“I would prefer,” the PM added, “to not put the democratic government of Pakistan in a situation where their only recourse is to shelve our peace initiatives in order to pacify their populace. The same way I would not like to be led into a war by my militaristic ministers! A second time!”
The room went silent on that last note. Ravoof noted that last phrase and it revealed to him the level of distrust the PM had developed for those in his government who advocated military response to national security problems. Even when the latter were correct to demand such action, it put them at a disadvantage and in disfavor with this Prime-Minister. A man could burst an artery in frustration but would be unlikely to budge this man to take solid military action when offered a flimsy offer of a peaceful alternative. And as such, Ravoof did not envy Basu and the NSA at all…
The strategic course of action now decided, the PM ended the meeting to let his ministers and military officials start working on the details. Ravoof grabbed Basu by the arm as they left the room into the corridor. Despite Basu’s curious looks, Ravoof said nothing until they were out of earshot of the departing people, most of whom were too busy to notice the two stragglers…
“You know, as well as I do, that these strikes against the terror camps will not yield anything worth a damn,” Ravoof said dryly.
“So?” Basu replied, almost having accepted the sad truth of the matter.
“So,” Ravoof responded, his voice calm, “this matter is more important than to be left to politicians looking after their own skin. Just how realistic are our chances for grabbing Muzammil?”
Basu took a breath and considered his response: “If we can nail his position while he is on the move, then we should be able to do it. But the government will never authorize it.”
“Not if it fails, of course!” Ravoof added with a dry smile. “Come on, Basu! This is right up your sleeve. Think it through. You are being offered a virtual blanket of ‘clean-and-surgical’ to do what you and your boys do best.”
Basu smiled as he caught on. He could not even think of such action without senior members of the government supporting him. That was what Chakri had done for him in Tibet three years ago. The two men had shared a common vision about China and Tibet and the intersection of the two visions had made possible everything that had followed. Basu had never been officially named in the investigations, though only for lack of proof. He wasn’t the country’s external intelligence chief for lack of skills.
Ravoof was certainly no Chakri, Basu knew. But he only needed him to be close enough.
“One other thing,” Ravoof added as he turned to head his way: “Make it quick and dirty! We owe this one to the citizens of Mumbai.”
Basu took a deep breath as he got out of the car and picked up his suitcase on the seat next to him. Thanking his driver for being with him all day, he walked back into the office building. The place was still bustling with people, although the crowd was certainly lighter than before. Basu made the usual pleasantries to his subordinates working past their usual time collating the massive amounts of data coming in from Mumbai, Pakistan occupied Kashmir and from within Pakistan itself. He asked to be kept informed of all important material and then made his way back to his office down the corridor, loosening his tie as he walked.
He saw a man sitting on the seat across his assistant’s desk, which was now deserted. Basu saw that the man was sitting casually with his legs folded and reading some papers. His coat was on the backrest of an adjacent chair, the medals and other military insignia glistening in the lights of the corridor. Walking closer, Basu saw the man clearer.
“Ansari! You made it!”
Colonel Ansari looked up from his papers and smiled, removing his reading glasses. “Of course I made it!” He got up and shook Basu’s outstretched hand.
“Damn good to see you, old friend.” Basu said with a genuine smile on his face, and then looked around to see Ansari’s belongings set up on the chairs outside.
“But why the hell are you sitting here? Didn’t my assistant meet you here?” Basu asked as Ansari picked up his coat and papers from the chair.
“He had some family emergency to deal with, so I told him not to worry about me,” Ansari said as he removed his glasses and folded them before putting them in his coat pocket. “You don’t look too well either,” he added. “But I guess that goes for everybody around here tonight, eh?”
Basu’s face lost the smile as he motioned for Ansari to come into his office. Once there, Basu hung up his coat and walked behind the desk while Ansari took his seat at the couch, looking it over as though having met after so much time. Which was true. The last time he had been here had been before and during the China war, to brief Basu, Chakri and other senior intelligence officials about his covert special-warfare teams deep inside Tibet. He had sat on this very couch and talked about deaths of Chinese soldiers, destruction of Chinese military equipment and losses encountered by the Tibetan rebels as well as his teams. He had also shown them videos here, taken by specially deployed aerial-drone crews over southern and southwestern Tibet.
There used to be a small television set on the wall… Ansari looked around… and there it is!
“Everything as you remember it?” Basu said with a smile from across the desk, accurately judging his friend’s thoughts and feelings.
“Indeed it is.” Ansari said with a amused grunt as Basu fished in his desk drawer for his regular cigarette. As he found one and began looking for a match to light it, Ansari made himself comfortable on the couch.
“Small talk aside,” Ansari said just as Basu scratched the matches and lit his cigarette, “I take it you aren’t hosting a social gathering tonight. At least not under the circumstances we find ourselves in.”
Basu moved the cigarette to the edge of his mouth and let out a puff of smoke as he leaned back in his leather seat. “I wouldn’t be so harsh, Ansari!”
“Considering all that has happened since all of us were present in this room here,” Ansari said as he glanced around the room, “I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to ever meet again in public. Heck, had it not been for the official call I got from your assistant today, I would have been right about that statement for three years running. I was done with the work we did here when we closed out Gephel and his Pathfinders. I have even gotten to like being a regular guy at SOCOM!”
“You like it there?” Basu said, dropping the cigarette ash into the tray on his table.
“It has its moments,” Ansari said guardedly. Basu smiled at that.
“Oh come on, Ansari! You are not a ‘regular’ guy. Never had been.”
“No, you better believe it!” Ansari tried to counter, but then gave up and sighed.
“I thought so.” Basu replied magnanimously.
“So what are we doing about today’s attack on Mumbai?” Ansari said with a grim tone. Basu lost his smile as welclass="underline" “I can’t go into the details. You understand?”
“Of course.” Ansari replied and meant it. Basu looked at the man straight and then leaned forward on his seat, resting his arms on the desk.
“If I gave you the location of a high-value target behind enemy lines, could you and your guys go and grab him?”
Ansari didn’t reply for several seconds, considering the question. Then his eyes lit up: “What kind of high-value…”
“A man.” Basu interjected.
“Do we know where he is?” Ansari asked next, his mind racing ahead.
“We will.” Basu added confidently. Ansari leaned forward: “And you are talking to me… why? Surely there is enough brass at SOCOM headquarters to answer this question? Why the cloak and dagger stuff?”