PRIMAL Mirza (A PRIMAL Series Novella) (10 page)

CHAPTER 16

Entering their room, Mirza sat on
his bed, pulled up a sleeve, and checked the bandage. One couldn’t be too
careful,
in the slums infections were the norm.

“Let
me see it.” Himesh leaned forward as Mirza removed the dressing. “Looks fine.”

Mirza
smeared antibiotic salve on his wound and covered it. “Just a bit sore.” He
finished taping up the bandage and checked his phone.

“Did you try to ring Atal again?”

“Still
no answer. What’s your take on him?”

“Don’t
know how reliable he’s going to be, but he’s got street smarts. He was right
about the guys with Neeraj. They had to be cops.”

“NSG?”

“Could
be, or maybe local cops shaking him down.”

“If
it’s NSG, they might already be on to the terrorists.”

“I
hope so. I’ll check in with HQ, see if you can raise Atal again.” Himesh
dialled. It rang twice before a secretary picked it up. “Himesh for the Major.”

“Himesh,
good to hear from you. How are things going with the NSG?”

“All
good, we’ve located the cell.”

“Didn’t
take long. Not even twenty-four hours. Where are they? Is NSG ready to move?”

“A
criminal gang in the Chandni Chowk area’s harboring them.” He paused. “As far
as I know, the NSG isn’t aware of it yet.”

“Why
not?”

“We
haven’t had time to check in with them. Mirza and I are heading there now.”

“You’re
telling me you found these guys based off your own initiative.”

“That’s
correct, sir.”

“Good
work. But it’s critical you plug in with the NSG. We’re working on their turf.
The director’s made it clear they’re to take the lead.”

“Understood.”

“It’s
your job to ensure they move on this. We can’t afford for them to sit on their
hands.”

“Got
it, sir.”

“Good
luck.”

Himesh
hung up. He frowned at Mirza’s concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Still
can’t raise Atal.”

“Engaged
or switched off?”

“Switched
off.”

“Doesn’t
make sense.”

At
the knock on the door, both men reached for their weapons. Mirza moved to the
door. His free hand on the doorknob, he asked, “Who is it?”

“Me,
Atal.”

Mirza
yanked the door open, hauled the boy inside, and slammed the door. “Why didn’t
you pick up your phone? And why aren’t you watching Neeraj’s place?”

Atal
waved the cell phone in Mirza’s face. “Nasty Chinese shit went flat. You cheap
bastards should buy Nokia.”

At the street urchin’s indignant
attitude, Mirza burst out laughing. “We’ll get you a new phone.”

He pulled out the digital camera. “I
got good stuff for you. You’re the spies. But I do all the work.”

“Let’s
take a look,” said Himesh.

Atal
passed the camera to Mirza. “It’s good stuff. After you left, I saw more
Pakis.” He stood erect, chest puffed out. “I make a great secret agent.”

Mirza
reviewed the images. He studied the face of one man Atal had zoomed in on. He
matched the photo given to them by their surveillance team: bug eyes and a
neatly trimmed beard. “That’s our man. You’re right Atal, you’re a natural.”

Atal
pointed at the screen. “He hit me.”

“He’s
the one you guided to Neeraj’s?”

“Yes.
He’s cheaper than you. Cheap prick wouldn’t even give me a rupee.”

Mirza
handed the camera to Himesh. “That’s our guy.”

“More
cash?” Atal asked in a hopeful voice.

“That
depends,” said Himesh.

“On
what?”

“On
whether you can find us some transport.”

“I
get you anything you want. Tuk-tuk, truck, pickup, cab, train, bus, horse or
elephant, what do you want?”

“I’ll
settle for a tuk-tuk.”

“I
get a tuk-tuk. Five minutes.” He bolted out the door.

“Where’re
we headed?” Mirza asked.

Himesh
held up the camera. “The NSG compound. We’ve got enough to justify a hit on the
safe house.”

Knowing
the grief they were about to get, Mirza grimaced. “They’re not going to like us
rolling in and telling them how to do their job.”

“Too
bad. The Major wants it to happen. That means we make sure it does.”

“If
those were NSG men with Neeraj, they might already be planning to hit it.”

“Most
likely. So, at the meeting, we play it cool. Let them take the lead.” Himesh
pulled his Glock out from under his shirt, unloaded it and dropped it in his
bag. “We can’t take these with us.”

“Right.”
Mirza removed his pistol and holster. “And if they’re not already covering
this?”

“We
bring our intel to the table.”

***

Glaring at Atal, Mirza
clung to the rail on the side of the bench seat of the tuk-tuk. “How in Allah’s
name did you get a tuk-tuk? Do you even have a license?”

The three-wheeled taxi’s little tires
screeched as it darted like a deranged yellow and green bumblebee through the
morning traffic. As it barreled around one of Delhi’s many roundabouts, Mirza
grunted as Himesh lost his fight with the G-forces and slammed into him.

Atal
glanced over his shoulder. “My friend’s tuk-tuk. It broke and he borrowed money
to fix it.” He paused to hurl abuse at another tuk-tuk driver. “Neeraj had him
killed. When I got money from you, I fixed it. Now, I drive and make money.”

As they screamed around another corner and shot off onto a wide
tree-lined road, Mirza shook his head. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to
the hectic pace of this city. More importantly, he didn’t want to. He hated the
noise and smells and crowds.

They screeched to a stop. “We’re here. NSG base.”

Himesh leaped out of the cab.

Mirza handed Atal some cash. “Wait here.”

Atal grinned giving him thumbs up. “Yes, boss.”

High walls surrounded the NSG compound. A solid metal sliding gate
barred the entrance and was defended by three black-clad commandos wielding
MP5 submachine guns
. Mirza approached the
guard box and joined Himesh who was already talking to a guard.

The commando was looking
down his nose at his disheveled partner.

Himesh shoved an ID card
through the small gap at the bottom of the Perspex window. “We need to see your
commander. Now.”

The man eyeballed the ID. Lifting it, he compared its photo with the
scruffy, bearded Himesh. “He’s not here.”

Mirza winced as Himesh drummed his fingers against his thigh. It was
something he had seen him do a number of times. All of them had ended with the
normally cool operative losing his temper.

“You have ten seconds to contact whoever’s in charge. At eleven
seconds, I contact The Director.”

“Colonel Prasad and the XO are out.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Find me someone with some rank. We’ve got
information about a possible Paki attack here in Delhi.”

Mirza gave Himesh a sideways look and stepped up to the booth. “We
are happy to wait while you phone this in.”

The guard nodded and reached for a phone as Mirza steered his
partner away from the box. “What happened to not showing our cards?”

“That guy pissed me off. Typical NSG. Shit reputation and shit
attitudes.”

They stood waiting a few yards from the guard box and watched as the
security force eyed them warily. After a minute, the gate rumbled open and the
guards snapped to attention. A black Mitsubishi Pajero with dark tinted windows
drove straight through the gate pulling to a stop at the front of the
headquarters building.

“Whose car is that?” Mirza asked the guard standing beside the gate.

The man eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

“We’re here to meet with your commander.”

“You’re in luck.” He nodded at the black SUV. “He just arrived.”

CHAPTER 17

Prasad stepped out of
the Pajero. As he started up the steps to the headquarters, one of the guards
approached. “Sir, there’re two men at the front gate from
Special Group
who want to talk to you. They’re going on
about a possible attack here in the city.”

“What men?”

“They’re outside the gate.”

Prasad spotted the two men on the footpath. “Send them up to my
office.”

Roshan joined him as he walked up the stairs. “What’s going on,
boss?”

“I think the liaison officers from Special Group just turned up.”

He opened the door to Prasad’s office and held it for him to enter.
“Do you want me to stay?”

Prasad shook his head. “No. Come back once they’ve gone.” As the NSG
captain left, he sat, staring out the window at the view of the Secretariat
building. A knock on his door announced the arrival of the visitors. He
swiveled his chair and faced the door. “Come in.”

His eyes widened as they entered. They weren’t what he was expecting.
Both had thick beards, wore filthy clothes, and one appeared to be half-Nepalese.
He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit down. I’m
Colonel Prasad, head of the NSG for New Delhi.”

“I’m Himesh and my partner is Mirza, sir. We work for Special Group.
The Director has tasked us as liaison officers to the NSG.”

Prasad made a mental note to direct all of the questions to the
senior man. It annoyed him how the Special Group operatives didn’t even bother
to introduce their rank. “If I understand correctly, you’ve identified an
imminent attack here in New Delhi.”

Himesh nodded. “Correct. I’m sure you’ve seen the original intercept
from Pakistan.”

“I’m sure I did. But I see many such reports.”

“This intercept was followed by a raid into Kashmir. Mirza and I
found intelligence in the camp. While on the ground, we interrogated a prisoner
and learned a Lashkar terrorist cell had departed for New Delhi.”

Prasad studied the Special Group men closely. While they didn’t look
like professionals, a mission into Pakistan-held territory spoke volumes about
their experience. “I remember that report. It would seem your terrorists
entered India in a van with no weapons. I take it your men failed to track them
from the border.”

“Unfortunately, they lost them on the outskirts of the Chandni
Chowk. As for weapons, we believe they’ve met with a local support element and
are planning to attack soon.”

Prasad tipped back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.
“You believe? I have little time for whimsical thoughts, Himesh. If I did, I
would be a poet not a counter-terrorism professional. Where are your facts?”

“We have a reliable source who pinpoints their location to a safe
house in Chandni Chowk.”

“A source. What type of source?”

“The origin of the information is sensitive. We’ve been supplied
with a location and a description of the terrorist leader.”

“Do you have any information regarding the target?”

“Not yet. But as I’ve said, we know they’re planning an attack and have
confirmed their current location.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a single source who may or may not be
reliable.”

“Wrong. The safe house is in Chandni Chowk. We also have
surveillance images of the suspects. They are the same Pakistanis we tracked
from the border.” Himesh took his camera from his pocket.

Prasad leaned forward in his chair. “I’m sorry you what?”

“We seized an opportunity and nailed down the location of the
terrorist safe house.” Himesh met the NSG officer’s icy gaze.

“No, you stepped outside your jurisdiction and operated illegally
within my area of operations. I am pretty damn sure your orders were to report
here to liaise with my men. Yet now you’re telling me you’ve had time to
illegally run a surveillance operation without even the courtesy of a phone
call?”

Mirza tried to interject. “We were tracking an imminent–”

“An imminent what?
An imminent cluster fuck
because you started an investigation without consulting me or my people.
Domestic terrorism is our mandate. We take our duty seriously. However, we
don’t kick in doors based on incomplete intelligence and ‘thoughts’ or
‘beliefs’. We require time to develop an accurate picture of what’s happening
on the ground.”

Himesh bolted up from his chair. “Every minute you waste, brings us
closer to the attack!”

Prasad shook his head. “You have no real intelligence. All you’ve
got is a van full of unarmed Pakistanis and a source
who
’s
given you a house and description. For all you know, there could be more than
one team, more than one safe house. You don’t even know what or where the
target is. What do you want me to do? Start arresting every Pakistani in
Chandni Chowk?”

Himesh clenched his fists. “You’re kidding aren’t you? We found
evidence in Pakistan that a highly trained team of terrorists were deployed to
New Delhi. We’ve tracked them to a safe house run by a known criminal that goes
by the name of Neeraj.”

“Neeraj?” Prasad laughed. “Neeraj is pond scum. We’ve got coverage
on him, and I can tell you that dirty cockroach is not involved in terrorism.”

“Maybe your men aren’t looking hard enough,” Himesh said, his voice
dropping to little more than a whisper.

Prasad stood and pointed to the door. “This meeting is over. Get out
of my office and get the hell out of my city. My men will handle this investigation.
Tell your director we have it well in hand.”

Himesh glared at him. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“The only person making a mistake is you. I’m going to tell you once
and once only. Leave this to my men or I will have you thrown in jail.”

Himesh glared at Prasad a moment longer, then turned for the door.
“Let’s get out of here, Mirza.”

Prasad watched them exit. As soon as the door clicked shut, he went
to his trophy cabinet, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and poured himself two
fingers. As he sipped it, he studied a plaque he’d won at the academy. Then he
moved across to the window and watched the gate shut behind the two men.

Entering the office, Roshan said, “They could be real trouble. What
should we do?”

“Put surveillance on them. If they try anything, arrest them.” He
placed the scotch on his desk as he sat down. “Their intelligence is shit. They
don’t know the targets. If this all turns bad, they can take the fall.”

“What about Neeraj? We still haven’t heard back from him.”

“Neeraj can get fucked. We know they’re going to hit the stadium and
Sonia Jayaram, probably at the some time. After we’ve killed the terrorists,
we’ll raid Neeraj’s place and shut him down. The sick bastard’s carved up his
last street kid.” Prasad stood and moved around his desk. “Have my car and
weapons ready. I’m going to command the assault force personally.”

***

Al-Jahiz placed the dark
blue tactical vests on the floor side-by-side. He checked to ensure they were
packed with sufficient explosives and the pouches loaded with AK magazines.
Once satisfied, he set one AK assault rifle next to each vest. “Everything’s
ready.” He nodded at Karim who was now dressed in a police uniform. The khaki
shirt was almost bursting at the seams as it struggled to contain his bulk.

“Yes.” Karim pinned the last photo on the wall of their makeshift
planning room. “Their target is bigger and better than anything we’d dreamed
of.”

“And in a few hours, it will be coated in the blood of infidels.”

As he inspected the photo array, Al-Jahiz admitted to himself he
made a better commander than he would have a bomber. He was meant to lead the
cause not die for it like the martyrs. “Is your team ready?”

“Yes. When your men attack, we’ll snatch her.”

“And that fool, Neeraj. Has he gotten us the van?’

“Someone is getting it now.”

“Send one of your men to make sure it arrives. It’s the final piece
of the plan.”

“I’ll go myself.” Karim started for the door.

Al-Jahiz clamped a hand on his shoulder, halting him. “Today, my
friend, India will pay for her sins against Islam and the people of Pakistan.”
He adjusted his white robe and smiled. “We are ready. Have one of your men
bring in the
fedayeen
.”

A minute later, the suicide team entered. Solemn, dressed in police
uniforms, their faces freshly shaven and eyes bright with fanaticism.

Al-Jahiz directed them to the four prayer mats in front of their
equipment and weapons. “My brothers, the time for jihad has come. Today you
will strike a fearsome blow for mighty Allah.”

He pointed to the enlarged photo of Feroz Shah Kotla Stadium
centered on the wall. “You will strike here and catch forty thousand infidels
unawares. You will slay them like sheep. The city of the infidel will flow with
their blood.”

Jawid punched his fist in to the air. “
Allahu Akbar!
”

“
Allahu Akbar!
” the three
other men raised their own fists. “
ALLAHU
AKBAR!
”