The appearance of the authorities would not only end Vajra, but destroy Jain’s trust in him, and that was suddenly a very important thing. He would somehow explain the deception when Jain returned. By then, the government would be celebrating the victory over Pakistan and it would all be moot.
He didn’t have any special words for Jain, just the traditional “Good luck and good hunting.” He hardly remembered what Jain had said in return, probably something about not letting him down.
Dhankhar had watched the sub leave the pier and fade into the darkness. In accordance with his orders, Jain would submerge the instant there was enough water under his keel and head off at high speed, about forty-five minutes from now, but that was out of the admiral’s hands.
Leaving the pier, the admiral had walked a few blocks to where he’d left the car. He found it earlier, right where it was supposed to be, and put a few personal items inside.
Once inside the car, he changed into civilian clothes and packed his uniform and identification into a duffel bag. His new documents and driver’s license described him as a retired army officer. The car was, of course, registered in the new name.
He drove out of the shipyard without incident, and headed northwest. It was a three-day drive to Amritsar, on the northwest border, but there was a bungalow reserved for him under another false name, and for the next three days, he’d be on the road.
As he drove, Dhankhar could feel the tension draining away. He’d done it — Vajra was under way. There was more than two weeks of waiting before it would be completed, but Chakra was on her way. He suddenly yawned, and realized how much he’d been depending on adrenaline to keep going. Fatigue was going to be an issue, but he’d brought a thermos of tea. He’d be fine.
14
SMOKE AND MIRRORS
The door burst open as six men in SWAT gear poured into the room, weapons at the ready. Their forced entry was unnecessary; the room was empty. The squad leader signaled for his men to disperse and make a thorough search. After the all-clear was given, a CBI agent entered, turned on the lights, and made his own inspection. The desk light was still on, as if the occupant had only stepped away for a moment. The desktop itself was immaculate, and the admiral’s in-box was empty. All the paperwork had been moved neatly into the out-box. Disappointed, he sighed. The agent wasn’t surprised that Dhankhar was gone; by all accounts the admiral was a very smart man. It just meant that his job was going to be a whole lot harder.
“This is Agent Devan,” he said into his radio. “The suspect is not here. The office is empty. I’m about to begin an investigation of the office and will check the computer hard drive as well, but I’m not confident I’ll find much. Please inform Director Kumar.”
Devan turned to the SWAT team squad leader. “Begin a methodical search of the building. I doubt Admiral Dhankhar is here, but we must know for certain. Check in every half hour.”
The SWAT team departed, joining the rest of the law enforcement and military police personnel in securing and searching the Eastern Naval Command headquarters. The CBI agent knelt down next to the admiral’s chair and examined the desk. All the drawers were unlocked. They contained nothing unusual, just mundane office supplies and documents that would be collected in due course. No thumb drives or external hard drives were present, nor were there any cell phones or other electronic devices. A check of the desk’s structure showed there weren’t any hidden compartments. The two filing cabinets were just like the desk: impeccably kept and full of routine paperwork and reports. There was nothing in the trash can.
Returning to the desk, Devan started up Dhankhar’s computer and inserted a thumb drive in one of the USB ports. Moments later he had recovered the network access password and logged in. Checking the e-mail folder, he found it empty, no surprises there. But there weren’t any files stored on Dhankhar’s virtual drive or the hard drive either. Everything was gone. He used a quick recovery application to see if any files had been recently deleted, still nothing. Annoyed and frustrated, Devan removed the thumb drive and shut down the machine. The computer forensics team would have to tackle this one. The squawk of his radio pulled his attention away from his futile investigation; the SWAT team reported in that the perimeter was secure and that a room-to-room search of the building had begun.
The CBI agent acknowledged the report and left to supervise the search of the building. He was certain they’d find no trace of the admiral here. Silently, he hoped the other teams would have better luck. If not, India was a big country; it would take a long time to search just the cities and larger villages. And then there were the countless smaller villages near the borders, particularly with Pakistan, that national law enforcement rarely visited. If Dhankhar had decided to go to ground, they might never find him.
Samant and Petrov waited impatiently for the military police and explosive ordnance people to finish their detailed inspection of the torpedo shop. No one expected any booby traps, but Director Kumar wasn’t taking any chances. None of them would be allowed into the workshop until the security detachment said it was safe. Exasperated by his forced inactivity, Samant wandered about the parking lot. His thoughts were racing, as he desperately tried to think of a way to save his former shipmates; his chest still ached from seeing the empty pier as they drove in. Now the whole world would be looking for Chakra, undoubtedly with orders to shoot to kill, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help them. Samant couldn’t recall a time when he felt more helpless.
“Gentlemen,” shouted Kumar. “The workshop has been cleared for us to enter.”
“Finally,” Petrov grumbled, and headed quickly into the building. Samant followed close behind.
Petrov found it a little bizarre being back in the torpedo workshop, this time surrounded by civilian and military police officials. It looked much as it did the night he and Samant snuck in. Only this time, the secure vault doors were open and there wasn’t a torpedo in sight. The disappointment felt by all was palpable.
“It would appear they left in good order,” remarked Kumar scathingly. The worktables were littered with tools, but no documents were visible. The wooden shipping crates had been removed; even Orlav’s makeshift bed was gone. “They obviously had sufficient opportunity to get rid of anything with forensic value. All that time we had, wasted! I’ll personally make Thapar pay for his treachery!”
Turning to his agents, he ordered, “I want this building thoroughly searched! Every square centimeter is to be gone over — twice! Bring anything, however trivial, to the forensics team for examination.”
Samant walked inside the vault. It was big enough to hold six torpedo trolleys and their payloads. Inspecting the floor, he saw nothing to indicate just how many weapons had been stored in the vault. They’d have to assume that five weapons had been moved to Chakra.