SALIM MUST DIE (31 page)

Rebirth

BARRING THE ESCALATING PAIN THAT HELD IQBAL IN ITS
talons, the return journey was so uneventful that it was almost an anti-climax. The pressure of the field dressing that Tanaz had tied on him had staunched the bleeding quite a bit, but the pain intermittently lanced through the fog of painkillers she had fed him. The tremendous loss of blood had drained his energy. Whenever he floated out of the state of semi-consciousness, he saw Tanaz watching over him.

The sun had begun to recede into the shadows of another night when they reached the turn off for the border crossing that would take them back to India.

‘Turn off the road on the dirt track near that tree,’ Tanaz said. ‘That will take us straight to the hut where we met. Rehmat, your guide, should be waiting there.’

He was. Sami brought the station wagon to a halt near the solitary hut. ‘Give us a few minutes to rig up a stretcher for Iqbal,’ he told Tanaz as he leapt out of the vehicle.

‘I don't think it's a good idea for you to try and attempt the border crossing with him in this state.’ Tanaz's tone was troubled, her anxiety evident. ‘What if his situation worsens on the way? He will not only slow you two down, he may even inadvertently give you away.’

‘We can't leave a buddy behind, Tanaz,’ Tiwathia replied immediately. ‘Don't worry, we will get him across. In any case, how will he manage alone?’

‘He's not alone,’ she retorted sharply. ‘Not unless he wants to be.’

For a very long moment only the crackling, ticking sound of the cooling engine broke the silence. Sami and Tiwathia watched Iqbal exchange a glance with Tanaz. She looked away immediately, her face devoid of expression.

Smart girl! She's going to let him make his own call. That's the way it should always be
. Tiwathia watched with envious admiration.
Everyone should find a soul mate
. He suddenly realized he was holding his breath.

‘No, I am not alone.’ Iqbal finally spoke. ‘In any case, if I stay on this side I can help with the task we have begun,’ he rationalized, more to himself than to them. ‘After all, there will be many more Salims and Cheemas to take the place of the ones we have killed.’

‘True,’ Sami concurred softly. ‘This is going to be a long battle… long and bloody. But it is not just your problem….’

‘It is everybody's problem,’ Iqbal interrupted him. ‘All of us have to act and I, having been through it all, am relatively better poised to contribute something to this fight. In any case, I have much to atone for…’ He looked up. His breath was running short and he was in obvious pain, but there was a firm resolve in his gaze. ‘I will stay here.’

‘He needs a doctor,’ Tiwathia said. ‘And he needs one fast.’

‘I can get him to one,’ Tanaz replied. ‘One who will not ask any questions… one of us. He is less than half an hour away from here.’

‘Where do you guys plan to go?’ Tiwathia asked.

‘To the desert.’ Tanaz pointed to the far distance. ‘I was born and brought up in the desert. I know it well. The sands will hide us.’

The two commandos exchanged a glance. Sami gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. ‘Okay. Take care, then. Tanaz, I suggest you move fast. You have to get him to a doctor before… he is losing a lot of blood.’

‘Don't worry,’ Tanaz reassured them. ‘We only have a few miles to go.’

The two commandos helped to shift Iqbal into the co-driver's seat.

They were walking towards their waiting guide when Iqbal called out weakly, ‘Please tell the Colonel that I'm sorry for what I….’

‘Don't worry about the past, Iqbal.’ Sami turned to face the young man. The haunted expression that had returned to Iqbal's face reached out to him. ‘All of us make mistakes. Very few have the courage to try and redeem themselves. I think you have already atoned for whatever wrongs you may have done. Now it is time for you to put away the past and set yourself free. Go man, your destiny awaits you… wherever you go, whatever you do, may Allah watch over you.’

‘Thank you… thank you very much.’ There was a sharp glint of tears in Iqbal's eyes and his voice broke as he spoke. ‘Tell the Colonel that he can always call on me whenever the need arises. I will not fail him.’ There was an awkward pause as he looked at the Force 22 commandos. ‘In fact, it would be an honour.’ Then he threw an equally awkward salute at them.

The salute was sloppy, but the emotions that came with it were not.

Fighting back the waves of pain, Iqbal turned wordlessly towards Tanaz. She reached out and touched him ever so briefly on his chin. The promise of love and togetherness was nestled warmly in that touch. Then she powered the engine and gunned the vehicle.

The two commandos watched the station wagon race away into the gradually gathering darkness, towards the waiting desert sands.

‘
COME ON! LET'S GO!’ REHMAT GESTURED URGENTLY. ‘WE
have to get across before first light.’

He strode ahead, and Sami and Tiwathia followed. As he walked, Sami pulled out the Motorola mobile phone Tanaz had given him. He quickly keyed in a text message and pressed the send key. He had barely taken five strides when the message-delivered confirmation glowed on the screen.

That's that. The Old Man must have been waiting for this.

Rehmat saw Sami return the phone to his pocket and immediately picked up the pace. Wordlessly, the three men raced through the night towards the safety of the Indian border.

ATTF OPS R
OOM
, N
EW
D
ELHI

ANKITA LOOKED UP FROM HER LAPTOP AS THE TEXT MESSAGE
alert chimed on her phone. Snatching the phone off the table, she clicked open the new, unread message.

‘The party is over. The chief guest has departed. Rehmat is dropping us home in a few hours.’

She felt a wave of relief go through her.

‘What is it?’ Anbu asked, looking at her expectantly, trying to keep the concern off his face, but not quite succeeding. Seated beside him, Rao and Khare looked equally anxious.

‘It's done!’ Ankita couldn't keep the triumph out of her voice, or the smile off her face. ‘They've taken Salim down and are on their way back. They have already linked up with Rehmat at the Extraction Point.’

‘
Yes
!’ Khare punched the air with his fist. The infinitely more composed Anbu and Rao exchanged smiles, though neither could mask his delight.

‘I think you should let the PM know. I am sure he is….’

‘No, Colonel,’ Rao intervened firmly. ‘This is a call that only you can make. It's your boys who have done it… again.’

Anbu gave a brief nod, acknowledging the praise. He reached out and picked up the phone.

‘I am sorry for calling you at this late hour, sir, but I thought you would like to know,’ he said when the PM finally came on the line.’

‘Salim?’

‘Salim is dead, sir.’

‘And your men?’

‘They're on their way out now, sir.’

‘Excellent!’ The PM's voice rang with pleasure. ‘Congratulations, Colonel. Your team has done it again. India is proud of you.’

‘We're just doing our job, sir,’ Anbu murmured.

‘You're very modest, Colonel,’ the PM replied. ‘But the fact remains that this country owes all of you a huge debt of honour. As long as there are people like you to guard our borders, India's enemies will need to beware.’

‘We will always be there, sir.’

There was no doubting the resolve or the quiet assurance in the voice of the Colonel.

Acknowledgements

THIS BOOK WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT THE
tremendous support that I have received from my family over the years.

I must thank my comrades-in-arms in the Indian Armed Forces who were kind enough to ensure that I did not make any major blunders while writing about tactics, weapons and weapon systems. However, I must stress that all technical data used in this book is freely and easily available on the internet and has not been provided to me by any person or persons.

A very special vote of thanks to Karthika V.K. and Nandita Aggarwal for believing in me, keeping me on track, and for giving final shape to this book. And to Neelini Sarkar, Shuka Jain, Amit Sharma and the others at Harper Collins India who helped to make this book possible.

I would also like to thank Dr Chitralekha Khatti and Dr Rajni Saxena for helping me find my way through the jungle of medical jargon and for ensuring that I did not stray too far from the truth in matters medical.

Any errors, factual or technical, that still exist in this book are solely my fault or have been deliberately left in there by me to prevent any misuse of a technology or an idea.

About the Author

An alumnus of La Martiniere College, Lucknow, the National Defence Academy, Pune and the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun, Mukul Deva was commissioned in December 1981 into the Sikh Light Infantry of the Indian Army. He took premature retirement after fifteen years of service, including a decade of active combat duty/ operations in India and overseas. He is now an entrepreneur settled in New Delhi, India. Other books written by him are:

‘Uncannily prescient. Unputdownable.
Salim Must Die
enthrones Deva as the undisputed Master of Thrills’

– Sarthak Dasgupta, film-maker

Praise for
Lashkar

‘An edge-of-the-seat-thriller’

–
The Hindustan Times

‘Exciting… with some action, some introspection, some retrospection… A racy read’

–
The Times of India

‘For the first time, an Indian thriller set in contemporary times… a gripping tale’

–
The Pioneer

‘
Lashkar
tries to make sense of the terror that surrounds our lives’

–
The Hindu

‘Ludlumesque’

–
The Tribune

‘A glance is enough to discover… this is a Tom Clancy on the LOC’

–
Time Out

‘A real page-turner… a riveting read’

–
Business Standard

‘Written with style and panache’

–
Sahara Time

‘A real-life take on how the so-called jehadis are picked up from anonymous Indian streets…
Lashkar
tells many tales with great ease’

–
MetroPlus

‘Lashkar is gripping… racy and visually captivating’

–
Indo Asian News Service

‘Magnificently paced, rich and real in imagery… Deva is a visionary’

– Sarthak Dasgupta, film-maker

First published in India in 2009 by
HarperCollins
Publishers
India

Copyright © Mukul Deva 2009

ISBN: 978-81-7223-819-3

Epub Edition © JULY 2012 ISBN: 9789350294581

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Mukul Deva asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover design: Riti Jain Dhar

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