The Delhi Deception (34 page)

The grounds were poorly lit, and Elouise stumbled on the uneven path, which led around the back of the building. The woman unlocked the door to the building with a key worn on a chain around her neck. The door opened to a small, dark room with stairs leading down. As they descended into the dank basement reeking of sour smelling sweat and urine, Carla’s throat closed up and she started to cough, her airways demanding oxygen. Hassan whacked her on her back just behind her left lung. She cried out in pain and fright, but her airways unblocked and she breathed with greater ease. Alarmed, Elouise stared at her. Carla smiled feebly and said, “I’m OK.”

Images of her detention in Old Delhi flooded her mind, but she was determined to shut them out, concentrating instead on her surroundings. The basement consisted of a large room, furnished with mattresses and a couple of plastic chairs. It was littered with empty soda bottles and paper plates. Stacked tiffin boxes in stainless steel sat in a cardboard box. A passage led off to smaller rooms.

Carla and Elouise were shoved onto a mattress covered with a mildew-stinking cotton sheet. Elouise asked them to please untie them, but they ignored her. Hassan filled a plastic bottle with water from a small basin and tap in the corner of the room and lifted it to Elouise’s mouth. She hesitated for a second, but then drank quickly. They offered Carla water and she did the same. The woman in hijab showed them a small room containing a toilet and basin, but she did not untie them. The woman walked to the room; picking up the tiffins, she left with Hassan and locked the door.

It was pitch-dark. Small windows lined the one side of the three-meter-high walled basement. Lying down uncomfortably on the mattress, Carla stared at the windows and said, “Do you think we could fit through those?”

“I think so, but I’m pretty sure they’re barred. Anyway, how do you think we’ll get up there?” Elouise asked, her voice low.

“Well, one of us could stand on the other’s shoulders and squeeze through. When through, she could pull the other one up with a rope made from this stinky sheet.”

Elouise started laughing, much to Carla’s surprise.

Feeling indignant, she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, Carla, it’s just, how are we going to do this with our hands tied up?”

“At least we have some idea, and now we know we have to get out of these cable ties.”

With a sigh, Elouise said, “You’re right. Any bright ideas?”

“Not yet, but believe me, I will think of something,” Carla said bravely.

They lay quietly while Carla tried to scan the room for something sharp that could cut the ties. Exhausted from straining in the dark, she finally closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked at the time on the Patek Philippe watch that Elouise had given him as a wedding gift. It was past two in the morning, and he and Nizaam had just finished assembling the bombs. They would ask the women to sew them into the vests in the morning. Harry had been angry when Nadir insisted they finish the work before he was sent home. He’d phoned Elouise on her mobile, but it was switched off, and when he phoned home, Kishan told him that Elouise and Carla hadn’t yet returned. This calmed him down, and he instructed Kishan to call him the minute Elouise returned. But that had been hours ago. He cursed himself for not paying attention to Elouise when she’d told him with whom she had left the kids.

“OK, Nizaam, I’m going home now. Nadir knows how to contact me if you need anything,” he said, and walked toward the exit. They were alone in the warehouse, but Harry detected the faint aroma of the Cuban cigars Nadir smoked. Nizaam was hovering at his desk, looking toward Nadir’s office expectantly. The door opened, and Nadir walked out with a cigar in his right hand.

“There you are. All OK?” he asked in his booming voice.

Nizaam’s easy confidence dissolved, and quivering, he replied, “Yes, sir. Dr. Singh wants to go home now.”

Nadir turned his powerful body around and, narrowing his eyes, appraised Harry. Harry stepped back involuntarily as he recognized the cold menace in those dark eyes.

“My dear doctor, what’s the hurry?” His voice was sweet like a ripe mango, but with the guarantee of a hard stone pit inside.

Harry felt ice-cold fingers caressing his back, and he had to control the urge to make a run for it. Knowing that maintaining a controlled calm was his only hope of some kind of escape, he licked his dry lips and said evenly, “I promised my wife I’d be back before this evening. She’d be worried sick. She will start asking questions.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to dodge those,” Nadir said with a cunning smile.

“You don’t know my wife; she’s…unbelievably stubborn.” Harry was now trying to keep his voice light.

Throwing back his head, Nadir laughed and said, “So they are, indeed, so they are. He gave Harry another unpleasant slap on the back and continued, “It’s so late; spend the night—I want you here in the morning when we sew the bombs into the vests.”

Harry started protesting, but the threat in Nadir’s eyes stopped him short, and he said with as much disinterest as he could muster, “OK, where will I sleep?”

“Nizaam will take you to the sleeping quarters.”

Smiling nervously, Nizaam said to Harry, “Come with me.” He led Harry upstairs to a small room, almost filled by a charpoy and a small nightstand. An old air-conditioner droned noisily, but to Harry’s relief, quite effectively in the corner. A bathroom with a shower and toilet was down the passage. Some of the rooms’ doors on either side of the passage were open, and Harry detected the sleeping forms on charpoys and mattresses.

Nizaam waited outside the bathroom for Harry to complete his ablutions and then followed him back to his room. He said good night and locked the door behind him from the outside. Harry ran toward the door and banged on it, shouting, “Hey! Open this door now.”

Nizaam replied quietly, “Please understand, it’s better this way. It’s for your own protection.” He paused and continued, “I’ll unlock it myself first thing in the morning, I promise.”

Harry turned his back angrily to the door and reached into his pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. Seething with frustration, he sat down on the bed and thought of Elouise and his girls.

.

CHAPTER 25

T
he call came through at midnight. George had been asleep but came alert within a split second. Listening carefully for a few minutes, he said, “Thanks, I’m onto it. I’ll report back in twelve hours.” He replaced the handset; then picking it up again, he dialed a number.

“Yes?” a woman answered.

“Leila, sorry for the late hour, but we have to meet soon. My guys in Kashmir can’t find Carla and Elouise.”

“Did you manage to get clearance for us?”

“Yes, I did. Are you up to it?”

“Of course. I’ll wake Andrew and see you in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll send my car—don’t take a taxi, OK?”

“OK.” Leila hung up, and George got out of bed. He called Kamal and told him to fetch Leila and Andrew from their hotel. Pulling on a T-shirt and jeans, he walked to the kitchen and started making coffee. His face was somber as he tried to figure Carla’s whereabouts. He took the coffee and cups to his study on a tray and sat down behind his desk.

He switched on his desktop and entered a secure CIA Web site. Accessing the satellite map page, he typed in some coordinates and waited impatiently for it to load. While studying the images, he heard Kamal arrive and enter the house. He knocked softly on George’s study door and stood back respectfully for Leila and Andrew to enter.

Leila was wearing gray track pants and a white tank top. Her long dark hair was tied in a high ponytail. She smiled as she saw the coffee, said, “Great, just what I needed,” and poured herself a cup.

Andrew was frowning and, without greeting George, fell into the armchair. Leila asked if he wanted a cup of coffee, but he declined her offer. George thanked Kamal and said he could return to bed—he’d call him again if needed. Kamal touched his hand to his heart and head, bade them all good night, and left silently.

“So you haven’t found Carla,” Andrew said, the accusation in his tone not lost on George.

“No, I’m afraid not. We picked them up in Srinagar— they were staying at the Palace hotel. They had hired a driver for the day. He told my guys that they had behaved like normal tourists, and then they visited an old lady at her house in an upmarket residential area of Srinagar. He dropped them off at the hotel and was to take them to the airport the following morning, but he received a message that they were to take the hotel transport provided for them. We checked the hotel, and they had checked out in the morning and taken a cab to the airport, but they didn’t board their flight to Delhi.”

“What did the hotel taxi driver say? Where did he drop them?” Andrew asked.

“That’s the problem. They didn’t take the hotel transport. The doorman remembered them and said they went with a car and driver he hadn’t seen before, but they had obviously prearranged it.”

Andrew leaned forward, put both his hands through his un-brushed hair, and said, “Oh my God, I hope they weren’t kidnapped. A colleague of mine covered the Daniel Pearl kidnapping in Pakistan in 2002; those guys were ruthless.”

Leila put her hand on Andrew’s shoulder and said, “Let’s not get carried away. They could’ve changed their minds and persuaded the driver to take them somewhere else.”

“I’m afraid I don’t think so, Leila,” George said. “I contacted the friend with whom Elouise had left the kids, and she said she spoke to Elouise the night before and they made arrangements for her to pick up the girls in the evening. Needless to say, she didn’t pitch.” George looking at Andrew with an expression that was guarded but sympathetic.

“And Harry?” Leila asked.

“He was followed to a container depot in Tughlaqabad where he picked up a box or suitcase. He returned home and hasn’t left since”

Andrew sighed loudly. With slight irritation in his voice, he said, “George, I believe you got clearance for us; please explain to me what the devil is going on.”

George considered this request for a few seconds. Then he said, “You realize, of course, that what I’m about to tell you cannot be divulged.”

Andrew nodded. “Of course. I just want to find Carla and get her out of here.”

The passion in his voice bothered George, and he had to remind himself that the stakes were high, and he couldn’t allow personal feelings to interfere. He poured himself a cup of coffee, which he drank, grimacing, as it had gone cold.

He looked at both of them and said, “After Korea, I returned to Afghanistan. The search for Bin Laden was still on, and our new president along with the new CIA director made it our top priority to find him. The president was committed to pull out of Afghanistan, and the only way he could do it—to save face and not piss off half the American electorate—was to achieve one of the main aims of the war on terror: Osama Bin Laden’s head on a stake.” He paused and took a sip of water.

“We stumbled onto some intel regarding Bin Laden’s preferred mode of communication. He uses a network of trusted couriers to bring him messages in person. We intercepted a communication and discovered the nom de guerre of the courier. I was flown to Guantanamo Bay to help some senior Al Qaeda members jog their memories a bit—”

“Torture?” Andrew interrupted, surprised. “I thought the US banned it. I know the Bush administration issued a special directive allowing it only in extreme cases of national security, but the new administration categorically vetoed it.”

Frowning, George said, “When a whole nation’s security is threatened and a little water boarding gets you some crucial info, then quite frankly I don’t give a damn.”

“Yes, but—”

“Andrew, do you want to waste precious time debating this issue, or do you want to find your wife?” George’s eyes were now flashing with anger.

“Of course. I’m sorry; please continue,” Andrew said, sufficiently chastised, it seemed to George.

“Now where was I?”

“You were in Guantanamo, assisting certain prisoners with their memory,” Leila said diplomatically.

George looked at her in mild amusement and continued, “Well, we didn’t discover the courier’s identity, but we did manage to put together some facts that led to the discovery of his identity pretty soon after. We traced him and his family and then asked the National Security Agency to place them and all associates under electronic surveillance. This was when Harry popped up on the radar. He was seen meeting with several suspects here in India, as well as in Pakistan. We were all confused, as he is a Sikh. As you know historically, Sikhs waged huge battles against the conquering Moghuls in Northern India to remain unconverted. However, after further investigation, we discovered that he was visiting a mental asylum in Lahore. It turned out that his mother was a patient there. As far as we knew, his Sikh parents were both killed in a road accident in Kashmir. Suddenly the picture looked a bit different, and we had to find out what was going on. He was working for the Indian nuclear program—”