The Dust Will Never Settle (11 page)

‘Do you agree with the possibility of these two being the most likely candidates?’ Dagan came to the point immediately.

‘Well, the chances of it being one of them are high. None of the others seem to have the authority to organize something of this magnitude,’ Ravinder replied. ‘Also, you can assume that if one is involved, the other will be too. These two buggers are thick as thieves.’

‘In that case, we have a favour to ask of you,’ Dagan said. ‘We would like to deploy a team to bring them in. We need you to help us with a firm base and some logistical support. I know it is a lot to ask, but given the geography, we have no other option. Not if we want to do this fast – and we do.’

‘Bring them in, or take them out?’ Ravinder asked.

‘Whatever is possible, Mr Gill.’ Dagan did not hesitate. ‘We cannot – will not – allow such a heinous attack on our country to go unpunished.’

‘I understand. I really do, but I will need to speak to my boss first.’

‘If you want, I can request our PM to talk to yours,’ Dagan offered.

‘I will let you know if that’s required.’ Ravinder knew that the Indian PM would prefer not to know; plausible deniability was much sought after. ‘Let me clear this with my boss.’

It was with great satisfaction that Ravinder returned Dagan’s call an hour later. It had taken him that long to root out the home minister and get him to speak to the PM. For once, Thakur had delivered.

‘You will see that our role in this matter remains totally secret?’ That had been Thakur’s primary concern.

‘You can rest assured about that,’ Dagan confirmed.

Even before either of them retired to bed, a team from Mossad’s kidon unit was headed to Delhi.

Ravinder felt content as he fell asleep that night.

It took a long time for Ravinder to realize that it wasn’t just a dream – the phone was actually ringing.

‘Sorry to bother you so late, sir, but I thought you’d like to know.’ Mohite sounded shaken.

‘What happened?’ Ravinder asked, still groggy with sleep.

‘We just missed them… Javed and Aslam… the two remaining Jaish terrorists.’

‘What?’ Ravinder was wide awake now. ‘What happened?’

‘You remember I’d told you about the remaining two leads? Well, I’d ordered the SHOs of the concerned areas to follow up on them. The SHO of Friends Colony just called me. They raided a suspected house a while ago and discovered that the bastards had been staying there. Apparently Javed and Aslam stepped out minutes before the raid. They
just
missed them.
’

‘Missed them by chance or had they been warned about the raid?’

Mohite was silent. He had obviously not thought of that. ‘Let me look into it, sir.’ Pause. Then he added dubiously, ‘But Sher Singh, the SHO, is a loyal guy.’

‘He is, but ask him to double-check his staff… everyone who knew about the raid. Could be a coincidence, but no harm in checking.’

‘Wilco, sir. I agree. And they’re interrogating the owner of the house now. He appears to be a supporter… let’s hope they come up with something. I’ll rest easy only when we have the bastards behind bars… or six feet under.’ Ravinder could sense his tension. ‘Damn! To think we almost had the bastards!’

‘Don’t stress about it, Govind. Shit happens. We can only try.’

Even to Ravinder the words offered no solace, knowing he was one of the three people the terrorists had been sent in to kill. He knew exactly how Mohite was feeling – lousy.

Day Four

R
uby arrived at Dilli Haat half an hour early for her meeting with Nanda. She spent it casing the area, watching for anything out of sync. She spotted nothing unusual, no one loitering around surreptitiously with those giveaway earpieces or bulges under their coats. She wasn’t expecting trouble, but she wasn’t about to leave things to chance.

Satisfied, she returned to the cream coloured Toyota Innova she had hired and waited. The driver, Kishore, was a polite young man about five-and-a-half feet. His grey Safari suit was well-maintained and as clean as his car. He left the air conditioner on for her as she waited, and stood beside a tree a short distance away.

After a few minutes she saw Mark emerge from a black Hyundai sedan that pulled up in a slot three cars away. Ruby was pleased that he too had arrived early and was in top form. She wondered if the men he had hired were as good. She hoped they were – their lives and, more importantly, the mission, depended on it. Ruby saw Mark survey the area, sweeping it quadrant by quadrant, just as she had done.

At ten thirty on a weekday morning, Dilli Haat, the famous arts and crafts market, had yet to fill to its potential. A short hop from the Hyatt, the colourful market, with its tiny stalls and regional, multi-cuisine food stalls, was popular with locals and foreigners alike.

Fronted by an elaborately carved stone gate, manned by armed khaki-clad cops and a set of massive doorframe metal detectors, the market had a bright red stone wall around it. By now the ice-cream vendors, balloon sellers and ladies in bright Rajasthani skirts selling bangles and applying the traditional henna, had started setting up shop outside the gates.

It would not be long before the market began teeming with people. That, in fact, was why they had chosen to meet Nanda here – crowds always offered safety.

The cream suburban to your left,
Ruby shot off a text to Mark.

Mark spotted Ruby’s car and then headed over to the counter. He bought an entry ticket and walked across to the food stalls at the end of the Haat, the designated meeting point.

Half an hour later, he walked out, a portly, balding man with him. In the midst of the casually dressed holidaymakers, he looked incongruous in his Armani suit. A gold watch and several golden Cross ballpoint pens in his breast pocket lit up his attire. The two parted ways at the entry gates, both heading for different parts of the parking lot.

Mark watched Nanda climb into a blue Mercedes 300 as a chauffeur held the door open. The chauffeur was as smartly dressed as his boss, his white uniform and cap giving him a regal air. Once the car pulled out, Mark made his way to Ruby.

‘All taken care of.’ Mark opened the door and poked his head in. ‘We will have the stuff on Wednesday.’

That was three days from now. And three days to D-day.

‘All four Glock 17s?’

‘All four Glock 17s.’ Mark nodded. ‘Ammo and spare clips.’

‘You think he is reliable?’

‘He won’t let us down,’ Mark reassured her. ‘Not for the kind of money the bastard is charging us. If he started double-crossing his customers, I don’t think he’d last long in this business.’

Parked near the parking lot exit, Sanjeev Nanda was watching from the rear window of his Mercedes. He saw Mark walk over to an Innova and speak to someone inside, but he was unable to see who it was. It seemed to be a woman, but he was not sure.

He knew he had spotted an opportunity: a foreign mercenary looking for four deadly, high-capacity weapons which were hard to detect. The Commonwealth Games was around the corner and a dozen Pakistan-based terror groups had declared that they would not allow them to take place. The cops would pay through their nose for this one.

Nanda, lost in his thoughts, did not notice Mark walk away from the Innova and drive off. He was startled when he heard a loud tap on his window. Mark was staring at him hard. Nanda knew his suspicions had been aroused.

Powering down the window, Nanda conjured up an explanation. ‘I am waiting for my driver.’ Luckily, a few minutes back Nanda had sent him to buy a packet of cigarettes from a shop near the gate. Just then, the driver returned, got into the car and handed over a packet of Davidoff Lights to Nanda.

Grabbing the pack, Nanda snarled at him, ‘Drive.’

Mark watched Nanda go. He had a feeling that things were not so kosher.

Ruby was still in the car after Mark left. With her reconnaissance complete and most of the preparatory work well under control, she wondered what to do next.

May as well get in some sightseeing
. Who knew when she’d come to India again?
Will I even survive this mission?
The thought halted her. She shrugged.
It does not matter if I don’t. My life has no meaning. Not if the delegates survive and the Peace Summit succeeds… they’ll slice up Palestine.

Pushing the thought away, she bought herself an entry ticket to the Haat. She took the ticket and opened her wallet to keep the change back, failing to see a man approaching behind her. Arms closed in around her waist and her body automatically moved to counter the assault. She was about to raise her hands to break the hold when he spoke.

‘Ruby Gill, I presume.’ The familiar voice shocked her into stillness.

She spun around to find Chance Spillman’s smiling face inches away. An overwhelming memory of the past took over her and something inside her snapped. She leaned forward and kissed him. For one brief moment she felt herself in another time, as their lips came together. The magic was back.

Then someone passing by giggled and the moment disintegrated. Reality returned.

‘What on earth are you doing in India?’ Chance released her. That tentativeness, that withholding, so frequent in the last few months that they had been together, returned. It stood between them once again.

But Ruby could not help smiling. She was thrilled to see Chance. Seeing the feeling mirrored on his face warmed her heart.

Looking at him, in dark blue jeans and a white linen shirt, with that cocky smile on his face, Ruby felt her knees go weak. She felt the urge to kiss him again. She might have done it, but just then Chance spoke.

‘So? What on earth are you doing in India?’ he repeated.

She remembered why and that Chance was also an MI6 agent.

How long has he been here? Has he seen me with Mark? That would be disastrous.

Chance knew Mark well. He also knew that Mark was now freelancing.

‘What are
you
doing here?’ she countered, struggling to regain her composure.

‘Security for Sir Geoffrey Tang,’ Chance replied, surprising her with the ease with which he divulged that. Ruby knew he tended to be pretty anal about security. The son of a senior SAS officer who had been killed in counter-terror operations in Ireland, Chance had a personal axe to grind with terrorists. Perhaps he was talking as one colleague to another.

Or perhaps he is as shaken by our meeting as I am.

The name struck a chord in Ruby’s head; the name of every Summit delegate was imbedded in her. ‘Tang is here?’ she asked innocently. ‘How is the cranky old bugger?’

Both laughed. Sir Tang had given Ruby hell when she rode shepherd on him during a state visit to Pakistan. It had happened when she was living with Chance.

‘Same old, same old.’ Chance smiled. ‘What’s he doing here? A bit far from the House of Lords, is he not?’

‘An important meeting… but mostly for the Games.’ Chance’s natural secretiveness had reasserted itself. ‘So … what brings you here?’

‘The Games.’ Ruby eagerly grabbed at the excuse Chance had provided. ‘And I just needed to get away for a bit.’

She studied him and decided it had been an innocent question. He stood with his head cocked slightly to the right, a smile dancing on his face, his bright blue eyes taking her in. The sight made her heart beat faster. It was that smile that had first ignited desire in her.

Ruby’s mind flipped back to the first time they had met.

They had been working on putting down an Iranian spy ring which counter-intelligence had chanced upon during an audit of the British nuclear facilities. They’d identified four British scientists who were involved. A British-bred Iranian lawyer who operated out of Kensington had recruited them; he was obviously the spymaster. Chance and Ruby were part of the MI6 team keeping him under surveillance.

At first Chance had come across as a slick lady-killer type, the kind she detested. It took her a while to realize that he was anything but that. It was the delicious fajitas he bought for their third stakeout that broke the ice.

‘Lovely,’ Ruby said as she took another bite. ‘Where did you buy these?’

‘I didn’t,’ he replied between mouthfuls, his eyes still fixed on the spymaster’s house. ‘Made them myself.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Ruby laughed, then seeing that he was serious, changed tack. ‘You cook very well.’

‘Thanks.’ He smiled. ‘Never had an option, you see. Mum died when I was eight. So just dad and me,’ he said, his attention still on the house. Ruby was surprised at the ease with which he opened up. ‘And dad!’ Chance laughed. ‘He had a soldier’s palate. He’d eat anything put in front of him. Not me… I couldn’t handle the tripe he churned out, so I learnt to cook. No option.’ He laughed softly at the memory.

They both focused on the fajitas. The silence was companionable. It lasted longer than the fajitas did.

It was during those long stakeouts that they had come to know and like each other. The more time they spent together the closer they became. Ruby certainly did, and he reciprocated. But both were also smart enough to know that office romances were frowned upon. Things would not have progressed if it hadn’t been for the way that assignment had ended.

It so happened that the lawyer–spymaster had picked up on the surveillance – perhaps one of the agents had slipped up, or he was smarter than he seemed. But the lawyer made the mistake of calling up his controller before attempting to leave the country. Alerted that he was going to make a break for it, both the MI6 teams on watch were ordered to bring him in.

Chance and Ruby were watching the front of the house and neither expected the bugger to come out shooting, but he did.

They were approaching the front door, Chance a step ahead of her, when the spymaster flew out. Ruby saw him first, but by then he was almost upon them. She saw the gun in his hand and knew they were too late. It was up and levelled at Chance.

Ruby shouted and threw herself straight into the line of fire. The bullet hit her bullet-proof jacket. The Kevlar stopped the bullet, but fired at point-blank range, its high velocity impact pummelled her into the ground. Then a thunder of gunfire drowned out everything.

When she opened her eyes, Chance was standing above her, smoke curling out of the pistol in his hand. The lawyer lay dead a few feet away, two neat holes in his head.

It took Ruby a long time to realize that she was still alive. Chance could not look away from her. ‘You jumped into the line of fire…’ he said over and over again. He had not been wearing a body vest.

After hours of tedious paperwork, after-action reports and de-briefing, they were silent as he drove her home. When he stopped outside her apartment, she made no move to get out. They sat in silence for a while.