Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’ (18 page)

He walked out into the cool Delhi air and put a cigarette between his lips. “The winter is here and it will be hard this year,” he thought to himself.

As he reached for the lighter, he was lightly tapped on his shoulder. “Allow me, sir,” said Secretary-R as he flicked open a lighter and brought it to Nambiar’s cigarette. “We are in control, don’t you worry.” He lit himself a cigarette too. “There is more than meets the eye here,” the NSA said quietly. Secretary-R raised his eyebrow.

“The Pakistanis are using a serving military officer; they must know that whether the attack succeeds or not, we will identify these men. One of them was posted in the US and served with UN. There will be proof even if this fellow dies. There are records with the UN and the US, both accessible to us and
the Americans. For God’s sake, he flew into the US and stayed there. There will be American officers in the course who will remember. There will be photos, biometric records and surely something with the UN command too. There is no way they can cover it up. They want this to be traced back to Pakistan. They are looking to divert attention to the eastern border to escape US pressure. They have too much at stake. The politicians are snapping at the army’s heel. The people are disillusioned and are no longer willing to let the army get away with the multiple fiascos. The army has probably decided that the best way to get back in the centre stage is to have India knocking at their doors. That’s all it will take for the civilians to unite behind them. And mind you, whatever the Prime Minister’s emotions, the US will not allow us to have a go at the Pakistanis with their troops still in Afghanistan. I don’t want them to use us for their parochial interests. This operation must succeed, and succeed quietly.”

He put out the cigarette and lit another one. The Army chief came out, lit a cigarette and walked over to NSA. They decided to release orders which would set the wheels in motion for deployment in twenty-four hours. As soon as he left and they were alone again, the NSA continued his conversation with Secretary-R.

“I have given instructions that we will use only the SFF forces for Jungle and Bangladesh border operations. Let NSG handle the Mumbai operation. The Force 1 unit will only give parameter control and mopping up. In fact, the plane with NSG has only the SAG unit. The SRG unit in Mumbai will provide ranger support. In case we capture anyone alive, you will have an ARC aircraft fly them out to Chakrata for interrogation and then neutralise them. Under no condition should the media know. I want you to ensure complete control over this operation. Same goes for the action on the Bangladesh border. If possible, I want
to talk to this Major Shezad before he is neutralised.” Secretary-R nodded and walked out towards the waiting car. His first call was to the DG-Security.

Mumbai Police Headquarters, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Marg, Apollo Bandar, Mumbai, 14 December: 1700 hours

Mumbai, or Bombay as it was earlier known, is a thriving metropolis on the west coast of India. With a population of 12 million citizens, it is the most populous city in India. It is India’s commercial centre and the political capital of the state of Maharashtra. Over the last two decades, it has suffered many large and small terrorist strikes, including the serial bombings in 1993 and the 26/11 attack in 2008. This huge city is policed by a force of 50,000 men. While the head of Maharashtra Police is the boss, Mumbai Police is commanded by a commissioner-rank officer. It was in the Police headquarters that a command set-up had been established. Sanjay had flown in from Delhi. The NSG officers, field officers from RAW and a Mumbai Police officer constituted the action group. The centre was an underground basement with a large operation area with around 20 operators at work stations. One end was dominated by a large electronic map of the city while 90-inch LCD screens transmitted pictures from different CCTV cameras all over the city. The other end of the basement had a conference room and two transparent soundproof booths. “… So that you can take a call without disturbing people on the operation floor,” explained the young IPS officer who was in charge of the command centre. On the electronic map ten green dots glowed. All were in a three-kilometre radius of the last cell phone tower which had picked up the call to a particular number in the United States. The possible area from which the call was made was outlined on the map. The signals from three towers in the area were being patched into the control room. If the
particular number began transmitting again, they would know.

SAG Captain Sukhjeet Singh and SRG Combat Commander Assistant commandant Thapa, sat together with F1’s Joint Commissioner of Police (JCP) Javed Khan and planned the action details. Interoperability codes were worked out. F1 would secure the outermost parameter and isolate the target. They would ensure that no one got in or out of a 200-metre radius of the operation area. They would also ensure that the citizens were safely evacuated out of the ‘box’. As it was the F1 team which would set-up the surveillance, they would also feed in real-time information which would go into final planning.

The Black Cats would secure the building and get the snipers and close in on the target. They would sanitise the area around the target, close all escape routes and stop anything else from getting into the fire zone. They would also make the first contact with the targets and lay down fire if required to keep them engaged. As per special order, no local police or F1 personnel would come into the area. Once the attack began, the SRG were to take over from F1 and ensure that no one got into the immediate operation zone.

The SAG would then close in and hit the target. The SAG men would be deployed as two strike teams of four men each. They had orders to try and take alive anyone identified by the two army officers. Two strike teams would move into the target. One officer would go with each team. One team would be dropped near the operation zone and attack from the ground while the other is inserted in from above the target by a Dhruv helicopter. The Rangers and F1 would move in earlier and call in the two choppers once the area has been secured and any fire from the target suppressed. As they worked out the plan, the Joint Commissioner-Crime walked over.

“The team which was tracing the cell phone number that
the home ministry had sent just checked in. They found the address. It’s a dead end as the papers are fake. The number was activated three months back but never used until two weeks back. We found the shopkeeper who sold the SIM card. He is in our custody. Can’t remember a thing,” Sanjay didn’t seem disappointed. He had not had very high expectations from the effort.

“So it’s up to the cell phone tracking then? Let the shopkeeper go. I am sure he knows nothing,” he said to no one in particular. He went into the soundproof glass booth and put a call through to Secretary-R. After discussing the news with him he called DG-Security, “I think the balloon is gonna go up in a few hours. I am leaving for the airfield soon. Has the SFF team left for Bangladesh border?” he enquired.

“It has already landed and they are billeted on a small military cantonment in a school with a makeshift helipad the sappers have created in record time,” answered the DG-Security. They continued to discuss some key points like the NSA’s final instructions to Sanjay at the end of the CCS meeting. Suddenly Sanjay was interrupted by a young policeman knocking urgently on the glass booth. Behind him Sanjay could see sudden action on the floor; even before he opened the door he knew what the cop was about to say.

“The cell phone is transmitting,” he spat out and then ran back to his station. The large electronic map on the wall enlarged further. The team in the conference room also came out and stared at the screen.

“Has the phone just been switched on or is it calling?” he asked the man at the console. “It’s just switched on, sir,” came the reply. While the technicians tried to close in on the signal, the F1 JCP contacted the surveillance teams and asked them to get into standby positions. The men had strict orders not to create situations for contact with the target.

“Sir, a call has just been connected to the same number in the US. Putting it on the speaker,” a technician yelled from another console.

The room went silent as a quiet voice broke in from the speakers above.

“As Salaamu Alaykum Ammi, everything is fine here.” It was a conversation between a son and his mother. “I hope you are eating fruits… I met this really nice Pakistani girl here. She is a doctor in bhai’s hospital too…” and the conversation went on.

All along the communication, officers tensely rushed from one console to the other. “Khuda Hafeez Ammijaan,” in six minutes, there was a click when the call was over. The communication officer looked up from the console, gave thumbs up and smiled. “We have the location,” he said with quiet pride.

Javed was already passing on the coordinates to his men. He asked for two teams to quickly head towards the coordinates. On the LCD screens, a picture of a modern multi-storied apartment in Thakur village, Kandivali flashed up.

“Good job, guys,” Sanjay congratulated the tech team. He turned to the F1 chief, “How soon can we get there? I want us, Singh and Thapa to get there as soon as your men set-up the nest. Also have the two army officers from the airfield moved to the location immediately,” He sent Secretary-R a single-line SMS, ‘Foxhole Identified’.

He did not know that the same SMS was forwarded to the NSA and the PM almost immediately by a smiling Secretary-R.

Javed disconnected his cell phone and turned to Sanjay, “A team has just reached the location. My men are also pulling out property records and building plans submitted to the municipal corporation. As soon as we have a safe house for surveillance, we will move out. A makeshift helipad inside the Sanjay Gandhi
National Park is the easiest way to get there. I will see that it is ready for the operation; we will need it until this mess is cleared.”

“A helipad in a forest reserve?” asked Sanjay.

“Oh, there is one for the VIPs. We had the crown prince here last month,” Javed answered as he grimaced referring to the scion of India’s most powerful political family.

He made a few calls to his superior officers. Someone called the defence ministry and a team of Air Force officials and a platoon of Air Force engineers were dispatched from a nearby air station to take over the helipad and prepare it for the operations team.

Srinath Cooperative Housing Society, Thakur Village, Kandivali-East, 14 December: 1845 hours

An unmarked white Tata Indigo sedan pulled up at the gate of a multi-storied apartment complex. Inspector Tawade and Sub Inspector Kadam stepped out. There were three towers of twelve stories each. The three towers were along the perimeter of a square park with the entrance gate, the society office and three shops on the fourth side. One was a general store, one a dairy outlet and a beauty clinic. Both men approached the guard house. A few minutes with the old man who wore a security guard’s uniform with ‘Super Security’ embossed on it confirmed that the society supervisor was on the grounds. As soon as he realised that the two men were cops, he gave them the supervisor’s number. Tawade asked him how many entrances and exits each tower had. The guard confirmed that there were three exit points to get out of the building. Meanwhile Kadam called the number and asked the supervisor to come to the administration office immediately. By this time, another white Tata Indigo had pulled up outside
the gate. Two more men got out. The coordinates indicated that the transmission had originated in Tower Three. One of the men made a quick call to the HQ and they confirmed that the cell phone was still transmitting though the call had ended. The coordinates continued to indicate Tower Three. Tawade instructed the two newcomers and Kadam to take positions near each of the exit. “Be discreet about it. I don’t want you to be sticking out,” he warned as he went on to meet the supervisor.

Vinod Dev was a portly man of 45 living on the third floor of Tower One with his wife and teenage son. He had a garment shop on the next street. Vinod enjoyed his position of authority in the society. He did his job as a “supervisor” with a lot of enthusiasm. He boasted to the members of the society that he spent more time on society work than in his shop. Some of the cattier ladies agreed. It was during times like these, when he spoke to men of law as an office-holder of the society that he felt even prouder. The terse summons disturbed him. He remembered that he had sent the customary Diwali ‘gift’ to the local thana (police station). He unlocked the society office – a small cabin with a wooden table. Mrs Dev had donated the green tablecloth and the curtains on the window. There were three moulded plastic chairs. Almost immediately, a swarthy, dark-complexioned man came in and without being invited, took a chair. The brusqueness disturbed Dev.

“What can I do for you, sir?” he enquired politely.

Tawade answered, “Do you have a list of the people who live in Tower Three?”

Now who has got into trouble? Dev thought to himself. “Of course I have.” Dev opened the steel cupboard on the left. It was old and squeaky.

“How many flats in Tower Three?” Tawade asked.

“Twelve floors, three flats on each floor except the top and the
ground floor. One on top, a penthouse … belongs to the builder … and two on the ground floor … So total 33 three-bedroom apartments,” answered Dev as he flipped through the first page of the register. “Twenty are occupied,” he added helpfully. “What is this about? Could I know?”

Tawade gave him a stern look, and then smiled. “You will know everything. We are looking for terrorists. Tell me, are there any young men who have moved into this building recently?”

Dev thought hard, “There are Amin bhai’s nephew and his friends who are here for ten days. Actually their landlord threw them out. Poor boys, very well-behaved … sixth floor, house No. 601 … study the whole day. No trouble at all.”

Tawade thought quickly, then asked, “Devji, how long have they been here?”

“About a week, maybe ten days, they are to leave next week. Amin bhai promised that not more than ten days.”