Authors: AJAY
Camcorder
A young woman boarded a yacht at Dubai Marina Yacht Club Canal. She was allowed only her purse and a cell phone while she had to undergo a strict security check. She checked into her room in the lower deck and waited.
Even though no one had boarded the yacht except two security personnel guarding it at the pier, she had to tread very cautiously.
Her voice trembled when an FBI Agent called her, instructing her to retrieve the camera from the small fishing net, hooked to the fiberglass hull. She quickly erased the incoming call number and moved to the intended location.
Wiping away the cold sweat from her hands, she pulled out the rope attached to the fishing net, retrieved the camcorder and moved towards the conference room. She shuddered to think what would become of her if she were caught. Those men would tie the heavy anchor around her neck and let her find a silent place in the abyssal depths of the ocean.
She entered the conference room to find a central location above the conference table for mounting the camcorder. A French chandelier hung above the table. Unable to find a proper location, she moved to a corner to carry out her work.
She pulled out her lipstick and turned the bottom knob to exactly match the 3 O' clock position. A knife popped out from the tube. She cut a small piece of the wooden panelling of the roof and placed the camcorder inside. Only a tiny aperture lens, connected with the night-shot enabled camcorder, peeped out from the tiny hole, almost invisible to the naked eye and ready to capture everything happening at the conference table. Its wide-angle lens and variable aperture could be panned and zoomed remotely from another room.
She turned the lipstick knob in the opposite direction. The lipstick turned into glue. Even though she applied the glue with finesse to fix the wooden panel, she was not sure that anyone could identify the difference between the tampered and the adjacent panels.
To reassure herself that no one could pinpoint the difference, she applied the age-old technique. She shut her eyes tightly and randomly followed a zigzag path and moved in a circular motion. She went to each corner to identify the cut panel. She could not make out any difference.
Finally, she somehow connected an HDMI connection to her Blue Ray Disk Roaster.
Custody
On the Breaking
News'
segment of every channel in India, Juhi watched Aban's helplessness before the media, "
The Hindustāni agencies are trying to fix me. I'm innocent. This is a deliberate set up against all Pakistan nationals
."
On the other side of the globe, the Chief of the Cabin Crew of the Air India flight continued with the mandatory announcements while the aircraft taxied to the runway. The aircraft took off from the JFK airport and Aban closed his eyes.
The Mumbai Police took custody of Aban when he arrived at CST, the international airport terminal of Mumbai. They produced him before the Special Anti-terror Court, which remanded Aban to the police custody of the Mumbai Crime Branch for fourteen days of custodial interrogation to discover his links with the masterminds of the Mumbai attacks.
Siddhartha reached Mumbai and briefed the Police Commissioner about Aban and handed over a confidential memo to the Police Commissioner. The Police Commissioner, in turn, asked the investigator Crime Branch to hand over a copy of the case records to the IB.
After fourteen days, the Police produced Aban in court. The media, which had gathered outside in large numbers, was not allowed to witness the court proceedings. The court started the in-camera hearing. Before the judge, Aban's lawyer vehemently pointed out that no case could be made out against Aban since there was not even an iota of evidence, which pointed to his involvement in the Mumbai attack.
When the judge asked the prosecution to file the evidence to the contrary, it failed.
The court set Aban free, stating that the arrest was made on the basis of exaggerated hearsay.
When Aban came out of the court premises, the waiting media surrounded him. One of the reporters jumped out of the barricade put up by the police. His cameraman focused on the man of the moment, "Is it true, Mr. Aban Malik, that you made a call to Mumbai on the day of Mumbai attack?"
"Yes."
"Did you talk to someone who was in the Taj Mahal Hotel?"
Aban nodded.
"Can you tell the name of the person?"
"No."
"Were you in touch with one of the terrorists?"Another newshound jumped in.
"I'll not react to your rhetorical questions."
"Why?"
"I've disclosed the facts before the court."
At this point, Aban's lawyer cut in. "My client reserves the right not to respond. If you want an answer, get the certified copy from the court."
The Police whisked Aban away. Siddhartha was waiting. "You'll have to go to Delhi,"he said.
"Why?"
"As per the procedure, the Indian authority can hand you over only to the High Commission of Pakistan. Someone from your family or any acquaintance, who can produce valid credentials, will be required to identify you before the First Secretary. After that the High Commission will take your custody as a Pakistani National."
"Who will visit India to identify me?"Aban wondered. "The Indian High Commission in Pakistan will never give a visa to our family members."
"Don't worry. I'll do something. Someone will definitely come for identification. After the formality, you can go back home. But you'll have to wait till tomorrow when your lawyer gets the certified copy of the court order."
Aban nodded and Siddhartha left in another car.
The next day, a Mumbai police officer escorted Aban to Delhi. The High Commissioner of Pakistan was furious with the treatment meted out to Aban. He lodged a formal protest with the Ministry of External Affairs, which promised to look into the matter. A man from Nemogram visited the Pakistani High Commission office in New Delhi and identified Aban. Aban tried to recognize the man, but could not. The man signed on the papers and left.
The man contacted Siddhartha Rana from the garden outside the High Commission. He wanted to accompany Aban to Lahore, but Siddhartha Rana strongly advised against it, stating that it would be too dangerous.
The man quickly left the High Commission office and went straightway to Indira Gandhi International Airport. He booked a ticket on Air Emirates to Peshawar via Dubai.
The High Commission arranged for a ticket for Aban, who reached Allama Iqbal International Airport, Lahore two days later. The Pakistani media contingent was eagerly waiting for him. They needed to cover the story of the atrocities carried out by
Hindustāni
agencies on an innocent Pakistani citizen.
When Aban reached home, he was due for another shock. Nausheen had not come out of the grief of the loss of her husband. She would occasionally sit in some corner of the house, staring blankly at the wall for hours. When Aban hugged her, one evening the dam holding back her tears burst.
She would not let Aban out of her sight even for a moment. Even if Aban wanted to go to the backyard, she would beg him to come back, fearing that gunmen would bring him down as they had his father.
Aban took her to the doctor, but the treatment did not alleviate the condition much. Nausheen was becoming more and more possessive of her only son. She could not afford to lose him.
Each day was getting tougher for Aban too. He had repeatedly watched the video recording of his father bending on his knees, praying to Allah, his wrists tied up, head covered with a black cloth and the sound of AK-47s resounding in the valley. His eyes always stopped at the scene where his father's hand shook violently, scratching his right thigh. He knew from childhood that when his father was under tremendous pressure, he instinctively reached for his thigh. As a child, Aban used to be frightened of that sight, but had slowly learnt to leave his father alone whenever it happened.
***
Aban could see in his mind's eye the trauma his father would have faced before the bullet tore into his body. The horrible incident would not leave Aban even in his sleep. In his dream, it would repeat itself every night and Aban would wake up in a cold sweat when the dream ended with the sound of bullets.
He tried to investigate why his father's body was never found, but whenever he asked the Police and the ISI, they gave the same answer that they could not identify the exact location. When Aban pointed out that the location could be matched to the Buddhist Monasteries in the background of a swelling runnel, pat came the Police reply, "Will a body still be floating in the water after so many months?"
To this argument, Aban had no counter-argument, and the questions remained. "Why would someone kill him? What did his father do to have been deprived of his life in such a gruesome manner?"There was nothing that Aban could do except seek the truth.
He rummaged around every corner of his home including his father's study to find some clue. He read his father's letters, emails and diaries, but could not get any lead. The image file of Túpac Amaru II always mocked him. He tried several combinations to open the file, but could not.
"Was he killed because of this image file?"There was no one to resolve his conflicts, "Where are those four images? How will those mysterious images unlock the password?"
Yacht
An eighty-six feet
VIP Yacht sailed from the Dubai Marina Yacht Club Canal. Even though the Gulf Craft brand of the luxury yacht was fitted with laser lights, a DVD player, satellite television connection, iPod docks and LS V10 Bose Music system; Hussein Pharma, while booking the Yacht, demanded a Blue-ray-disk player and a powerful Mac Pro to be made available to its distinguished guests.
Although Shalim Amār Khan did not approve of the presence of any unknown person, Hussein Pharma had acceded to the request of its Indian guests and arranged for a few pretty women. One of the women boarded the yacht in the early morning to oversee the arrangements, the others followed after a few hours. They could rest for some time in the three lower deck cabins reserved for them, later they would have to get ready for the show. The smouldering barbecue grill and the cold vintage wine created a contrasting atmosphere.
After departing from Marina Beach, the yacht sailed towards Atlantis the Palm. The Captain steered to port and the yacht responded to the command. It pitched in the northwest direction towards the open blue briny deep. Within half an hour, it cruised beyond the territorial water limits of the UAE and anchored in the international waters of the Persian Gulf.
Three speedboats docked with the yacht one after another. The boats dropped off the passengers, turned back and faded away into the horizon within minutes.
Sundaram Iyer went inside a small cabin on the upper deck to meet another person. Shalim Amār smiled at the guest. Sundaram was friendly, "Welcome aboard, Shalim Saheb."
Shalim Amār got straight to the point. He asked Sundaram to provide him with the minutest details of the Deputy Commandant of the dam: his way of dressing, the way he walked, what his voice sounded like softly or when he shouted in a harsh tone, details about his family members, their lineage, details about his dog or other pets, his likes and dislikes and anything else that anyone could imagine.
"I will get his 360 degree profiling done. I'll also tell my contact to prepare a DVD and send it to you."
"No need for that. It is dangerous. Just pay him a courtesy call and befriend him. Visit his home. Stay in the small town for a few days. Everyone relishes a nice meal, but opens up only after a few drinks. And, I know how much you love drinking all night. But for heaven's sake, you control your craving at least for a few days in his company. Let him take your place. So, you drink less and watch more. If you follow this, you will have everything you ever desired."
Sundaram Iyer nodded and turned his eyes when he heard the footsteps of other persons joining them in the room. Somashekhar Reddy looked exhausted since he had had to undertake a quick tour of the dam site and board the flight to Dubai the very next day.
"It was tough to come all the way from the dam to this awesome ocean?"Sundaram Iyer laughed.
"Still it's tempting when so many gorgeous women are around,"Somashekhar Rao grinned.
No one noticed when Saeed al-Masri stepped inside the room and overheard them. "Let's get down to brass tacks,"The usually calm Saeed al-Masri could not hide his ire.
A lull came over the room, as no one dared say anything before the first in hierarchy of the financial wing of the al Qaeda. al-Masri, on the other hand, looked a little ill at ease in the presence of an unknown man. He turned to Sundaram Iyer, "Will you introduce our new friend?"
"He is part of our team and will play a major role on the day of deliverance."Sundaram Iyer smiled, "He is Shalim Amār Khan."Sundaram Iyer went on to explain his role.
"Welcome to our world, Amār Bhai."Al-Masri was all heart. He then turned to Somashekhar Rao, "Can you tell us about your simulation?"
"Let's go to the conference room. We've set up the equipment in that room."
"Why not here?"A tiny doubt crept in al-Masri's mind. "Anyway switch off all the lights in the conference room."
"Why?"
"After living for many years in pitch-dark caves, I'm more at ease in dark surroundings."
Somashekhar Rao pulled out a Blue Ray disk and loaded it into the player. "Before I start the simulation, let me tell you a little bit about it."
Al-Masri approved and Somashekhar continued, "We all know that if a water body is bound from all sides, it has a definite characteristic of natural vibration. To understand it in a better way, I visited the Mount Olympus water park in Wisconsin Dells, USA, which is known to be the Water Park Capital of the World. It gave me insight into how walls of waves of more than nine feet could be created with very little energy. I went to the park's Poseidon's Rage, where I met the operator. He showed me four air jet-pumps, which release compressed air every ninety seconds to bring up a new wall of water. I requested him to puff out the compressed air after an interval of seven seconds just to see what happened. I paid him a bit and he obliged."
"Why seven seconds interval?"al-Masri interjected.
"I calculated the area of the surf pool and evaluated how much time the first wave would take to travel to the far end and come back to its original position. It was exactly seven seconds. When the compressed air pushes the incoming wave at the precise interval, the nine feet waterfront became thirteen feet. The third release elevated the wall to twenty seven feet."
"Hold on. The nine feet wall rose by four feet only in the second burst, but the third gust raised it by another fourteen feet. How is that possible?"
"This happened because the third surge synchronized with the frequency of the pool. The resonance of the pool took it to that high level."
"What will happen if you fire the fourth burst?"
"That will break up the height of the water wall."
"Why?"
"Because that will kill the resonance of the pool and water."
Al-Masri smiled in appreciation. "How can you do this to a very big pool?"
"Oh! You mean the big lakes? Once we determine the exact contours of the water body, we calculate how much time it will take for a wave to travel from one front to another and return. If we amplify the oscillating wave, the same effect will occur."
"Can you do this to the biggest manmade lake?"
"The world's largest manmade reservoir is Lake Kariba in Africa. The water volume is more than one hundred and fifty quintillion gallons. It would be almost impossible to make that enormous volume of water to sway back and forth in simple harmonic motion."
"Then what type of inland water body is suitable?"
"Any backwater storage, which rests in a deep canyon and holds just the optimum amount of water."
Al-Masri nodded. However, he still had his doubts. "Has it ever happened in reality that waves have been created by the resonance of the pool, in the way you have described?"
"Not exactly. But every reservoir, bay and sea is affected by seiche."
"What is seiche?"
"Though imperceptible to the naked eye, a standing wave of extremely long wavelength oscillates to and fro in an enclosed water mass. This is a seiche. The time period of oscillation depends on the length and depth of the body of the water. For a bigger but shallower lake, the time period may be hours. But, if the lake is deep, the time period is a few minutes only."
"How tall is the water front?"
"It's not more than a few feet in a large lake."
"A few feet will do nothing,"al-Masri was getting fidgety, "Seiche is good for nothing. It won't even move a stone."
"What if the seiche amplifies to a wall of several hundred feet?"
"How will you do that?"
"I'll show you in the simulation."Somashekhar Rao smiled and leaned to press the play button of the disk player.