Fenix (34 page)

──── 37
────

“T
hey did
what?
” Ravoof said as he leaned forward.

“You heard me the first time.” Potgam said from his operations center. He was on one of the monitor screens in the conference room on board the air-force’s Boeing-737 BBJ airborne-command-center aircraft. This aircraft was currently carrying the top cabinet and military commanders of the Indian government. A nuclear attack was expected by everyone; that it had struck Lahore, was not.

              “General,” Bafna said from his seat, his face showing a mask of fear, “did
we
do it? Was it one of our commanders?”

              Potgam’s face contorted to rage: “how
dare
you?! My men
died
out there! In the thousands! How
dare
you insinuate that it was one of us! May I remind you, sir, that this is the Indian armed forces we are talking about!”

              “We are not Pakistan, Bafna.” Ravoof said before the situation exploded. He knew Bafna to be a petty man who would not take his ego being struck down in this manner. He also knew Bafna had crossed the line and there was no excuse. Not when the stakes were this high.

              “But why would they destroy their
own
city to stop our forces?” The prime-minister asked, his voice shaking despite his attempts to hide it.

“Plausibility for a first-strike.” Basu said flatly from another screen. He had not evacuated from New-Delhi when the others had left for the safety of the skies. His work was better done from where he was. Cooped up inside a small cabin in the skies radically restricted his options and control of
RAW
operations. And now those operations were more critical than ever.

“Care to explain?” Ravoof said on behalf of the others.

“Makes sense that they would do this, no?” Basu continued musing. “Put yourself in Hussein’s shoes. They are losing this war. On all fronts. Our army has reached the critical highways deep inside their country. We are besieging all of their border towns and villages. The rampant call to arms for the jihadists has rendered thin the army’s control on the country. We have indications that the jihadists are looting and pillaging Pakistani towns and villages now. And all this scares the
hell
out of Hussein, Haider and the others. But
if
they launch the first strike, they are finished. Aren’t they?”

              Potgam nodded: “we will crush them if they did that!”

              “Exactly,” Basu continued. “And so would the rest of the world. Pakistan would cease to exist.”

              “So what’s your point?” Bafna asked irritably.

              “
What
if
we
were the ones who struck first? What if they made it
look
that we struck Lahore because we were unable to take it by conventional means? Or that we struck it in retribution for Mumbai? The waters get muddy very quickly at that point, don’t they?”

              Ravoof muttered an expletive as he understood what Basu was getting at: “this is a frame up for a full-up nuclear strike!” The prime-minister just sank back in his seat.

              “
Or
they are offering us a way out,” Basu added. “Lahore for Mumbai. Take it and quit while you are ahead. That’s what Hussein and his henchmen are saying to us.”

              “Should we take it?” Bafna asked, turning to the prime-minister, who looked like he had aged immensely since this crisis had begun a month ago.

Not getting anything other than silence, Bafna turned to Ravoof, who shook his head: “take a peace deal under a nuclear threat?” He said to Bafna, “Is that
really
the message you want us to tell our citizens?”

              “We are not bartering for our cities.” Potgam said flatly. “We didn’t buckle to the nuclear threat with the Chinese when they had missiles aimed at every one of our cities and even used them. And we are sure as
hell
not going to buckle to this two-bit Hussein and his generals.” His voice carried an authority unusual to those in the cabinet. But then again, Potgam was a battle-hardened veteran: he was not easily fazed. His sense of purpose stood like a rock wall in the face of a wave of doubts. In a way it affected all those in the room. Ravoof and Basu both noted this effect.

              “Let’s talk response.” The prime-minister said finally.

              “StratForCom is fully online.” Potgam replied. “We are at full launch readiness across the board. Nuclear warheads have been mated with delivery systems and we have strike packages ready. We can choose to strike
any
or
all
targets depending on the level of escalation desired.”

              “Now hold on,” Bafna jumped in, “you are talking a
nuclear
response! What about continuing our conventional attack? Wasn’t that the point of all this? To destroy Pakistan’s ability to wage war? At what point did we start talking about destroying that entire country?”

              “Sir,” Potgam added menacingly, “
that
threshold was crossed by the enemy two hours ago. Whether you like it or not, we
are
now in a nuclear war and we need to destroy the enemy
before
he destroys us!”

              Ravoof shook his head: “We are in reaction mode here. And that can be dangerous. We need to consider this objectively. So far, we have suffered a few thousand dead in Lahore. Yes it has blunted our offensive, but we are still penetrating deep on the other fronts. And the Pakistanis just destroyed their own city!
Their own city!
Not
one of ours, discounting Mumbai for a moment. If we
are
to strike, let’s strike towards our objective. The Pakistani air and naval forces are decimated. Their army is putting up a fight but is losing ground. Their defenses in Kashmir are in shambles. We have struck their nuclear and conventional power plants and have broken their back. Isn’t this correct?”

              Potgam nodded very slightly, frowning because he could not tell what Ravoof was driving at.

              “So,” Ravoof continued, “shouldn’t we stay the course and take out the senior Pakistani leadership? Shouldn’t that
continue
to be our endgame scenario? With the assumption, of course, that if the Pakistanis escalate with additional nuclear strikes, we can destroy their country to the last city and town? If there is even the
possibility
of preventing further nuclear detonations in our neighborhood, shouldn’t we try it?”

              Potgam sighed: “I don’t fully agree with you, sir. But I
do
see your point.”

              “So what the hell happened to Haider?” Bafna asked. “Wasn’t he the commander in Lahore? Basu, didn’t you have plans to locate and nab him?”

              Basu leaned back in his seat: “before this mess, we had a team near Lahore poised to try and locate Haider and his officers and if possible, to terminate his command. That plan is still in play.”

              “To what end?” Ravoof asked. “Surely Haider is dead in this explosion in Lahore?”

              Basu shook his head. “If I know that son of a bitch, he will not allow himself to die
that
easily. He is used to sacrificing others for achieving goals. But he draws a clear line when it comes to self-preservation. He would rather let his nation fail miserably in the war but will
not
sacrifice himself to win it. He will toss as many bodies into the fire as needed, however. It’s just his character.”

              “So he is probably alive?” Bafna asked.

              “I would bet on it.” Basu added. “He has probably bugged out of Lahore before the detonation. He may even be hiding somewhere near Lahore.”

              “But you are not sure.” Ravoof stated it for the group.

              “Correct. This is pure speculation on my part.”

              “Is there any way to confirm it?” Bafna asked.

              “Only if that bastard tries to talk to someone over military comms,” Potgam replied. “With Pakistani skies under relative control, Bhosale and his electronic-warfare and signals-intelligence crews are working with Basu’s
ARC
boys over Pakistan. If Haider tries to talk to someone in Rawalpindi, we might be able to get a sneak-peek into his whereabouts.”

              “That’s rather thin to go on.” Ravoof said neutrally.

              “It’s all we have.” Basu said before Potgam could. “But Haider is not one to sit out the war on the sidelines. So expect him to make some noise. We just have to trust that bastard to stay true to character.”

──── 38
────

“N
ot much of a conversationalist, are you?” Grewal said and then winced in pain from the bullet wounds. The medic treating him was not being gentle. Pathanya stood nearby and watched impassively. Grewal looked around and saw the other men on perimeter security in this wooded area. Vikram and a couple others were fixing the smudged camo face-paint streaks on their cheeks under guidance from each other. The early afternoon sunlight was casting rays through the windy leaves above them. No one said anything beyond what was required.

              Grewal sighed. He understood from what he saw that these men were very exhausted. Staying on constant vigil inside enemy territory will take its toll on anyone. The strain of combat compounded the exhaustion.

              Not to mention a wounded air-force pilot to take care of.
He was painfully aware of his inability to keep up with the pathfinders even under what he considered was his “peak condition”. With a broken shoulder and a bullet wound in one leg, he had no doubts that he was a hindrance to whatever these men were doing out here. At lease he considered himself better armed now, having picked up one of the G3 rifles and some extra magazines from the dead Pakistani Rangers.

              “Major Pathanya,” Grewal said finally to the towering figure standing near him, “before you rescued me, I was unable to get in touch with my people. I am pretty sure they think I am dead or captured. Perhaps if we can send a word out, they can come get me and you and your men can return to your existing mission?”

              Pathanya bent down on one knee and tucked his rifle the other way on his chest: “sir, our original mission doesn’t exist anymore. Not after
this
.” He cocked his eyes to the hanging dust clouds over Lahore. “We will arrange a pickup as soon as possible. But I intend to get
all
of my men out. There is nothing left for us here. Not anymore.”

              “What
was
your original mission?” Grewal asked, half-expecting to be ignored.

              Pathanya sighed and got up on his feet, pulling his rifle closer: “sir, our mission was to kill or capture a critical individual responsible for orchestrating the nuclear attack on Mumbai. This individual was also in charge of the jihadist forces inside Lahore. Our secondary objective was to cause general mayhem within the enemy logistics in conjunction with the air-force.”

              Grewal smiled: “so you were our eyes and ears behind enemy lines, eh? I was flying escort missions with my squadron protecting the same bombers that you were helping to guide in. Small world.”

              “Small world, indeed.”

              “This nuclear detonation in Lahore,” Grewal said as he pulled himself up into sitting position against a tree trunk, “was orchestrated by the Pakistani high-command. Trying to  implicate us before using their first strike options or giving us a backhand way out.”

              “An eye for an eye?” Pathanya said as his smile gave way to something more sinister. Grewal saw it in his eyes. The Pathfinders weren’t looking for an eye. They were looking for heads on a platter. He could only wonder whose command they were under and what their mandate was…

              “An eye for an eye.” Grewal nodded. “A few nights ago, I was on a mission deep inside Pakistani airspace when we found that the Pakistanis were attempting to use airliners to fly their civilians out of the country. That could have only meant one thing.”

              “So we
knew
this was about to happen?” Pathanya pointed an arm towards Lahore. Grewal could only tilt his head in a way that said:
probably
.

              “And then this morning,” Grewal winced again as the pain shot up in waves from his thigh, “I saw on my designator pod that the Pakistanis were moving large medical evacuation convoys out of the city, twenty minutes before the detonation in eastern Lahore.”

              “What did you say about the medical convoys?”

              Pathanya smiled in that weird way that Vikram and Kamidalla quietly recognized to mean:
son of a bitch!
. Grewal looked at the others but didn’t see any answers there. Pathanya knelt beside him and removed a folded paper map from his thigh pocket and unfolded it over Grewal’s legs.  

              “Sir,” he said after handing Grewal a small pencil, “can you show me
exactly
where you saw the medical convoys heading before you were shot down?”

              Grewal looked at Pathanya, then Vikram and then Kamidalla as they strode over and knelt beside the map as well. They stowed away their rifles and removed their own paper maps. Grewal shrugged and then took the map from Pathanya, studying it and acquainting himself with the orientation and scale.

Several quiet seconds later he pointed to a location in western Lahore: “right here,” he rounded the location using a pencil, “is what we believe was their command center. That was determined using triangulation of comms signals over the past few days. We bombed it using laser-guided-munitions thirty minutes prior to the nuclear detonation. And right here,” he moved his pencil on the translucent paper by one block north, “is where I spotted what I believe was a field-hospital operated by the Pak army.”

Pathanya nodded as he studied the locations being marked by Grewal. “And the convoys leaving the area?”

“They were,” Grewal said and then peered closer at the roads leaving Lahore, “right along here. Heading north.”

“The bastards bugged out of the city before the explosion!” Vikram blurted out. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from
that
bastard!”

Grewal looked at the camo-painted faces talking around him. “Gentlemen, forgive me for breach of protocol here, but was your target Lt-general Haider? Is
that
why you are here?”

Vikram raised an eyebrow at Pathanya but said nothing. The latter simply lifted the map from Grewal’s legs and folded it into neat squares. Vikram and Kamidalla took the cue and did the same.

Pathanya realized, however, that he couldn’t just treat the air-force officer this way: “yes sir. We have reason to believe that he was involved with arming the terrorists that struck Mumbai.” He let that sink in for a moment. “And I
also
believe that Haider is not only alive, but is hiding with his entourage within these medical convoys you saw.”

“That’s a breach of the Geneva convention!” Grewal blurted in anger.

“Wouldn’t be the first time for that bastard,” Vikram noted before Pathanya shot him a glare.

Grewal knew the answer, but asked anyway: “So what does this all mean for
you?
”

Pathanya took a deep breath: “just that our
mission
is still alive and kicking somewhere northwest of Lahore. And we are going to get him!”