And yet at the core of it lay a weak man. A man who had shown time and again to falter under chaos, to stick to ideology when the time required pragmatism. And one who offered flowers when the situation demanded the stick. As one of the most senior members of the government, Ravoof had a front seat to this man over the years. And for that very reason Ravoof had used his skills to ensure that a situation never arose that would put this PM to a test he could not pass…
Well, the Pakistanis put paid to that effort today!
And with Chakri no longer present…
“Sir, if we do not act in response to his massive attack, neither we nor this party will survive in government for even a month!” Bafna, the new politically-appointed defense-minister, knew which side of the bread to butter, even when his country’s life hanged in the balance.
“Not to mention invite additional such strikes against other cities,” Basu added from the side of the conference table occupied by the Intelligence experts. Unlike Bafna, Basu had no time or space for politics. His mandate was clear: country first.
The PM rubbed his eyes and looked at Basu: “Do we have any proof that the Pakistani government is involved in the attack? Any proof at all? I can’t very well declare war on that country just because the terrorists who are based there carried out an attack, insidious as the attack may be!”
“Depends really,” Basu replied, keeping his calm.
“Depends on what?” Bafna asked testily.
“It depends,” Basu replied sharply, “on what you consider the government over there to be! You want proof that their government made this attack a part of their five-year plan? That’s not how covert operations work! What did you think? That they were going to come up and own this attack as theirs? They are cunning, not stupid!”
“You watch your insinuations, Basu!” Bafna shouted back with pointed fingers. He had always seen Basu as another one of Chakri’s leftover people in the national-security establishment. As such, Bafna thought of Basu as someone who was not on ‘his side’. Bafna, like the Prime-Minister, was not one to think of their country as the side that mattered.
“Enough!” Ravoof entered the fray, silencing both parties. He then turned to Basu: “We know that this operation was probably handled by lower level operatives on the ground and certain senior level individuals in the Pakistani military. There is no other way that these attackers could have gotten their hands on a nuclear device. So…” Basu leaned back in his chair, his arms folded, “what we need to understand is that this is not a court of law. We cannot and should not expect cut and dried evidence to appear that will make the hard decisions for us.”
“So what exactly are you saying?” the PM’s tone bristled with irritation. Ravoof ignored the obvious condescension.
“Simply that there are only three alternatives for us,” Ravoof said as he brought his fingers out. “One: we capture, arrest and bring to justice the people involved with the attack. This includes the capture of key militant leaders from within Pakistan. Two: we accept the fact that Pakistan will never acknowledge that the nuclear device used was their own. And hence will not hand over their military people involved in the attack, even if they were acting rogue. In this case we have to be prepared to punish Pakistan and its government as a whole. Or three: we count on Islamabad being reasonable and pursue the course of relative inaction while we try and convince them to come straight.”
Bafna leaned forward for emphasis: “that third option will bring down this government! Make no mistake about it!” Bafna shot a glance to the other senior ministers in the room as Ravoof leaned back in his seat.
The PM looked lost for words for several seconds and then looked to Basu and the National Security Advisor sitting next to him: “Do we know who did this attack? Can we go get them?”
Basu leaned forward in his seat: “We know the group that carried out the actual attack, sir. It’s very clear that the Lashkar-e-Taiba is the group to which the attackers belonged. The attack itself was carried out by a team lead by one Anwar Afridi. Needless to say, he’s dead. Makki, who is the group leader, is in Pakistani custody and more of a figurehead than real. That leaves Muzammil as the real leader calling the shots. His group has already claimed responsibility for the attack and is warning of more if we do not immediately pull out of Kashmir.”
“Needless to say, we cannot pull out of Kashmir!” Bafna interjected.
“Anyway,” Basu continued, moving his glance back to the PM: “cutting past their religious and political rhetoric, we can expect that the Pakistanis will keep the LET employed in a conventional role only at the moment. More attacks in Kashmir to drive their points home to us, for example. But non-nuclear.”
“Keep in mind,” the NSA added, “that LET is merely a proxy for the actions of the Pakistani intelligence agencies. In this case, General Haider and then ultimately, General Hussein in Rawalpindi. They are the ones keeping things in calibration. If we get our hands on Muzammil, we are likely to find out just how high up their food chain goes.”
“And we may not like what we find out,” the PM said in conclusion. “But if the only other plan is to strike Pakistan as a whole, I will rather take the option of grabbing Muzammil and put him on trial for terrorism!”
No surprises there… Ravoof shared a momentary glance with Basu. The PM then turned to Basu and the other intelligence officials: “Find out where that bastard lives and come up with a plan that we can act on!”
“Sir,” Bafna interrupted, “I should warn you that such a plan is both risky politically as well as militarily. For one thing, carrying out this plan could take a long time, during which we will appear to be doing nothing. The public and the media will not accept it. By the time the plan is actually executed, we may not even be in Delhi to call the shots! Also, assuming that the operation goes off without a hitch, the Pakistanis will be crying bloody murder and that will trigger a war in itself!”
The PM sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration.
“So what do you suggest?” Ravoof asked.
“I suggest that we act now! We inform Islamabad to either hand over the terrorists or we will begin air-strikes against their terror camps in occupied Kashmir.”
“Are you serious?” Basu shouted. “You want to tell them in advance that we will be attacking the terror camps? You realize that if we do that, the camps will be nothing but deserted buildings by the time our missiles reach there? And of course the Pakis will allow it! Why not? They get to lay waste to northern Mumbai with a nuclear warhead and all we do is strike empty buildings in the mountains!”
“At least it will show the public we are doing something!” Bafna shouted back. “And if Islamabad knows about it then the chances of the strikes spilling over into open war are nullified.”
Basu rubbed his forehead with his right hand as he spoke: “Is that really what you want to do? Pretend to be doing something as opposed to doing something real?”
“It’s better than the iffy plan of grabbing Muzammil from his residence near Lahore!”