Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’ (11 page)

“Anything else he remembers?”

“Well, once one of them asked him in Punjabi if he knew where an ATM machine was on the base. So he told him. He remembers that.”

“ATM machine? There is an ATM machine on the base?”

Rajat looked at him strangely. Sanjay suddenly became animated. He went online and then he seemed to scribble something on a pad. Then he disappeared into the next room and after fifteen minutes or so, came back beaming.

“Well, there is an ATM machine on the base, not very far from the canteen − Bank of Punjab it seems. Do you know what ATM machines have?” Rajat waited for him to answer his own question.

“Cameras, boy! If we can get the tapes for that period, your man can identify these characters.”

“Listen, Rajat, you need to get this guy to Delhi tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? How? If we process his visa too fast, he will be blown.” Rajat asked.

“I don’t know…fly him to Bangkok and then fly him to Delhi. Arrange it with the MEA people. I am sure they can do it. Have a visa and a new passport ready for him in Bangkok. That way his Pakistani passport will show only an entry and exit from Bangkok…. I don’t know, find a bloody way!”

Next, Sanjay called up the liaison officer with the IB to find out who their in-house expert on banking software and processes was. While RAW had a technical division, it was IB which had developed a strong online expertise and had connections in the private sector from where they got best online talents worked. A quick call confirmed that he was available for emergency consultation today itself.

Captain Nirmal Sharma (Retd) turned out to be a clean-shaven affable young man in his late thirties. The only thing out of place was a toothbrush moustache − something not common in his peer group, thought Sanjay. After serving a Short Service Commission in the Army Corps of Signals, he had done his MBA in Finance and after a few years with a major multinational bank, was running his own consultancy. He exuded confidence of someone who knew his field and his ‘Friday dressing’ turnout reflected his success in his chosen field. His area of specialisation was network security. Having helped the IB and RAW in fraud and terrorism-related cases, he now enjoyed a reputation with the Intelligence Services across the board.

Sanjay explained the situation to him.

“It’s pretty straight; we want to pull out camera-feed database of a particular ATM from about a month back.”

“That’s simple, you go to the bank with a warrant and they will give you the video or access.”

“That’s not an option here. It’s in a foreign country … hostile actually,” drawled Sanjay.

“Look, sir, you need to tell me the background. I can’t help you if you don’t give me the context.”

So out it came, keeping specifics out of the story. Nirmal asked to be given an hour alone with his laptop, and if possible, a high-speed Internet connection. It took a bit longer but by dinner-time, Nirmal had a briefing to give.

“See, the banks usually outsource this sort of security work. In Pakistan they need to maintain a 60-days’ log of ATM videos. The cameras usually have two storage options: one they store in a hard disk on site, second option is to store it offline on a server. This is the option the Bank of Punjab follows. They have outsourced their systems to an American company−Electronic Data Bank Inc (EDBI). EDBI has its headquarters in California but maintains an office in Karachi. They also have a server bank there. What we need is to somehow get access to the server and download the data date-wise. One more thing … the data is synchronised with the ATM entries, so if you get the photograph, you can also get the transaction details including the name of the account holder.”

“How does the bank access the data?” asked Sanjay.

“Well, they will either demand the data within parameters like date, time and ATM code or they will have login access. My experience tells me that they have a login access system.”

“How strong is the security of the system? … I mean can we break into it?” For the first time in the evening, Nirmal smiled.

“Any system can be hacked.”

“Then why don’t you suggest a person who can conjure up what we require over a peg of rum and dinner at the office canteen?”

“Why not! I don’t think either of us is going to sleep tonight.”

As they dug into mutton curry and roti, Nirmal said, “You have some pretty capable guys in RAW and they can crack this, but they may require time. The one guy I know who has the ability to do it in a short time is Vinay Garg. He works with a special division of TC Securities. I recommend you get him.”

“How do you know he will be available?”

“Oh! He has no social life and lives in Mayur Vihar in his parents’ house on the upper floor. I have known him since school. If you want, I will give him a call and check if he is home.”

Nirmal made the call. “His cook says Vinay is home, sleeping.” Nirmal finished and took a sip of his Old Monk rum. “I suggest you send over a car.”

Vinay woke up with a start as the doorbell rang multiple times. Cursing under his breath, he opened the door to see two policemen in uniform with side arms. “Mr Garg? I am Inspector Dalal and this is Sub Inspector Sharma, Lodhi Road police station. You need to come immediately with us, Captain Nirmal sends his regards.

Promptly the door was slammed shut on their faces.

“Nirmal, you bastard! What the hell is this, sending armed men here like this? What’re you laughing about? Yea, yea, I am coming and this better not be a non-smoking joint! Yes, getting my stuff too … for the motherland … my ass! It’s gonna cost whoever sent these thullas.”

Vinay was still muttering to himself as he found himself being whizzed through Delhi streets with a motorcycle escort. Must be important if they are doing all this tamasha, he thought. “Hey, Dalal? Right? Mind if I have a smoke? You boys want one too?” he said aloud over the noise of the gypsy. The police officer shook his head politely to refuse while the other one looked stoically into the distance.

Dressed in flip-flops, a pair of jeans and a Stellar cigarette between his teeth, Vinay didn’t exactly reassure Sanjay. In fact, he found him repulsive.

“Where do I set my stuff up, Nirmal?” he ignored Sanjay and addressed Nirmal.

Verma decided to take things into his hands and said, “Mr Garg, you can use this room if it’s okay with you.”

“Nirmal, who is this guy? What the fuck is all this about?” Vinay continued ignoring Sanjay.

Finally, Nirmal spoke up, “Vinay, don’t be an ass, this is Sanjay and you are in the RAW office. We are his guests and he requires you to dip into some database … get your smokes … I will explain the whole deal … this way to the balcony,” Nirmal put his arms around Vinay and led him out.

Sanjay let out a sigh. He turned to the two policemen deputed to the Lodhi Road, “That will be all, thank you.”

He then made a call to John Peters. Peters was a communication specialist. Sanjay had asked him and two of his technicians to stay back, just in case.

“Well Peters, we got this whiz kid, I think he will require some high-powered net connection and some stuff. Can you please have a word with him? He is outside smoking.”

“Sure, let me have a word with this guy.”

Peters came in after a few minutes. “We will need half an hour to set it up. I think it’s better if we set him up in the basement. By the way, he seems very talented.” For the first time in the evening, Sanjay smiled.

It was at 0030 hours by the time Vinay, his Stellars and his coffee seemed settled for a long night. Vinay created a dummy IP and decided to route his actions through a server in Russia which he had used earlier to raid a Chinese army database. It was
completely untraceable. Thus he created what some people call ‘a tunnel through cyberspace’.

Using the server as a detour, he broke into the Bank of Punjab security coordinator’s desktop. His name and designation was actually on the website with a name and a photograph.

It took Vinay about twenty minutes to find the code. Even he himself hadn’t thought it would be so simple.

“The old fool has actually made a word document of his passwords and mailed it to himself … how stupid can people be?” Vinay chuckled.

With the password and login details, Vinay now logged into the EDBI website as a client. Within a few minutes he was at the request download page. “Hey Sanjay, what date is it that you want to download the records for?”

Sanjay told him the ten-day period which had been given to him in the NIA discussion. “Okay, now let’s sit back as the shit downloads … and I am going out for some fresh air…,” Vinay said as he walked away from his Apple iBook.

By 0200 hours they had downloaded the files and shut down the tunnel through the Russian server.

8

Mumbai: Thakur Village, Kandivali, 27 November

P
ost the encounter with the Indian Army, Shezad and his men had been escorted to Baramulla town by the insurgents. They had hidden in a basement of a house belonging to a powerful Hurriyat leader for three days and one by one travelled to Jammu by road using public transport. In Jammu, they had been put up at the farmhouse of a senior politician who was a closet separatist. His election was funded by the ISI and was thus a useful cog in the wheel. His personal assistant (PA), who was actually a Pakistani ISI agent, handed over tickets and identification documents for each member to use on their flight. He flew with them to Mumbai to ensure that there was no problem either at the airport or later on the flight. Once they landed in Mumbai and walked out of the terminus, they saw a 40-plus slightly balding man waving a sign which said, ‘Welcome, Mr Sukhramji and family’. The PA touched Shezad’s arm and gestured towards the man holding the sign. Shezad thanked him and then walked over alone to the man holding the sign while his men continued to wait with the PA in the reception area. Both of them walked away from the reception area to a slightly secluded place near a South Indian restaurant outside the arrival area. Shezad gave him half a piece of a torn
hundred rupee note. It had been handed over to him by Colonel Khan in Chetral just before they had left. The man promptly produced the other half and it matched. Shezad had inspected it for a moment and then shook hands with the man. Rather relieved, Shezad bought a cigarette from the small kiosk next to the restaurant. It was an old trick but still dependable. The PA had quietly melted into the crowd and disappeared probably to his flight back to Jammu and his men were waiting alone. Shezad signalled them to follow him.

They drove in a swanky new Mahindra Scorpio. Amin, the agent, was not the talkative type and kept to himself. It took them 30-odd minutes to reach the apartment. The five men who had travelled on foot, by bus and a plane were finally settled in a three-bedroom flat on the sixth floor. Soon as the team had settled down, Amin would fly out to Dubai and back to Karachi from there.

The apartment was in the Kandavali suburb of Mumbai. Situated cheek by jowl to the Sanjay Gandhi National Park, it was a comfortable three-bedroom space. One could even see the national park from one of the balconies of the house.

The men shared two bedrooms while the Major had a room to himself. They were now clean-shaven and looked like young college boys on vacation. If they had been born in different circumstances, they would possibly have been in college; none except Shezad was older than 25 years of age. The clever Izaz was from Multan, funny-man Musheef was from Lahore, Tariq, only 19, was from Peshawar and the oldest−24-year-old Jameel was from Rawalpindi. Only Jameel knew that this was a suicide mission; the rest thought that they would survive and become heroes. All of them had left their families more money than they would ever be able to earn through an honest life’s work.

Locked up in the flat, the first three days went off rather well; they slept and they slept some more. Musheef slept for almost 24 hours at a stretch. For the first few days, the sleeper agent had arranged pre-cooked meals and fresh fruits in the refrigerator. Now the men took turns cooking and cleaning the place. Shezad maintained military discipline in the dwellings. A normal day started with a pair of them going for a twenty-minute walk or run at 0530 hours. They exercised for hours in a small gym in what was supposed to be a dining room. All of them avoided travelling more than twenty minutes away from the flat. They walked to a nearby market couple of times to get groceries. They prayed once a day, except for Tariq who said his prayers five times a day. The windows had thick curtains to keep away nosy neighbours even though the flat was on a higher floor.

But there was one luxury, a 52-inch LCD TV with Indian channels and a DVD collection with all of Amitabh Bachchan’s movies. Even Jameel was happy; he had found an entire collection of Salman Khan movie CDs. This was life.

Major Shezad spent his time alone in his room. He had an independent toilet and a TV. He also had a laptop with an Indian data card, an Indian cell phone connection with a BlackBerry device and a satellite phone. The sleeper had left them for him. He was to use the special scrambler-enabled satellite phone only to receive especially important instructions, and that too only during the operation. The Internet was the preferred mode of communication. Every twenty-four hours, Shezad would open a certain Gmail account, write a message and save the draft. In Pakistan, a senior communication officer would open the same account with the same password, read the draft and then delete the message. If required he would follow the same procedure to leave a message. This was considered the safest bet against detection. Besides this, both sides used a one-time code sheet, so
everything in the mailbox draft was coded too. There were only two sheets in the world and those had been computer-generated. If not impossible, it was certainly very difficult to crack the code. Amin showed Shezad a secret compartment in the room’s wardrobe. It ran across the entire 6 feet by 12 feet wall. When a hidden lever was pressed hard, the wardrobe slid open to reveal an armoury. Shezad checked out the weapons. There were three AK-56s, two AK 47s, two Chinese made 9mm pistols and a box of grenades. The five AKs were serviced and oiled. There were four magazines for every firearm. There were also two sets of walkie-talkies attached to a charger.