Authors: AJAY
FBI at JFK
Suite 241, Building
75 at JFK International Airport, New York is a busy office of the FBI Resident Agency. Special Agent Robert McLean received hundreds of requests from all over the globe every day. An untiring man and ever willing to oblige, he had earned rave reviews from intelligence agencies around the world. His penchant for anonymity had made his task easier.
Robert Mclean stood glued to the television, absorbing every detail of the Mumbai attack. His uncanny ability to analyse a complex situation was set in motion. He firmly believed that learning the tricks, tacks and tactics from one's opponent and using the same stratagems, plot and strategies against the opponent was a truly successful way of conducting a counter-terrorist operation. His mantra was to turn the tables on the perpetrators through the perpetrators themselves.
The same afternoon, Robert McLean got a call from Siddhartha Rana. In the past, both of them had coordinated to solve transnational crimes. Siddhartha Rana gave him the telephone number of Aban Shah Malik and asked Robert McLean to get Aban's complete profile from the FBI database and also do a background check at Cornell. "Aban is travelling by the PIA flight from Lahore tomorrow and will be landing at Terminal-4,"said Siddhartha.
"Don't worry, Sid. My agent will tail him and try to find if he has something interesting up his sleeve."Robert McLean was prompt as usual.
"That won't be easy. He will be meeting the daughter of the Indian Ambassador. If she accompanies him, you need to watch out for diplomatic protocol."
"Our airports officers frisk even cabinet ministers, if it's a question of our national security. The children of diplomats hardly enjoy any privilege."
"Try to keep things as low key as possible. It would be good if it's an undercover operation."
"Wait a minute, Sid. For an undercover operation, I'll need a formal official request from your government."
"I'm stuck in Mumbai and so it won't be possible for me to go to Delhi and get formalities done."
"I understand, but I can't be of much assistance. We cannot carry out any undercover operation unless we have sufficient reasons to justify it. If our congressional representatives and senators, so much as sense something, they will simply go public and attack us. In addition, all the hard work of a dedicated officer will go up in smoke since these politicians will earn free brownie points. Moreover, the media has been hounding American agencies after the Guantanamo Bay exposé. I'm sorry, Sid. I can't act on a mere oral request."
"Even if a Pakistani has something interesting in his MacBook, Bob?"Siddhartha put a bug in Robert McLean's ear while he went on to explain everything he knew.
"Got it!", said Robert succinctly. The operation was on.
Crematorium
The Additional Inspector
General of CISF was put on the pyre at
Antim Niwas
, a crematorium in Noida. A few days later, his wife went to Block No. 13 in CGO Complex at Lodhi Road, New Delhi to call on the Director General of CISF and tell him everything her husband had told her just before he had been shot dead.
When she had left, the DG was lost in thought. "How could the AIG know about the Pakistani Project Karachi?"However, the DG could not make out anything of the phrase 'Tupac-II'. For him it was '
To Pak To'
, with no meaning at all.
Another problem was the incomplete name of an Indian Agent, whose name started with Sun… which could have been anything; first name: Sunand, Sunay, Sunder, Sunil, Suneet, Sundri, Suneeti, Sunita… or last name: Sundaray, Sunitha… He tried his best to untangle the threads, but was at his wits' end because he did not even know whether the person was male or female. '
The Indian agent of the Pakistani Jihadists is Sun…"
kept ringing in his ears. When he could not make any more headway, he rang up the Director of IB and told him everything he knew.
The Laptop
Air India Flight
AI 101 landed at Terminal T-4 of JFK in the afternoon. A tired, but radiant Juhi completed the formalities at the Customs and Border Protection special desk, which dealt with the diplomatic Red Passport.
Juhi then walked towards a retail shop 'New York Fashion'. She picked up a pair of dazzling Zegna Centennial limited edition cufflinks for Aban and proceeded to the Maharaja Lounge. There, she sank into the sofa and sipped hot coffee as she waited.
Pakistan International Airlines Flight No PK 711 landed two hours later. US Custom and Border Protection cleared Aban. When he crossed the Homeland Security barrier, an FBI officer flashed his identity card at him and whisked him into the lounge, where Agent Robert Mclean was waiting in anticipation.
Robert McLean politely asked Aban to boot his MacBook. Aban obeyed the order. The operating system booted and asked for the username and password before logging-in. Aban entered the username Imran Shah Malik and stopped dead.
"Enter the password."Robert demanded.
"I don't know it."
"Why?"
"Only my father knows it."
"Whose MacBook is this?"
"Mine."
"How does your father have knowledge of the password of your MacBook while you claim you are unaware?"
Aban tried to clarify, but Robert McLean was unwilling to listen. The last thing that Robert McLean was willing to do was to trust a young Pakistani, carrying a MacBook, unable to feed in his own password. He asked Aban to follow him to his office. Aban requested Robert McLean to allow him to make a call before he left. Robert McLean took a deep breath and nodded. Aban called Juhi.
Juhi was perplexed by the sudden turn of events. She quickly explained the situation to her lawyer, who advised her to be patient and bide her time until the FBI divulged exactly what they wanted. When Juhi reached the FBI Residency Office, she found Aban signing some papers and handing them over to an agent. She expressed her desire to meet the Agent, but the officer stopped her and instructed her to wait in the adjoining chamber.
Robert started interrogating Aban, "Where did you purchase this MacBook?"
"From eBay."
"When?"
"A year back."
"Where do you go to college?"
"Cornell School of Civil and Environmental Engineering."
"Graduate or undergraduate?"
"Graduate."
"What's your area of specialization?"
"Environmental and Water Resources Systems Engineering."
"Something to do with city water supply."
"A bit more than that. My research papers are about the environmental impact of big dams."Aban sighed heavily.
"When are you submitting your research paper?"
"Before Christmas."
"Is your work complete?"
"No."
"How much of your research work is still to be finished?"
Aban brooded for a while, "More than half."
"Is this vacation time in your school?"
"No."
"Why did you go to Lahore?"
"My mother wanted me to visit her."
"Why?"
"She said she was feeling lonely."
"So you went to Lahore to make your mother happy."
"Yes."
"Tell me the password."
"I don't know."
"Mr. Malik, your story is complete trash. You say you bought this MacBook through eBay and logically you must have the data of your research paper in it. And you say you don't know the password."
Aban kept absolutely mum, as he saw no point in arguing with the officer. The officer continued, "You have to submit your research paper before Christmas and your school is not closed for vacation. Still you are jockeying around in Lahore. You don't inspire any confidence, Mr. Malik."
Robert McLean recorded Aban's statement and declared, "You are under arrest."
When Robert McLean came out of his room, Juhi hurried up to him, "Sir, can you tell me what's going on?"
"The matter is serious. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything right now."
"I know Aban. He is a simple guy."
"This is a matter of national security and I suggest you leave this place now."
Juhi came out, but decided to wait around the Residency office instead of leaving the terminal. After a while, Aban, handcuffed, and accompanied by Robert McLean and two other officers came out of the room. His eyes met Juhi's fleetingly. Juhi's blue eyes remained fixed on Aban, who walked slowly as the officer exited the JFK terminal.
Juhi could barely hold back her tears when she dialled her father's number.
"Where are you, my little doll?"The delighted Ambassador was quite over the moon.
"At the airport."
"Why? Your flight landed four hours back."
"I'm in love with a boy, dad."
"Great! That's wonderful, my little bird. Is he the reason for you being tied down at the airport?"
"Yes."
"Oh! Come home quickly and bring him along, so that your mind is not stuck with him while you are here."
"Dad…"
"Is the boy with you?"
"The FBI has arrested him."
The Intelligence Bureau
Operation Black Tornado
finished when the last terrorist was shot down at the Taj Mahal Hotel, Mumbai. The terrorists had massacred one hundred and seventy three people, ruthlessly bumped off three senior police officers of the Mumbai ATS, cold-bloodedly shot dead a Major of the NSG and liquidated dozens of cops and commandos. More than three hundred people were grievously injured. Many battled for life while a few became incapacitated for life. A few lucky ones got away with simple first aid.
They had inflicted an eternal everlasting wound on the vibrant city, something that would bleed for a long, long time.
Siddhartha Rana went to Delhi to brief the Director of IB about all the leads pertaining to the Mumbai attack. When he mentioned that the FBI wanted to interrogate Juhi, the Director became uncomfortable. "You shouldn't have got the daughter of our Ambassador involved."
"I agree, sir. I told Robert to leave her alone. But he doesn't seem to have ears."
"What is making him so hard-nosed?"
"He says Juhi claims to be the girlfriend of Aban. On the day of the Mumbai attack, she was in the rooftop restaurant of the Hotel Taj Mahal. She managed to escape without so much as a scratch, when others even from the second and third floor, could not make it. As soon as she came out of the hotel, a Pakistani national called her on her cell phone. They have arrested the same caller, Aban Malik. According to Robert, the whole series of events is like smoke and mirror, raising sufficient suspicion in the minds of the FBI."Siddhartha went on to explain everything he had heard from Robert McLean.
"Any lead on his father, Imran Shah Malik?"
"He's disappeared."
"How could he?"The Director appeared upset with the recent setbacks. "We asked R&AW to provide us with his complete profile. Have we managed to get hold of his computer ip addresses? Didn't their agent in Lahore gather information regarding all his recent activity? What of the bugs planted in his house? I have instructed our agents at Lahore to shadow him all the time. Still he escaped? Quite surprising!"
He instructed Siddhartha Rana, "Get in touch with Sundaram Iyer and ask him if he can throw some light on all this. I know the Director of the CBI had assigned a related case to him two years back. However, the CBI closed the matter. Try to find out the reason."
"I'm sorry sir, but I think the IB should examine the case on its own without attracting the attention of others."
"Why?"
"Luckily, we got a small opening when Mr. Malik talked with his son on his car phone."Siddhartha put in plain words everything he knew and then continued, "However, we still don't know what's in his computer. And, for the time being, I don't want to share the contents of the computer with any other agency."
The Director sighed. He raised his eyebrow and directed, "Then, Mr. Rana, I want you to take up the entire case, bunch everything up and try to get something out of it."
"Sir!"
"I'll have to talk to the Foreign Secretary regarding Juhi and also to Ambassador Shergill. Otherwise, it might escalate into a diplomatic disaster."
"Indeed, sir. I have a nagging feeling that there is more to the Mumbai attack than meets the eye. We need to act, or else we will never know what's brewing in Pakistan."
"What do you suggest?"
"I'll have to go to the US"
"Not now. There is one more puzzle."The Director gave an account of every detail to Siddhartha: about the bumping off of the AIG of the CISF, the indecipherable name of a person's name starting with 'Sun… ' and some bizarre phrase '
To Pak To'
.
Siddhartha came out of the Director's office and went to his room. The truth, it appeared was hidden behind several manifestations of falsehood.
Wandering
Imran Shah Malik
wandered all over Pakistan and travelled to India a few times. He deliberately steered clear of everyone except his enigmatic brother, who, one day showed up in front of Imran, unannounced.
Imran's brother assured him that the Government of Pakistan or ISI had no role in the shootout. Surprisingly, both LeT and al Qaeda had expressed complete ignorance of any happening of this sort too. So, Imran's enemy still remained a mystery.
His brother also suggested that Imran remain in hiding for a few weeks until the matter settled down. Although Imran's brother was aware of Aban's arrest, he did not disclose it, thinking Imran might end up doing something that would endanger his own life as well as Aban's. He wanted to work out a solution on his own.
Imran Shah Malik was himself preoccupied, as he had to tie up a crucial loose end. He had not instructed Aban to securely erase the file from his computer when he had told him to make a backup of his computer.
Imran wrote a letter to Nausheen, mentioning that it would take a few days more before he could visit home. He mentioned a date and a time late at night, when Nausheen was to power on the computer and connect it to the Internet through Apple Airport Extreme Base Station, which was highly secured by a WPA2 Enterprise wireless security.
Imran's brother, disguised himself as the regular milkman, and visited Nausheen's home in Lahore. He handed over the letter. Both talked briefly and the 'milkman' left.
On the date mentioned in the letter, Nausheen powered on the computer and switched on the Base Station. The computer booted and demanded a password. As soon as she keyed-in the alphanumeric code, the computer screen came alive. She turned on the Wi-Fi connection.
Far away, in the Business Centre of Karachi Sheraton Hotel, Imran Shah Malik remotely accessed the home screen while playing with a computer keyboard. He downloaded a text file containing a few codes and transferred it to a hidden memory chip in his customized watch. He uploaded a few files from his home computer to a cloud account. He then securely erased the files of his home computer and typed the shutdown command.
Hours before the computer had gone into a deathly sleep, it had already transferred the ip address, the password, and the username to the Systems Office of the IB in India. A miniature program silently got embedded in the OS X Leopard operating system. The program collected data in the background, encoded and zipped the contents, and silently transferred them to the intended destination'the server of the Intelligence Bureau office of India.