RAGNI VOL 2 eBOOK

“Unfortunately, this is true. There are some in government posts that see this case as a direct affront to the reliability of the police force, and they are pressing for a quick decision. “Our defense attorney filed the appeal in the high court. If we have to push this case to the supreme court, it will buy us more time to find the real criminal. We can use this valuable time to turn up any more evidence,” Ragni said “I agree with your decision,” Khosla said, looking from Suhki to Ragni. “Mr. Khosla, I know next to nothing of police investigations, even though it was my father’s job, and I don’t mean to attempt to tell you your business... Perhaps it is because it is my fiancé that is involved, but some thoughts occurred to me recently regarding the case,” Ragni said. “Please, Ragni, tell me what’s on your mind,” he said. “Kanwar had no motive to kill my father and the others in the house. Everyone that knew him from our household would attest to this fact— they all loved and respected him. Only the video camera has revealed that it was Kanwar that did the shootings, correct? But there was no one that personally saw him do it, right?” she said. “This is true, but remember, the videotape is going to weigh heavily against Kanwar in court. It alone is considered enough to incriminate him at this point, motive or not,” he said. “Mr. Khosla, may I ask you a personal question?” Ragni asked. “Of course.” “Do you believe Kanwar is innocent?” she asked. He was unable to look at her for a moment, keeping his eyes to the ground contemplatively. Then, lifting his head to face her, he admitted, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know; I just don’t know...” 149

CHAPTER 12 M “ other, I wish you hadn’t allowed Ragni to come here and see me like this. It would have been better to have just remembered me the way I was,” Kanwar said to Sham Kaur from the defendant’s box. They were on a break in the courtroom proceedings, and Ragni and Sham Kaur had come to the front to talk with Kanwar, whose wrists and ankles were fettered with chains. It had been months since she had seen or spoken to him, and when Ragni moved forward from the rear of the courtroom to say something to him, she burst into tears and was restrained and led away by two armed police guards before she could hug him. Perhaps the worst part of the whole ordeal for Kanwar was that he had to be placed in the front of a courtroom and displayed like some sort of a subhuman exhibit in front of all his friends and relatives. Practically all the neighbors from Bhatian were there, including Moheeni, Shamsher, Rajinder, and Kishan, as well as scores of air force officers with Hermanjit and Air Commodore Mr. Multani. They were all staring at him and wondering if he could have done the heinous crimes he was being accused of. At least he was spared from having to read or hear about it in the newspapers, radio, and television as the case had reached monumental proportions all over India. The killing of a state director-general was perhaps one of the most shocking occurrences in the country, its news coverage gaining as much attention as perhaps an assassination of a high-ranking political figure. People everywhere were reading and talking about it. 150

The trial had been going badly for Kanwar. His defense had little to work with, and his insistence on sticking with his original story seemed unbelievable to the five jurors and the chief justice of the high court. The court was called to order once more for the final proceedings. Mr. Khanna stepped forward with the first of the last two parts of his case, the only survivor of the massacre, Berganja, the cook. Berganja took the witness stand. Mr. Khanna strode deliberately toward him. The cook seemed uncomfortable in front of all of the people, his bony frame and gaunt face making him seem even thinner than he really was. He was about forty years old, with a receding hairline, a thin jaw, and a wide mouth. His shoulders seemed to be scrunched up as if he were extremely nervous, and he fidgeted with his hands like he was cleaning his fingernails. Mr. Khanna had Berganja run through the sequence of events that happened that night. “And so, once more,” did you at any time actually see the shooting of any of the victims?” Mr. Khanna asked. “Well, not exactly. I saw Shanti perhaps only a matter of seconds after he was shot. But it had to be Kanwar—there was no one else in the house. He was standing there with the gun in his hand, and Shanti was falling to the ground. I had heard the gun go off with the silencer muffling the shot. That’s when I hid under the table in the kitchen. It was only by God’s grace that Kanwar did not see me when I looked from behind the wall in the kitchen,” Berganja said nervously. “Then no one actually saw the shootings, but you saw the effects of the shootings seconds after it happened, correct?” Mr. Khanna said. “Yes, that is correct.” Mr. Khanna thanked Berganja for taking the stand and drew a deep breath before facing the row of judges. 151

“We have once again heard the testimony of the only survivor of the murders. Now since it is known that no one actually saw the shootings occur with their own eyes, although my last witness provided very strong circum- stantial evidence, which alone is enough to prove the guilt of Kanwar Singh, I have left the most telling proof for last: the videotape from the security cameras in DGP. Mohinder Partap Singh’s house. May we darken the room so the videotape can be seen on the large screen?” A large video screen was set up in the front of the courtroom, and a tape player ran, showing the spliced sequences of Kanwar going through the house shooting everyone, from the time he entered the outside gate to the time the cameras went black from the power failure. The tape revealed the truth of Berganja’s statement, and, after all in the room saw the scenes; there was a general gasp, followed by the buzzing of everyone talking at the same time. The final statements were given by both sides, and a recess was called to deliberate on the final verdict. The jurors filed back in after a very short recess, and the verdict was given: guilty as charged, on all counts. The chief judge passed the sentence—death by hanging in three months. Nightfall came quickly in Kulu Valley, for once the sun passed over the mountains, the light went with it. Thus, while it was still sunny out, the shepherds were already guiding their flocks back to their barns. Ragni and her mother, who was visiting for the weekend, could see the shaggy sheepdog barking and chasing the puffy white sheep back home while the shepherd in his long, worn robe and staff ambled up the hill. “Mother, I’ve been thinking about the trial ever since I came back here to Kulu. I can’t seem to get it out of my mind. I don’t understand how Berganja survived when Shanti, Tiger, father, and the two security guards were all killed,” Ragni said. 152

“Well, you saw the tape yourself. He hid under the table in the kitchen after Shanti was shot,” her mother answered. Now that Ragni’s mother had seen the tape as well, even she had doubts as to Kanwar’s innocence. “That’s what I mean. When they showed the tape, I know it was not very clear, but I could have sworn that Kanwar, or the person in the videotape, looked up and saw Berganja’s head poking from behind the wall in the kitchen, yet he didn’t shoot him as he did all the others. I could have sworn he saw him yet chose to ignore him. There’s something not right going on in this case.” Ragni said suspiciously. “Can you tell me more about Berganja?” “Oh, Ragni, I think you’re getting a little carried away. Berganja is a very harmless and nice man. We hired him about nine months before... well before the incident. He was quiet, did his work, and kept to himself. He mostly stayed in his room and didn’t say much,” Sukhi answered. “Mother, you may think I’m crazy, but I had a dream in which I saw three men going over plans to kill father just before it happened. I can’t remember what they looked like, but I have a strong feeling that this was the result of much planning and preparation. I believe it’s much more complicated than anyone would want to believe, and I strongly believe with- out reasonable doubt, Kanwar is innocent!” she said, her voice rising to a fever pitch. “Calm down, Ragni. Getting excited about this isn’t going to help any- one right now,” Sukhi said, touching her daughter’s shoulder. “I think it’s about time for dinner. I’ll go in the kitchen and see what we can stir up,” she said, hoping to take Ragni’s mind off the whole depressing situation. “I’ll be there in a moment, Mother. I have a little school work I need to take care of first,” Ragni said, getting off the couch and going to her office in the bungalow. Once at her desk, she started writing a letter to Kanwar. 153

My love Kanwar, I have been thinking of some things I saw in the videotape in court that have been giving me doubts about the whole case. I have always believed in your innocence, but I firmly believe now that you were a victim of some devious plot. I don’t know how or who has set you up like this, but I am determined to find out. In the meantime, my love, you must try and remember in the smallest detail, every action and observation from the time you entered the compound until the police found you outside with the gun, and write it on paper so you won’t forget. There has to be a solution. If we try hard enough, I know we can uncover it and prove your innocence. Please, my love, do not give up hope for your own sake and the sake of our love. With my heart, Ragni Kanwar’s lawyers appealed the case to the supreme court, where it was now on trial. The same evidence was presented, and though it was a higher court, it was beginning to look like a carbon copy of the first trial, with the same result seeming inevitable. The prosecution tore the defense’s case to shreds, seeming to beat any possible hope of acquittal for Kanwar. Kishan sat off to the side, stone- faced outwardly but torn and seething on the inside. He knew Kanwar could not have committed the murder. And he knew who did it; he wasn’t helping openly because his roots mingled with the crime syndicate. The murder plan was too professional. There could only be one other group besides his own that could have pulled it off, and that was the Cobras, the rival gang that at one time was a part of his own crime organization, The Muster Group. While the trial droned on, he searched back in his memory for some reason that the Cobras would have committed this murder. Then it came to him: it started about one year ago, just after Mohinder had been promoted as the 154

director-general. Kishan knew of Mohinder’s integrity and his commitment to try and stop the flow of drugs and smuggling from organized crime and knew that since Mohinder could never be bought off like the other corrupt police officials, there would be much bloodshed and reprisals affecting both sides. He never thought the Cobras would have the nerve or stupidity to kill him, for it meant there would be a countrywide shakedown of all the crime organizations, his own included. It simply wasn’t worth killing a man as important as the director-general of police. The major task I am faced with now is how to protect Kanwar without direct involvement,” he thought. Having studied the morphine smuggling routes for years, Mohinder Partap Singh clamped down on the area near Amritsar, killing and arresting several of the leaders of the Cobras and putting a serious dent into their empire. From that point on, Kishan was sure they began to plot to kill Mohinder. He wasn’t sure exactly how they pulled it off, but he was positive they were responsible for Mohinder’s murder. As he sat and watched Kanwar receive the same guilty verdict and death sentence the high court gave him, his heart went out to him. But at the same time, Kishan knew he couldn’t try and expose the Cobras since it would bring a network of police down on their organization as well as his own. It would be devastating since their roots were so closely interwoven. No, he would have to deal with this situation using the code and manner of gangsters. He would call his leaders together and begin to plan the murder of whoever was responsible for Mohinder’s death. He would be able to use the pretext that the murder of a police DGP threatened the crime families and was enough justification to eliminate the guilty Cobra member, but on the personal side, he wanted blood revenge for Jaswant’s murder and now, the taking of the innocent life of Kanwar—it was all unbearable for Kishan. Extensive planning and research began right after the trial in Bombay. Through his complex network of spies and informants in the other organiza- tion, Kishan had no doubt it was Taneja, the second in command of the Cobras, who was responsible for killing DGP Mohinder Partap Singh. His 155

whereabouts were unknown, so a scheme was worked out to bring him into the open. It was learned that the triggermen were on a Cobra ship on the Arabian Sea smuggling in a huge shipment of gold from the Arabic island of Dubai to Bombay. One hundred miles out of port, they were seized by a boat of Kishan’s men disguised as a police patrol boat. As they boarded it, all the men on the Cobra ship were lined up and shot, their bodies thrown into the sea. The gold was removed to the fake police boat, and the Cobra ship sunk. It was just a matter of time before Taneja discovered who had really sunk his ship, stolen his gold, and killed all his crew. As he met with his leaders to plan retaliation against Kishan’s Muster gang, one of his men brought him news that Kishan wanted to meet with him to discuss a deal—something about trading the stolen gold for an old morphine smuggling route the Cobras had stolen a year before from the Musters. A courier was sent back to Kishan, agreeing that they would meet in a neutral resort outside Bombay. It would be the first time in years Taneja would expose himself in the open like this. Kishan’s plan was working. Security was the heaviest that most of the gang members had ever seen. Taneja was flown on his private jet from Amritsar to Bombay. From there, he got into his chauffeured car with two motorcyclists in the lead and Jeeps filled with gang members armed with automatic rifles following behind. As the convoy left the airport and drove on the deserted country road to the resort, his security guards, who were stationed all along the road, communicated with each other and the drivers with walkie-talkies. As the convoy made its way through a wooded area, a helicopter suddenly swooped over the trees and came screaming from behind the line of cars and Jeeps, spraying a wide sheet of liquid over everything. As it passed the lead motorcyclists, it turned sharply upwards, but not before firing a flare back at the convoy. As soon as it hit the road, the liquid exploded into flames, turning the road into a 156

roaring inferno, incinerating everything that was drenched. It was napalm, smuggled in from the war in Southeast Asia. The helicopter swept back to examine its work from the side of the road since directly above was too hot. The furious yellow flames and black clouds of smoke reached high up into the sky, spreading the stench of the liquid death for miles. After a few moments, the pilot and crew of the helicopter were able to identify the large black limousine that Taneja had been riding in. All in the convoy were now indistinguishable black lumps of flaming charcoal. On the southwestern coast of India, in the Indian Ocean on one of the Maldives island cities, a tall, sinister figure gripped the back of his leather chair, his long fingernails digging into the soft leather and leaving crescent moon shaped marks in it. He nodded curtly once, and the messenger left the chamber. Shaking with anger, he stood behind his chair until he calmed him- self. Then walking over to a wooden panel in the wall of the plushly furnished room, he pressed a button. The wooden panel slid away, revealing a glass cage filled with white mice. Reaching in, he pulled one out by the tail. As soon as he reached in, a large black cat jumped off one of the couches in the chamber, trotted silently behind him, and waited expectantly. Dangling the mouse high above the cat’s reach, he let it drop. The cat pounced immediately and began to shred the mouse into a flurry of white fur tufts and splatterings of blood. Grinning sadistically and then bursting into a demonic laugh, Mohamed Khan spun one of the edges of his pointed mustache between his forefinger and thumb. His slick black hair parted in the middle of his narrow head and formed a sort of cap, accentuating his high cheekbones and clean-shaven, pointed chin. The gold earrings in his ears gave him an unsettling feminine look, and his steel-gray eyes grew sharper as he laughed—but there was no happiness in his laugh; it was all pure hatred and sickness. Walking over to his large desk, he pressed one of the buttons that summoned an aide. The highly polished chrome door whisked open, and a tall, muscular man wearing a gray Nehru jacket entered. 157

“Summon my planners here for me. Tomorrow at midnight,” he barked. The aide nodded and left abruptly. Mr. Khan was the head of the whole Cobra organization. Hardly anyone had ever seen him, except for a few of his leaders and the aides on his island fortress here in the Maldives. With the vast fortune he amassed from smug- gling morphine, gold, guns, and anything else that would turn a profit, he built this underground complex from which he ran his empire. Every possible electrical device was wired in, giving him instant communication with his men all over India and the rest of the world. On the surface of his island were a helicopter Pad and an airstrip with his personal fleet of planes. The palm tree-lined beaches belied their tranquil beauty as armed guards in Jeeps constantly patrolled them. In the mountains nearby, amid the thick tropical forests, a radar station scanned the skies, and underground in the control center, a subterranean cavern housed a small submarine, complete with missiles built into its deck. Also underground in the control center was a laboratory filled with a team of engineers, chemists, and electronics scientists working on various projects, mostly having to do with espionage and building new kinds of small weaponry for his gang members. Ten years ago, Mohamed Khan had been one of the leaders of the Musters, along with Kishan. Though they were competitive rivals, always trying to outdo each other, they were also close friends. When the headman of the Muster Group was on his deathbed, he appointed Kishan to be his successor. When questioned of his choice by Khan, he was told that Kishan understood that the Musters were moving away from the days of strong-armed tactics and murdering police. He said the future of the Muster Group lay in the political arena, where eventually, the fortunes gained from illegal practices could be channeled into mainstream businesses and nurtured through political manipulations. But that was not all—the head man said that Kishan was chosen mainly because he, of all the leaders, though strong, was the most humane, and because of that, he would treat the members of the organization better, preventing strife and greed from destroying the group. There was enough wealth for all, and Kishan was the man best able to see this. 158

Shortly after, the leader of the Musters died, leaving total control to Kishan, Khan split off, taking as many of his loyal gang members with him as he could. Using the most ruthless tactics and indiscriminate killings, he built a crime organization equal in size and wealth to the Musters—but it was based on Khan’s greed and hatred. He had just received news that Kishan had killed Taneja, Khan’s main leader, and many of his personal bodyguards. Now he would meet with his leaders to plot Kishan’s murder. It would not be an easy task, nor one that he particularly wanted to undertake since it would mean the beginning of a large-scale war between the two gangs. And although his greed and bruised ego had brought him to hate Kishan, the two had always respected each other. As he began to recall the older days when the two leaders were friends, fear gripped his heart that he was becoming soft. Steeling himself and covering his emotions with hatred and greed, he began to think of how killing Kishan would bring more of the criminal element in India under his control, and the more he imagined, the more he relished the thought. The slimy grin returned to his face. 159

CHAPTER 13 P “ ut a request in to the president’s secretary that I would like to meet with him at his earliest convenience,” Air Marshal Arjan Singh said to his secretary. He was Chief of the Air Staff and was awarded the Padma Vibhushan in 1965 and the Marshal of the Air Force. A meeting of his generals and staff had just concluded, and one of the most pressing points of the session was the matter of one of his pilots, Kanwar Singh, being found guilty and ready to face the hangman’s noose. His whole staff was besieged by complaints from their men about one of their fellow pilots being hanged. The air marshal him- self was receiving hundreds of letters regarding the matter, asking that he somehow intercede. Later that afternoon, he received an appointment to discuss the matter with V.V. Giri, President of India. Th ree days later, accompanied by his staff secretary, the air marshal made his way into the polished floors of the mansion that served as the president’s house and office. The air marshal, six feet tall naturally and even taller with his turban, could intimidate any man with his large frame and fierce facial features. Cad in his silky dress uniform, he seemed even more imposing in contrast to the slightly built president, who was barely five feet, eight inches tall. A slightly balding and fair-complexioned man of about sixty-five, the president wore a simple white Nehru jacket and Gandhi cap, similar to the cloth military caps worn in America. 160

The president welcomed the air marshal and his secretary, a young air colonel, into his sunny office. One of his aides was present to take notes, and as they sat down, a tray of tea and biscuits was brought in. After greetings and the usual social formalities, the air marshal got directly to the point. “Mr. President, I’m here on the behalf of one of our young wing com- manders, Kanwar Singh, the one convicted of murdering the Director-General of Police in the Punjab. You may have been following the trial in the news. Sir, there are several factors that I wish personally to express to you about this young man,” the air marshal began. “First, I feel it necessary to reveal some insights of his personal life. He was to be married in two months to Mohinder Partap Singh’s daughter. He was considered a friend of the whole family and, in fact, it was Mohinder Partap Singh himself who arranged the marriage with his daughter. The boy was the sole male heir of a large farm property in Bhatian, and was never in want of finances. He was to spend the night as DGP’s guest the evening he was killed. The point I am trying to make is that there was no possible motive for him to have wanted to kill his future father-in-law. “Second, he’s one of our best pilots, and as you know, pilots are a rare commodity in the air force. We spend hundreds of thousands of rupees training each one. There are even fewer pilots who can fly the Russian-built MIG fighter jets, and he is one of them. He is a spy mission expert pilot on the border activities of Pakistan and China. He is a very important asset for the Indian Air Force.” “Third, he’s a co-captain of the Olympic field hockey team that will represent India in the coming Olympic games. He is only one of two air force men on the Olympic team. His coach and teammates will tell you he is a leader whose integrity is beyond reproach”. “Finally and perhaps most importantly, is the effect his fate is having on the men in the air force and all of the armed forces. I am sure you are aware of the critical situation on the Pakistani borders. Having such a visible figure as 161

this young man hanged for a crime that he has very possibly not committed would be a terrible blow to the morale of the men.” The president listened sympathetically and said, “I agree with you totally on all your points, Marshal Mr. Singh, but what would you suggest I do? From a governmental point of view, surely you can see that the judicial system must be backed up and followed. As president, I cannot simply go over the rulings of the high and supreme courts. It would be a flagrant violation and the beginning of a breakdown of our constitution.” The air marshal countered, “Mr. President, I, perhaps as much or more than the next man, understand the importance of the constitution—I have taken an oath to defend it with my life! But this is a unique case. I personally have received over five hundred letters from my junior officers and enlisted men urging me to do something about this. In a meeting with my generals last week, I was informed that the ranks are preparing to issue a formal protest to the prime minister. This will have dire consequences, as you could well imagine.” The president’s expression changed when the prime minister was men- tioned. If those letters of protest reached her, it would reveal an inability of the president to handle the matter, a fact that he couldn’t afford to let happen. He had to take the air marshal’s demands much more seriously now. “Okay, do you have a plan?” he asked Air Marshal Mr. Singh. Sensing he now had the genuine ear of the president, Arjan Singh warmed to his plan. “There are several factors involved in this: first, I am sure one of the crime organizations is behind the murders. The police are afraid or have all been bought off by these gangs. Secret reports I received from a private detective company reported that when Mohinder Partap Singh was appointed DGP, gang members all knew he was trouble. He could not be bought off, and he was not afraid of them. At the same time, many of the other police within his jurisdiction were crooked—taking bribes from the gangsters—and when Mohinder was murdered, they were as glad to see him gone. It is my feeling 162

that the gangs somehow set Kanwar Singh up to take the blame, thereby getting themselves off the hook, and the police can go back to their business as usual of taking bribes from the gangs without arresting any of them. Do you see what is happening? The police, the gangs—they want a speedy end to Kanwar Singh before the truth surfaces. That, combined with the fact that the police are embarrassed by the murder of such a high official and are looking for a quick solution so their reputation in the eyes of the public won’t be tarnished. Mr. President, what we need now is time—time and a common commission comprised of judges, air force investigators, and qualified citizens, as well as the police, to reopen the case. If there are unbiased investigators looking into this case, I’m sure the real murderers will be turned up.” Nodding gravely, the president spoke, “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I can’t hold off the judicial branch and the police forever. Even the slightest extension is going to make waves among them, but I’ll tell you what I’m going to do: I’m naming you in charge of the whole thing and holding you responsible for repercussions as a result of delaying the execution. It will be called the Air Marshal’s Commission. I’ll give you just six months to find some evidence that Kanwar Singh is innocent. After that time, if nothing is found, I’ll have no choice but to stand by the supreme court’s decision, letters of protest to the prime minister or not.” Rising, the air marshal grinned and extended his hand in gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. President, not only for myself and the air force but for Kanwar Singh.” The newly formed Air Marshal’s Commission was handpicked by Air Marshal Arjan Singh and was comprised of two judges, five members of the police force, five air force investigators, and two private civilian investigators. On a strong recommendation from a member of the air marshal’s staff, a young senior superintendent of police of the intelligence branch from Delhi was chosen to be one of the five police members. It turned out 163

that this superintendent had come from the same village as Kanwar Singh and had also met DGP Mohinder. This officer’s name was Dilawar Singh. After that last day in Bhatian four years ago, when he said goodbye to Moheeni, Dilawar set out to find himself. Being turned down by her was the main catalyst that got him thinking of life outside his narrow perspective. For the first time, he began to think of life in other terms than what it could give him. He reflected on the arrogant, selfish life he previously led. As he traveled around India, he also wandered through the inner depths of his own being, and much to his surprise, found that he knew next to nothing of his true self. He traveled to the ancient holy cities of Varanasi and Hardwar, talking to the Pandits and holy men. In the end, he realized the answers did not lie in wandering or in running away but in service to life. Assessing his skills, he ended up in Delhi, attending the All India Civil Services Training Academy. He finished his studies in a year, took a series of exams for IPS, and landed an entry-level job as superintendent of police in Bombay. Through hard work and dedication, he was responsible for catching several members of the organized crime element and was promoted to his present position. In a couple of years, he built up a reputation as one of the premier investigators in Bombay. Kishan, who always kept close tabs on the political scene both in the government and in the police ranks, was one of the first to congratulate Dilawar, patching up any differences they had in Bhatian from the previous stormy years. Adhering to his wishes, Kishan kept Dilawar’s presence in Bombay a secret from everyone in Bhatian. Dilawar was given free rein by the commission to investigate on his own and chose to talk with Kanwar at the central jail first. “It’s been a long time,” Kanwar said, smiling through the iron bars. “Yes, there have been many changes—many changes,” Dilawar said, pleased to see Kanwar again. In the years since they had last seen each other, both had matured to full-grown men. Dilawar was surprised to see how big 164

Kanwar had gotten, and now that his beard and mustache filled out, how much he looked like his late brother Jaswant. “What have you been doing with yourself in these past few years?” Kanwar asked him. “Oh. I’ve been traveling a bit, went to school, and got this job—been here and there—but we’re not here to talk about my life. I’m here to help you,” Dilawar said, smiling. Growing serious, he asked, “Kanwar, tell me once more everything you can remember about that night.” As Kanwar relayed the events for what seemed like the millionth time, Dilawar took notes. He had read through the trial notes, but there was almost no mention of the fire that took place just before Kanwar entered the compound, nor was much attention given to the power blackout, which he specifically asked Kanwar about. “It happened so suddenly—I was walking past the gate, and all of a sudden, I felt dizzy. Everything just went black,” Kanwar said. “Did you feel anything at all in the rest of your body, like pinpricks or sharp pains anywhere just before you blacked out?” Dilawar asked. “No! Nothing. I just went out like a—like pinpricks?” Kanwar said as if Dilawar triggered something forgotten in his memory. “I remember getting a mosquito bite or something just before I entered the gate. I felt something sting me in the back of the head right below my turban, but it didn’t really hurt. It just felt like a mosquito or something. I slapped at it and felt like I hit it but didn’t think anything more of it at the time. There were lots of mosquitos out there that night. Then a few steps later, I was out cold.” After a few more questions, Dilawar said goodbye and told Kanwar to try and maintain some hope.” Back at the police laboratory, Dilawar requested unspliced copies of all the tapes from the security surveillance cameras. After hours in the viewing 165

room, he had some of the sections blown up for closer scrutiny. There were several sequences he marked for new evidence. The first was a closeup of Kanwar’s right hand, the hand holding the murder weapon. In one scene where he was near a light fixture, the camera revealed something on his wrist. At first, Dilawar thought it was the thin silver bracelet many of the Sikh men wear. But after playing it back several times, Dilawar was convinced it was something else. After a blowup of the hand, he could faintly make out that it wasn’t a bracelet at all but the ribbed end of a transparent latex surgical glove. In the trial notes, there was no mention of Kanwar being caught wearing a latex glove of any kind. Why would he have worn one on his hand? One possibility he thought of was that the man that looked like Kanwar wasn’t Kanwar at all, but a look-alike wearing a glove to keep fingerprints off the gun. Another section of the tape he marked for new evidence was when Berganja poked his head out from the kitchen. The blowups of the tapes clearly revealed that Kanwar was looking up and had to have seen Berganja’s head as he peered from behind the kitchen wall. The final piece of footage was when Kanwar was in Mohinder Singh’s bedroom. The camera showed Kanwar looking out of the window. As he stood with his back to the camera, Dilawar could see that he made some kind of motion with his right hand, as if he were waving a signal to someone outside in the woods at the outer edges of the compound. The camera couldn’t pick up anything outside, but he was sure he was sending some kind of signal. It was just after that sequence that the power blackout occurred; this had to be a signal to cut the power. Dilawar went to Mohinder’s home in Chandigarh, which had been sealed off since the murder. Walking through the hallways and rooms as he had seen in the tapes, he studied and made more notes of his findings. From seeing the house with his own eyes, and the new evidence from the videotapes, Dilawar began to construct a new scenario of what really happened. Someone set off a fire in one of the buildings in the compound, but before 166

doing so, cut off the alarm fuses and telephones. Upon seeing the fire breaking out, the guard at the main entrance tried calling the fire department, but his phone was dead. The fire alarms were now dead as well, so he ran to the house to see what he could do about warning the residents and getting to a working telephone. As he left his post, the real killer or killers entered the compound, driving a military Jeep looking like Kanwar. He entered the gate, shot the guard in the back of the head, as the videotape revealed, and proceeded to kill the others as well. When he killed Shanti, he actually did see Berganja but chose not to kill him. This could only mean one thing—Berganja was in on the killings. When the fake Kanwar finished killing DGP Mohinder Partap Singh, he went to the bedroom and waved a hand signal to another accomplice hiding in the bushes. Somehow, this accomplice relayed a message to have the power cut so the surveillance cameras wouldn’t be able to record what was to happen next. The real Kanwar arrived at the compound entrance, just as he said in his testimony. There was no guard there, so he drove on to the house. The Jeep that the fake Kanwar drove in with was now gone. Seeing that the house was dark from the power being out, Kanwar took out his flashlight from the glove compartment of his Jeep. Just before he reached the house gate, he was shot in the back of the head with some sort of dart gun laced with a potent knockout drug. Within seconds, he was out cold, just as he said in his testimony. The killers then removed the flashlight from his right hand and placed the gun there so he would wake up with it in his hand, and thus only his fingerprints would be on the murder weapon since the real killer wore a latex glove. The killers had just enough time to plant the gun in his hands and do whatever else they had to do in the house before leaving through Mr. Singh’s window just ahead of Kanwar. When Kanwar went out the window to give chase, he was found in the road by the police. This left some unanswered questions as to Berganja’s part. 167

Berganja had mysteriously disappeared after the supreme court deci- sion, so Dilawar’s next call was to Sukhbans Kaur (Sukhi). “How did you hire Berganja?” Dilawar asked. “Berganja? Well, we got him from the government agency about nine months before the incident,” Sukhi said in reply to Dilawar’s question. “Ma’am, what were his duties?” he asked. “Well, he was, of course, the cook. He did odd jobs, ran errands, opened the mail, and helped Shanti with his chores. He was always volun- teering to help Shanti and me. He was a very good worker,” Sukhi said. After a few more questions, he thanked her and left. Checking with the government agency that helped place workers for government officials, he found Berganja’s file and pulled it. Returning to Sukhi, he showed her a photo of him. “No, that’s definitely not Berganja,” she said firmly. “Do you have a photo of him then?” Dilawar asked. Pausing to think, she said, “No, I can’t think of any reason we would have— wait—come to think of it, there might be a picture of him while he was helping Shanti serve dinner at one of our social gatherings. I remember him being very adamant about not having any pictures taken of him. He said he was superstitious,” she said as she got out a photo album and flipped through the leaves. “Ah, yes—here it is. He’s in the background with a food tray,” she said, pointing to his picture. “May I take this, please?” “Why, yes, of course,” she said, not sure of his intention but not wanting to question him. 168

“There’s one more favor I have to ask of you before I go. Do you have Ragni’s address? I’d like to ask her a few questions as well.” “Dilawar, remember that picture of Berganja you sent into central headquarters three days ago?” one of his fellow officers asked. “Yes, what about it?” he answered. “I just got a call this afternoon. It seems they found that guy last night.” “Boy, that was fast! Where was he?” Dilawar asked. The other officer shook his head and laughed ironically, “He washed up onto a beach in Goa—three bullets in his head.” The September mid-terms were over, and Moheeni was just boarding the plane for the thirty-minute flight to Kulu Valley, where she was going to spend her four-day weekend with Ragni. Since graduation and the chaos with the murder trial, she felt that she hadn’t seen as much of Ragni as she would have liked. Now that things were hard for her without Kanwar, Ragni wel- comed a visit by her old friend. The crisp mountain air and tranquil surroundings seemed so far away from all the tragedy that seemed to follow both their lives. The first day was spent walking around the village talking and just catching up with each other. By the time they got back to Ragni’s home, the conversation turned to more somber subjects. “I’ve been trying to face what life would be like if Kanwar—if Kanwar was no longer alive,” Ragni said, choking a bit on her words. “There’s still hope, Ragni,” Moheeni said, trying to comfort her. 169

“I know, Moheeni, but I’m just trying to be realistic. He hasn’t much time left. There is a strong possibility I’ll have to face the fact that he’ll have to die,” she said. “You’ve had to face that. What’s it like? ” Moheeni swallowed hard and looked at Ragni. She could tell by her eyes that she wanted to hear the truth. “Ragni, when Jaswant died, I no longer wanted to live either, but I knew that’s not what he would have wanted. I swore I’d never love another, and so far, I’ve kept that promise. You want to know the truth, and I’ll tell you. I feel as if a part of my life died with Jaswant that will never live again,” she said, as she looked sadly at Ragni. The next morning after breakfast, Moheeni went out to the hills in the back of the house for a walk. Ragni remained in the house, reading a book and sipping some tea. She heard a car drive up and, setting the book down, got up to see who it was. A tall bearded man in a turban and police superintendent uniform stepped out of a government car. She opened the front door to greet him and did a double-take. “Dilawar? Is that really you?” Ragni asked. “Hello, Ragni. Yes, it’s me, and I can hardly believe that skinny little girl turned out to become such a lovely young woman,” Dilawar said warmly. “Come in! This is really a surprise. What can I do for you?” she asked. “Well, I’m one of the police investigators that’s been put on the Air Marshal’s Commission for Kanwar, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions,” he said. “Of course! Anything to help Kanwar,” she said enthusiastically. “What can I do?” 170

“I’m not exactly sure what I wanted to ask you. I’m sort of playing a hunch if you want to know the truth. I thought you might know of some- thing that didn’t turn up in court that could be useful,” he said. Studying his face and realizing he was sincere in his desire to help, she opened up and began to tell about the dream she had the night her father was murdered. Dilawar listened and took notes. When Ragni finished her story, she asked, “Do you think I’m crazy?” Closing his notepad, he looked at her and said, “Not at all, Ragni. You’ve confirmed what I believe to be a very elaborate setup by a gang of drug smugglers. I don’t want to give you any false optimism, but if I can find a few more clues, I think we’ll have a good chance to turn up the real murderers.” Ragni’s heart jumped, and it was all she could do to keep from hugging him. As he stood to leave, he was already planning his next stop—a visit to Kishan. Now that he was sure this was a gang slaying, he was confident Kishan would have an idea who was directly responsible. “I guess I’d better be going. I’ll keep you informed of any new developments,” he said as he walked toward the door. Just as he reached for the doorknob, Moheeni returned from her walk. Seeing the tall man in a police uniform through the screen door, she wonder- ed if Ragni was in trouble. She walked to the door just as he turned around, and their eyes met like two cars colliding head-on. At first, neither recognized the other. Moheeni didn’t recognize him because of the uniform, but there was something else different about him. Her memory of him was of a selfish and vain man, where this person had an inner calm and peace to him. His eyes were wide and deep, but now they, too, were different. There was a softness to them that never used to be there. They were kind eyes now. Dilawar gazed into the lovely smooth, and handsome face that always projected confidence and strength to match her beauty, and he, too, sensed 171

a change of her inner-being. The cockiness was gone, and while she was not beaten, there was a pliancy that used to be lacking. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes while Ragni stood speechless as well, just inside her door. It was as if both of them had forgotten each other’s names, perhaps because the image of their names in their memories no longer matched the person they saw now. Finally, after catching his breath, Dilawar spoke first. “Hello, Moheeni.” “Hello, Dilawar,” she said 172

CHAPTER 14 M oheeni put down the pencil she was using to grade some history test papers and went to her bungalow door to see who was knocking. It was Ram Prakash, one of the security guards. “I have a message for you, ma’am. There’s a police officer in the recep- tion room to see you,” he said. “Oh, thank you, Ram Prakash. I’ll be right up there,” she said. As she arrived at the administration building, she could see her visitor through the glass partition. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that the man in the uniform was Dilawar. “Hello, Dilawar. What can I do for you?” she asked, pleased to see him. “I had a few questions to ask you regarding Kanwar’s case, and I was wondering if we could discuss it over something to eat, that is, if you haven’t eaten yet,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t eaten yet and was getting a little hungry. Yes, I’d love to go out for a bite,” she said. As they drove into Jullundur and found a restaurant, they chatted about superficial topics. After the meal arrived, and they relaxed over some tea, there was silence. Both knew if they didn’t start talking about something 173

more revealing regarding their personal lives, the conversation was going to end. Dilawar cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “When I left Bhatian after seeing you on the road that day, I was con- fused. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I should go, but in retrospect, I can see that I left my past in order to find out who and what I am. I realized I’m not something in relation to the things I own, like my property or money, nor am I the things I earn, such as degrees or trophies for horse races. I’m not even sure I know who I am now, but I’m trying. I searched in Varanasi and Hardwar among the holy men and the Ganges, but again, these were things of the outer world, not much different from the past that I left behind. I realized if I was going to understand who and what I was, I was going to have to come to that conclusion through my inner life. “About three years ago, I realized that the way I would be able to find more of the answers to my questions was through service—service for its own sake, without doing it for rewards or praise, just serving life. Because in serving life, I learned that I could partake in a little more of what the Divine Creator is doing in my own life. Every good thing that’s ever come into my life has been through the grace of this Divine Creator—call it God, call it whatever you like, but whatever it is, I believe its true nature is that of giving. The purer the giving that each of us can do, then the more this Divine Creator is able to use us as a channel for its essence to flow into the world. “All my life, I had been interested only in what I could take from life, and when I realized that my life was not going to satisfy me in that manner anymore, I began to look for a way I could give. I found it, after a year of searching, quite by chance, if you believe in such a thing as chance. “I was walking in Hardwar, discouraged. I had been seeing a beggar sit- ting in the street every day who said, ‘If you are feeling low, it may make you feel better to give.’ I thought he was just a common beggar, but as I looked at him, I realized there was something different about him. I gave him a couple of rupees, and as he thanked me, there was a scrap of paper on the ground next to him. I picked it up and read it as I left. It was a flyer promoting the 174

All India Civil Service Training Academy. I don’t know why I did it, but I went to Delhi and applied to the academy and was accepted. “I entered the All India Civil Service Competition and apparently placed well in IPS. I was selected as a superintendent of police, and I’ve been there ever since. I would have never guessed I’d have ended up here, but every step I took leading into this career just felt right, so I kept on pursuing it. It’s given me the opportunity to give of myself, and it’s made all the difference for me,” he finished. Moheeni listened intently, and for the first time in years, her heart was opening up to another man. “I, too, have found a way to give of myself in teaching. After Jaswant died, I thought it was the end of my life, but I’ve come to know that there is so much more to life than just what one can take in the form of love from another,” she said. As they returned to K.M.V. College, Moheeni stopped just past the guardhouse. “Thank you for the nice dinner. I can go on in from here alone. Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me about Kanwar’s case?” she asked with a sly smile. “Hmm, I guess I forgot during the course of our conversation,” Dilawar said. “Yes, I needed to get a hold of your brother Kishan. He’s a very difficult person to find, and I thought you might know his whereabouts these days.” Walking, she said, “Well, he doesn’t like me to know or tell where he is, but I happen to know that he’s staying in his hotel in Goa this weekend with—Dona Sylvia; I think that his girlfriend’s name. “Yes, it’s the most expensive one in that part of the country,” he replied. “Yes, nothing but the best for Kishan. Anyway, if you go there and tell the day manager I sent you, you’ll be able to talk to him,” she said. 175

“Thanks, Moheeni.” “Well, I guess I have to get back. Thanks again for the lovely evening,” she said. Pausing, as if a little unsure of himself, Dilawar said, “Moheeni, may I call on you again?” A smile started creeping over her face. “Sure. Why not?” Starting to smile himself, he leaned toward her and kissed her gently on the cheek. As he withdrew, her eyes were closed, a dreamy look on her face. As she opened her eyes, she was met by his own eyes, soft and deep. ** After an early morning flight to Goa, Dilawar arrived at the luxury hotel. Once in the plush lobby, carpeted with a thick red carpet and decor- ated with gilded gold everywhere, he went to the marbled front desk in the lobby. For this occasion, he changed out of his uniform and into some street clothes, realizing his chances of seeing Kishan would be greatly limited if he were recognized as an officer. “May I speak to the day manager, please?” he asked one of the clerks. “And your name, sir?” “Yes, just tell him I’m a friend of Moheeni,” Dilawar said. In seconds, the day manager, clad in a trim western suit, rushed out to meet him. “My greetings. The clerk says you are a friend of Moheeni. What can I do for you?” he asked politely. “It’s actually Kishan I have come to see. I am a friend of the family,” he said. “I am not certain I know who you are talking about,” the manager said coolly. “However, if you would like, I can check our registry for such a person,” he said smiling. 176

After disappearing for a few minutes into his office, he came out with the same smiling face and said, “If you will follow me, please.” Going behind the lobby counter and through a series of maze-like corridors, the manager and Dilawar were soon joined by three large men. When they all came to a private elevator, the manager pushed the button and then nodded to the three burly men who immediately started to frisk Dilawar. “Please excuse the intrusion, but this is standard procedure. I am sure you understand,” he said in the same polite manner. After not finding any weapons, the elevator doors whisked open, and they entered. They were riding it to the suite at the top of the building, and when the doors opened to the hallway, Dilawar saw one of the most luxuriously furnished suites he could have ever imagined. Thick llama fur rugs covered the floors, and a combination of eastern and western furnishings tastefully decorated the huge rooms. There were paintings from the French Impressionists on the walls, as well as Chinese bronze sculptures on marble pedestals. One whole side of the suite was adorned with glass windows showing a spectacular view of the ocean. Seeing Dilawar enter the room, Kishan nodded to the manager and waved off the guards. Bowing slightly, they all returned to the elevator and left. Extending a hand in greeting, Kishan asked Dilawar if he would like something to drink. “No, thanks, but you go on ahead if you like,” he said. “Don’t drink while on duty, eh? My, you have reformed yourself, Dilawar. It’s admirable,” Kishan said as he poured himself one. “Come out to the terrace—there’s a wonderful breeze off of the ocean.” “You’re a difficult man to get a hold of,” Dilawar said to Kishan as they sat outside high above the beaches, overlooking miles of the turquoise Indian Ocean. 177

“Ah, well, you know. It goes with the job. Just one of the necessary occupational precautions,” Kishan said, sipping a drink. “Kishan, let me be straight with you. I believe you know who is behind the murder of DGP Mohinder Partap Singh. You can help Kanwar by telling me who it is,” Dilawar said. “Maybe I do know; maybe I don’t. But let me tell you something—you may think you want to know who DGP’s killer is, but I’ll tell you, you don’t want to know,” Kishan said ominously. “What do you mean?” “These people are worse than evil! If you try to take them on, you’ll find you’ve bit off much more than you would have ever cared to. They aren’t just petty criminals—they’re linked deeply within our government and crime organizations outside of India. You would be surprised to find out who they are involved with,” Kishan said vehemently. “And would I be surprised to find who you are linked with?” Dilawar spat back at him. “I am what I am. What my past is, is just that—the past! Now, I am a businessman. I do not kill innocent civilians like the vermin you so eagerly wish to seek out!” Kishan shouted. “Kishan, let’s not play games. We both know it’s the Cobras I seek. Tell me the name of the leader and where he can be found? ” Dilawar said as he moved closer to Kishan. Kishan just stared back at Dilawar, stone-faced and tight-lipped. Just then, the telephone rang, and Kishan went inside to answer it. “Hello?” “Kishan? Are you alone there?” the voice asked. Kishan looked over his shoulder at Dilawar on the terrace. Turning back to the phone, he said, “What’s the problem?” 178

The voice continued, “Your girlfriend has been raped and murdered in the beach house. All six guards are dead as well. There was a note left on her body that said, For Khan, and there was a picture of a black cobra on the bottom.” Stunned, Kishan looked away for a moment before saying, “I’ll call you back in a minute.” Turning slowly, he returned to the terrace and stared out into the ocean as if in a hypnotic sleep. “I’m sorry, Dilawar. I must ask you to leave now.” Sensing something was wrong, Dilawar stood without a word and left, thanking Kishan at the door. The chrome door whisked open, and a tall, stocky man in a Nehru jacket walked into Khan’s control room. “Kishan has arrived with what looks like a small army on the island next to ours,” the messenger said. “Good. He has taken the bait. So our normally coolheaded Kishan has allowed his emotions to run his revenge. We have finally struck a weak spot disposing of his girlfriend. Who would have thought a man like that would have such sentimental ties to a woman? No matter—a man is always most vulnerable when he is on the offensive. Now it is time for us to deliver our defense. Notify the control center to be on alert,” Mohamad Khan said. At dawn the next day, a minesweeping boat led a flotilla of two other boats of various sizes loaded with Kishan’s men, all armed to the teeth for a beachhead assault reminiscent of the D-Day invasion at Normandy. The minesweeper found the channel that led into the Cobra’s island, and after detonating a series of mines at the mouth to the entrance, the other boat cruised through at full speed. On the beaches, small cannons waited for the boats to come into range. 179

Aboard one of the boats, Kishan had his men radio to the base on the other island, and helicopters loaded with guns took off; in a short time, they were seen roaring to the island. As they flew overhead, Kishan said to himself, “Now it will finally end.” For the past ten years since their split, Kishan and Mohamad Khan had been nipping at each other, killing each other’s men in gang skirmishes, but the real violence began between the two rival gangs when one of the minor Cobra leaders attempted to kill his sister, Moheeni. He ended up only partially successful, wounding her and killing her fiancé, Jaswant. While the police were baffled as to who did the shooting, Kishan quietly took matters into his own hands and ferreted out the killer and the Cobra leader responsible for ordering it and had them both killed. But now, things had gone too far. It promised to be a fight to the death. As the helicopters streamed toward the beach, ready to barrage the Cobra fortifications with bullets so their boats could safely land, a surface-to- air missile came from the island and blew up the helicopters. Radio contact stopped, and all of the electronic equipment shut off. At the same time, the helicopters were suddenly spiraling out of control and crashed into the side of the mountainous island in bursts of white and yellow flames. The boat floated helplessly derelict as a dull roaring came from the other side of the island. They saw two Cobra helicopters screaming toward them from above. The men fired their guns, but there was little hope against the helicopters. As they swooped over, they fired a load of missiles. The men on the boats stared at the incoming projectiles as if in a hypnotic trance—watching their oncoming death hurtling toward them in streams of white smoke. Slamming into the moving boats, the missiles exploded, sending bits of boat and men flying sixty feet into the air. After the debris landed in a spray of water, there was only one boat left, the other one totally obliterated. Furiously, the crews of the other boat tried fixing the damaged engines while the men on deck tried to position the missiles that came from the surface and destroyed the second boat. The air attack took out the electronic circuits needed to operate their guns—none were working. Even their watches had stopped due to some kind of magnetic field. 180

Helpless except for handheld arms and the deck cannons, which were useless against air attacks, the men fired at the oncoming helicopters and watched the second wave of missiles flying at them. Again, terrible explosions scattered boats into oblivion, the remaining men tossed the life rafts over- board, and the rest simply jumped into the water and began to swim before the helicopters came back for another dive. Circling in unison, the two Cobra helicopters came in for the final attack. The men on the boat swam away as fast as they could, and when the helicopters blasted the boat completely out of the water, some forty men were left swimming for shore. Their mission complete, the helicopters headed back to their landing place on the island, and four small gunboats took off from the island docks. At first, Kishan’s remaining men began to swim for these boats, thinking they were coming to rescue them. But when they got close, the machine guns on the front decks began opening fire on them, the bullets stitching deadly paths through the waves and leaving the clear blue water tinted with red. Some of the men pleaded for mercy but were cut in half nevertheless. Some tried to swim for one of the beaches, but the boats caught up with them and chopped them to pieces. Onshore, Cobra foot soldiers waited for any possible survivors that escaped the air and boat attacks, but they waited in silence, not even having to fire their automatic rifles. One of the remaining life rafts held Kishan and three others. As one of the gunboats streamed toward them, they tried fighting back with handguns, but were no match for the deadly machine guns, and in a hail of bullets, Kishan and the others fell into the water, sinking to the bottom in inky red clouds. Three miles from the scene of the battle, Dilawar stood on the deck of a fishing boat he had hired to watch the fight through a telescope. Sensing that 181

there would be some kind of trouble, he tailed Kishan to the Maldives. His guess was right. He would be trying to settle things once and for all with the leader of the Cobras, but he never thought it would end this way. He was too far away to see exactly what happened, but he knew there was some kind of special defense on the island for three helicopters and six ships to be knocked out so quickly and easily. He had the captain of the fishing boat move in a little closer, and after having to double his original price, the fearful captain finally agreed. When they drew within a half-mile of the battle, some debris from the wrecked ships floated nearby. The nose of one of the sunken ships, broken off from the explosion, bobbed atop the choppy water, and a head poked out from under the pocket of air that buoyed it. It was Kishan, the only survivor of the fateful attack. He had hidden in the floating nose of the boat and swam away from shore by pushing himself along inside the broken bow. After the fisherman’s crew pulled him on board and he caught his breath, Dilawar talked with him alone. “I saw the whole thing. How did the helicopters crash and your boats stop when you were so close to the beach?” Dilawar asked him. “What difference does it make?” he asked skeptically. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on your side. I want to get the head of the Cobras as much as you do,” Dilawar answered sharply. Feeling out Dilawar’s intentions, Kishan decided it was okay to trust him. “When we got about half a mile offshore, our boat engines suddenly quit on us. It was right about the time our helicopters were ready to hit their beaches. Then the surface-to-air missile hit the helicopters, and they crashed. You probably saw it yourself. The radio system of the boats shut down due to some sort of invisible force field, and we did not have a communication link in either boat or the helicopters. The radios, the controls, and even the heat-guided missiles on deck wouldn’t fire. Anything controlled by electronics 182

just shut down completely. Even our watches stopped,” he said, looking at his wristwatch. “Funny, it’s working now, but I’m telling you—when we were near that beach, it wasn’t,” he said. “Who’s in charge of the Cobras, and how were you planning to get to him?” Dilawar asked. “Wait a minute, what good will it do if I tell you?” Kishan asked. “It’s what will happen to you if you don’t tell me. I’m a witness to you being a part of an aggravated assault with deadly weapons and the intent to kill. I can give you ten years for that. Tell me—help me out, and I will forget I ever saw you,” Dilawar said forcefully. After thinking it over for a few moments, Kishan continued to talk. “The head of the Cobras is Mohamed Khan. He’s a tall, spooky-looking guy who never sets foot outside. We call him Dr. Doom. He just stays in his subterranean cave with all his electronic gadgets and runs his empire from there. We needed the helicopters to knock out his defenses on the beach while we landed our men and took over the surface fortifications. Two of our boats had heat-seeking missiles on deck to shoot down his helicopters, but as you can see, we never had the chance to use them. We knew he was ready for our air and sea attack. He’s got radar, and who knows what else on that island to help track intruders, but what we didn’t count on was that force field that cut the power off of everything. He must have had his scientists rig up some- thing so his own boats and planes could fly through the force field without being affected by it.” “I was surprised by the size of his operation; he has surface-to air-missiles, helicopters, high tech radar systems, and many other weapons. Even though he is one of the crime syndicate’s drug warlords—these kinds of weapons are not cheap commodities, and operating them is not easy. What is the secret behind it? This is the task of a nation to defend its country. Something big must be 183

his backup support in order for him to have this kind of operation,” Dilawar said, thinking. “You are right as I mentioned before, he is a great friend of Ayoub Khan of Pakistan, but all these missiles, helicopters, and advanced tech weapons had to be supplied by China. The main objective of China is to create unrest in the sub-continent and stop the growing influence of India. Even the pilots and missile operators had to be from China. Dr. Doom himself is semi-government.” “That makes sense,” Dilawar said, trying to understand the whole situ- ation. “What scientists are you talking about?” Kishan continued, “He’s got a whole team of electronics engineers, computer scientists, and lab scientists working underground for him. For years he’s combed India for the best minds and then kidnapped their families. He holds them for ransom and makes the scientists do what he wants; otherwise, he threatens to deliver their families to them in pieces. From what I hear, he’s done it a couple of times but not recently. After seeing the other scientist’s families arrive in little baggies, they don’t try anything cute.” “If you knew he was underground, why did you attempt a surface assault in the first place?” Kishan didn’t answer. “This is a sophisticated operation; we need help from the national defense of India. The real attack should occur underwater.” “I agree. The problem came just before our radio-electronic system was cut off; we had a team of nine commando divers on a platform behind that largest boat. Once we got through the mined area, they were going to go into the underwater passageway that Dr. Doom had specially constructed. He’s got a small submarine in that underwater cavern. Instead of lead ballast, it’s lined with gold, so, in a real emergency, he’ll have enough to get by on. We 184

figured out that was the easiest way to get to him. Our divers were going to enter the cave, which is unprotected, for the most part, once you get past the mined area. They had explosive charges with them, and if he tried escaping in his sub, they would slap them on the sides as he passed through the passageway. If not, they were armed with automatic weapons and were going to storm the place and blow it up. Unfortunately, the boat they were on was the first one to get hit. I don’t think any of them made it out of there alive,” he said. Dilawar sat pensively on the rear deck, then looked at Kishan and asked. “Do you know how to dive?” “I’ve done a little bit,” he replied. “Good. Then you’re going to give me a crash course on how to do it, and then we’re both going to go for a swim,” he said, grinning. 185

CHAPTER 15 President Kennedy’s administration was disturbed by what they considered “blatant Chinese communist aggression against India.” In a May 1963 National Security Council meeting, contingency planning on the part of the United States in the event of another Chinese attack on India was discussed. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara and General Maxwell Taylor advised the president to use nuclear weapons should the Americans inter- vene in such a situation. Kennedy insisted that Washington defend India as it would any ally, saying, “We should defend India, and therefore we will defend India.” While Western nations did not view Chinese actions favorably because of fear of the Chinese and competitiveness, Pakistan had a turbulent relationship with India after the partition. However, China and Pakistan took steps to peacefully negotiate their shared boundaries, beginning on the 13th of October 1962, and concluding in December of that year. Pakistan also expressed fear that the huge amounts of western military aid directed to India would allow it to threaten Pakistan’s security in future conflicts. Mohammed Ali, External Affairs Minister of Pakistan, declared that massive Western aid to India in the Sino-Indian dispute would be considered an unfriendly act towards Pakistan. As a result, Pakistan made efforts to improve its relations with China. The following year, China and Pakistan peacefully settled disputes on their shared border and negotiated the China-Pakistan Border Treaty in 1963, as well as trade and commercial. 186

India was in a territorial dispute with China from Kashmir to Arunachal Pardesh—more than three thousand miles—and a further political relationship with the East Pakistan border as well as the west side of Pakistan—one war with China and two wars with Pakistan. They maintain a border with two enemies. After the war in 1962, China started building military muscle to show its influence in the Indian Ocean to the neighboring countries of Burma, Nepal, Tibet, Sikkam, Bhutan, and the Maldives Islands. Their occupation of Tibet was a national security threat for India. China took an area the size of Switzerland from the ALC (actual line of control) of the McMahon Line in 1962. China started supplying ammunition to Tamil to bring the Maldives under their influence without their direct intervention. It was a big blow to Indian national defense in its own backyard. President Nasir requested Prime Minister Mrs. Indra Gandhi protect the country from foreign invaders. Prime Minister Indra Gandhi set up an emergency meeting with Presi- dent Nasir and four-star generals of the Indian Army, Air Force, Navy, and Infantry in New Delhi. The five-foot, three-inch prime minister was surrounded by six-foot-tall Sikh generals with majestic personalities: Mr. Jagjit Singh Aurora and Air Marshal Arjan Singh. “We have five conditions to protect your country,” the prime minister said to Air Marshal Arjan Singh, starting the meeting. “What are the conditions?” President Nasir responded. “First, India will provide the national defense to your nation. Second, break the diplomatic ties with China and Pakistan. Third, half of the army expenses will go to your country to protect your nation on your land. Fourth, there should be a democratically elected government within two years. And fifth, you should hand over Mohamed Khan, the drug warlord and crime syndicate, to the Indian Army. He is the one who is creating race riots, murdered DGP of Punjab Mohinder Partap Singh, and dealing arms to Tamil from China,” she finished. President Nasir reviewed the treaty and realized that it was good for the security of his country. The prime minister and the president signed the agreement. 187

Dilawar and Kishan were sitting in the sixteen-floor lobby surrounded by the bulletproof glass of his personal suite. The suite was built with bullet and soundproof walls. No guests were allowed on that floor. There were surveillance cameras and security guards all around them. A cool breeze was coming in from the ocean. The sun was setting; it looked like the waves were pulling it deep down in the ocean. Cobra had raped and killed his fiancé, tried to kill his sister, killed DGP Mohinder Partap Singh, and set up his future son-in- law to destroy the life of his daughter. Kishan was livid. He’d lost all of his strategically planned patience to get even with him. He called his gang leader to prepare an attack on Maldives Island to kill Khan. “Kishan, thank you for giving me the detailed information about Cobra’s organization, but attacking the island is invading a foreign land.  It’s not possible. If you take your men and ship onto the Indian Ocean  to the Maldives, their government won’t tolerate it; they will retaliate, and you won’t be able to achieve your objective,” Dilawar said. “So what is the best solution?” Kishan asked, thinking deeply. “We need a key witness against his several crimes, so the government of India can convince the Maldives government to either help them or take direct action to break down Cobra’s fortification, arrest him, and bring him into the Indian justice system,” Dilawar gave his opinion. “I do have a key witness. Mr. Taneja, we got him from the gang fight a couple of weeks ago, among some others. He is the one who knew the detailed plan to kidnap Moheeni. He was also involved in the murder of DGP Singh and setting up Kanwar. He helped Cobra rape and kill my fiancé. He didn’t personally carry out the rape and murder, but he was present with Khan at the scene. First of all, I wanted to kill him on the spot when we found him, but then I thought it might be best to keep him alive for the more important job of killing Khan.” Kishan was more cooperative and friendly because they were fighting for a common goal. “Where he is now”? Dilawar asked anxiously. 188

“Thirty feet below us, in the hotel’s basement. He’s in a steel bunker with heavy security,” he said. “I would like to transport him and the others to a special crime branch in Bombay for interrogation,” Dilawar said. “I did an interrogation already,” Kishan said. “That is not enough; we need an official record against the Cobra organization so we can negotiate with the Maldives government,” Dilawar said. “What about me? Before I release him, I need to know what your plans are,” Kishan said. “What do you mean?” Dilawar asked, looking at him. “I need some kind of agreement from the police department,” Kishan requested. “Before we go any further, tell me, how many crimes have you committed?” “On civilians? None. Gang fights happen on both sides, but I always did it for the right reasons,” Kishan justified. “What about smuggling drugs out of the country and distributing them inside the country, destroying the lives of thousands of young people?” Dilawar asked, remembering his own days in college. He thanked God again for giving him the opportunity to break free. “The reality is, I was very ambitious; I couldn’t control my life. The civil war broke the backbone of our family. I was five years old, and Moheeni was just a year old. I went through millions of problems and migrated one part to another part, along with real estate and our personal family wealth. My father died in the civil war, and my mother could not handle it. She died at an early age, leaving everything on my shoulders. I personally don’t like this business anymore. I decided to quit. I want to live a peaceful life like any respectful citizen of this country. I am ready to accept any punishment from your department.” 189

Kishan was ashamed of the things he had done in the past. He was missing his fiancé, who was a victim of his crimes. “Kishan, I am very happy with what you have just said. I’ve known you very well for a long time, and I trust you. I am really proud of you.” Dilawar sat silently for a brief moment. “I have a proposal for a plea bargain for you, which I will put in front of the Air Marshal Commission. I am sure they will accept it. The most important objective of the Indian Air Force is to prove that Kanwar is innocent, and the president would also like to avoid over- ruling our constitution.” “What is the plea bargain?” Kishan asked. They stared at each other before Dilawar broke the silence. “Help us arrest the chief of the Cobra organization, donate two crores. One crore will go to the police department’s crime branch so they can hire more qualified officers to stop the crime syndicates. The second crore will go to the department of primary education to help remove illiteracy. The state and federal government doesn’t have sufficient funds. Education is very important for the development of the nation,” Dilawar finished, waiting for his answer. “I will agree to do that, so I can find peace in my heart. I lost my love a few weeks ago. It was my fault that they took Jaswant’s life—a very nice young man. What could be better than this? I will gladly do it.” “Then I promise you; I will not let you go to prison.” They shook hands. “How do you transport these serious killers?” Dilawar asked while Kishan signed the plea agreement. “My suggestion is that you don’t even discuss this with the state police of Goa. Somebody might have connections with the crime syndicate. It will make your job more difficult. Khan will use all of his connections to try and get them out; he may even have them killed. They are a very valuable com- modity to achieve our goal,” Kishan suggested. 190

“I agree with you,” Dilawar responded. “Contact the air marshal and arrange to have the army help transport these criminals under military security. I believe the Cobra syndicate thinks that all of their people died in the fight. If Khan finds out that key people are still alive, he will create a big mess. Under my custody, nobody can even smell them. Have them come in the middle of the night.” Kishan knew they needed to be very careful. Underground, the steel bunker was divided into different chambers. Each chamber had a clean bed, small table and chair provided. There were even some books available for reading. Each chamber had a separate toilet and shower system and was also connected with a plastic tunnel for fresh air and food to be passed through. Three balanced meals were supplied to keep them healthy. The chamber was a good size. They had room for exercising or even a bit of walking. The bunker was covered with solid, bulletproof materials. A dim light was always on. Each chamber was also outfitted with surveillance cameras. That night, at half-past midnight, ten army Jeeps outfitted with weapons pulled into the loading dock at the hotel, one level underground. They immediately got to work and stopped every vehicle entering or leaving the facility. In a fraction of a second, four commandos entered each chamber. Each criminal was properly chained and had their eyes bandaged. They transported them with a lift by attaching a vertical hook to their chains. They loaded them into a large army truck and sealed them in completely from the outside world. Taneja was under the special security of ten commandos. Five fully-loaded Jeeps were in both the front and back of the truck. An army helicopter loaded with machine guns escorted them and monitored all of the activities on the freeway. In a few minutes, they were on the national freeway from Goa to Bombay. The military successfully transported the criminals to a high-security prison in Bombay. As soon as they brought them in, the military security became even tighter than before. The Punjab police 191

were there because they were not only known as tough interrogators, but they also knew the situation better. A week later, after the interrogations had been conducted, they brought Taneja to Dilawar so he could verify the recorded statements. “Who killed the DGP?” Dilawar asked, looking at him. Taneja was exhausted as they hadn’t let him sleep for many days. “Khan enforced me to arrange the killing of the DGP, but I didn’t do it,” he answered, hardly able to open his eyes. “Tell me your detailed plans, how it happened—everything. If you tell the truth, the police will probably cut a deal with you for a lesser sentence. “Khan threatened to kill every member of my family. I don’t want to die. I’d rather stay in prison,” he answered. “Why does he want to kill you?” “I refused to kill DGP Mohinder Partap Singh two days before the plan. I acknowledged that he was a very intelligent officer, and moreover, he was a Sikh. I really tried hard to convince Khan not to kill the DGP. I told him he was going to buy big trouble from the syndicate, but instead of listening, he threatened my life and the lives of my family. I felt horrible not telling the police, but I was very scared of losing my family.” “Who impersonated Kanwar Singh?” Dilawar asked, digging further. “I am the only Sikh in the Cobra organization; in the beginning, it was a big problem to match a turban like Kanwar’s army-style one. Khan forced me to be the look-a-like for Kanwar. It took me a month to get to the point where I looked exactly like Kanwar. My height and body build were similar to Kanwar’s. The rest was easy. Have you ever heard of Dr. Chakravarti? He’s 192

He’s a plastic surgeon from Calcutta who went to a doctor’s conference held at the Maldives Islands and has been missing for the last two years. The Indian government put a lot into the investigation regarding his disappearance. He is alive under Khan’s custody. And he is the one who made that mask to match Kanwar’s face exactly. When I put the face mask and the Indian Air Force uniform on, it was hard to recognize that I was really Gurinder S. Taneja. I looked just like Kanwar.” “Who killed the DGP?” Dilawar asked, listening very carefully. “Finally, Khan agreed with me and thought I still had to be part of the plan; I was not involved in the actual murder at all. I was waiting in the Jeep when he was killed.” “Who pulled the trigger and killed the DGP?” Dilawar repeated. “When I refused to kill the DGP, Khan prepared Berganja. In the beginning, he was scared to do it, but Khan promised to pay him ten lacs—five lacs in advance were transferred to his bank account at the syndicate bank in Goa.” Dilawar noted it in his records to verify a money transfer. “Give me the details of the murder plan.” Dilawar was listening and carefully noticing every word Mr. Taneja said. “The plan started with three Jeeps loaded with machine guns with a range of more than one mile, an AK-47, and one tanker filled with petroleum and hooked to a hydraulic pump for the capacity to spray the gas from more than two hundred feet away. They brought the tanker to the backside of a building fifty feet away. The building was part of the police headquarters but independent. It was just used to keep different records and for accounting purposes. It was always empty by six o’clock, and it was just a hundred yards away from the check post at DGP’s bungalow. It only took two minutes to spray the whole two-story building. The pressure of the pump was so high, and in the next thirty seconds, the whole building was in flames that touched the sky. With the building on fire, the attention of DGP’s security would be diverted. 193

At the same time, Berganja switched off the power to the whole complex, and it was pitch black. The check-post was empty, and all three of our Jeeps were in DGP’s compound immediately. Everybody was wearing a black mask except me. I was sitting in the Jeep pretending to be Kanwar. On that night, DGP came home from a party. He was slightly drunk, and his wife was not home. This made it much easier for Berganja. As soon as DGP was in bed, he was out cold. They shot two security guards and the dog from the back. Without wasting time, Berganja ran upstairs with his face covered by a black mask. He had the three others with him for his safety. Bergenja pulled the trigger and hit the DGP in the head and chest; he never woke up. Berganja removed his mask and was back in his uniform, hiding under the table within seconds. As soon as the three others disappeared from the site, Berganja turned the lights back on and then went back under the table. Now it was my turn to play fake Kanwar. The gun was in my hand, and the surveillance camera was on—that was me. Wherever you see Kanwar, it was actually me, fake Kanwar. When enough video had been captured, the main wire to the power supply was cut. It takes hours to fix the power supply— mission completed—the total time it took was ten minutes. Everybody was escaping from the scene right when another Jeep was entering the compound. I was the last one to escape. I pulled my Jeep onto the sidewall of the check post. I saw the real Kanwar coming out from his Jeep. He went inside the check post with his back to the window, so I put a little novocaine shot in his back; it was very strong and went into his blood immediately. He hardly walked five yards before he was on the ground. I put my Jeep in gear and passed just in front of his Jeep; there was no other exit. I was on the road in a few minutes. All of the license plates on our Jeeps were fake, so there is no record of them. We changed our clothes, took the train to Delhi, and the next day we were out of India and in the Maldives. He was very upset that Berganja killed the DGP; he couldn’t control his temper. I pulled that trigger to kill the Berganja; it hit the dining table where he was hiding but did not hit him, unfortunately.” Dilawar knew that many of the details matched the findings from the previous investigations and felt that Taneja was telling him the truth. 194

Dilawar prepared the file, put it in a high-security locker, and requested the guard pull Taneja from his cell and give him a room. The next day the guards brought Taneja to Dilawar’s office once again so he could provide further details. “How much do you know in regard to Dr. Chakravarti?” Dilawar was trying to add more proof to the file. “Dr. Chakravarti is a very famous plastic surgeon; most of his details are available. They are at the India Medical Institute in Delhi. Now he is on the payroll of Khan’s organization, but he cannot send the money to his family or communicate with them. He was aware that he was doing something wrong, but he was not aware of the level of it. Khan has a hospital on the island, and Dr. Chakravarti has a major role in the operation. Khan promised he would let him go after five years.” “How did you come in contact with Mr. Khan?”. “I am from a border town near West Pakistan. Drugs come in every night from Afghanistan to Pakistan across the border to go south to India by train and through sea routes to the Maldives. Mr. Khan has contacts at shipping companies that go to the United States and other parts of the world. I am a poor farmer’s son with a master’s degree from Khalsa College Amritsar. But there were no jobs. One night, I was on the farm, and, in the middle of the night, I saw some people crossing the border and coming through our land. The main guy of the group introduced himself and offered me good money to help them cross the fence into the Indian side. It was a new career and opportunity for me. After that, I joined Mr. Khan. He is a very good friend of General Ayub Khan’s. He has a major role in the Pakistan-China border treaty. He has many secret documents of arms smuggling from China that are creating terrorism in India. The criminals were brought to the supreme court, followed by the Punjab police. All of them were chained from their necks to their toes. They were 195

followed in by the army commandos. Mr. Gurinder Singh Taneja, their most important witness, was brought to the stand by the government prose- cutor. After Taneja’s testimony, the judge was convinced to release Kanwar. Kanwar walked outside to see an army band advancing in a uniformed march. Just a few yards away, a helicopter was waiting to transport him to the airbase in Chandigarh. As soon as he was out of the helicopter, there was a big party arranged for him in the Officer’s club. The club was packed with both male and female officers, who were cheering and hugging. It was an exciting celebration that lasted until midnight. The Punjab Police interrogated the remaining criminals involved in the bomb blast at the train station in Bombay. Every one of them had stories of rape, murder, and many different criminal charges. Dilawar completed the file regarding the murder of the DGP, which was the one that was most important. He made an appointment with Air Marshal Arjan Singh to discuss the case further. Early in the morning, Dilawar took an Indian airline flight to Delhi. After a one-hour meeting with Dilawar, the air marshal called the president. And, after reviewing the case, the president was convinced that Kanwar was innocent. It was a very famous case in the Indian judicial system. Khan was highly respected in the whole country. He gave millions of Rs (rupees) to fund charities, non-profit organizations, and schools. Nobody was aware of his real life. The media reports surprised the nation: He is the mayor of Thiladhunmathi Atoll and considers himself the king of the island. He’s acquired thousands of acres of land. He has an under- ground steel bunker, high-tech equipment to monitor his empire and a submarine, speed boats, and a ship used for drugs, gold, and arms smuggling. He has a powerful crime syndicate in South East Asia. He has committed several hundred crimes in India. The most heinous crime was the killing of the highest-ranking police officer, DGP MP Singh, which shocked the nation. He has a lot of influence on the Supreme Court of the Island Nation. 196

As soon as he found out his arrest warrant was going to be delivered by the foreign minister of India and the Maldives Government, Khan appealed to the supreme court to put ban him from being able to leave the country. He argued that if there was any crime he was being charged with, he should be tried in his own country’s court system. The supreme court accepted his appeal. President Nasir was in a very helpless situation again. The secretary of the prime minister called the president of the island to schedule a joint meeting with Air Marshal Arjan Singh, the foreign minister, the defense minister, and the key members of her cabinet, along with a five- member committee of the Air Marshal Commission. The main agenda of the meeting was the arrest warrant for Mr. Khan and bringing the case to the Indian court system regarding the murder of DGP MP Singh along with other crimes he committed. The press released the news of the arrest warrant for Khan in all the major newspapers in India and the Maldives. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was very careful because even though it was a small operation, it would be a big deal in the United Nations. She took the matter seriously enough to have a meeting with both Air Marshal Arjan Singh and Lt. General Jagjit Singh Aurora of the Eastern Command. Lt. J S Aurora was very busy with the East Pakistan political unrest. The foreign minister and the defense Minister were also participating. “Mr. Air Marshal and Lt. General, the operation should be precise with no civilian casualties, and also, I do not want to lose any soldiers either.” Mrs. Gandhi was pointing at the most senior general of the Indian Air Force and Army. “Madam Prime Minister, there are a few options. We took some pictures with our spy aircraft, and the target is surrounded by a kindergarten school, primary, middle, and high school. Just half a mile away is a hospital with four hundred beds—the largest hospital on the island; it is very difficult to pinpoint the target due to the speed of the supersonic jet, so there will definitely be civilian casualties, including kids. An air raid is not possible,” Five-star General Air Marshal Mr. Singh stated. “What other possibility do you have,” Prime Minister Gandhi asked. 197

“If we enter the building through the existing passages, we will definitely lose a good number of soldiers. We have to create our own passage, which from three directions is not possible due to exposure, so only one direction is possible behind, and that is through the rocky hills and woods. In order to tunnel through solid concrete, we need a machine with a diamond cutter. The army does have a few machines, but they are occupied in Kashmir on very important missions in the Kargil area. We need help from the coast guard of the island,” Lt. General Aurora said. “If the sniper enters into the school buildings and hospital, the opera- tion will be more difficult. Madam Prime Minister, if you can take President Nasir into your confidence, we can make our mission’s success much easier. India has supported this country against the Tamil Tiger from Cyclone, and the threat is still coming. If President Nasir makes it a political issue and does a press release to address the nation on TV, he can request that the Indian Government and troops come to protect political stability and maintain the economy of this newborn nation. It was a secret mission to arrest Mohamed Khan and bring him to the Indian court system. The president of India ordered four ships and twenty tanks, five Miraj and five Migs, ten helicopters with machine guns, and five thousand soldiers, including ground, navy, and air force. They were sent to the island nation under the command of Air Commo- dore Gurujaipal Singh Multani. The total time for the mission was five days. The Indian army took over the existing base in the Maldives, which was ten miles from the capital on the coastline of the Indian Ocean. The operation went down in the middle of the night. Four ships surrounded Mr. Khan’s compound from all directions in the Indian Ocean with a radius of ten miles. And on the ground, ten tanks with artillery guns surrounded the area. Mr. Gurinder Singh Taneja and Kishan Singh received a plea bargain from the supreme court to support the mission, and also involved in the operation were Wing Commander Kanwar Singh, Hermanjit Singh, and Detective Dilawar Singh. It was the middle of the night, and a cool breeze was coming from the ocean. The leaves of the palm trees were waving in the breeze. 198