Operation ‘Fox-Hunt’ (21 page)

A kilometre behind them, the RAW team realised that the vehicles were going exactly in the direction they had hoped. That was a bit of luck. Far above, the geo-stationary satellite beamed live images of the small convoy to the Operations room in Lodhi Road. They followed the vehicles as they stopped and disgorged men into the winter night. An ARC technician called the control room in Israel and requested that the quarry be continued to be tracked closely. The cameras changed to higher infrared resolution as they tracked a group of men forming a single file and slowly moving towards the border. The DG-Security, watching the action live, picked up the phone and called the radio operator in touch with the Special Group (SG) unit on ground. “It’s a Go, I repeat, it’s a Go.” The radio operator spoke into his headset.

In the forward post of the BSF Major Tenzig’s radio operator took the message and passed it on to his boss. Tenzig quickly moved back to a room where the BSF men, his second in command and the pilots were waiting.

“The operation is now on.” On cue, the pilots moved towards their choppers, while the BSF and SFF troopers quickly moved
to assembly points. As the helicopter rotors started gaining speed, the troops filed out into designated choppers. The five scouts who would shadow the terrorists were on the first chopper. They would be guided by the satellite images being beamed into the Operations room until they established visual contact. Then they would shadow the terrorist force while guiding their own comrades and informing them of any changes in the expected path or change in the number of terrorists until they walked into the ambush. Jungle-trained and light on their feet, the men were silent to the core. Even the weapons they carried were in rubber padding to avoid the noise of metal clinking or glinting. Once Tenzig and his men sprang the ambush, the scouts would open up and close in on the escape route from the planned direction.

Few kilometres away, a BSF Quick Reaction Team mounted their Tata 207 pickups and Mahindra Jeeps as they prepared to lay the cordon around the operation area and secure the designated landing point or LP.

It was 0100 hours on 16 December when Hamza’s men emerged from the claustrophobic tunnel and stepped on Indian soil. It had been the stuff of nightmares. The men had to crawl on their bellies for almost 500 metres. The tunnel had two halfway points where a man could sit up and rest. The air had been stale and it had taken them almost an hour to cross the wretched tunnel. “Sar Zameen-e-Hindustan, As Salaamu Alaykum!” Hamza quipped as his men fell into formation. They gathered around for a quick briefing and weapons check. From its position in the orbit, CARTOSAT II was able to pick up a large mass of infrared radiation. Its ultra-sensitive infrared camera zoomed in. Team Rashid was back in the limelight.

In the control room in Israel and the Operations room at Lodhi Road, the teams gave out a collective sigh of relief. For
almost thirty minutes, the entire lot was in a tizzy as the satellite scanned a radius of five kilometres to find the men who had suddenly disappeared underground. The surveillance agents had sneaked upon the parked cars and observed that six men were missing from the convoy which was now embarking on a journey back. After the trucks had left, they had tried to trace where the men had disappeared into the night. It took them twenty minutes to realise that they had gone into a thicket and were slowly lining up to enter a well-type hole in the ground guarded by beefy thugs with AK-47s and Chinese-made knock offs of the HK rifle. The agents had quickly radioed back the information and the same had been relayed to the Operations room. The DG-Security had then asked the technicians to reduce the zoom of the satellite’s infra-red camera and scan for the points at which the terrorists could emerge. It had been a tense hour. The loudspeaker attached to the radio from the field crackled as Tenzig’s clear voice filled the room, “The ambush will be laid five kilometres in on our side of the jungle, around a kilometre from the road head where the terrorists are supposed to mount a vehicle. The BSF field intelligence reports that the TATA 407 truck usually rented by Basharat’s gang is now on the state highway near the border. It has left the village only ten minutes back and calculating the distance, road features and speed of the truck, we are sure that it is heading towards the pickup which has been used by this lot before. So the ambush is pretty certain to succeed. Also our scouts will pick up their tracks in the next one hour. Their chopper has already taken off, we are now boarding our choppers,” Tenzig reported.

“What time do you expect the encounter to take place?” DG-Security enquired.

“Around 0100 hours, sir.”

“Remember, Major, no survivors, but I want the bodies to be brought back. Over.”

“Roger that, Sir, over and out,” Tenzig had to shout over whine of the Dhruv’s Turbomeca TM 333-2B2 jet engine. He need not have bothered; the DG-Security was already on another call to Mumbai.

Mumbai, 16 December: 0100 hours

It was the call Sanjay was waiting for. The terrorists had just crossed the border into India from Bangladesh. Sanjay disconnected the DG-Security’s call and connected with JCP Javed.

“We are on,” he informed him of the situation on the Bangladesh border.

“I will get my men to cordon off the area so that the Rangers can get down to business,” Javed said referring to the SRG team.

Sanjay agreed and quickly turned his attention to the Rangers and SAG men. Javed then called in his men and informed the Chief Minister. Almost simultaneously, the F1 team got into their cars and took up positions as per the briefing earlier. Javed also asked the DCP Traffic, head of the city’s traffic police to ensure that traffic is moved away from the action zone and the buildings isolated from civilian interference. The Deputy Commissioner of Police (DCP-Traffic), Rupesh Adhikari, was a thoroughly irritated individual. He had been ordered to stay on duty as a police-military anti-terrorist exercise was in progress in Sanjay Gandhi National Park and that he needed to be at hand. The DCP assured him that at this time of the morning, it would not be a problem.

“Listen Rupesh, this is the real thing, could be as big as 26/11. Make sure your men understand it, okay?” Javed warned him. Rupesh was not surprised; Javed’s call at 0100 hours had convinced him something more serious than an ‘exercise’ was in
progress. He was at the junction of the Eastern Express Highway and the Mahindra Factory as Javed’s Scorpio roared past with other two Jeeps on their way to the Thakur Village.

In Sanjay Gandhi National Park, the Rangers and the SAG commandos mounted the Swaraj Mazda wagons provided by the Maharashtra police; a police escort of a gypsy and outriders took position at the front end of the convoy. Both Sukhjeet and Thapa got into an armoured jeep, a vehicle inducted into F1 after the 26/11 attack. The entourage sped across the national park and reached the main road. The pilots switched on their sirens and the vehicles zipped at top speed through the city’s deserted roads. “Never seen Mumbai streets so empty,” Sanjay shouted over the sound of sirens to Thapa. Thapa grinned and nodded back.

The taxi was stopped by a traffic policeman, “What seems to be the trouble, driver?” asked the passenger. “VIP movement or something bigger,” answered the driver as he manoeuvred the rickety old Suzuki van away from the policeman.

“Don’t worry; I will get you to the apartment from the other side. There is a road which passes by the Sanjay Gandhi National Park.” The passenger looked at the road block with some professional interest. He noticed a man with an M4 carbine get into one of the cars. That’s not standard-issue police weapon, he thought to himself. Adil Khan had travelled from Pune in a luxury bus. Along with another man, he had spent the entire day checking and re-checking equipment and weapons for tomorrow’s operation. As planned, he was here to drive the operation team to the farmhouse in Pune. Adil had been deployed in India a few years back. A logistics man, he had arranged for explosives used in the Pune bomb blast a couple of years back. As an illegal agent in an enemy country, he had developed strong instincts. As the driver took a detour, he paid attention to the road and everything around it. Suddenly he heard the piercing
wail of police sirens. The driver pulled over as a convoy of police vehicles sped by. In an instant Adil knew that this was not a VIP convoy. As the vehicles passed him by, he had noticed that one of the vehicles was an armoured Scorpio, used by the local commando force. And he had seen that the men in the truck were wearing helmets not worn by the police. The driver was back on the road. He realised that despite the slower speed of his cab, the siren could still be heard; they were travelling in the same direction. Adil thought for a moment. What were the chances that an Indian commando unit and a special action squad of ISI were in the same five kilometre radius? None! He shook his head as he thought to himself. He had been given a mobile number to contact in case he was held up and could not reach the address. But first he had to take care of the taxi driver. “How much further?” he asked the driver as he reached into a duffel bag at his feet. It had a pistol and three grenades. He also had an AKSU, a stub-nosed Russian sub machine gun.

As soon as the convoy neared the apartment block, the pilot vehicles peeled away and the sirens were switched off; a road block set-up by F1 allowed only the commando vehicles to go through. The Rangers quickly jumped out and rushed to their postions, the SAG to assembly point. All this was being done quietly. Simultaneously, F1 men ran up and deployed in pairs on every floor of the three buildings except the ‘target’ floor. This was to ensure that none of the civilians walked into a fire fight; at the same time, if required, they could be evacuated.

The SAG men checked and rechecked equipment and awaited orders. Sanjay had walked into the empty flat being used as a control room. “Why didn’t you disconnect the lights?” he asked Javed. “This is Mumbai; power failure here is almost unheard of. If I pulled the plug, every uncle and aunty in this building would have come out of their house. Also our friends are watching TV; I
don’t want to disturb them. We have switched off parameter and lobby lights, so your men can’t be seen.” He looked around, the advance force of Rangers and F1 men had created a small control room. Three large-screen TVs beamed in pictures from different parts of the complex. Radio contact had been established among the team and a loudspeaker was used to monitor the chatter. Thapa and Sukhjeet were coordinating with their teams and the base. A direct line had been patched through to the South Block in Delhi, where a Crisis Management Center (CMC) was in session. They could see and hear the same images that the control room could. The NSA and the Home Minister along with key staff were present. They were also monitoring the activities on Bangladesh border.

Indo-Bangladesh Border, Operation Area: 0230 hours

Tenzig’s men got off the chopper and took their positions for the ambush. The night was moonless and they could hear cries of wild animals in the jungle. The chopper had dropped them and taken off. Tenzig’s scouts had visual contact with the enemy and they were expected to walk into the trap in an hour. The men were ready.

The BSF men had put a cordon and a patrol moved out to the point where the TATA 407 was expected. Contact had been established with a police Gypsy tailing the truck. Half a kilometre away, a BSF team set-up mortars to give extra support if required. In a pitched tent, the local police chief and the DIG of the BSF established a control point. A link was patched through to the CMC.

Hamza and his men had now been walking for close to thirty minutes. The winter chill was uncomfortable but bearable, the jungle was not. It was hellish. The men had taken a break to pee and then started the march again.

“Bastards… hurry up, this is not a college picnic…” he yelled when he saw one of the HUJI escorts lighting up and slacking in speed. He hated this behaviour.

“How much longer?” he asked Mehboob.

“Fifteen minutes,” came the reply.

The scouts could hear the conversation as the column moved through the jungle.

High above, the satellite beamed the infrared image to the CMC in Delhi.

15

Crisis Management Centre (CMC), South Block, New Delhi: 0230 hours

T
he Prime Minister and the National Security Advisor huddled over the screens as they monitored the action along with the Home and Defence Ministers. The Chief Minister of Maharashtra was also monitoring the action from his office. An IG from the SFF was manning the command console. The Secretary-R, Director General NSG, Director General-Security, the Director General-BSF and the Army Chief watched the action.

The Defence Minister had just apprised the PM in person about the movement of Pakistan’s 22nd Independent Artillery Brigade; the famous nuclear-armed unit of the Pakistani Army to its operational position. He was a worried man. This operation had to succeed and they could not advertise the success.

Suddenly a voice boomed above the general radio chatter, “Action stations, action stations…we have a breach of parameter…” PM looked at the startled group. The voice was coming from the Mumbai transmitter hooked on to the loudspeaker. The IG from the SFF spoke into the transmitter.