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  CHAPTER 2

  NALTAR VALLEY, KASHMIR, PAKISTAN, OCTOBER 1999

  “When will our training be over, Al-Jahiz?” Jawid, a heavily-bearded Afghan, looked up from eating, then back at the wooden table. He was dressed in a white shalwar kameez, the baggy shirt and pants popular throughout South Asia, with a heavy shawl draped over his shoulders. He gestured to the three men sitting beside him. “We’ve been training here for months. We’re ready. Ready to give our lives. Ready to strike fear into the infidels.” The others nodded in agreement.

  Their leader, the one called Al-Jahiz, sat at the head of the table, eating his meal. “You are ready when the Colonel says you are ready,” he said between mouthfuls.

  “We are ready now.”

  Mayar Al-Jahiz lifted his head and scrutinized his team. They were not unlike the men he had led during the Kargil conflict. Keen, idealistic, and ready to die for the cause, these men would avenge his slain brothers. They would wipe away the shame of defeat and strike fear deep into the hearts of the Indian pigs.

  He met the gaze of each man. They all knew him as Al-Jahiz, which meant ‘bug eyes’, a term of endearment his Lashkar-e-Taiba brothers had given him. It was a name he bore with pride, a badge of honor bestowed on him by men who were now martyred. This camp, this opportunity for vengeance, had been given to him and he was not going to waste it by not being prepared. As eager as he was to strike at the enemy, he would take every opportunity to train his men.

  “Patience Jawid, our time will come.” The Lashkar team leader pushed his empty bowl away and stood. “Come, the meal is finished. We are to report to the kill house for additional training.”

  Al-Jahiz led them out of the tent into the crisp morning air. Their training camp was located in a valley deep within the Himalayan Mountains where it snowed regularly. As they walked through the camp, the light dusting crunched under foot.

  “Jahiz!” The sharp call echoed down the valley.

  Al-Jahiz turned to face the camp Commandant who approached from behind the mess tent. “Yes, sir.”

  “A moment of your time, please.” Colonel Aslam made a habit of appearing when least expected. Dressed in immaculately pressed olive drab combat fatigues and sporting a neatly trimmed mustache, he looked every inch the gentleman officer. But looks could be deceiving. The thin-framed Inter-Services Intelligence officer was one of the deadliest terrorist minds in South Asia. It was Aslam who had designed Pakistan’s response to the defeat at Kargil. He was personally orchestrating the campaign of terror that Al-Jahiz and other Lashkar militants would wage.

  “Jawid, take the men and report to the kill house,” Al-Jahiz ordered. His second-in-command gestured for the other three trainees to follow and they headed down the track toward the training area.

  “Walk with me.” The colonel turned back to the dining area and the camp’s administrative buildings. Al-Jahiz fell in alongside the professional soldier as they passed a group of Taliban fighters gathered under a tarpaulin. An ISI instructor was schooling them in the art of improvised explosive device construction. It was a course that Al-Jahiz’s men had already completed.

  “Do you know why our last attack failed?” Aslam referred to an attempted bombing in New Delhi that had been foiled by Indian security forces.

  “Because they were not prepared adequately.”

  “Correct, and here.” He gestured to the men training. “Here we will ensure you are prepared.” He turned to Al-Jahiz and fixed him with a stare. “Your fedayeen have progressed well, are they ready?”

  “Yes, they are ready to give their lives for the cause.”

  “And you?”

  “Of course, if it is Allah’s will.”

  The colonel eyed him thoughtfully and started walking again. “I’ve been watching you closely.”

  An icy sensation ran up his spine. The colonel was not a man you wanted ‘watching’ you.

  “You are a natural leader, your men respond instantly to your commands and you have good tactical comprehension.”

  The icy feeling was gone, replaced by a rush of pride.

  “This is why I have selected you to lead a particularly complex operation.”

  They arrived at the center of the camp. Originally a small village, the cluster of mud-walled compounds had been turned into the ISI training team’s accommodation and headquarters. Additional buildings had also been constructed and included a rudimentary medical clinic, quartermaster’s store, and a mosque. The area between the buildings served as a vehicle park.

  “I know you are eager to avenge the brothers you lost at Kargil,” the colonel said as they walked through the parking lot toward the mosque.

  “I am ready to avenge my brothers. My life belongs to Allah,” Al-Jahiz declared as they passed through the gates of the high-walled compound.

  Inside there were four lines of youths sitting cross-legged on carpets chanting lines from the Koran.

  The colonel switched to English. “You are far more valuable to the cause alive than dead. We have our disposable weapons.” He nodded at the teenage boys who were halfway through a four-month program designed to convert them from inquisitive youths to militant zealots. “What is of greater value to the cause are leaders who know when and where to deploy such weapons.”

  Al-Jahiz nodded solemnly.

  The colonel took a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and offered one. Al-Jahiz was slightly taken aback. He took the offering and the two of them smoked as they watched the youths chant.

  “A young mind is a wonderful thing, Al-Jahiz. It craves information, and like a sponge soaks up everything around it. If you control what goes into that sponge you can create anything you want. I have watched you shape the minds of your men. You have balanced skill with religion and now they are ready for what I have planned.”

  They finished the cigarettes and the colonel led them to the headquarters building where a third man greeted them.

  “Good morning, sir,” Karim, a portly Saudi, said with a nod. Like the other trainees, he was dressed in a white shalwar kameez and skullcap.

  “Al-Jahiz, you and Karim are old friends are you not?”

  “Yes, sir, we know each other well.” Both had attended the same madrassa in the Pakistan-Afghanistan border region. The bug-eyed Pakistani and the overweight over-indulged Saudi had struck up an unlikely friendship at the religious school, in spite of their different backgrounds.

  “Excellent. You will be working together on this mission. Now follow me.”

  They passed through the main office where the colonel’s staff ran the camp’s administration, and descended a set of mud stairs into a basement.

  Al-Jahiz had never been in the headquarters before let alone the lower level. The mud walls were covered in wooden paneling and pinned to the wood were maps and photographs of a city he had never seen.

  The colonel picked up a cane and tapped an A3 sized photo with the cane. “This, Al-Jahiz is your team’s primary target.”

  The bug-eyed terrorist stared at the image. He studied every aspect of the building pictured and a broad smile spread across his face. They were going to kill hundreds, possibly even thousands of infidel. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

  “This—” The colonel tapped the image again and smirked. “—will repay the Indian pigs for Kargil.” He took a folder from a table and handed it to Al-Jahiz. “Here is our secondary target. Her death will be the responsibility of Karim and his men.”

  Al-Jahiz opened the folder. Inside was a newspaper clipping of an Indian woman dressed in a business suit. He handed the folder to Karim.

  “Karim’s team has been training for a kidnap and execution.”

  “They are ready, sir,” the Saudi said as he flicked through the folder.

  “Good. Al-Jahiz has overall command. But you and your three men are responsible for linking up with our asset in New Delhi. You will leave today. Al-Jahiz will follow a day later. By staggering the insertion, we reduce the chance of compromise
.”

  Al-Jahiz glanced at his friend. Karim, with his dark skin and flabby chin, looked like an affluent Indian. It also helped that like Al-Jahiz he spoke fluent English.

  The two team leaders listened intently as the colonel briefed them on the finer details of the plan. Once he was content they had committed it to memory, he escorted the pair from the headquarters.

  “I’ll ensure everything is ready for your arrival,” said Karim outside.

  Al-Jahiz hugged his friend and kissed him on both cheeks. “It will be good to work with you, my brother. Travel safely. I will see you in India.”

  “Together we will strike terror into the hearts of the infidel.” Karim’s smile was infectious.

  Al-Jahiz slapped him on the back. “The streets of Delhi will run red with their blood.”

  ***

  Al-Jahiz strode down the track toward the kill house. The distinctive chatter of an AK reverberated off the mountains. Another weapon joined the first as he rounded a corner and came into view of the rudimentary facility.

  Pakistani army engineers had carved the range into the side of a hill and built walls out of concrete. It consisted of a central corridor with rooms branching off on each side. The ISI instructors had started his team on simple drills. Training them to attack down corridors and into rooms. As their skills progressed, they had added additional obstacles and targets.

  Al-Jahiz climbed up a rocky trail to an area where he could observe the training. Jawid, his heavily-bearded second-in-command was leading the four-man team down the corridor, his AK held ready. A target swung out from the wall. He fired a burst, knocked it over, and dropped to a knee to change magazines. His fire team partner, also an Afghan, stood over him covering the corridor as the second pair provided rear and flank protection. Then, when Jawid was ready, all four moved forward. Al-Jahiz’s chest swelled with pride as he watched them engage another target flawlessly. The colonel was right, they were more than ready.

  He clapped as they exited the range.

  “What did the colonel want?” asked Jawid as he placed his AK on a rack, took off his vest, and placed it gently on the ground. He was not afraid of damaging the bulletproof plates. It had none. He was getting into the practice of delicately handling high explosives.

  Al-Jahiz waited for all four men to gather around before he addressed them. “The colonel has given us our mission. We leave tomorrow.”

  “Allahu Akbar,” Jawid murmured.

  “ALLAHU AKBAR!” all four men screamed with their fists raised.

  Al-Jahiz hugged them one by one kissing each on the cheeks. “There is much to do, my brothers. We must load a van and prepare for our journey to New Delhi. Karim and his men will be going ahead of us to prepare the way.”

  “The target is New Delhi?” Jawid asked.

  Al-Jahiz grinned. “It is brother and it is beyond your wildest dreams. I will give you more information when we are in India.”

  “We must prepare for martyrdom,” said one of the Pakistanis, referring to their custom of shaving and washing before a suicide operation.

  “No,” responded Al-Jahiz. “Our identification has been prepared. We are Pakistani workers going to work on India’s construction sites. Our beards will remain.” He pointed at Jawid. “Although it would not hurt for you to trim that rug.”

  Jawid grinned, his yellow teeth showing through his thick black beard. “They think we are coming to build. But this could not be further from the truth.”

  “And when they learn that truth it will be too late for them to do anything other than weep for their dead.”

  CHAPTER 3

  DELHI POLICE HEADQUARTERS

  The Intelligence Bureau analyst looked up from his notes. “In conclusion, we are not tracking any credible terrorist threats to New Delhi.” He scanned the other members of the National Capital Region Counter Terrorism working group. Seated around the long table were representatives from a wide range of organizations: police, local government, and domestic intelligence agencies. “If there are no questions I will hand the floor over to the Central Bureau of Investigations.”

  There was a collective sigh as Sonia Jayaram, a public prosecutor, shuffled her documents. The attractive lawyer was the only woman in the room and one of a handful of non-uniformed members.

  “More of your conspiracy theories, Sonia?” asked the representative from the New Delhi local government.

  The room filled with laughter.

  Sonia looked up from her notes and focused her gaze on the man. Her hazel colored eyes flashed with anger and her manicured eyebrows arched as she pressed her lips together. “Perhaps you would prefer me to abandon the prosecution of would-be terrorists and focus my investigations on corruption within your office?”

  The councilman squirmed under her glare.

  “Very well. If it pleases the chair, I will continue.” She adjusted her suit jacket and glanced at the Delhi police commissioner.

  “We are all aware of your investigations, Ms. Jayaram. Please update us on any developments.” The chairman referred to her ongoing case regarding the prosecution of three Pakistani terrorists. The high-profile trial had made the lawyer a prominent public figure and earned her a seat at the weekly meeting.

  “Certainly.” She flicked to the back page of her notes. “The key assessment to fall out of my case relates to the likely presence of an extensive Pakistani terrorist support network here in New Delhi.”

  There was a collective outbreak of voices in the room.

  The police commissioner slammed his fleshy fist down on the table. “Quiet, please. Let her finish.” He paused. “Then you can discredit her theories.”

  The room broke into laughter and Sonia’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I’ve interviewed all three suspects. All of them have mentioned an underground network.”

  “Of course they would,” the regional police commander said. “They’re facing the hangman’s noose. They will say anything to avoid it. The fact is there has only been one attempted terrorist attack in the last decade and our intelligence capabilities thwarted it.”

  “We have seen nothing to suggest the presence of an ISI network in New Delhi,” the Intelligence Bureau analyst added.

  “But surely it’s worth further investigation. For all we know another attack could be planned for the immediate future.”

  The police commander shot her a hard stare. “Do you think my men sit on their hands? If there was a speck of intelligence to support your theories we would dig deeper. But there isn’t. You should leave the intelligence work to the professionals. Perhaps it would be better to listen to us rather than the rantings of a Muslim fanatic facing a death sentence.”

  “I think that’s a bit harsh,” the baritone voice of Lieutenant Colonel Prasad, the commander of New Delhi’s National Security Guard detachment, silenced the room. The counter-terrorism officer was one of the most powerful men in the room. His contingent of ‘Black Cats’, the nickname given to the elite NSG commandos, had almost complete autonomy when it came to responding to terrorist threats. With his slick black hair, dark eyes and cleft chin, he resembled a Bollywood movie star. “Sonia is particularly well informed when it comes to such matters. In fact her brother happens to be a major in Research and Analysis Wing.” He flashed Sonia a toothy smile.

  “RAW?” snickered the police commander. “All smoke and mirrors, they know nothing of domestic security. They don’t even bother to send a representative to this meeting.”

  “True,” said Prasad. “But that doesn’t mean we should write off Sonia’s theories. The New Delhi attack was easily disrupted. But we were lucky. I can assure you that it will not be the last. My men are training to respond to the next incident, despite the lack of support from the government.”

  Sonia gave him a slight smile.

  The commissioner glanced at his watch and closed his notebook with a snap. “We are all hurting for resources, Colonel. There just isn’t enough to go around. If you are
so interested in Ms. Jayaram’s theories feel free to discuss the matter offline, because unless someone has something else to add… This meeting is over.”

  The attendees dispersed quickly leaving Sonia to collect her papers. Prasad remained at the table studying his own notes. “I do believe that you might have something,” he said as he tucked the notebook into the pocket of his immaculately pressed black fatigues and rose from the table.

  She stood and smoothed out her pinstripe skirt. “Well you’re the only one who does.”

  “They’re fools. One day very soon, the terrorists will have all their assets lined up and then boom!” He laughed as he walked to the door. “Maybe then they will take us seriously when we ask for resources.”

  She turned to follow him. “I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  He blocked her way, flashing a toothy smile. “Perhaps we should discuss this further over dinner?”

  Sonia pursed her lips. “My schedule is very tight.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact I’m due at another meeting.”

  “Surely you could make time for me.” Prasad let her through the doorway and walked next to her as she paced down the corridor. Her heels rang on the marble tiles.

  “I was meaning to come to your office this week. To discuss a different matter.”

  “Really, and what would that be?”

  “My review of the terrorist arrests has revealed some shortfalls in the way your men handled both the evidence and the suspects. I wanted to make sure you were aware of the issues.” They walked through a security checkpoint and out into the parking lot. “I will see you later this week.” She smiled. “Thanks again for your support.”

  Her driver pulled up and she glanced out of the corner of her eye as she got into the back seat of the Mercedes. Prasad stood watching her and she shrugged off a shiver as she imagined what he was thinking. A few seconds later, she had opened her diary and moved on to more pressing matters.