03:02 (41 page)

I headed straight for the tarmac with the others. The enemy fighters were concentrated there, and we would hit them from behind. We ran through abandoned departure lounges and customs areas. The duty free shops and restaurants had all been ransacked and I supposed the enemy fighters had looted them for food and drink.

As we ran towards the departure gates, two masked men turned the corner and literally bumped into us. We went tumbling in an ungainly heap. Mahadev grabbed one of the men and pulled him back, shooting him dead while I grappled with the other. He got on top of me and brought his head down, intending to strike me on the face. I rolled to the right and freed my right hand, bringing it up to strike him on the side of the head with my elbow. His grip on me loosened as he fell away. I got up on my knees and struck him again, another elbow strike, this time to the back of the neck, and as he went down, Mahadev finished him with his knife.

We ran forward and now there were masked men all around us. We cut down several of them as we took them by surprise with our first bursts, but then the others rallied behind cover and began to return fire. I saw our first casualties of the day as two kids went down with bullets to the head before I shouted for everyone to get behind cover. We were now deep in the belly of the beast and the battle had been joined in earnest.

‘Burn the bastards!’

I heard Ronald’s screamed command on the radio to the Sea Hawk pilots overhead. Through the windows, I could see Humvees moving back towards the terminal from the tarmac, along with several dozen masked men. They had no doubt learned that the terminal itself had been breached and were coming back to help. The Sea Hawks had so far used two of their fragmentation bombs, and while I had no idea of the kind of damage those had caused, they were now about to unleash a very different kind of damage.

The glass windows in the terminal shook as they flew low over us and dropped their payload on the approaching vehicles and men. The Humvees were still firing with their heavy machine guns and I thought I saw sparks as one of the jets was hit, but any celebration that the enemy might have had was very short-lived.

I had never seen a napalm bomb explode before and I think all of us were in awe as the two bombs hit the cluster of vehicles and men outside. It was as if a sea of flame had engulfed them. Many men just lay there, burning or burnt to death, and yet others ran around, screaming in agony, their bodies on fire.

The enemies around us were no doubt watching the horror unfold outside and I screamed for bombs to be launched. Our fighters had taken cover where they could—behind vending machines, shop counters and overturned tables. Anagha now ran out of cover, a bomb in each hand, and rolled them towards two terrorists behind a table. The bombs exploded a few second later, killing one and sending another, wounded and screaming, out from behind the shattered table. He was shot several times and fell dead.

Others threw bombs towards the enemy positions, and they responded with grenades. The whole terminal building had been turned into a giant battleground, and the screams of the dead and dying echoed all around us. Wherever I looked, I saw a desperate life and death struggle being waged. Two of the NDA cadets were sprinting for cover when both went down to well-aimed bursts. I saw that their killer was a tall, well-built man wearing a mask and shouting orders to his men. He was clearly a leader of some sort and killing him would likely send his men into disarray. However, when I fired at him, he dove for cover and called out to his men. We had swept through most of the departure gates area where the enemy seemed to have been concentrated, but now the tall man was rallying his forces behind vending machines they had overturned around Gate 67. From behind cover, he and perhaps a dozen of his men were pouring devastatingly accurate fire at us.

Subin screamed as he was shot in the leg. Iyer ran up to him, bullets shredding the glass behind him, and pulled Subin to cover. I saw him apply a tourniquet to Subin’s leg and try and calm him as we tried to find out a way to dislodge the enemy. Anagha got up to throw a bomb but I saw her head snap back as she was hit. When I crawled over to her, I saw that she was dead. Had we come this far to be defeated here? Had we beaten all odds to die so close to our goal? I jumped behind a magazine rack as gunfire shredded the area around Anagha. Mahadev was behind me, trying to provide me covering fire, and he too dove down next to me.

‘Sir, they’ve got us pinned down here.’

A moment later, Shaikh slid over to join us.

‘Ron’s taken the control tower but there’s no sign of the Caliph. He says one of the wounded fighters talked about the Caliph’s personal guard being down here somewhere. I’m willing to bet it’s these guys.’

‘What do we do?’

Shaikh shook his head in exasperation. ‘We were doing fine till we had surprise and momentum on our side. Now we’re bogged down and these guys are good and behind cover. We’ll need a stroke of inspiration or brilliant luck to do something. I’m sure they fully expect to die, but they’ll take as many of us as possible and buy time for the Caliph to get away.’

I pounded the wall in frustration. ‘We can’t come this far and let that bastard get away.’

Mahadev had overheard our conversation and I saw a strange look on his face. A softer expression than I’d ever seen before. He touched my arm. ‘Aadi, in my next life, do come to my restaurant and I’ll serve you the best falooda in town.’

With that, he lit two bombs, and with one in each hand, ran at full speed towards the enemy position. I realized what he was doing and that it was too late to stop him, so I shouted at everyone to cover him. More than a dozen rifles opened up, peppering the enemy position with fire, trying to pin them down. When they saw Mahadev running towards them, a couple of them began firing at him. He staggered from a shot that hit him on the vest and then fell to one knee as another hit him on the leg. I screamed for Mahadev to come back, since there was no way he could throw the bombs at the enemy now. He looked at me, smiled, and then ran at the enemy with one last scream.

‘Har har Mahadev!’

More enemy fire hit him but they were too late. He launched himself over the barrier and both bombs exploded. I was running at the enemy now, and I could see Shaikh and others follow. A wounded fighter crawled out from the side and fired and I heard Shaikh scream as he fell. Several of us peppered the fighter with bullets and he fell still. As I jumped over the barrier, I saw a scene of carnage. Mahadev’s body was there, both his arms blown off and his body badly burned, but all around him were dead and wounded fighters. We were all over them now, and nobody was in a mood to take prisoners. I heard single shots and the sounds of knives rending skin and bone as the wounded were finished all around me.

I saw the tall enemy fighter crawling away, bleeding badly from cuts to his legs. When he saw me, he reached for a pistol lying by his side. I stepped on his hand and ground his palm with my heel and he screamed in agony. He took off his mask with his other hand and I saw a handsome face with sharp features and a well-groomed beard. He spoke with obvious pain in his voice but in flawless English.

‘I am a prisoner of war. Treat me accordingly.’

He held up his left hand to shield his face and I saw a ring I had seen before. That ring had belonged to Akif. The man before me had been wearing a mask even then, and I could never be sure, but the height and the build were unmistakable. This was the man who had come with the severed heads of our friends. He pleaded again, begging for mercy.

‘I am a prisoner of war. Please respect the laws of war.’

I dropped my gun and took out my knife and plunged it into his neck.

‘All you are is a dead man.’

There were still a few small groups of two or three enemies in the terminal and there was still gunfire being exchanged. I stood on top of an overturned vending machine and screamed, a primal scream of rage and loss—the loss of Mahadev, Shaikh, Yash, Anagha, Akif and all the others who had fallen; of the pain that came from knowing that no extent of revenge would make up for their deaths; of the pain that came from knowing that in fighting the blackness that had engulfed us, my own heart had been tainted by it. A cry born out of hatred for the man I had just killed and others like him, not just for what they had done to our world, but for what they had made me. I held my knife in one hand and the severed head of the enemy leader in the other. Something changed all around me as the enemy fighters saw me. Their resolve broke and they began to try and escape, and with their discipline and cover broken, they were hunted down and killed. What had been a hard-contested battle now became a slaughter.

I heard engines outside and turned to see two Humvees coming into view, masked men at the machine gun turrets on top. They were both aiming their guns at us when one of them exploded. The other machine gunner turned to meet the new threat when the vehicle was peppered by high-calibre machine gunfire, and then a bomb exploded next to it, sending shrapnel slicing through the vehicle and killing the machine gunner. Our saviours then came into view—Shwetabh and Pandey in their respective Humvees, with Pandey carrying the RPG launcher which had destroyed the first target, and Gurpreet with his makeshift mortar mounted on his auto-rickshaw. Our cavalry truly had ridden in to save the day.

I dropped the head and joined the others in mopping up. We encountered a handful of enemy fighters who put up their hands as if to surrender and we shot them down. This was not a battle where we intended to take any prisoners. I picked up the radio next to Shaikh and Ronald was on it.

‘Shaikh! Shaikh! Where are you, buddy?’

‘Shaikh’s gone, Ronald.’

Ronald was silent for a second, taking in the loss of his partner. After a second, he seemed to pull himself together and said, ‘Shwetabh and Pandey have brought in a dozen fresh fighters from Powai and they’re sweeping the terminal. I think now it’s just a question of picking off the stragglers, but still no news of the Caliph.’

I had lost all track of time, but the sun was starting to rise. Had we been fighting for so long? Just then, I heard heavy gunfire outside and looked out to see four men running onto the tarmac. Two of them were firing from rifles and the others were pulling along a heavyset man wearing a black robe.

The Caliph?

I fired at the glass separating us and, as it shattered, I ran along the corridor, hoping to get a clean shot. I saw our Humvees turn the corner but the two men knelt, abandoning their rifles for the RPG launchers at their shoulders, and fired. Both rockets struck home and I closed my eyes as I saw Gurpreet’s auto-rickshaw destroyed by a direct hit and Pandey’s Humvee careen onto its side as the rocket exploded right next to it. Shwetabh’s Humvee was right behind it and unable to move into firing position in time as the men ran towards a C-130 on the tarmac, its propellers already turning.

I knelt and fired at the two men bringing up the rear and saw them fall, but the Caliph, if that was who the man in the robe was, was too far for an accurate shot. They leaped into the open cargo door at the back of the plane and it started to taxi down the runway. I stared at it go with the impotent rage that came with knowing I was powerless to stop it.

That was when I heard a loud whistling sound as a Sea Hawk fighter screamed in, trailing smoke. The fighter I had seen get hit before. He must have been circling the airport, all his weapons expended, perhaps waiting for an all-clear to land. As the C-130 began to take off, the Sea Hawk slammed into it and both planes exploded in a giant fireball that shattered the windows around me and sent me flying backwards.

Before I passed out, I remember thinking one thing.

It was over.

The first voice I heard was Iyer’s.

‘Aadi, are you okay?’

I sat up gingerly.

‘How long have I been out?’

He looked at his watch. ‘Maybe ten minutes. And other than a bullet that went through your right thigh, grenade fragments in your left shoulder and severe glass cuts to your face, you are hale and hearty.’

I got to my feet. In the adrenaline rush of the battle, none of those wounds had registered, and I wasn’t going to let them slow me down now. Not when I could still hear the occasional gunshot.

‘Is the battle still on?’

‘There are only a couple of terrorists here and there who need taking care of, but there’s a room full of them begging for mercy.’

I turned to him. I would have thought that showing mercy and taking prisoners was something we had clearly shown we had no interest in. He shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m just the doc. Ronald said we should wait to hear your decision. They have thrown out all their weapons and are pleading to be left alive. One of them claims to be a senior officer who has a lot of intelligence to offer on their plans.’

I had planned on a fight to the death, not long drawn-out negotiations. What Iyer said next helped make up my mind.

‘Some of the guys found a couple of disturbing things. Word’s still getting around but when it’s known, I doubt people will be in a merciful mood, so make up your mind.’

My expression hardened as Iyer elaborated.

‘They saw a mass grave on the far side of the runway. It’s barely filled in, and there seem to be hundreds of corpses piled up there. Probably passengers who were stranded here and anyone else who came here looking for safety when the lights were turned on. They also found a dozen women, all in pretty bad shape. They aren’t talking much, but it looks like they were kept as slaves for use by the terrorists.’

I forgot my wounds as I walked towards the terminal gate where the enemy fighters were holed up in a bathroom. Close to a dozen of our fighters were standing in front of it, among them Shwetabh and a bloodied but alive Pandey. Iyer pointed to a corner where I could see a group of women, all looking gaunt and weak, most with visible bruises on their faces and bodies. I recognized a couple of the expats from our neighbourhood, people I had perhaps seen at Starbucks with their families. A voice called out from behind the bathroom door.