Operation Haygreeva , livre ebook

PRABHAKAR ALOKA

OPERATION HAYGREEVA
PENGUIN BOOKS

PENGUIN BOOKS
Contents
Prologue
The Fort
Examiner
The Scent of a Mole
Haygreeva
Octopus
The Two-Sided Mirror
Crossfire
Falcon
Cold Start
Spin Master
Disentangling
Spa Maid
Breakthrough
Yin Yang
Damage Control
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Follow Penguin
Copyright
EBURY PRESS
OPERATION HAYGREEVA
Born in 1960, Prabhakar Aloka grew up in Bihar. He is a postgraduate from Delhi University. He joined the Indian Police Service in 1986 and was allotted the erstwhile Andhra Pradesh cadre. After a brief stint in the state, he joined the Intelligence Bureau, India s premier intelligence agency with over 125 years of history. In nearly three decades of service in the IB, he was rigorously trained in covert operations. The fiction he writes reflects his extensive experience.
Advance Praise for the Book
An engaging thriller that brings the intelligence tradecraft out from the shadows in the context of the greatest threat confronting the country today: terrorism. The novel captures what goes on behind the scenes during anti-terror operations: how an intelligence agency morphs into a kind of special-ops unit, with the complexities of domestic politics and the diplomatic wrangles of espionage. A very stylized, gripping story -Sudeep Lakhtakia, counterterrorism expert, and former director general, National Security Guard
Full of hope and heroism, suspense and excitement, Prabhakar Aloka s first novel reveals the world of terrorism and counterintelligence. Through the mist of silent moments and nights of human tragedies, humanism shines forth. While the novel exposes the underbelly of our society, it celebrates the triumph of the human spirit -Justice R.S. Chauhan, chief justice, Uttarakhand High Court
A pacy thriller delving into counterterror operations with felicity and aplomb-piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of train blast, kidnapping, arms shipment and terror funding across India. Aloka scripts a brilliant story, pulsating with life, use of gizmos and rich human qualities. Operation Haygreeva is a page-turner from the master of craft himself -Yashovardhan Azad, former secretary (security), Government of India, and former information commissioner
To the Almighty,
for his benevolence in my enduring struggle to render selfless service to society
To my parents,
who sowed the seeds of human values, humility and righteousness
To my teachers,
who inculcated the philosophy
Atta Dipa Viharatha
(dwell as a lamp unto yourself)
as the guiding principle
न त्वहं कामये राज्यं न स्वर्गं नापुनर्भवम् ।
कामये दुःखतप्तानां प्रणिनां आर्तिनाशनम् ॥
(Neither do I desire kingdom, nor heaven, nor do I long for rebirth. I yearn for being able to alleviate the sufferings of those in sorrow.)
-Bhagavatam, the story of King Rantidev
Spies descending from the skies glide the entire world around;
Their thousand eyes, all scanning, sweep the earth s remotest bound;
Whatever exists in heaven and earth;
Whatever beyond the skies . . .
-Atharvaveda, Hymn XVI
Prologue
Mumbai, 11 July 2006
Birdsong punctures the stillness of dawn, merging to the chatter of the early risers who were already out on the streets of Virar to rouse Sullu from her sleep. Earlier than usual, she thinks to herself, as she sits up in bed, scratching at the skin under her anklets. She has recently been dealing with strange itchy sensations over her body. They disappear just as suddenly as they appear. She isn t entirely sure if it is because her doctors have just confirmed she is pregnant, or is it something else? Something she is too afraid to articulate, even within the safety of her own mind.
She looks at Madhav. His half-open eyes silently implore her to let him stay in bed for just a little longer. She smiles at him affectionately. They have been married only for two years, but in that short period, they have learnt to recognize what these little gestures mean.
She walks over to their street-facing window and gently draws the curtains. She stands there for a while, absorbing the early morning atmosphere. A grumpy chaiwallah pushing his cart, a municipal worker sweeping aside the previous day s litter, and stray mongrels basking in the bright light of dawn. This is Mumbai.
Eventually, Madhav sits up and yawns, even as Sullu continues to stare unmindfully outside. It is a habit she has recently picked up. For some months now, she unfailingly stands at the window each morning, taking in every little detail. It is almost as if she isn t sure if things will be the same the next morning. Madhav is convinced it isn t just the pregnancy, for the window-gazing had begun well before. Something else seems to be weighing down on her.
As the clock ticks closer to 6 a.m., the demands of the day begin to drift through Sullu s mind. There is tiffin to be prepared, chores to be done. Shrugging her shoulders with a sigh, she moves away from the window and walks towards the kitchen. The filter coffee that they share each morning is usually accompanied by a conversation. They discuss each other s plans for the day or decide what they will eat for dinner. But recently, even this had changed. Without warning, Sullu would suddenly bring up matters completely unrelated to the day s business, as she did this morning too.
Madhav, she begins, gently running her fingers over her belly, do we really have to continue staying in Mumbai? I mean, wouldn t it be better for our child, and for us, to move to a smaller city? Somewhere nondescript, where things are not so . . .
Madhav looks at her with a puzzled expression on his face.
Sullu, we ve had this conversation before. It s not possible. Where will we go? Even if we move, it has to be to another metro. My career will be over before it even begins if we move to some unknown small town. We have to stay here, for the sake of our child s future, he responds, fully aware that she won t be convinced.
Sullu lets it be for the moment, for she can t deny that he is right on all counts. Perhaps this feeling is a result of the anxiety and paranoia of being pregnant. Although she doesn t bring it up again this morning, and silently helps Madhav get ready for work, he senses her worry. On the rickshaw ride to Virar station, he finds his mind returning to Sullu s concerns. He knows she is right to some extent. Mumbai has its fair share of problems and is by no means the ideal place to raise their child. But leaving isn t an option. He is due for a promotion any time now, and the last thing he needs to think about is the prospect of shifting.
He is so thoroughly immersed in these thoughts that the rickshaw driver had to call out several times to let him know that they had reached the station. Apologizing for his absentmindedness, he hastily reaches into his pocket for the fare. He hands over a hundred rupee note, but the rickshaw driver gestures that he has no change. If he waits for the change, he will miss his train. Cursing his luck, he tells the driver to keep the change. So much for a good start to the day, Madhav thinks to himself, as he darts towards the station to join the steady stream of commuters all rushing to get to work on time.
The chaos and the crowd are just the distraction he needs to turn away from his own worries. Everybody seems to be in a frantic hurry to get somewhere, at all times of the day. For Madhav, the sheer size of the crowd and its hurried pace always come as something of a relief. Amidst them, his worries don t loom so large.
As he waits for the train at his usual spot by the fruit stand, he takes out his phone. He has missed two calls from Sullu. He is about to call her back when his train pulls into the station. It is usually packed well beyond its capacity, but somehow it always manages to chug along. It is weighed down not just by the number of people it carries, but also their outsized ambitions. In many ways, the Mumbai local is a microcosm of the country and its aspirations.
No sooner had he reached his office than Sullu texted, Reached? Madhav wants to get started with his day and doesn t want to focus on her worries right now. He sends her a quick reply and puts away his phone. As the day goes by, he immerses himself in his work. At 3 p.m. he realizes that he has completely lost track of time. It is a message from Sullu- How was the palak paneer? -that alerts him that lunchtime had passed, and he had forgotten to eat. To admit that to Sullu would only make matters worse. So, he replies with his trademark playfulness, Out of this world. You ll win MasterChef at this rate.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. But at 5 p.m., just as he is trying to wrap up work, she sends him another message- Dhoklas and coffee are waiting at home. See you soon! Madhav wonders why she is bombarding him with so many messages. This is unusual, even by her recent standards. Whatever it is, he has to return home immediately to make sure everything is all right with Sullu. He will just have to come to the office a little earlier than usual the next day to finish the pending work.
While the day went by in a blink for Madhav, it trudged along slowly for Sullu. All through the day, she paid little attention to the contents of Madhav s messages. She cared only about the notification on her phone, indicating that her husband has responded. As evening approaches, she restlessly awaits his return. When he finally gets back, he does not even have to ring the doorbell. She has been anxiously watching, first through the window and then the peephole, and opens the door as soon as he reaches it.
As she serves him a cup of coffee, she breaks the uneasy silence most unexpectedly.
Did you hear, Saddam Hussein s trial took a strange turn today.
Madhav looks up from his coffee at her, surprised. What has happened to his wife? They usually discuss their favourite saas-bahu serials, but today she has jumped straight to i