Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’ (13 page)

“Y
es Brigadier, I understand you have an update on Operation Shamshir,” the COAS said as he walked into the meeting. Today there were only five people: the COAS, Deputy General ISI, Major General Abbas, an Air Commodore from the PAF and the Director General Military Operation (DGMO).

“Yes sir, the two teams have been put through a training module by PAK SSW commandos. While one team was trained in Sargodha, an SSW field unit trained the second team in Azad Kashmir. The Azad Kashmir team, code-named Karnail was already trained for an airfield strike and is now under the command of a serving military Major, while Team Rashid has a SSW man in command. The team leaders and their deputies attended a joint briefing in Sargodha before their departure to jump-off points. Both teams are now in their transit locations in India and Bangladesh. Team Karnail has entered through Kashmir and is now awaiting orders in Mumbai; the operation commander is with this team. Team Rashid is in Khulna and will fly to Pune a day before while the other team moves in from Mumbai. The attack will commence at 1900 hours on 16 December. Assets at the Joint Intelligence Bureau have arranged
for local identity cards and air tickets for that evening’s flights so as to enable the boys to enter the airport.”

“Won’t their luggage be checked before entering the terminal?” queried the DGMO.

“No sir, except for Srinagar airport, the luggage is collected and scanned either near or at the ticket counter where boarding passes are issued. We have arranged for the uniforms of a hockey team and a cricket team so that the men can carry weapons in their kit bags. The men will carry the weapons into the terminal. There will be two diversionary explosions, one inside and one outside the terminal in quick succession to distract the guards as the attack team goes into action. Weapons and explosives have been procured, and as we speak, our agents are reassembling the weapons and the explosives in Pune. All we await is the committee’s orders.”

The COAS asked, “Rashid and Karnail? Any specific reason for selecting those names?” “Sitara-e-Jurat awardees, sir,” beamed Abbas. The Sitara-e-Jurat was the Pakistani equivalent of the Victoria Cross in the UK and the Param Vir Chakra in India. It is the highest honour bestowed by Pakistan on the most gallant of its soldiers.

The COAS pondered, “Well Mehroon, all the best… I want a daily report on the operation every morning on my desk.”

As Mehroon left the room, the COAS turned to his DGMO, “This operation will certainly shake our friends across the border. Do we have enough forces in the east to deter any retaliation?”

“We are moving elements of the 3rd infantry division back to their positions in Kashmir. X corps requires all its units, just in case. I will raise the necessary orders if you agree,” answered the DGMO.

“You do that; I will have a word with the Commander of the 3rd infantry division and also speak to the Corps Commander
in Peshawar.” The 3rd infantry division had been moved to the western borders a few months back under American pressure to combat insurgents from Afghan Taliban.

“Abbas, what do you think? Have you checked the schedule of the politicos? Ensure that the PM, the President and the Foreign Minister are in Pakistan to err … condemn this atrocity; also has that LET camp in Muridke been closed down yet? Just in case.”

“Yes sir, the Prime Minister was going to Barakno Faso … I have told his military secretary to take care of the same. The foreign office has already been advised,” Abbas replied.

“Good, take the discussed actions and let’s meet on 14 December to take stock of the situation. Only you and the DG need come.”

RAW HQ, Lodhi Road, New Delhi, 30 November

It was late in the morning of when Sanjay got a call from Rajat. “Majid is here. He just landed at the airport. I have a car and escort picking him up.” Sanjay slammed his desk with relief. The files had taken six hours to download, but technicians had checked and found the downloaded files to be in usable format. Sanjay asked a guy from IT to have a projector and necessary equipment set-up for the meeting. Next he walked across the building to his boss to brief him on the developments.

By 1300 hours, Majid and Rajat came into the building. All three of them had lunch together at the office cafeteria. At 1400 hours the ‘show’ began; there was a lot of material to watch from the ATM machine videos. The technical team had edited out lots of film including empty frames, men in uniforms and women. That left around 80 faces to identify.

It was on the nineteenth face that Majid asked for the screen to be paused. It had a tall fair man; Majid looked at him for some
time and nodded. The account details flashed the name ‘Afaq Khan’, and mentioned the account number and branch details of the bank.

Sanjay looked at Rajat and smiled, “We have a face.”

It was on the thirtieth image that Majid again asked the screen to be paused. He was sure that this was another fellow in the same group. The login details flashing on the screen were in the name of Rehman Mubashir. It took another four hours but Majid could identify two more of the terrorists. It was 1800 hours by now. Sanjay thanked Rajat and Majid. Majid wanted to rest; he had been travelling for eighteen hours.

Later Sanjay took Majid to an air force base near Delhi and had an Air Force policeman posted at his door. “If you need anything, use that phone. It is configured to autodial my number. Don’t attempt to leave this room. There is food and drink in the refrigerator. I have to go now. We will have dinner together and plan what to do with you. I don’t think you are going back to Pakistan ever again.” Majid smiled. He wanted to say many things, but he was too tired. Now he could sleep peacefully.

Command Hospital, Chandimandir Cantonment, Chandigarh

Ankush woke up with a dull ache on his side. The operation had left him with a dressing on his midriff. As the orderly served breakfast, Ankush went over the events of the past few days. An SMS on his cell phone informed him that his parents were driving down from Manali, and would be there by the end of the day. He called a unit officer to arrange accommodation for them. Next, he called his father’s cell phone and talked to both his parents at length.

As he disconnected the phone, he saw two uniformed officers walk into his room. “I am Abhimanyu Rathi, this is Rajesh. We
are from the Corps Intelligence Unit. We need to chat,” the Lieutenant Colonel introduced himself and the Major with him. The nurse came in and adjusted the bed so that Ankush could sit up. They debriefed Ankush again, in detail, and nodded as the story matched the report that Vijay had submitted.

“Well Ankush, will you be able to recognise this guy if you see a photograph? Or see him face to face?” Rathi asked him.

“Absolutely, I can see his face as clearly as I see you.”

“Good, we will have a team with identikit come here; they will recreate the face on their laptop,” the Colonel directed Rajesh. “In the report you mention that this fellow seemed to have a military background. What made you think so?”

“Well sir, it was his posture and the way he conducted hand-to-hand combat. The smoothness was very military. I don’t know how one can explain it. Also the way he swore had an upper middle-class tone,” answered Ankush.

The two thanked Ankush and left; within half an hour the identikit team was there and so were the two officers. For the next three hours, they grilled him until the computer screen showed a picture that was of the likeness to the face Ankush remembered.

At the door, Rathi turned around and remarked, “Oh, Ankush? Your doctors have pronounced you fit to fly.”

Ankush looked amused, “And where would I be flying to, sir?”

“Delhi, AHQ, report to Colonel Thakur at 1000 hours in the morning tomorrow. There is a communication plane leaving at 1800 hours. Your travel papers are ready and will be delivered inside an hour by a dispatch rider. So pack up your clothes and be out of here by 1700 hours, will you?”

Ankush stammered, “You coming along too, Colonel?”

Rathi looked surprised. “Why? No … I am off to the Valley, to confirm something.”

Joint Interrogation Centre (JIC), Brigade Headquarters, Trigam, J&K

The Joint Interrogation Center at Trigam was used by all anti− terrorist forces in the area. It had access to Kashmiri-, Pushto-and Punjabi-speaking officers or interpreters. Only one of the two terrorists had recovered enough to be interrogated.

Lieutenant Colonel Abhimanyu Rathi flew in especially from the Corps HQ in Chandigarh. He had flown in the same evening after saying goodbye to Ankush. He had the identikit photo Ankush had helped create. He also had two photos from the cub journalist’s camera in POK. They had been received by email earlier from the MI Unit in Delhi. They were from a special agent deep in POK.

“The man’s very scared. It was his first mission … I don’t think you will have trouble, Colonel,” briefed the young officer from the IB. “But I think our friends from J&K police have already put the fear of God in him anyway, he added.

Rathi knew exactly what he meant. In his first posting in a counter-insurgency area, he had been shocked by the ability of civil police forces to show scant regard for either the subject or the law when they interrogated. Eventually, he had realised that unlike the Army and the paramilitary forces, the civil police were the first ones to face the attacks of insurgents and therefore the most exposed. They lived in and came from the same communities as the insurgents. They suffer the most when an insurgency begins; more often than not, they are the first targets. Handicapped by lack of training, weapons and experience, they are on the frontline of a war they are not trained for or expected to fight. Once they have the upper hand, they don’t feel too kindly for the insurgent or his supporters.

Once he saw the prisoner, Rathi knew what the IB officer was hinting at. The terrorist looked tired and defeated. He sat on a
tall stool with his legs hanging freely and it was apparent he was in deep pain. Rathi knew he had just had his soles whacked. The prisoner had no fight left in him.

“Name?” … “Akram”

“Full name?” … “Akram Majlis”

“Village?” … “Munpur”

“Father’s name?” … “Janab Tayib Majlis”

“What group did you cross LOC with?” … “Lashkar”

“How many of you crossed LOC?” … “Twenty”

“Do you know the names of all your comrades? Were there any mehman with you? I want their names.”

“Only my team members. We were forbidden to talk to any mehman. I don’t know their names, saheb.”

“Akram, listen, I am going to show you a few pictures, point out anyone whom you recognise. Okay? Look at these photos, do you recognise anyone?” While he had only three real pictures, seventeen others were mixed in the lot to ensure that the prisoner was being truthful. After spreading them randomly on a table brought in by the policemen, he waited patiently. After a few moments the terrorist handed him three pictures.

They were the three pictures he wanted.

“Yes, it’s the man they addressed as janab. The other two were with him. There were two others as well. Don’t know their names.”

Rathi got up, gestured to the policeman that he was leaving. Once outside, he thanked the commander of JIC and called his boss in Delhi.

The hunt begins, Colonel Thakur thought, when he got the interrogation report.

By the end of the day, they had confirmation on three pictures from the POK team. Colonel Thakur smiled to himself. His
entire career was based on the belief that small clues, if analysed clearly, led to the biggest of successes. Intelligence gathering was a tough job, but even tougher was to make sense of it all. To connect the dots until a picture formed.

Before he left his office, he called Rathi, “Have different versions of the photo created. Of all the three, even those which came in this morning from across the border.”

Rathi quickly got his technical team to churn out photos with different disguises, hairstyles, facial hair and even glasses. Almost twenty sets of photos were created. The two photographs from the mail sent by the operative from POK were digitalised. The computer captured the shape of ears and the distance between eyes. Like fingerprints, ears were also a unique identification feature of a person. And while it was a common trick for secret agents and criminals to get plastic surgery, more often than not, the ears remained untouched. If any of the hundreds of closed circuit cameras in airports and other sensitive places picked up the men from the photos, they would sound an alarm in the IB and RAW control room. The RAW team had carried out same action with the photos from ATM camera.

New Delhi, Sub-Area Officers’ Mess, Dhaula Kauna: 0800 hours

As he woke up, Ankush tried to remember where he was. Oh yes! Delhi. There was a dull pain in his sides as he reached for his cigarettes. The orderly knocked and entered with a pot of coffee.

As he had his coffee and cigarettes, Ankush spoke to his parents and assured them that he was well. His next call was to his CO. He narrated everything to him since his meeting with Rathi. He then shaved and changed into his olive green uniform. It was some months since he had worn anything but battle fatigues. He had a soldier’s vanity when it came to uniforms
and appreciatively glanced at the mirror as he adjusted his beret. As he awaited his breakfast, he pulled out another Kings and lit it.

“Sir, the car is here for you,” the mess Havildar informed him as a bearer cleared the plates. It was a white Gypsy from the intelligence car pool.

The drive through Delhi traffic took him an hour to reach AHQ. Colonel Thakur was waiting for him. “Good of you to come, Major; I hope your wound is not giving you too much trouble.”

“I am fine, Sir.”

He led Ankush to an underground section. The lift took them two stories down. “Ankush, we have a task for you. You are the only person to have seen the Pakistani team leader. We believe he is here for something big. From what you said and other sources, we are sure he is part of the Pakistan Army. We want you to try and identify him. We have a database of pictures of Pakistani officers taken during passing-out parades, award ceremonies, marching-out into operations, media pictures, military parties and yes, even Facebook profiles. We will run you through them. If you see the man you think you saw, please let us know.”