“Only if that bastard tries to talk to someone over military comms,” Potgam replied. “With Pakistani skies under relative control, Bhosale and his electronic-warfare and signals-intelligence crews are working with Basu’s ARC boys over Pakistan. If Haider tries to talk to someone in Rawalpindi, we might be able to get a sneak-peek into his whereabouts.”
“That’s rather thin to go on.” Ravoof said neutrally.
“It’s all we have.” Basu said before Potgam could. “But Haider is not one to sit out the war on the sidelines. So expect him to make some noise. We just have to trust that bastard to stay true to character.”
38
“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?” Grewal said and then winced in pain from the bullet wounds. The medic treating him was not being gentle. Pathanya stood nearby and watched impassively. Grewal looked around and saw the other men on perimeter security in this wooded area. Vikram and a couple others were fixing the smudged camo face-paint streaks on their cheeks under guidance from each other. The early afternoon sunlight was casting rays through the windy leaves above them. No one said anything beyond what was required.
Grewal sighed. He understood from what he saw that these men were very exhausted. Staying on constant vigil inside enemy territory will take its toll on anyone. The strain of combat compounded the exhaustion.
Not to mention a wounded air-force pilot to take care of. He was painfully aware of his inability to keep up with the pathfinders even under what he considered was his “peak condition”. With a broken shoulder and a bullet wound in one leg, he had no doubts that he was a hindrance to whatever these men were doing out here. At lease he considered himself better armed now, having picked up one of the G3 rifles and some extra magazines from the dead Pakistani Rangers.
“Major Pathanya,” Grewal said finally to the towering figure standing near him, “before you rescued me, I was unable to get in touch with my people. I am pretty sure they think I am dead or captured. Perhaps if we can send a word out, they can come get me and you and your men can return to your existing mission?”
Pathanya bent down on one knee and tucked his rifle the other way on his chest: “sir, our original mission doesn’t exist anymore. Not after this.” He cocked his eyes to the hanging dust clouds over Lahore. “We will arrange a pickup as soon as possible. But I intend to get all of my men out. There is nothing left for us here. Not anymore.”
“What was your original mission?” Grewal asked, half-expecting to be ignored.
Pathanya sighed and got up on his feet, pulling his rifle closer: “sir, our mission was to kill or capture a critical individual responsible for orchestrating the nuclear attack on Mumbai. This individual was also in charge of the jihadist forces inside Lahore. Our secondary objective was to cause general mayhem within the enemy logistics in conjunction with the air-force.”
Grewal smiled: “so you were our eyes and ears behind enemy lines, eh? I was flying escort missions with my squadron protecting the same bombers that you were helping to guide in. Small world.”
“Small world, indeed.”
“This nuclear detonation in Lahore,” Grewal said as he pulled himself up into sitting position against a tree trunk, “was orchestrated by the Pakistani high-command. Trying to implicate us before using their first strike options or giving us a backhand way out.”
“An eye for an eye?” Pathanya said as his smile gave way to something more sinister. Grewal saw it in his eyes. The Pathfinders weren’t looking for an eye. They were looking for heads on a platter. He could only wonder whose command they were under and what their mandate was…
“An eye for an eye.” Grewal nodded. “A few nights ago, I was on a mission deep inside Pakistani airspace when we found that the Pakistanis were attempting to use airliners to fly their civilians out of the country. That could have only meant one thing.”
“So we knew this was about to happen?” Pathanya pointed an arm towards Lahore. Grewal could only tilt his head in a way that said: probably.
“And then this morning,” Grewal winced again as the pain shot up in waves from his thigh, “I saw on my designator pod that the Pakistanis were moving large medical evacuation convoys out of the city, twenty minutes before the detonation in eastern Lahore.”
“What did you say about the medical convoys?”
Pathanya smiled in that weird way that Vikram and Kamidalla quietly recognized to mean: son of a bitch!. Grewal looked at the others but didn’t see any answers there. Pathanya knelt beside him and removed a folded paper map from his thigh pocket and unfolded it over Grewal’s legs.
“Sir,” he said after handing Grewal a small pencil, “can you show me exactly where you saw the medical convoys heading before you were shot down?”
Grewal looked at Pathanya, then Vikram and then Kamidalla as they strode over and knelt beside the map as well. They stowed away their rifles and removed their own paper maps. Grewal shrugged and then took the map from Pathanya, studying it and acquainting himself with the orientation and scale.
Several quiet seconds later he pointed to a location in western Lahore: “right here,” he rounded the location using a pencil, “is what we believe was their command center. That was determined using triangulation of comms signals over the past few days. We bombed it using laser-guided-munitions thirty minutes prior to the nuclear detonation. And right here,” he moved his pencil on the translucent paper by one block north, “is where I spotted what I believe was a field-hospital operated by the Pak army.”
Pathanya nodded as he studied the locations being marked by Grewal. “And the convoys leaving the area?”
“They were,” Grewal said and then peered closer at the roads leaving Lahore, “right along here. Heading north.”
“The bastards bugged out of the city before the explosion!” Vikram blurted out. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from that bastard!”
Grewal looked at the camo-painted faces talking around him. “Gentlemen, forgive me for breach of protocol here, but was your target Lt-general Haider? Is that why you are here?”
Vikram raised an eyebrow at Pathanya but said nothing. The latter simply lifted the map from Grewal’s legs and folded it into neat squares. Vikram and Kamidalla took the cue and did the same.
Pathanya realized, however, that he couldn’t just treat the air-force officer this way: “yes sir. We have reason to believe that he was involved with arming the terrorists that struck Mumbai.” He let that sink in for a moment. “And I also believe that Haider is not only alive, but is hiding with his entourage within these medical convoys you saw.”
“That’s a breach of the Geneva convention!” Grewal blurted in anger.
“Wouldn’t be the first time for that bastard,” Vikram noted before Pathanya shot him a glare.
Grewal knew the answer, but asked anyway: “So what does this all mean for you?”
Pathanya took a deep breath: “just that our mission is still alive and kicking somewhere northwest of Lahore. And we are going to get him!”
39
HUssein’s plans were taking shape on the world stage through the media. Images released by the government of Pakistan via their embassies in the United States, the UK and over the social media showed up-close-and-personal images of the nuclear detonation in Lahore. The enveloping mushroom cloud bought back recollection of a similar event over Mumbai just over a month ago. And as there, Islamabad was quick to point out the human tragedy that was just unfolding. Islamabad released a press note stating that an Indian nuclear warhead had been detonated over Lahore and civilians in the city had suffered staggering casualties.