03:02 (34 page)

‘And? What did he say?’

He opened the door to the store and the first thing that assaulted my senses was the smell. Piss, blood, vomit, the smell of fear.

‘Hear him for yourself. Hey, shithead, wake up!’

Shaikh kicked him hard and the man rolled to a sitting crouch. His face was almost unrecognizable from the beatings he had endured.

Shaikh took out a large knife from his belt. ‘Do you want to play this little piggy again, my friend? Would you like me to cut off one more finger?’

The man flinched as Shaikh asked him to repeat for me what he had told him. The man’s defiance was gone, and he was looking at me with eyes that were eager to please. I looked at the blood pooled around him, and the fact that it did not bother me told me that the blackness that had enveloped our world had perhaps seeped into our hearts as well.

‘They told us we were going on a mission, that’s all. We heard that the best fighters were being sent to America since people there had guns and would fight. We were told we would go to India where people were traders or talkers, not fighters. We were told they’d be easy pickings and we could get women and riches as the Caliphate spread. Then the fucking attacks began and we lost mates, and a few of us shook down the locals, you know? We were sent out on the attack as punishment duty—the leaders didn’t like the fact that we had picked up some women on our own. Fuckers thought we should wait till the locals were subdued. They told us a bunch of lies. They said Muslims here would welcome us; that Hindus and Muslims would slaughter each other and it would be a cakewalk, that the average Indian is weak and timid.’

I knelt before him and looked him in the eye. He was shaking with fear as I slapped him hard and he spat out blood and a tooth that had come loose.

‘Shaikh, he’s a low-level piece of shit. Part of me wants to blow his brains out now and put him out of his misery, but look at him. He’s literally pissing himself in terror now that he knows what we timid Indians can do. Let him tell his pals what we’re like and what we can do, unless they kill him anyway for being captured, in which case it’s not exactly as if the world will miss one shithead like him’

I turned to the man.

‘Look at my face, remember what happened to your friends and yourself and go tell them that if they fuck with us, we will hunt you down and kill you all. Tell them a Muslim cut off your fucking fingers and a Hindu will cut your throat if you come to fight us again; tell them we Indians can talk, but we can kill as well; tell them they chose to mess with the wrong country at the wrong time; tell them they face not a bunch of scared civilians but an army—the Azad Hind Fauj, the Indian National Army. If I see you again on the battlefield, I will personally kill you.’

A blindfold was placed over his eyes and he was led out to be driven beyond our checkpoint by Pandey and Mahadev. The man was pleading with us, telling us that his leaders would kill him, but to be honest, I didn’t care.

‘Shaikh, what about the Arab? What’s he saying?’

I saw a look of concern on Shaikh’s face. ‘He’s a very different kettle of fish. Seasoned jihadi, fought in Iraq and Syria, beheaded a dozen prisoners, and was made an officer as a reward. He’s the real deal—he talks about it with pride and no fear. He says he will talk only to you.’

‘To me?’

‘Yes. He says he needs to give you a message.’

The Arab was sitting at a table in the adjoining clinic which had been converted into our second prison. While in the Brit’s eyes I had seen fanatical hatred, here I saw a cold, calculating gaze. Other than the bandages on his legs and hands from the shrapnel of the previous night’s bomb blasts, he had no other injuries. Clearly, Shaikh had not gone to work on him yet.

‘Will you kill me?’

He asked the question in lightly-accented English as I sat down across him.

‘How would you want to be treated?’

‘As a warrior would treat another.’

I held his gaze as I responded, ‘Warriors do not slaughter boys or abduct women.’

He smiled, showing stained teeth. ‘Maybe in your world, but for us, that is part of our warrior code. Those women are just spoils of war.’

‘Let’s cut the bullshit. What did you want to tell me?’

‘I fight for my cause with blind devotion and your media may call us fanatics, but I am a reasonable and educated man. I was an engineer in Egypt before I answered the call for jihad. I have heard that idiot’s screams from next door, and I have no desire to be tortured. What do you want to know?’

‘What are your plans?’

He began to laugh, something I found crazy for a man in his position. ‘You watch too many movies, my friend. Do you think I know any grand plans that those above me have? I am a mere mujahid and I fight where and whom I am asked to. I slay infidels and protect the true believers. My job is not to understand, let alone question, the grand plans my leaders make. But I have heard rumours, as every army on the march does, and I know that your nation is not the only one feeling our wrath. The infidels sought to destroy our Caliphate in the Middle East and now our Caliphate has reached their lands.’

Without warning, I reached out and hit him, a blow to the nose that rocked his head back. When he looked at me again, blood was flowing out of his nose and the smile was gone.

‘I’m a reasonable and educated man as well, but if you come to my home and fuck with my people, then I don’t have patience for your bullshit. If you really are of no use to us, then I’ll just cut your throat and throw your body in the gutter. And I hope you don’t believe the crap your Brit friend did about us being soft. I hope I’ve killed enough of your friends for you to not harbour such hopes.’

The smug smile had been replaced by a look of cold hatred. ‘You sit here, pretending to run your army, while all you are doing is postponing your inevitable slaughter. You have no idea what you are up against and what the stakes are.’

I said nothing; I leaned back in my chair, watching him and waiting for him to say more.

‘You think we are here to occupy your airport, take over your neighbourhood and abduct your women? We will do that all anyway, you infidel dog!’

Torture didn’t seem to be necessary. All it took was for us to piss this guy off, so I hit him again, a back-handed slap across his face. ‘Are you done ranting or do you have anything important to say? You’re wasting my time. I have a marriage party to get to.’

His hands were tied in front of him but he lunged at me. I moved to the side and slammed his face down on the table. He screamed as his nose hit the table.

‘Come on, big boy. You’ll find taking me on is a bit tougher than shooting five-year-old boys or raping little girls.’

I pulled him to a sitting position and sat down opposite him again.

‘You don’t look quite as reasonable and educated as you did when your nose wasn’t broken. I wonder how you’ll look when I break one of your hands.’

His face was contorted with rage and pain as he spoke. ‘I have heard them talking. The American devils have destroyed our homeland in a nuclear fire, but we are spreading our Caliphate all over the world. The whole world shall now be ruled by us, as we bring the black flag to every corner of your towns. As we follow our Caliph. You know nothing of what you are facing, kafir! The centre for our new Caliphate is here, from where the Mughals once ruled the greatest Islamic empire the world has seen. The Caliph himself is flying in as we speak, to begin ruling our Caliphate from here. With the mujahid and the weapons that will flow in, and with our brothers who have been in place even before the start of the Great Jihad, your little army will crumble.’

I sat back, stunned by what I had learned. We were not just one front in the war that was being waged across the world. We were at its very epicentre. We were not just facing an outpost of the enemy, but its leadership. The man in front of me was laughing and I hit him again, just to relieve some of the tension that had gripped me after his revelation.

As I got up, Shaikh was there by the door.

‘Well done. Now what? What do you want me to do with this piece of shit?’

‘Unlike the Brit, he’s not likely to sow fear among his friends if we send him back. Also, he’ll tell them we know about the Caliph.’

Shaikh nodded, ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of him. What about the Caliph?’

I remembered news reports from before the Blackout, of how the so-called Caliph had come out of relative obscurity, from being a prisoner in American custody, to leading an army of his warriors in waging a bloody and brutal campaign to establish their Caliphate across the Middle East. If he truly was in Mumbai, they would concentrate even more forces and firepower here and fight even harder, for we were not just resisting their occupation but standing in the way of their very reason for being—setting up their new centre of power.

I motioned for Shaikh to come out of the room before I answered. ‘We need to get this information to the government and the armed forces. The good news is that, if they can launch a strike and take him out, then we’ve cut off the enemy’s head.’

‘What’s the bad news?’

I answered truthfully. ‘If it’s just us against the Caliph and the whole army that will no doubt come in to lead his war, then we have no real chance.’

‘Garuda Three reporting, sir. We have some critical information that we need to share.’

‘Garuda Three, this is Vishnu. Call in five minutes and we will have everyone here.’

Shaikh, Ronald and I spent the next five minutes in silence, wondering if the government would be able to get some air power or troops to us fast. Vishnu was the call sign for the underground bunker where the Prime Minister and top military brass were based and directing all military operations across India.

When Shaikh contacted them again, I heard the Prime Minister’s voice and a few more voices I didn’t recognize. One of them, whom Ronald whispered to me was the Chief of Army Staff, took charge of the discussion and asked us to report what we had learned. Shaikh filled him in on the interrogation and the news of the Caliph being in Mumbai. I could sense that they were as stunned to hear the news as we had been, and there were a few seconds of silence. Finally the Army Chief cleared his throat and, to my surprise, addressed me. ‘Aaditya, can your forces take the airport?’

I had to pause before replying. We had a motley crew of people, almost all of whom had never held a gun before the Blackout. It was one thing to call ourselves the Azad Hind Fauj, to get inspiration from that and to launch limited guerrilla attacks on the enemy, but the answer to the Chief’s question was obvious.

‘Sir, we have close to forty firearms and improvised explosive devices and one RPG, but that will not be enough to take the airport. Our people are not trained or experienced enough to pull that off. They can defend their positions and use ambush and explosives to do so, but attacking the airport will be suicide as we’ll have to go through the approach road with no cover and no armour.’

The General seemed to be tapping his fingers on a desk and the noise carried to us. ‘Right. I appreciate the honesty, Aaditya.’

‘Sir, can’t we launch air strikes?’

‘We’re working on it. There are only a handful of Sukhois that have the range to get there and we need some of them to guard against any flights coming in from the north or east. As you’ve heard, the eastern sector is also active now. But even if we could get a few birds there, there’s no guarantee we’d kill the Caliph. We’d need boots on the ground to ensure that.’

Ronald chipped in. ‘Sir, are there any more trains with troops coming?’

‘We are pulling them together, but we had to divert some to the east to defend Kolkata. Ideally, we should strike fast, while they’re unaware that we are privy to the information that the Caliph is in Mumbai. It would be ideal to get him while he’s at the airport, assuming that is where they are going to set up their headquarters. If he slips out into the city of Mumbai, it’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack.’

Suddenly something struck me and I spoke up. ‘Sir, forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but aren’t we thinking of this in conventional terms which made sense before the Blackout? We’re trying to get big Army columns to the battlefield, we’re waiting to organize air strikes. But look at the people fighting here with me. None of us were soldiers before the Blackout, yet we’re doing what we can. Instead of waiting for a huge Army column to get here, couldn’t we get some forces personnel and all the weapons we can get from Goa? Doesn’t matter if they are pilots, mechanics, guards or sailors. They’ll be much more prepared than the accountants, teachers, maids and office workers who make up our army here. They’ll have far more military training and, even if they carry small arms, we may have the numbers and training to storm the airport while you organize air strikes to take out their heavy weapons.’

Ronald slapped my back. ‘Brilliant! Sir, there are a dozen more MARCOS on missions around Mumbai. We can send word out for them to get here and join the attack. It may not work, but it beats waiting for things beyond our control.’

I could sense hesitation on the other end and I spoke up, more convinced now of my plan after hearing Ronald. ‘Sir, what we lack is long-range marksmanship. A dozen MARCOS could really help pin down the enemy and take out scouts. Once we get close enough, we will fight to the death and make sure there is a toll on the enemy. We know what is at stake.’

They asked for a few minutes to think through the proposal and then the voice that responded was not the Army Chief, but the Prime Minister.

‘Son, you are truly doing justice to the name Azad Hind Fauj, and justifying our faith in you. A lot of us will be counting on you and your forces. As we speak the Chief is co-ordinating with Goa and a team comprising pilots, cooks, mechanics, guards and some military families is going to be leaving soon in two buses. They should take about twelve hours to reach you. We will also try and arrange for air strikes and get the MARCOS to link up with you. May God be with you. Perhaps years from now, when people look back on this war, they will realize just what a turning point this was, and how ordinary Indians made it happen.’