catch a game whenever I can,” Vishal replied, his ego somewhat appeased. “I love chess. You?”

“I like it, too.” Leon now smiled. “Fancy a game?”

“Why not?” Vishal returned his smile. He realized how smoothly Leon was building rapport. Being acknowledged made him feel good. The challenge also was too obvious to ignore. He was determined to beat Leon.

“Ever tried the Goring Gambit?” Leon asked as they reset the pieces.

“I don't much care for it.” Vishal shrugged. “It is not very advantageous if you are playing white.”

“Depends how you develop the play.” Vishal noticed Leon was watching him closely. “White or black?”

“White.” Vishal replied immediately.

“Sure.” Leon swiveled the board around. “Any particular reason why you prefer white?”

“I like to go first,” Vishal said shortly, brows knitted, his attention now focused on the board. Making up his mind, Vishal played.

 

FIFTEEN

Leon personally preferred black; he liked to make his move only after his opponent had committed himself. Changing stride midway is seldom easy for an attacker and invariably gave Leon the advantage.

He could not help smiling as he saw Vishal's opening moves: e4 e5; advancing the King's pawn two spaces forward.

So … impatient, eager to commit
and
a risk taker … had gone for the Goring Gambit, though he had just communicated his belief that it was not the most useful for the player going first.

Leon filed away these nuggets of information. Experience had taught him that sooner or later they would come in handy; either to control Vishal or to eliminate him, whichever way the cookie crumbled.

Interesting bloke.

Leon took up the gambit by responding with an Nf3, moving out the King's Knight; risky, but he wanted to push Vishal and see how he would respond. And, though he wanted to focus on the game, it struck him that Vishal's perspective and his experience as a cop could provide valuable insights into how Indian security would protect both targets.

I could also use him to ascertain other options for launching my attack.

Lost in thought, Leon was taken by surprise when Vishal suddenly changed tack. He realized Vishal had lulled him. It was done expertly, and suddenly the situation developing on the board had become far more dangerous than Leon had supposed. Realizing he could lose …