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  An hour later, with the comfort of a hot meal inside them, Iqbal and Tanaz found themselves outside a PCO. The rickety wooden telephone booth with its half-broken, faded signboard was deserted. A bored old man lolled on a wooden chair propped up against the booth, idly smoking a cigarette. He watched as they came up to him and gestured with the tip of his half-smoked cigarette towards the booth.

  ‘Make it short,’ Tanaz whispered as they squeezed into the tiny booth. ‘You can take it for granted that calls to India are being monitored.’

  ‘I will,’ Iqbal promised as he began to dial the number that he had been told to memorize not so long ago. ‘Colonel Anbu will be happy to hear from us.’

  And he was right. Once he got over the initial shock of hearing from the man they had all presumed dead, Anbu could barely contain his joy. He checked his emotions with an effort and said, ‘I’m so relieved to hear you’re well.’

  ‘We both are,’ Iqbal said excitedly. ‘In fact, it was Tanaz who…’

  ‘Don’t say anything else,’ Anbu cut him off quickly. ‘I want you to call me again in one hour. I’ll let you know what to do then.’

  ‘No problem, sir.’ And they ended the call.

  Tanaz was right. All calls to India were recorded, and someone listened to them to decide if they merited further action.

  Iqbal’s call came up for review by the duty analyst almost as soon as it ended.

  ‘Did you notice that?’ he told his associate as they played it back. ‘Almost as though… it was so damn fauji, the way he said it. Where did it come from?’

  ‘PCO 14,’ his associate replied. ‘That would be… here… this one.’ He jabbed at the map on the tag board in front of them.

  ‘Great! That’s not so far from the local office. Get someone there. He’s going to call again in an hour. Have them bring him in so we can have a word with him.’

  Thirty-five minutes later, an unmarked security car pulled up across the street from PCO 14. The four men inside sat silently, watching the phone booth, waiting for their quarry to turn up.

  Once again it was Tanaz’s RAW training and field experience that saved them.

  ‘We’re not going to make the second call from the same PCO,’ she told Iqbal as they exited the phone booth. ‘Let’s find another one as far from here as possible.’

  ‘Aren’t you being a little paranoid, Tanaz?’

  ‘So what? Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after us.’

  They used the hour to trudge around town. It was a depressing walk. The dirty streets, the dim streetlights, the rows of boarded-up shops and an insidiously pervasive sense of gloom spoke of the shattered state of the economy far more clearly than a newspaper headline could. The few women on the streets were all accompanied by men and were covered in burqas from head to toe. Most of the men sported heavy beards and Taliban headdresses – many more of them than Iqbal remembered from the first time he had travelled from Karachi to the Lashkar training camp at Muzaffarabad.

  ‘Am I imagining it, you think?’ he questioned Tanaz about the difference.

  ‘Of course you’re not.’ Her voice was grim. ‘Didn’t Pervez tell us the same thing? There have been many instances of men being beaten up for not keeping a beard, or for un-Islamic attire. People are scared, especially with the government increasingly abdicating control to the mullahs.’

  They were still talking in low tones when they spotted another PCO. It was just as nondescript and battered as the first one.

  This time Anbu answered the phone instantly. He spoke before Iqbal could get a word in edgewise. ‘Put her on the line,’ he said. ‘How long will it take the two of you to get to the place where Rehmat met you the last time?’ he asked when Tanaz answered.

  ‘A day at best,’ she replied. ‘Two if things are… not so good.’

  ‘Fine. Get moving then. Rehmat will be waiting for you, tomorrow and the next two days.’

  ‘We’ll be there.’

  By the time the call brought the counterintelligence men to the PCO, Iqbal and Tanaz had been swallowed up by the night.

  Rehmat was waiting under the same tree that he had been positioned at when Iqbal, Tanaz and the two Force 22 officers had linked up with him on their return from Murree. Tanaz shivered at the sense of déjà vu. Involuntarily, she reached for Iqbal’s hand. Her eyes worked ceaselessly, surveying the landscape with nervous anxiety. Iqbal squeezed her hand reassuringly and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, things will work out fine this time.’

  And they did. Led by Rehmat, they made their way down the winding trail that took them across the IB, to the jeep waiting at the other end.

  Iqbal grinned widely when he saw the familiar figure standing by the jeep. Captain Vikram Tiwathia strode forward and enveloped him in a tight bear hug.

  ‘I never thought I’d see the two of you again! The Old Man was thrilled to bits when you called. Come on, he’s waiting for you two. Let’s go.’

  Two hours later, they were in Amritsar. The waiting chopper swept them into the Force 22 base at Kasauli. Tiwathia took them straight to Anbu’s office, where Sami was waiting too. It took a while for the excitement to die down but then Anbu got the whole story from Tanaz and Iqbal, from the time they had parted ways with Vikram and Sami at the RV.

  ‘What did you say his name was?’ Anbu asked Tanaz when she told him about the man whose convoy had rescued them.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but the guy who treated Iqbal referred to him as the Ameer ul Momineem.’

  ‘That means the Commander of the Faithful,’ Sami translated softly for Anbu’s benefit.

  ‘Hmmm. I see. Tell me more about him.’ Anbu’s attention peaked immediately when he heard the name.

  ‘There isn’t much to tell. I only saw him once and except for that brief conversation with the so-called doctor, I didn’t hear anything. None of the others was ready to talk about him… either that, or they didn’t know much about him. But he was clearly very important, someone really high up in the terror hierarchy. I remember what the doctor said, that the Ameer was going to do more for the cause than the Sheikh had even visualized.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘Yes! Also, that it’s because of the Ameer that the Islamic crescent would rule the world one day.’

  ‘I see. Any idea which group he was from?’

  ‘No, sir. The compound had people from several groups in addition to the Afghans and other foreign mujahideen. There were people from the Lashkar, Hizbul, Jaish, Harkat and many smaller groups.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Anbu stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Rao was right all along. The vultures have begun to come together. We’ve been hearing rumours and getting vague reports about someone like this for some time now.’

  ‘And sir!’ Tanaz interrupted. ‘I remember his face vividly. It’s not the kind of face one could forget.’

  ‘Excellent! Then you can help us prepare an Identikit photo of him.’

  ‘That’s a computer-generated photograph,’ Tiwathia explained. ‘You describe whatever you remember and the computer draws it and keeps changing it till it matches the image in your memory. Our intel officers are real wizards at it.’

  ‘I’m sure I can do that.’

  ‘Perfect! As soon as we’ve finished, Vikram will arrange for it to be done.’ Anbu smiled at Tanaz. ‘I have a feeling this man is important.’

  ‘There’s no doubt about that, sir,’ Tanaz agreed. ‘Everyone was terrified of him. There was something… something…’ she searched for the right word, ‘something really powerful and… evil about him. It’s hard to put into words, sir.’

  For a while they sat quietly, sipping tea. Then Iqbal said, ‘You’ve heard our part of the story, sir. Now tell us what’s been happening here in the past few months that we’ve been away.’

  For a moment Anbu looked at a loss for words. Then he got up and came around to put his hand on Iqbal’s shoulder. ‘There is something you need to know,’ he said.


  Iqbal eyes filled with apprehension.

  ‘When I got your call, I inquired about your father. I thought you would wish to meet him.’

  ‘And?’ Iqbal said, his voice barely a whisper.

  ‘He is no more, Iqbal. They say he had a massive stroke about two months ago and died in his sleep.’

  For a long moment Iqbal didn’t speak. ‘And my brother Ashraf?’ he asked finally. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘They say he left Lucknow just after your father’s demise and moved south. We’re not sure where, but give me a little time and we’ll find him for you.’

  ‘I would be grateful, sir.’ Iqbal looked away, trying to mask the sudden sickening dread coursing through him. ‘I just hope he hasn’t also… like me…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Iqbal, I’m sure he’s well and we’ll find him soon.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  There was silence for a while as Iqbal struggled to rein in his emotions. It was he who finally broke it. ‘What else has been happening here, sir? How are things now?’

  Before Anbu could reply, Tiwathia spoke up: ‘Not so good, man. In fact, it’s getting worse with every passing day.’

  ‘Really?’ Iqbal was taken aback by Tiwathia’s sombre tone.

  ‘Yes.’ Tiwathia told them about the serial bombings by the Indian Mujahideen in various Indian cities. ‘The number of casualties is horrendous.’

  ‘Damn them!’ Iqbal exclaimed angrily, memories of the bomb that had claimed his mother and sister searing through his mind again. ‘What are we doing about it?’

  ‘You’ve been down that road, Iqbal,’ Anbu replied softly. ‘You know we’re doing all we can, but...’

  ‘It’s obviously not enough,’ Iqbal completed the sentence for him. ‘There has to be more that we can do.’

  ‘There always is, and we are trying, but there is only so much the security forces can do.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help, sir?’

  ‘There is, actually.’ Anbu’s voice was pitched even lower now. ‘But it could be dangerous… very dangerous.’

  Iqbal looked Anbu straight in the eye. ‘That’s why we came back – so we could do our bit.’

  ‘No, Iqbal, it’s not that simple. I want both of you to give this some thought before you decide to say yes.’ Iqbal was about to speak when Anbu held up his hand. ‘No, hear me out. This could be very dangerous and no one will blame you for not wanting to get involved – especially now that Tanaz is expecting a child.’

  ‘But sir…’

  ‘Iqbal!’ Anbu admonished. ‘We all know how much you two have already done. In any case, you haven’t even heard what I have in mind.’

  ‘So tell us, sir.’ Tanaz spoke for the first time. Her expression was calm, yet determined. ‘We didn’t come back to India because we wanted to sit back and relax. We want to continue the fight. If we don’t defend our religion from these lunatics, who will?’

  Anbu studied their faces for a moment. Then he told them what he had in mind.

  There was a long silence when Anbu finshed. Iqbal caught and held Tanaz’s eyes.

  Then he turned and faced Anbu again.

  ‘Tell me sir, how much damage will we be able to do? This is just one terrorist organization among so many others.’

  ‘True, but this terror cell is still relatively new and has yet to find its feet. Also, despite being the new kid on the block, it’s proving to be one of the more dangerous ones, as we can see from the huge damage they have already inflicted on several cities. They seem to be getting better organized with each passing week and are being aggressively supported by our friends across the border. If it’s not checked soon, it will acquire critical mass and spiral out of control. Taking down the Indian Mujahideen will send out a clear, strong signal to the rest.’

  ‘I see.’ Iqbal and Tanaz exchanged glances again. ‘In that case, we’ll do it.’ He spoke quietly, but firmly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Anbu looked at Tanaz. ‘You’re going to be parents soon…’

  ‘You think Iqbal is ideal for this assignment and we need to act quickly, so where is the ambiguity?’

  ‘That’s true, but…’

  ‘Sir, if everyone only worries about themselves, what will happen to our children? What kind of world will they grow up in – if they are allowed to grow up at all?’

  ‘You know what will happen if your cover is blown during the operation?’ Anbu persisted. ‘They won’t show you any mercy.’

  ‘They never do, sir.’ Iqbal’s tone was final, as was their decision.

  ‘You will have to do this one on your own, Iqbal.’ Anbu nodded at Tanaz. ‘I wouldn’t expose her to any danger.’

  ‘I may be pregnant, sir, but that doesn’t prevent me from handling communication and other such tasks. And I won’t let Iqbal do it all on his own.’ She got up and went to stand beside Iqbal, her hands resting on his shoulders. ‘Not today, not ever.’

  ‘That’s all very well, Tanaz, but operational decisions are not taken emotionally. There is no point in taking unwarranted risks. I don’t think you really appreciate the risks involved in such an operation.’

  ‘That may be so, sir, but I go where he goes.’

  ‘You do realize there will be many times when you’re going to be entirely on your own? We’ll try to be around as much as we can, but there’s no way anyone can guarantee foolproof, 24x7 support in such ops.’

  ‘I understand, sir, and I think we can take care of ourselves and each other.’

  Iqbal turned to Tanaz. ‘Tanaz, maybe you should –’ he began.

  ‘No, Iqbal,’ Tanaz cut him off. ‘Wherever we go, we go together… especially if there is danger.’

  Iqbal turned to Anbu and nodded, unable to mask the love and pride shining in his eyes. ‘So be it, sir. We travel together.’

  ‘Fine, if that’s what you want,’ Anbu said, still reluctant. ‘Let me see how we can work this out in detail. Meanwhile, you two go and catch up on some R&R. I’m sure you’re both in real need of some rest and recreation!’

  ‘That we are, sir,’ Iqbal conceded, ‘but before that, there’s a favour we have to ask of you.’ There was a sheepish expression on his face.

  ‘Of course, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Tanaz and I never got the opportunity to get married, sir, so…’

  ‘Of course!’ Anbu jumped up with a laugh. ‘It will be a pleasure for us to organize that. And I’ll host the dinner afterwards!’ He turned to Tiwathia. ‘Aren’t you going to help organize the first wedding on this base? After all, this is the guy who took a bullet for you.’

  ‘I know, sir,’ Tiwathia quipped, ‘which is why I’m wondering if it’s right to condemn him to a life sentence like this.’

  ‘There’s just one more thing, sir,’ Iqbal requested when the laughter had subsided, ‘we don’t want any religious rites.’

  ‘Any particular reason, Iqbal… Tanaz?’ He looked at them questioningly.

  ‘Well, sir…’ This time it was Tanaz who answered. ‘Let’s just say that both of us seem to have lost faith in religion. Of course,’ she added hastily, ‘we both believe in god, but we don’t have much to say for organized religion… any religion.’

  ‘Hmm… I see,’ Anbu replied. ‘Okay, I guess I know where you two are coming from. Let me take care of it accordingly.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir.’ Iqbal smiled his gratitude.

  ‘Not so fast, young man!’ Anbu grinned. ‘You can thank me after you’ve experienced some part of married life. Come, MS, we have work to do. Vikram, the party needs to rock, don’t forget!’

  And it did. For the first time in all the years since the military base had been built, the hills around echoed with music, a welcome change from the gunfire that people there were used to.

  Dressed in a red sari gifted to her by Captain Ankita Bhatnagar and with assistance from the lady who ran the tiny beauty parlour in the nearby town, the bride looked radiant. So, for that matter,
did the groom, dressed in a sherwani that fitted him a lot better than it did Captain Mohammed Sami, who had given it to him. No doubt he would have looked a darn sight more handsome if he’d been able to keep the silly, perpetual grin off his face.

  The wedding ceremony was short and shorn of all but the bare essentials. The party that followed was anything but short; it lasted almost through the night and was certainly not quiet. By the time the exhausted but happy couple managed to get back to their room, the first rays of a yet to be born sun had touched the snowclad mountaintops of the Himalayas with their fingers of gentle light.

  ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it, and so peaceful,’ Tanaz murmured as she stood at the massive glass window overlooking the valley.

  Iqbal came up from behind to wrap his arms around her. ‘It’s magnificent,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how happy I am today. I feel so… complete.’

  They stood there watching the sun come up, setting fire to the silent hills.

  Tanaz leaned back into Iqbal with a sigh. ‘I feel like I’m finally home.’

  ‘Me too.’ Iqbal nuzzled her neck with his lips. ‘I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I’ll carry these memories with me as long as I live.’

  ‘Hush!’ Tanaz whispered, pulling his arms tighter around her. ‘We’re alive and we’re together. For now, that’s all that matters.’

  Tiwathia ensured that Tanaz and Iqbal were taken care of like royalty, at least as far as was possible in the almost Spartan setting of the Force 22 base. But their honeymoon and R&R were seriously curtailed by Anbu’s order that neither of them should leave the base.