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  'What else do we know?' the defence minister asked, trying to put the shock behind.

  'The infiltrators are armed with automatic weapons and there are around twenty-five to thirty of them, though that's an approximation,' the RAW chief replied.

  'What do they want? Ransom? I must appreciate their choice. We could not have complied if they had captured our people. Some lives are dispensable. Whilst Pralay is not. Definitely not,' the defence minister thought for a moment and spoke again, quite needlessly, 'please do not quote this outside.'

  'How did they manage to break in?' the PM asked.

  'The complex was lightly guarded, sir. We thought assigning more guards would attract attention. Therefore, we let its remoteness be its primary defence. We assigned a regular CISF guarding contingent led by a lieutenant colonel on deputation,' Prasad said.

  'The question, right now, is not how they got in, but what do they want,' Malhotra asked.

  'But what if they do not want ransom? Maybe they want something else. Who knows, they could even try to destroy it. Hell, they can even smuggle it out!' the defence minister told the gathering.

  'They cannot,' said the head of DRDO. 'I just had a word with the key DRDO personnel responsible for erecting the security apparatuses on the base. They assured me that Dr Suryakant had himself devised the security measures and his skills with computers and designing are almost unsurpassable. The hardware and software of Pralay is locked inside a blast proof chamber, the entry to which is protected by a biometric thirty-two character random-shifting key. Access to the main silo containing Pralay or the master control facility is next to impossible for anyone not knowing the password or not having proper identification. They may use TNT on those chambers without a scratch. So the missile is, for the moment, secure.'

  'Are you sure?' asked the PM again and then looked at his intelligence heads, 'do you concur?'

  'Yes, sir,' the heads of IB and RAW said in unison, 'the HUMINT from DRDO was pretty specific about this. Almost everyone believes that access to the missile is impossible for those with no idea about the passwords'.

  'What do you suggest we do?' the PM asked the service chiefs.

  'As far as I know, sir, by now the enemy should be well dug in there. We should first study the situation. The centre has only one entrance. The hills block entry to the complex from three sides and I presume the sole entrance will be well-defended. Moreover, they will not be going anywhere nor can do anything since their quarry is sealed behind closed doors. They are trapped,' said Admiral Sapra.

  'It was the same case when we were in control of the centre. If they could easily barge in, so could we. What is the difference?' asked the home minister.

  'There is a very big difference. In our case, we were not expecting anything to happen. We thought the secrecy maintained about this project and the remote location of the centre would shield it from prying enemy eyes. Nevertheless, we were wrong. We did not expect to be attacked. That is why our security there was so relaxed. This was the best way to fool enemy intelligence. But now, on the other hand, I am sure they will be expecting us,' replied Sharma.

  'Can't you do anything?' the PM addressed the air chief.

  'What do you want me to do, sir? We cannot bomb the centre and possibly risk the destruction of all our missiles and warheads. Sorry, this is not my cup of tea. Rohit will have to help you there,' Sharma replied pointing at General Malhotra.

  'Malhotra, move your troops, storm the place, I want the missile centre sterilized. The test will happen as scheduled. More importantly, I am not going to a United Nations meeting to talk about India's permanent membership in the Security Council when a vital missile base of ours is in the hands of terrorists. Such a scenario is precisely what we accuse our neighbours to be capable of. I have to leave for the UN General Assembly tomorrow night, and by then I want the facility to be ours again,' the PM made his decision. It was no longer about the next elections, but about the future of his country vis-à-vis its image at the global forum. He had to convince the world that India is a safe destination not only for foreign investment but also for nuclear commerce. It would be a slap on his face if the news of what had happened broke out when he was addressing the UN General Assembly. 'Secure the base. Now!' commanded the PM. His order had a ring of finality to it.

  'I repeat, sir, that can cause massive casualties among our men. The infiltrators must be armed to the teeth. Moreover, they cannot damage the missile parts or even copy its plans. The base is under an ultra-safe security net. The attackers may have gained entry to the base, but they can never gain access to the central silo. Even with the personnel neutralized, the software programme will defend itself and refuse to divulge any information to all but who have the security password. Let them rot there while we plan to smoke them out!' Sapra gently reminded the PM of an alternative action plan.

  'Let there be casualties. The test should take place tomorrow as scheduled. Do it. This is what you are paid to do,' thundered the PM, in perhaps a momentary lapse of control.

  Malhotra, who until now had remained a tight-lipped spectator in the discussion, spoke, 'Sir, my men will need time to observe and evaluate the enemy. I suggest we slow down the pace of this operation based on the assurances of safety we have from DRDO.'

  'Time is something that I do not have right now. The test...' said the PM impatiently.

  '...can be delayed for a few days, sir. So can the trip. It will not harm anyone. I am sure the Ministry of External Affairs can come up with some good reasons to postpone your meet. In addition, I too feel that time is of the essence, but let us not rush hastily into a hornet's nest,' pressed Malhotra.

  This really led PM Roy to fume, 'Look, General Malhotra, the military does not dictate policy in New Delhi. You have been given a direct order.'

  'I am not refusing to do as you say, sir. All I am asking for is a little time so that we can understand the terrain and precious lives can be saved. We already are suffering heavy losses in the war against Naxalism. Operation Green Gold is tremendously successful, but at a terrible cost. Every fourth soldier in the Red Corridor either does not make it back or is disabled, sometimes permanently. There is resentment brewing amongst the ranks.'

  'India is a democracy, General, not the military. You fight to save democracy, not to practice it,' the PM said.

  'Perhaps we should…'

  Others sitting in the room watched with keen interest the verbal sparring between the PM and the general. The military men heard the heated discussion with an air of rebellion and the politicians with growing disdain. Even the faces of Gupta from IB and Prasad from RAW, both IPS officers rather than military men, showed that they were siding with one lot more than the other. Only a certain creed of the civil servants showed no overt reaction and refused to take sides. Perhaps that was why the IPS was IPS, thought the cabinet secretary. Too much thinking affected their brains and hampered the cold, rational and emotionless demeanour required of a true administrator, as their IAS counterparts would have said. The cabinet secretary and his bureaucratic buccaneers were expressionless, silent, and guarded in their involvement. The reason: whoever was to win this debate today, the IAS had to ensure it was on the winning side. Like always.

  'I order you to move your men to NMRC and punish all those who dared to rise against us, even if it means the loss of some of our men. The nation will never forget their ultimate sacrifice for the country,' screeched PM Roy.

  'Do not teach me what my job is,' said Malhotra in a steely voice. 'I cannot risk the lives of my men for a mere speech at the UN.'

  The prime minister was shocked. He opened his mouth to say something but then decided against it. He leaned back into his chair, closed his eyes for some time, rubbed his temples and then stared at the general. The PM actually smiled as he spoke after what seemed like a long time, though the smile did not reach his eyes, 'Very well, I call these creative differences. How unfortunate, General. But the show must go on. I am sure your resignation
will be on my table by this evening.' The PM got up, signalling the end of the meeting.

  Malhotra stared at him for a long time. Then, in a low voice, he said, 'Yes, sir. As you wish.'

  'What about the press. What do we tell them? Sooner or later, they will come to know about this,' asked a worried minister.

  'Not a word of this to anyone. This is an ultra-secret location we are talking about. OK, not so secure, but what the hell! I hope that by this time tomorrow we will be standing over the remains of the infiltrators. Then we will break the news. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.' Roy left the room.

  Malhotra shuffled his papers and folded them, ready to leave. This would be his last day as the chief of army staff. He was going to resign. The insolence to disobey an order would not be tolerated in a democracy, even if it meant saving lives. He had initiated the anti-Naxal campaign, and the deaths of his men fighting in the Red Corridor weighed heavily on his conscience.

  He shook hands with the bunch and left. The service chiefs realized he was in a rotten mood and kept their distance. Malhotra walked out towards his car. His driver opened the door and he climbed in. At a distance, he saw the Indian flag fluttering. This is all, he thought, a Neruda poem...This Being the Last Pain She Makes Me Suffer occurred to his mind. The car started and moved out of the gate.

  Barely a couple of minutes later, at a signal, Malhotra saw a little girl, begging and jumping through hoops to please motorists. Another begging girl, hardly seven or eight, knocked at his window. She was holding a little brown pup in her arms that looked at Malhotra with hauntingly cute eyes and whimpered hungrily.

  Suddenly an inspiration struck General Malhotra. A plan seemed to take concrete shape in his mind. The cloud of doubt vanished. 'The sovereign,' he recalled Sun Tzu, 'must not always be obeyed.' He had taken a decision. Malhotra, at last, had found his goal. And like many of his earlier missions, he was willing to pursue it to death.

  Army General Headquarters, Rawalpindi, Pakistan

  Local time: 1530 hours

  Date: 23 April 2014

  Footsteps echoed throughout the deserted corridor as Captain Jehangir Malik, trying his best to hide his excitement, skidded to a stop outside the office of the military secretary to the Pakistani army. The aide-de-camp dusted his uniform and walked the last few steps towards the office of his mentor and superior. Calm needs to be maintained, even in the most agitated times.

  Malik reached the ornately carved door, knocked and entered the room a second later. He was one of the few who could walk in that office anytime. A privilege he understood all too well. There was another thing he understood well enough–that failure, even a small one, will make him fall down the long ladder of command and in the blink of an eye, will earn him a posting in NWFP. He winced and looked at the general, trying to focus on his fears to prevent himself from looking over-zealous.

  The general looked up and smiled, a cigarette dangled from his lips. Lieutenant General Asif Hussain Chowdhury was of average height but with shoulders broader than normal. He was a dexterous field commander, a former head of Pakistan's elite Special Service Group and a major mover of the nuclear weapons programme. The youngest military secretary in Pakistani history, General Chowdhury was a Saraiki Bhutta Jatt from Bahawalpur and as loyal to his state as to his nation–a man forever confused where the boundaries of Punjab ended and where Pakistan began. It was a common feeling amongst Pakistani officers from Punjab. There was a well-known joke, if it could be called one, that Punjab was Pakistan and Pakistan was Punjab. If in a conflict Punjab fell, Pakistan fell and if Punjab survived, Pakistan survived. Punjab gave the Pakistani army around sixty per cent of its officers whereas its contribution to personnel below officer ranks was just about twenty per cent. However, as long as the Punjabis dominated the hierarchy at the top, other denominations like the Sindhis, Balochis and Pashtuns could do little. The army controlled Pakistan, and the army, in turn, was controlled by Punjab.

  Chowdhury kept looking at Malik but did not say anything. Silence, he knew, brought out the best and the worst in men. He had learned to exploit it. Inwardly, however, he was dying to know the result of the mission that could very well immortalize him in the Pakistani history. However, he did not want his aide to know how desperately he wanted this mission to succeed. A commanding officer must always seem in-charge of the situation, all-knowing and all-powerful.

  Chowdhury had personally supervised this mission, a bit too personally, and had used all his contacts to keep this mission a secret. When the time was right, he would himself tell the chief of staff and even the president. Until then, he had a secret to keep.

  He could not believe his luck. Some days ago, an old pal contacted him and offered to liberate his soul and return to the

  good old days. A suggestion to which he had happily agreed.

  Malik smiled. 'They are in, sir. All opposition neutralized. No casualties,' he said.

  Chowdhury smiled at the news, although he knew the result the moment Malik stepped confidently into his room.

  'Our men will not be returning. I want the army to provide whatever assistance we can for their families. Tell them they were killed in the Indian firing across the LOC and that their bodies will not be coming home as they were buried on site. Destroy all records of this mission, if they exist. Malik, see to it personally. Keep updating me with the latest developments on this mission. I do not want anything to go wrong,' Chowdhury ordered, then sat back and smiled serenely at him again.

  Good going, thought Malik, as he nodded. 'Yes, sir. It will be done,' Captain Malik replied, saluted, and walked out of the room.

  He was happy about how things were shaping up. If it went on like this, he knew that he would soon be Major Malik.

  Lutyens' Delhi, India

  Local time: 1200 hours

  Date: 24 April 2014

  It was a strange sight for Delhi. Office-goers stopped in the streets to stare at the columns of monstrous tanks lazily prowling around. Apart from the Republic Day parades, the people of Delhi never saw armoured columns in the heart of their city. General Malhotra, it seemed, had been busy on calls for the past few, frantic hours.

  Men in olive green had cordoned off Parliament while the budget session was still in progress. Movement of civilians had been restricted, though with much civility and leeway. For what he was about to do, Malhotra expected neutrality at least from the public, if not overt support. He knew politicians and certain elements of civil society will oppose his move vehemently, but he was ready for them. He had a plan to make them cooperate.

  The army was with him. Even though some corps commanders did not agree with the decisions of their respective General Officer Commanding-in-Chief (GOC-in-C) to support Malhotra, it mattered little. The Western Command had promised to back Malhotra up to the hilt, so had the Lucknow-based Central Command and the Northern Command at Udhampur. Moreover, if the guardedly zealous response of the GOC-in-C of South Western command was an indicator, another tactical command was on the verge of compliance. The Eastern Command Kolkata was presently non-committal, but likely to come around to see his viewpoint. The only tactical command openly against him was the Southern Command headquartered at Pune. It seemed Malhotra had to keep the non-cooperative command's Jodhpur-based XII corps, the Desert Corps, in mind when making any plans.

  The air force was in, too. The Western Air Command (WAC) of the Indian air force was firmly with Malhotra, the air marshal being a chummy squadron mate from his NDA days. Other Air Officers Commanding (AOCs) were also ready to rise to the occasion. Thankfully, WAC, the only IAF command already on-board, was headquartered at Subroto Park, New Delhi, and was ready to fly sorties out of the Hindon Air Force Base located at Ghaziabad, a suburb of Delhi, to augment Malhotra's maneuvers, if the need arose.

  As if to bear testimony to the air warriors' word, a couple of Mi-25 gunships flew over Malhotra at the precise moment, more to intimidate hostile personnel than to enforce a no-fly zone.

&
nbsp; Unfortunately, the navy had unequivocally refused to go along with Malhotra, which meant that the Coast Guard and the Sagar Prahari Bal (SPB) was out too. However, Malhotra knew that the action would take place here in Delhi, and the dissenters sitting far away mattered little now, for he also had the support of IPS. It was siding with the military for one simple reason–it promised them more control over their territories–especially when it was at the expense of IAS . The Central paramilitary organizations, headed by IPS officers, adopted a wait-and-watch approach. Most of their middle-level officer cadre was drawn from the army. The Strategic Forces Command too did not openly oppose him. The way ahead was clear.

  Malhotra's car cut across the barricades and reached the Parliament House through Gate No. 1. General Rohit Malhotra stepped out of his car in ceremonial uniform. Bound by his nature cultivated over years spent in field duty, he scanned the entire area the moment he stepped out. Precaution was better than a bullet between the eyes.

  Scores of T-90 Bhishma tanks were lethal predators stalking the Delhi roads waiting to unleash their firepower in environs where it would have been disastrous. The few Delhi police and CRPF personnel who had tried to resist his men were overpowered and transported long before he had arrived. His men now operated the sentry posts.

  Although a majority of commands backed him, he had asked units of the Rajasthan Rifles to form the core of the first wave of assault. This served a dual purpose. One, Rajasthan Rifles would have a base in Delhi Cantonment, and that amounted to quick mobilization. Two, he was commissioned in that very infantry unit. He had served with officers and men for long, hard years; they knew and respected him.

  Consequently, Malhotra's orders were obeyed without any of his men protesting. From a watch tower, one of his men raised his gun in salute. Malhotra smiled. He went up to the Parliament entry. The doors had been locked from outside. A JCO opened them for him. Malhotra motioned him not to follow and stepped inside the Lok Sabha hall, alone.