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  “Yes sir,” Sinha replied as Malhotra opened the door. The silence of the sound-proof break room was instantly flooded by the buzz and chatter of the operations center. Sinha walked out and Malhotra followed behind him, rubbing his eyes to try and stay awake.

  Ansari sat up straight in his seat as the aircraft shuddered after touching down on the concrete runway. The turboprop engines groaned at full power as the air-force AN-32 transport began to slow. Several seconds later the aircraft was rolling off the runway and headed towards the military tarmac. Ansari saw his fellow passengers getting ready to exit the aircraft. There were the soldiers coming back to their units deployed in Kashmir, the odd government employees and even several Ladakh civilians. All were sitting in the forward cargo cabin of the aircraft, communicating to each other above the din of the engine noise through shouts.

  Ansari kept his peace, however. He was sitting with his back against metallic wall of the cabin. His only company was the air-force warrant-officer who was the loadmaster on this particular flight from Chandigarh to Leh. Ansari looked at the warrant officer in his green flight overalls and his earphones covering both ears as he listened to the cockpit radio chatter.

  Ansari yawned. It had been a long two nights and a very early start to this day. But under the circumstances, there had been little choice in the matter. After his meeting with Basu two days ago, things had moved fast. Perhaps faster than Ansari would have liked. Basu had delivered as he had promised. Ansari had found all his requests for personnel and equipment approved by SOCOM with the highest of authority. On the flight, he finally had some time to review the plans and expectation and make objective decisions about the next steps. He had convinced himself that the broad authority given to him for the job at hand could not have come from anyone other than the star-ranked senior-brass at his parent command. So why the obtrusive secrecy?

  Deniability.

  The job that he now held was blackest of the black. It had every potential of triggering a full-scale war.

  But that wasn’t right, was it? After all, the entire Indian military was gearing up for the upcoming missions inside Pakistan-occupied-Kashmir. And if and when those missions went through, war might break out anyway. But there was also the hope that it won’t.

  But if my mission goes awry, there will be no such hopes…He leaned back rested his head against the bare metal skin of the aircraft fuselage.

  Ansari wasn’t new to these dirty operations. He had overseen the Pathfinder missions inside Tibet with the aid of his field man and fellow Pathfinder, Colonel Gephel. Gephel had been a Lt-colonel then and overall field commander for the Pathfinders. The Pathfinder missions were themselves based on a firm foundation of revenge. Their design was not so much a sprint as they were a marathon. The idea was to bleed the Chinese inside Tibet until such a point that they were willing to make concessions on how they handled the Tibetans. And in that role the Pathfinders were effective. In fact, they were too effective and ultimately had the net effect of driving both nations to war.

  That question of accountability had kept Ansari awake for countless nights afterwards. He had never questioned his mission and strategic objectives when he had acted as the liaison between Basu, Chakri and the others in South-Block in New-Delhi and Gephel and his Pathfinder teams out in the freezing snow and ice of southern Tibet. He had never flinched at the countless lists of death and destruction wrought upon by these missions on Chinese military forces. But the sudden, massive and precipitous Chinese attack on India had caught his conscious off-guard. The war that had resulted the deaths of tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians on both sides. Bhutan had been savaged with nuclear weapons. And northwestern China had suffered a similar fate.

  Were all of these consequences of my actions?

  Ansari let out deep breath and shook his head to clear his thoughts. The cabin was filled with the whining noise of the cargo ramp opening. He turned to see the bright sunlight reflecting off the concrete tarmac. Sunlight glistened off the shiny new ice patches and a chillingly cold wind swept through the cabin. The loadmaster jumped off the ramp on to the tarmac and Ansari prepared to do the same. He didn’t have to worry about personal belongings; he didn’t have any. His only concern was the winter jacket of his and his beret. He was wearing a regular army beret today instead of his red one that indicated his special-forces lineage. That would only draw unnecessary attention. Especially when the whole of Kashmir was on edge.

  He returned the salute from the warrant-officer at the base of the ramp and walked off, looking around the airbase. Leh was abuzz with military activity. He cocked his head upwards to see a bright blue morning sky reverberating with the thunder of Mig-29 fighters on air-defense duties. To his side, a pair of massive air-force C-17 transport aircraft were parked, disgorging tons of cargo, vehicles and soldiers…

  Not hard to guess our intentions, is it? Ansari thought as he put on his beret, shielding his thinning white hair from the bitter cold winds. He realized that amongst all this activity lay anonymity for himself. With the massive military mobilization in Kashmir, top brass were moving back and forth. If there was anybody in the pay of the Pakistanis watching the airfield for the arrivals and departures, he or she would have plenty to report. Amongst all that, a lowly colonel could blend in without drawing too much attention.

  “Our enemies never learn,” a voice said behind Ansari.

  “And command doesn’t know any better!” Ansari replied almost on reflex and then smiled as he turned around. “Gephel! You old dog!”

  The bearish Gephel caught Ansari in a hug that left the latter gasping. Ansari looked his friend over, dressed as he was in combat fatigues similarly lacking in special-forces insignia. He didn’t say anything on that and didn’t have to.

  “What brings you to these neck of the woods…uh, rocks?” Gephel said, still smiling. “Don’t see too many of you command folks out in the mud with the boys!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ansari observed and then fished into his bulky winter coat pockets. He fished out a small box of sweets that he knew Gephel liked and tossed the box over to him. Gephel took it with a smile and his eyes lit up.

  “I thought you would be missing these out here!” Ansari noted as Gephel wasted no time unpacking the small box. “You don’t know,” he said without looking away from his efforts to snap open the box, “how many air-force pilots I have bribed to try and get them to bring these goodies for me to this god-forsaken place!” Ansari smiled and then looked around.

  “Listen Gephel, we need to talk. Any place less open we can go to?”

  “Absolutely!” Gephel said, at once becoming serious. He waved to the small Gypsy utility vehicle parked on the tarmac next to the AN-32 and began walking to it. Both men jumped on and Gephel accelerated the vehicle off the tarmac and towards the army base near the airfield.

  “So what’s going on?” Gephel said while driving past a convoy of trucks. “I mean besides the obvious, of course!”

  “What have you heard?” Ansari asked above the noise of the vehicle engine. He cocked his eyes to the passing convoys: “About all this?”

  “Only what the brass deems itself to tell us.” Gephel noted. “And the regular swathe of rumors over drinks in the mess, of course!”

  “Of course!”

  “But mainly that we are going to be handing major pain-in-a-can to the Pakis for what they did to Mumbai. Some guys are even talking of unrestricted ops across the Rubicon!”

  Ansari kept his peace as he absorbed the scent, looks and feel of this place. He missed being in the field.

  “But what do you think is about to happen?” Ansari asked again.

  “Nothing.” Gephel responded dryly. “Same shit, different day. We mobilize, they mobilize. The winter doesn’t help and ensures that mountain passes remain closed. The brass reports the same to the political chiefs in Delhi and the whole thing is shelved while diplomacy get a new life. And the folks in Islamabad have a good laugh all through and through.�
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  Gephel pulled the vehicle over to the mess of a Ladakh Scouts unit that was moving into the region. It was as anonymous a place as could be found. Gephel then turned to Ansari: “and until you called up to tell me you were coming, I would have remained convinced that I was correct in my deductions.”

  “But not anymore?” Ansari smiled.

  “Not anymore! So what do you have for me?”

  “Something to make your hair stand on its end!” Ansari said with a crooked smile as both men walked into the deserted mess room and headed outside into the rocky garden. The garden was at the base of the snow-covered mountains that bracketed the airfield. Ansari took a half hour to explain his plans to Gephel. And Gephel nodded silently as he absorbed the whole intent of the plans…

  “…Naturally, we cannot be go on this ourselves.” Ansari concluded. Gephel raised an eyebrow: “And why not?”

  Ansari shook his head: “No chance. Humping over these mountains here is a young man’s game. That leaves us old geese out. I want your expertise from the Pathfinder missions but you are to go nowhere near the field!”

  “Fine.” Gephel relented and then looked at the majestic Himalayas around them. “Can you get anybody from SOCOM for this operation?”

  “Give me a name and I will have him deputed. The powers-that-lord-over-us have given me broad authority to acquire whoever we need…within limits of course!” Ansari focused on Gephel. “Why? Who did you have in mind?”

  “There is this young major I met over at Vairengte who is teaching special-forces officers on high-altitude special-warfare tactics with his Bhutanese wartime experiences. You will know him. The guy led his team into combat against the Chinese Highland Division forces north of Thimpu during the initial phases of the Bhutanese theater. His small force worked with Warlord and his commanders to hold the reds off until the Paras could secure Thimpu.”

  “Oh, I think I know this guy,” Ansari tried to recollect his memorized information on SOCOM personnel. “Didn’t his team get chewed up over there? Himself included?”

  “Do you blame him?” Gephel asked. “A nuclear explosion will do that to a man, you know. He got chopped up and barely walked out of Bhutan with a severe leg wound. Only three others from his team survived. But he’s recovered now. I met the boy before I headed over here. He’s perfect for what we need. Grab him before some other task-force does!”

  Ansari nodded with a smile, more so at the ease with which Gephel had accepted his task without actually saying it. And also because he realized that has special-warfare team had already begun to grow.

  The plan was not theoretical anymore.

  Pathanya thanked the young air-force officer who had dropped him off on the tarmac near the parked aircraft. He grabbed his rucksack from the back of the Gypsy and returned the salute of the driver. The latter accelerated away, moments later. It was already dark at Chandigarh. The last shades of red and orange sunlight were making the western skies look ablaze. He looked around as he saw the airfield abuzz with vehicles, aircraft, soldiers and cargo. The air was alive with military noises.

  But down on this side of the tarmac, the activity was more subdued. He saw the two, large C-130J transport aircraft parked a few dozen meters away. Men in green flight-suits were milling about. A fuel bowser was parked nearby and a large pipe was trailing from its side as it headed above into the wing of one of the nearer C-130Js. Pathanya could see the rear ramp of the aircraft lowered and about a dozen men with similar rucksacks standing nearby.

  As he walked towards the aircraft, Pathanya saw the pilots in the cockpit adjusting their helmet mounted night-vision goggles. The greenish glow from these optics reflected around their eyes as they settled into the darkened cockpit. It was then that Pathanya noticed that while the night had crept in, the airbase had not lit up as it did under normal circumstances. Lighting was being kept to a minimum. It would do no good for people in the pay of the Pakistanis to keep visual tabs on the happenings of this base, considering the base’s strategic value as one of the lifeline nodes to Ladakh and Kashmir.

  “Major Pathanya,” one of the men near the ramp said, “glad you could make it to this party!” The group as a whole turned to face Pathanya and revealed that they had been consulting with small flashlights on the maps held by one of the men. This man then folded the map and stepped forward. Pathanya saw the man was wearing the shoulder ranks of a colonel and dressed as a Paratrooper down to the beret. Pathanya instantly dropped his rucksack on the tarmac and saluted.

  “At ease, Pathanya.” Ansari put his left hand out. Pathanya saw the hand and shook it.

  “Sir, apologies for my delay!” Pathanya said with sincerity that Ansari recognized. He understood. Logistics were a nightmare for the entire Indian military at the moment, and nobody was exempt from it. No matter how important their task.

  “Understood, major.” Ansari said flatly and looked at the chaos on the rest of the tarmac. “Nobody expected to fight a winter war in the Himalayas. Despite the China war, we have yet to bring up our logistics in the mountains to acceptable levels. We are always caught flat footed, aren’t we?” Ansari shook his head and turned to Pathanya: “Well, we will make do. Hopefully we won’t have to go back into Tibet this time around!” He winked and then turned to the rest of the men as Pathanya picked up his rucksack from the tarmac and followed, still not entirely sure why he was here or what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

  “Sir,” the group of men turned to see the pilot of the aircraft walk towards them in the cabin, “we are cleared to go in ten minutes! Suggest you get your men and equipment on board right away!”

  Ansari nodded and stepped on board the cargo ramp before turning to the men: “Gentlemen, let’s go. This war will not wait for us!”

  As the others stepped on board and walked into the large cargo cabin, Pathanya took stock of the equipment that had been loaded inside already. This included a large contingent of small arms, explosives, communications equipment and a number of other Paratroopers and soldiers already sitting further up the cabin, keeping their own company aside from Ansari’s boys. They looked up to see the dozen men boarding the aircraft from the rear and taking their seats but otherwise continued with their work. He saw one familiar face in there. Captain Kamidalla smiled and waved at him from his seat further up the cabin. Pathanya smiled and nodded in response. He hadn’t see Kamidalla since they had all moved on from Vairengte to different wartime assignments handed to them individually. He hadn’t expected to see Kamidalla here. But it was a pleasant surprise. But the details would have to wait for now.

  Pathanya took his seat on the side of the cabin alongside the other men and finally saw in the dim red lights of the cabin the ranks of those men. A couple of Captains, including Kamidalla, three lieutenants and the rest were senior non-coms. Pathanya huffed in amusement as he added up the symptoms to diagnose the disease. Ansari heard the suppressed huff. He sat down next to Pathanya just as the ramp was raised by the loadmaster. The noise of the rotating propellers was now audible inside.

  “You approve, major?” Ansari removed his beret and ran his hand through the balding white hair, ruffling them.

  “Sir, I am not even sure what I would be approving!”

  “But you approve?” Ansari pushed. Pathanya chuckled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Ansari said in conclusion.

  Pathanya placed his rucksack on the floor between his feet. “I was told by my commanding officer to report for an immediate flight to Chandigarh and to report to you. They didn’t even tell me where I was supposed to find you in Chandigarh. I had all of three hours to prepare and have been traveling all day since.”

  “Well,” Ansari replied, “Join the club, Pathanya. If you think you had a strange day, you should step into my boots for the past week. But to put your curiosity aside, I should mention that you weren’t just picked out of a hat. I am in charge of putting together a very delicate operation and I needed men well versed wi
th the craft, especially in the high mountains. Your experience in Bhutan was mentioned to me by one of my senior officers. Incidentally, you have met the man. Anyway, he told me where you were, I called your CO and here you are.”

  Ansari paused as the roar of the engines increased suddenly and they felt themselves accelerating down the runway. A few seconds later they were airborne and the vibrations of the undercarriage rolling into the fuselage confirmed the same.

  “As you are now acutely aware,” Ansari continued, “we are gearing up for some major operations in response to the Pakistani strike on Mumbai. I say Pakistani instead of a terrorist strike because we know where the chain ends. Even so, New-Delhi feels that the appropriate response to such a devastating attack is to take out key terrorist targets inside Pakistan. The majority of these locations are inside occupied Kashmir. You buddies are gearing up for supporting the air-strikes should the need arise to send in ground troops to finish the task. But there won’t be a need and they aren’t going anywhere!”

  Pathanya cocked an eyebrow: “Why is that, sir?”

  “Because the camps and locations we will strike will be deserted of all targets long before we get there.” Ansari let that snippet sink in.

  “What?” Pathanya blurted out. “Then what’s the point of all this?”

  “Exactly.” Ansari had the air of a man who had realized this sad truth a long time ago. “We are doing this because we have to do something! Else we invite more such strikes on us. At least that’s the working theory in New-Delhi.”

  “But we have a different plan?” Pathanya asked with all seriousness. Ansari turned to face Pathanya: “For the record, we don’t have a plan any different from the official plan is.”

  “And off the record?” Pathanya queried.

  “How’s your Urdu?”

  ──── 7 ────

  “It is not our fight. Isn’t that what they said to us three years ago?” Wencang said as he kept walking. General Chen kept his pace alongside him as others in the corridor swept aside to make way for the two senior-most officials of the Central Military Commission. The walls of the corridor were covered with red curtains and portraits of past commanders and leaders of the communist party of China. Wencang didn’t bother dropping a glance on either of them. He was in this building far too many times a day for it to matter anymore. But this time he did stop at one of the last portraits before his office. It was of his predecessor, Peng.