The Bard of Blood (20 page)

‘Go on,’ he said in a gruff voice, swiping at the iPad.

‘It’s a fairly simple message,’ Nihar continued. ‘One of the movies we downloaded is called
Murder
. The other is
Life in a Metro
. Say them together.’

‘Murder life in a metro,’ Isha said softly. ‘Tomorrow!’

They knew instantly what this could mean. And their first reaction was one of denial.
Another 26/11!
There was a pregnant pause. Kabir lifted the iPad again and glanced at it. It confirmed his fears. The red dot on the bottom-right line was where the attack was scheduled to happen.

Joshi broke the silence. ‘According to Nihar, all we have for now is this. Once he recovers the data from Omar’s laptop, we might just find out more.’

Isha’s eyes were on Kabir, as if he was the one with a solution.

‘I’ll take charge of the security around the metro with the red dot. It’s the Nehru Place Metro Station, if I’m not mistaken. One of the most crowded stations,’ Kabir said thoughtfully. ‘Security in and around every other station must be beefed up, too.’

‘Thanks, Kabir, but we’ll take it from here. You don’t need to be a part of this. You’ve done enough already,’ Joshi said dismissively as he got up from his chair.

‘Did I hear you correctly, Mr Joshi?’

‘Yes, Kabir.’

Kabir’s eyes narrowed, his face grew red. He stood up and blocked Joshi’s way.

‘Look at yourself,’ Joshi said. ‘You’re not even in a state to stand.’

‘I was in no state to go to Balochistan either. There wasn’t an iota of concern about my welfare then. And I believe my team and I have done an exceptional job of pulling off a mission as tough as that.’

‘Yes,’ Joshi replied. ‘And I applaud you and your team for that, Kabir. I do. This is something I can get my other agents to handle. And, frankly, a man with his hand in a sling, a rebellious attitude and a penchant for recklessness cannot be appointed for a job as crucial as this. The reason you were sent to Balochistan is the same reason you cannot be sent to the metro station: you flirt with danger!’

Kabir took a step closer to Joshi.

‘I have never been reckless unless the situation demanded it,’ he said, tightening his jaw. ‘And I’m afraid the situation is beginning to demand it.’

‘Is that a threat, Mr Anand?’

‘It’s a polite request. You’ve made me a part of this, and I will see it through.’

Isha and Nihar threw each other nervous sidelong glances. Isha realized she needed to stop this from getting out of hand.

‘Sir, can Kabir be a part of the team? Don’t isolate him at this crucial stage!’

Joshi took a deep breath and huffed. He held Kabir’s gaze and then nodded.

‘You will be with Nihar in the control room throughout,’ he said, and walked away to alert the other agencies about the threat. Kabir’s temples throbbed with the sheer thought of the imminent emergency as he saw the map of the Nehru Place Metro Station again.
There was very little time left.

15 September 2014

Nehru Place Metro Station, New Delhi

Nehru Place is a large business and commercial centre situated in South Delhi. It was but natural that the Nehru Place Metro Station, one of the most sophisticated in Delhi, was going to be crowded with commuters at eight in the evening. The younger lot, who had managed to make their way into multinational companies, but weren’t in positions high enough to be chauffeured around in their own sedans, looked grimly similar, ticking mechanically to their clocks. Their ties were loosened, their first two buttons undone and their laptop cases hung limply by their sides, as they entered the metro that was praised for being as regular as its international counterparts. They greeted each other politely and discussed their work superficially, trying to make themselves sound important, all the while looking at the indicator for the next train’s arrival.

‘There are a lot more cops around here than usual,’ one such youth muttered to another. Another young man nodded in agreement, sipping at a pricey cappuccino from the Starbucks nearby.

‘Wonder what that is all about,’ he said, slurping his coffee, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. ‘Hope everything’s okay.’

Everything, as it turned out, was not okay. Kabir and Nihar had spent the entire day in the control room. Nihar chatted with the technicians who controlled the automatic trains. He did a great job of playing mediator between the various security agencies they employed. Kabir kept to himself, keeping an eye on the proceedings from a chair in the corner of the room. He was at his introspective best. He thought about everything that had happened in the recent past. It passed by in a blur. He had risked his life on more occasions than one in a span of twelve days. But the way things were moving, it looked like he would have to wait a while before he got back to his college with his copy of
Macbeth
. He had taken another dose from the vial. It definitely helped calm him down.

Veer and Isha were on the ground, alert as ever, dressed in their regular clothes. The cops had been told that they would be supervising matters as well, and their needs were to be catered to. Even though all the stations were being guarded and watched vigilantly, the focus was on the Nehru Place station. The red dot on the part of the line on the map that Ivan had found corresponded almost exactly to Nehru Place, and probably meant that it was the target. It was a large station, and Isha and Veer had split up to even things out. They were connected through discreet transmitter–receiver devices, routed via Nihar’s laptop.

‘Anything?’ Isha asked.

‘No,’ Veer replied bluntly.

Isha didn’t reply and continued to pace away. She began to get tired of the nothingness. She watched a group of five khaki-clad cops walking in through the entrance, chatting away. She was glad the security had been doubled.
The terrorists were probably spooked away.
She turned her back to the cops and began to walk towards a snack bar to get herself something to munch on, when she heard that dreaded, unmistakable sound.
A gunshot.

Her hand involuntarily went to her hip, pushed behind her jacket and drew out her pistol. She turned to look and saw one of the policemen standing with a rifle over a dead man’s body. The four cops behind him had split into two groups, cocked their guns and had begun to walk briskly. At first, she thought the cop had spotted a terrorist and done the job. But when the other policemen opened fire indiscriminately, the real horror of what was actually happening dawned on her. Bodies began to drop to the ground immediately. She rushed for cover. There was chaos. The terrorized commuters began to rush out towards the exit, screaming in panic. There was a near-stampede. The metro security rushed to the spot and helped the bewildered crowd out of the station with great difficulty.

‘Veer, they are here, dressed in police uniforms!’

Kabir and Nihar stood up and listened to her voice.

‘Lock the station down. Set up a perimeter outside,’ Kabir instructed. ‘Any trains that are coming in now need to be stopped. We can’t let more people arrive on the scene!’

A technician replied, ‘It’s too late. One is just about to reach!’

‘Then keep the doors locked,’ Kabir said. ‘Isha, get to cover. We are watching the CCTV footage. I’ll direct you around. Veer, you stay put. One of them is coming towards you.’

Both nodded. Isha hid behind a wall, took aim and fired at the hostile cop. She missed. The cop turned, raised his rifle and shot at her. The bullets embedded themselves in the wall. The cop drew closer. Isha stuck her hand out and fired blindly.

‘Don’t fucking do that!’ Kabir snarled in her earpiece. ‘You might hit a civilian. Take the shot when I tell you to. He’s ten steps away. On my count . . . Three . . . Two . . . One!’

Isha bent down and rolled over to her left. She took a clean shot, hitting the cop in the stomach. She fired again. The cop dropped down to the ground. She saw Veer at the opposite end, running swiftly to switch cover, firing at a couple of cops who had their eyes on him.

‘Kabir, please do something about the real policemen. We are getting confused.’

Kabir looked at Nihar. He was breathing rapidly.

‘Make an announcement! Call them up! No more cops should come in wearing their uniforms. Seal the perimeter. Alert all the stations now. Freeze every metro.’

‘There is one train leaving Nehru Place right now,’ Nihar pointed out, as the doors of the metro opened and the passengers rushed inside for cover.

‘Let them all go inside,’ Kabir said. ‘Then send it to the next station. It’s the safest bet. The civilians inside will survive.’

Veer still had his back against a narrow pillar. Two of the ‘cops’ split up and were coming towards him from both sides. If he killed one, the other was going to kill him. He decided to take the chance and go for the one on the left.
He’s walking faster than the other. If I get him, I might still have time to kill the other one.
A furious spurt of gunshots followed. Veer heard two bodies drop to the ground. The real policemen had shot them dead. They had their uniform on inside out, and it was also unbuttoned to reveal a bulletproof vest. Veer came out of cover. They still had their guns pointed at him. They recognized him and lowered the gun. He gestured to them to walk away and evacuate anyone they could. He saw National Security Guard commandos rush in from the opposite side.

He held the transmitter up to his mouth and said, ‘Kabir, how many more do you think there are in here?’

Kabir watched the CCTV footage from the control room. He noticed the policemen with the unbuttoned shirts from the grainy footage, his eyes cancelled out the few strewn dead bodies and, suddenly, in the sweep of his gaze he saw the cop who was channelling everyone into the metro.
He’s wearing a buttoned shirt.

‘Veer! Isha!’ Kabir shouted. ‘The cop who is sending everyone into the train isn’t a real one! Get to him now! I’m closing the doors! Don’t let him get in!’

Veer and Isha looked at each other from the two ends of the station. He motioned her to stop and began to run towards the end where the cop was sending the last of the civilians inside. A few still jostled to get in. The cop pushed them aside and went in as soon as he saw the doors were about to close. Veer galloped furiously, yelling. He held up his pistol and fired at the glass windows of the train. It was beginning to gain speed. Veer managed to get a grip through the broken window and jumped up and inside the train. He fell to the floor with considerable force, but quickly and nimbly brought himself back to his feet. The wind swept inside as the train left the station. It soon started ascending slightly on to an elevated track. There were around twenty civilians in the train, Veer estimated from a cursory glance.

The gunman looked at him, momentarily taken aback, and then realized the only possible solution was to shoot the intruder to his little party. He cocked his AK-47 and aimed it at Veer, who was about a metre away from him. Between them was a puny man who was sweating profusely, too petrified to move an inch. Veer realized he was too far to attack the gunman. He acted on impulse and sent his boot into the back of the little man between them, who in turn stumbled ahead and sprawled over the gunman, throwing him off balance. The little man had completely lost his bearings and rolled on the floor. Veer saw his chance and ran head-on, ramming the gunman into a metal pole. The man pulled the trigger defensively and fired at the lights. A brief shower of sparks flew to the ground, causing the lights inside to fluctuate. Veer sent his knuckles crashing into the gunman’s nose. He was about to deliver a fatal blow when he felt a blunt thud on his head.

Veer lost his vision momentarily and began to feel dizzy. There was another attacker in the train as well. The second man held the butt of the gun and slammed it against Veer’s face again. Veer felt a tooth loosen. A gush of blood rushed out. The man was about to deliver a third blow, when Veer retaliated by kicking him on his knee. The man reeled backward a couple of times, against the inertia of the train. Veer rolled aside and pushed himself up. His vision was hazy. He heard the passengers yelling and pleading for mercy. He vaguely noticed the gunman pick up his weapon and get ready to fire. Veer charged at him, head-on, like an enraged bull. He shoved the man into the wall, pinned him against it and pummelled him in a fit of blind, brutal rage. The man fought back, but was no match for Veer’s ferocity. Veer wrapped his right arm around the man’s neck and crushed his windpipe, rendering him lifeless in an instant. Veer shot a final glance at him and saw an amulet hanging around his neck. He was about to rip it out, when he heard the shrill scream of a woman. He turned around to see that the other gunman had stood back up. Blood dripped from his disfigured nose and stained his khaki uniform. But then Veer saw something he didn’t like. The man didn’t have a gun on him. He had something much worse. He held a small switch.
A detonator.
Veer’s gaze followed the wire connected to the switch. It went through the gap between two buttons.
A suicide vest
.

Veer’s fierce eyes met the man’s steady, glassy gaze. The wheels in his mind whirred, processing information and performing calculations. The man had just said his prayers. His thumb was about to come down and push the button.
A single click, and at least twenty people would die
. The train was speeding over a busy road. If there was a blast, a few compartments of the train could easily topple over the bridge on to the cars below. And there would be an explosion soon after.
The body count would rise. There is no alternative. I have to do it.

As the man’s fist tightened around the detonator, Veer ran towards him and speared him upwards, off his feet and through the gap in the window from which he had earlier muscled his way in. It wasn’t a neat sight. The wind blew in through the broken glass. The direction the train was taking didn’t help either. But straining every sinew in his body, Veer managed to grab the man and jump out. The bomb went off. There was an explosion in mid-air. To the onlookers and commuters on the street below, it would’ve looked like an extremely loud and flashy firework, a bit too close for comfort. People gathered to look as the train sped across. None of them, at first glance, would’ve been able to guess what it really was.

A flash of light. A deafening sound. A huge sacrifice.