Petrov began drawing up a checklist, based on what safety regulations he could remember from his own days in the navy. They were Russian weapons, after all. He still kept one eye on the clock. Earlier in the day, there had been talk of a nap for the still-fatigued pair before the flight to Vizag. That had been reduced to sleeping aboard the helicopter, and now that might have to be deferred if he couldn’t finish the procedures…
The door burst open, surprising them all. Matthews, half dozing in the corner, was suddenly on his feet, weapon out in a shooter’s stance. He quickly pointed the weapon up, though, when the first person through the door was a civilian, and unarmed.
Goyal leapt to his feet. “Director Kumar!” Surprise filled his exclamation, and he started to ask a question, but stopped, frozen in shock when President Handa followed the director into the room. Others, including Chaudhari, followed Handa into the room.
Matthews’s weapon was out of sight even more quickly than he’d drawn it, and the Marine had braced. Even Petrov had joined Samant in coming to attention. Handa nodded to them all, and motioned for them to relax.
Ignoring Goyal, the president walked over to Samant and offered his hand. “Captain Girish Samant, I wish to thank you personally for your courage and loyalty. You’ve already done our country a great service, and may have saved India from a horrible fate.” After shaking hands with Samant, he turned to Petrov. “India is also grateful to you, Captain Petrov. How are your injuries?”
The Russian shrugged automatically, then winced. “I’m sorry, sir, but they’re only a nuisance.”
Shaking Petrov’s hand, the president answered, “You risked your life in the service of my country. There will always be a place for you here in India.” He looked over to Kumar and nodded.
The director of the CBI faced Agent Goyal, still dumbstruck. “Report!”
Almost stammering, the agent explained, “We have been drawing up safety procedures for the Garud force after they have secured the nuclear weapons…”
Kumar held up a hand, stopping Goyal in midword. “Plans have changed. The Garud force is going to be too late.”
“What?” Samant wasn’t sure if he’d said it first, or Goyal, or Petrov, but their exclamations were almost identical.
Handa said, “We should go,” and turned to leave.
Kumar said, “Captain Petrov and Captain Samant, please come with us now.” When Petrov gestured toward their escort, Kumar added, “And him, as well. Consul General Olson will join us at the airport.”
They were already walking, with Handa in front and setting a fast pace. Workers in the corridors stopped, wide-eyed, and then got out of the way as the procession passed.
Kumar explained, “The president’s jet is waiting for us. Luckily we were already en route here. Once airborne, we should be in Vizag in about forty-five minutes, say midnight. By then the reaction force will be ready to move, but they won’t wait for us.”
Samant, keeping pace to one side of Kumar, was confused, and asked, “What about the Garud commandos? The raid tomorrow morning?”
“We can’t wait,” Kumar answered. “We have absolutely no idea what’s going on at the shipyard. If they’ve been tipped off…”
They’d already hurried down two sets of stairs, and almost burst out of the front doors. A line of cars was waiting, an armored car at each end of the convoy. Kumar urged the three into one car, and followed them in.
As he belted in, Samant asked Kumar, “How? Who would do that? What about the agents…”
“You probably heard that Thapar had placed agents at the Vizag shipyard, that they had Dhankhar, Orlav, and the submarine under close surveillance.”
“Yes.”
Kumar scowled. He spat out, “Special Director Ijay Thapar is nowhere to be found.” He paused a moment, then explained, “It was by pure luck that we discovered the facade. While we were en route here, I asked our communications officer to pipe in the radio circuit the agents were using to coordinate surveillance of the shipyard. Easier than jogging Thapar’s elbow with constant demands for updates. Imagine our surprise when we couldn’t find the circuit, and even more when the Vizag office said they knew nothing about any surveillance of the shipyard.”
“Thapar lied,” Petrov concluded.
“And fooled us into thinking we had the plotters in a bottle, ready to be scooped up at our leisure,” Kumar continued. “Worse still, he’s undoubtedly warned Dhankhar, and if we find any of them, or Chakra, still at the shipyard, it will be a miracle.”
Sirens howling, the convoy had made good progress through the streets of Hyderabad, and drove through the airport gates at nearly full speed.
“But what about the Garud force?” Samant asked.
Kumar held up his hand as the car came to a stop. Quickly unbuckling, they followed Handa and the others up the boarding ladder into the president’s aircraft, a Boeing 737, engines idling.
They hurried up the stairs after the director, and saw Handa disappearing as he headed toward the front of the plane. “The president’s private office is forward. We can sit back here.” Kumar gestured toward a luxurious lounge, plush leather seats lining each side. A conference table farther aft was isolated by an etched-glass partition. Samant recognized the subject, depicting the three principal Hindu gods, Vishnu, Shiva, and Shakti, wielding celestial weapons against an army of demons.
Once they were settled, Kumar explained, “Just before we landed here, I ordered, on President Handa’s authority, the Quick Reaction force from the Visakhapatnam Police to arrest Dhankhar and Orlav, and take control of Chakra. They’re preparing right now. They have no experience with naval vessels, but then again, neither does the Garud force.” Kumar made another face as he remembered Thapar’s deception.
Samant glanced at his watch. It was 2250. Kumar said, “The team leader said they’d be ready to move a little after twenty-three forty-five. Our pilot’s using full throttle, but there’s no way we’ll get to Vizag before they are ready to move, and I won’t make them wait. We’ve lost too much time already.”
“What do you want us to do?” Petrov said, gesturing to Samant and himself.
“We will need you to identify the devices, as well as your experience with submarine systems. Captain Samant, it’s likely you will have to take command of Chakra again, since we will be taking Jain and his officers into custody.”
Samant nodded sadly. He hadn’t really thought much about Jain’s role, but he must be deeply involved. And Chakra’s reactor was certainly critical. Even if the conspirators did not sabotage the boat, somebody had to keep the plant running smoothly.
Together with Petrov, he began drawing up a new list.
There was a fair amount of traffic, but not enough to slow him down. Admiral Dhankhar checked his GPS. The next town was Chatuva, barely more than a cluster of buildings lining each side of the road. He didn’t need to stop.
The old blue Outlander was running smoothly enough, and the weather was cooperating. His biggest worry wasn’t the authorities. He was already a hundred kilometers northwest of Vizag, and the chance of them stopping a car registered to someone who didn’t exist was virtually nil. What really concerned him was his fatigue. He’d planned to make it as far as Raipur tonight, but that would mean driving until about four in the morning.
He’d gotten a late start. Jain had shaken the admiral’s hand for the last time at 2110, according to Dhankhar’s watch, then hurried aboard Chakra as the shipyard workers waited to pull in the brow and take in the mooring lines. It had taken every bit of control Dhankhar possessed to appear calm and pleased to see the captain off. The authorities could show up at any second, but Jain could not know that this wasn’t an officially sanctioned mission, approved by “the highest levels of the government,” as Dhankhar had assured him.