Gun x sword

the spy, the soldier and the bastard

Chapter 1: Happy New Year!

31st Dec 2008.

Somewhere on the northern border of India,
Himalayas.

Narrated by Tom Miller.

Unknown time.

I can think of hundreds of nice ways to wake up on a New

Year’s Day. Next to a girl or with a hangover and some
awesome memories from the previous night...But sliding back
into consciousness and seeing the dangerous end of a Desert
Eagle handgun staring back at you? Not one of them.

First thing I heard as I faded in was a guy talking through the

phone, “...understand. I will wait then.” The voice was coming
thrThen the phone clicked and someone said...“Finally, the
dead man is awake... Is he stable, Dimitri?”

The voice was layered with a thick Chinese accent and was a
man’s. I looked away from the gun and took a look at the guy
holding it....There wasn’t much to see. His face was covered
with a burglar’s mass and he was draped in scarves. His outfit
was that of a Taliban leader’s. Looking a little closely at his
shirt pocket, which was translucent, I saw the picture of a cute
girl and her mother. The man was a terrorist and yet he had a
family he loved, but taking another glance at him, I could tell
he was not one to be messed with; one soldier can always
identify another. I took a quick glace around the room and
made a list of possible escape routes. The two windows on the
right, balcony on the left and the vent system. Weapons?
Desert Eagle. Two 9 millimetres and a nice knife on the table
at the far side of the wall. Cricket bat near one of the windows
on left. I was in a room of what seemed to be a very old
house. There wasn’t much light entering from the windows
which made it feel damp and dark. I was tied to a metal chair
with duck tape and the chair had been nailed to the floor. My
whole body had been wired up and these wires were
connected to a laptop. Apart from guy with a gun at my head,
there were two other guards each with their very own Ak-74u
and they were dressed like Taliban soldiers too. A man was
bent over a laptop and the guy who spoke earlier was
standing next to him, staring directly at me. This man was
quite short but was built like a fighter. He looked Chinese and
was battle-worn; he was wearing an Ed hardy shirt and
cargos.

The other guy looked up from the laptop. He too was a battle
worn soldier wearing a black tank and grey cargos. He nodded
at the Chinaman and spoke through a thick beard and his
accent cried out - Russian. - “Yes Chan, he’s stable...at least
for now.” Chan obviously was pleased to hear this; his toothy
smile was enough for me to tell. I braced myself for the pain,
whatever his style of interrogation was going to be I would be
ready for it. The heads of the ‘NGO’ agency that I worked for
trained their operatives to expect the kind of interrogation
technique that one is going to use and how to deal with it. It
wouldn’t take training to judge what comes next when a guy
flexes and cracks his knuckles, but it takes hell a lot of it to
take the beating and not break.

“Ok...listen up, I have a few questions and you are going to

answer them. Clear?” The interrogator asked. I didn’t respond,
I was going to start with the dumb-ass technique and see
where it gets me. The Chinaman walked forward while pulling
a pair of Tommy Hilfiger shades from his cargos and putting
them on. He grasped the arms of my chair and bent in a way
that our faces were uncomfortably close. I could see my
reflection on his shades but I couldn’t believe it was me. My
long brown hair was messier than usual; I had cuts all over my
face, a black-left eye and a bleeding mouth. My mouth was
dry and my lips felt dusty and bruised and to round it off, my
square and usually clean shaven jaw was covered with a
stubby brown beard. I was wearing my black and grey uniform
which resembled the S.A.S task force ones greatly.

“Question one.” He spat. His breath smelled of cigarettes and

stale food. “Who are you?”

I put on my best possible Canadian accent and said. “Eh...I...I

don’t remembr... where am i?”

I found out that the dumbass technique wouldn’t get me far.

My face was burning and a couple of my teeth had gotten
chipped after the punch. And it was no ordinary punch; under
the full-sleeves and gloves was not an arm of flesh, it felt
metallic. I felt like slapping myself and I would have but my
hands were tied; I knew who this man was, Jen Hie. He was an
ex general in the Chinese army and was wanted by various
countries for crimes against humanity. The president of the
United States himself had approved an assassination of this
man and I was part of the sniper group that was to take him
out. The bullet had blown off his arm and we had to abandon
the mission because after the shot, the whole base had come
after us. Hie had gone underground after the incident and
probably gotten a plastic surgery because of which I couldn’t
recognise him but we had received information from
informants that Hie had gotten his had replaced by an
artificial robotic one.

I spat the chipped tooth and blood on the floor and a big beefy
man came forward with a wet rag and started to clean it up. I
stared at him for a bit, surprised in my mind but
expressionless on the outside and then I turned my attention
back to Hie. “Fuck!” I said through gritted teeth, “Fine...My
first name is Alexandre. I do not have a second name, but am
registered as Alexandre Dean. (I was lying; it was a weak but
desperate one.) I work for the DGSE; Hey! Dimitri you are
Russian right explain to your friend about how the DGSE was
involved in the unveiling of the_”

As soon as I had called his name, Dimitri was staring at me

like a hungry wolf and when I said this he leaped at me like an
animal but Hie caught him and held him back. “MY DAD GOT
EXECUTED FOR THAT! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” He was
yelling at me like a mad man but Hie yelled louder, “Guards!!
Take Dimitri here and escort him to the lounge. Now!! Dimitri I
will handle this get out of here.” And so the first stage of my
escape, getting the guards out was complete.

The two men walked Dimitri outside and that left me alone in
the room with Hie and the beefy guard. “You dog,” Hie turned
back at me, “DGSE huh? Smart play. You don’t sound like a
man who belongs to French intelligence to me. Why don’t you
give up the act and just tell me who you are and what you
were doing!”

“DON’T YOU GET IT!!!? THE WHOLE FRIGGIN REASON THAT I

DON’T HAVE A FRENCH ACCENT IS TO SHOW I AM NOT
FRENCH!” I took a pause letting Hie feel like an idiot, hiding
my laugh and then continued, “I am American born but hired
by the French. After the 1980s, the French have been digging
about a lot of dirt on Russian military, covert and even black
ops. And this has been leading to a lot of tension between
with the ultranationalist groups functioning underground in
Moscow and St. Petersburg. The DGSE needs to avoid coming
into light and so they recruited SAS and CIA agents to do the
dirty work for them. I was here to intercept another black op
which I am quite sure you know about. (This was a trick to find
out if the guy actually knew about any Russian black ops. This
method is used by spies, interrogators, fortune tellers and
some time crime investigators. What you do is- to observe the
target’s face for any signs of understanding, a twitch or the
sudden desire to make eye contact which usually means he
knows what you are talking about.) Hie suddenly looked at me
more intensely (This is another sign by the way).

“Alexandre Dean, right? Fucking Defender of mankind it

seems, you couldn’t keep your balls on through a recon and
you have a name that means defender of mankind!” After a
toothy smile, he said “I will need to check this up. And if it
turns out to be a lie then a few chipped tooth will be the least
of your worries. Aalee, take care of our guest here I’ll be
back.” He said to the guard and left. My desperate lie had
actually worked! Stage two complete, get Hie out.

I only had a few minutes alone with the guard and had to
make small talk and get friendly with him up quickly so I
started in a mix of Hindi and Arabic, “What’s your name
friend? What comes before Aalee?”

“None of your business mister and I am not you friend.” The

man replied with a gruff voice.

“Aalee, look I shall not beat around the bush, I need your help
and will_”

“I do not help people who are trying to destroy our nation and
culture. Now shut up before I shoot -.”

“I am not trying to destroy anyone’s culture or nation and nor

are my people. We are here to help.”

“Help? HELP? You fucking bastard, don’t you fucking dare tell
me you are here to help our nation.”

“Aalee whatever you have heard it’s not true.” As soon as I

said it, I realised I had miscalculated. Aalee gritted his teeth
and his eyes stared at me with hatred beyond belief. The
slapped made my eyes sting and my head spun like it had just
been shot.

“FUCK YOU! I haven’t heard, I have seen with my own two

eyes what you bastards have done to our nation. We used to
be rich and lived peacefully until your marines flew in and
destroyed our lives. We do not step out of our houses, scared
that a stray bullet will pass through our hearts. Kids cling to
their mothers bodies wanting assurance that they will wake up
and not see men killing each other. Gun shots ring through
the night as the mother try to , they try to tell their children
that it’s going to be all right and-”

“AALEE, LISTEN TO ME!” I yelled at him and cut him off. “We
are there to help your people. Believe it or not we really are.
There are men, bastards out there that take innocent lives.
They have destroyed over more lives than I can count and will
take more unless we stop them. These fuckers are hiding in
your country and we want to drag them out.” Aalee started
shaking his head to probably contradict me again but I
continued louder.

“ Islam doesn’t tell you to take innocent lives. I do not know if

you do or do not know what your bosses do and what they tell
you to do but it is destroying the world. Your culture doesn't
encourage violence. And whatever the belief that is going
around that we are here to destroy Pakistan, Afghanistan or
whatever Middle Eastern country you belong to, is a false
belief. We are not here to destroy it. We are here to save you
from the tyranny of people like your Taliban or Al-Qaida
leaders. They are the ones bringing your country to ruins!
Please Aalee, understand this...Aalee, I have a wife and
daughter just like you. They will be dead before they know it if
I don’t get out of here. Your bosses are no matter what going
to use them to get to me, please Aalee. I know you
understand because I know you have a family you love.”

“How did you_”

“Their picture is in your pocket Aalee, I can see it through the

cloth. Just like you, I love my family. They will not be able to
survive without their father. You must know what I mean.
Please Aalee. HELP ME!” I realised I had yelled at him and
almost broke a smile as to how involved I was getting in the
lie but the yelling had not affected this conversation
negatively. Aalee was staring at me with total confusion and a
hint of distrust; he seemed to be in a mental conflict. The
group of men whom Aalee descended from men were
extremely loyal men and it was no doubt that Aalee was not a
man that had gone against this. But I was playing to his
weakness, his culture and his family...

“Arghhh!” He screamed and came at me with the gun,

slamming it to my forehead, he was breathing hard and his
face was red with anger. He yelled and pulled the trigger. The
bang made my ears ring but he had not put a bullet in my
head, he had shot the wall behind me. I exhaled shakily, my
fingers and arms shaking. Aalee threw the gun which broke
into pieces across the wall; he grabbed me by the collar and
yanked me up causing the chair I was bound to, to get
yanked up with me. He tried to thrown me at a wall but my
legs were chained to the floor. I yelled as the chains stretched
and pulled my legs making me crash to the floor.

I took a deep breath and said, “Aalee, please.”

It seemed like the decision would kill him before Hie came
back so I was digging my brain for something I could say that
would tilt him in my favour; but to my luck, in a rush of sheets,
the man pulled out a silenced nine millimetre and shot off the
chains that had my legs locked to the floor. I smiled at him
reassuringly as he came forward and cut off the duct tape
with which my hands had been bound to the chair.

“He tossed me the army knife from his belt, the desert eagle,
an AK-74u and a bag full of ammo and supplies that he had
loaded up in a hurry. He also tossed me a map of the
surrounding region and traced a path with his finger to a
stream nearby; telling me of an old boat house that would
take me down the river.

I thanked him and was about to leave when he said, “Mr.

Dean, I_”

I cut him off before he could finish, “My real name is Tom
Miller.” I told him feeling that I owed the man a bit of truth. He
nodded and said, “Mr. Miller, my superiors will have me shot
once they see what I have done. I do not wish to die at their
hands. If you would sir, would you please...would you please
help Ahmed Aalee?”

I didn’t want to but I had no time to rethink. “I pray that god

saves your soul Ahmed.” I am an atheist myself but I said the
words that I knew would give the man peace.

****

I, Tom Miller was on the run once more, back on the field. I
waited in the room placing a custom made bomb by the door
which composed basically of a microwave and a bit of
silverware that I had grabbed from the kitchen next to the
interrogation room; it was set to blow off its hinges as soon as
someone turned the knob. I heard voices on the other side of
the door and put a finger on the switch to which the plug was
attached, and at the same time grabbed the flash bang out of
the draws with my left hand. I took a deep breath and as soon
as I exhaled the door knob turned.
The microwave exploded and sent the door and other debris
flying against the men on the other side of the wall. I chucked
the flash bang at the already disoriented gunners and turned
away; its explosion was followed by confused screams. I
bolted out and yanked the trigger of my AK spraying bullets at
the five men who had accompanied Hie. I put two to three
bullets in the heads of the two who had gotten hit by the door
and a few more than ten into the chest of the third guy. I
stepped back inside, dropped the cartridge and loaded up
another one. I poked my sub-machine gun outside and rained
hell again and heard another guy drop. I knew that I had
barely any bullets left in the clip but there were enough
rounds in it to drop two men. I stepped out, brought the butt
of the SMG to my shoulder and pulled the trigger again but
thanks to my awesome luck, the dam gun jammed up.

Hie and a Russian soldier stood smiling at me; the soldier had
a traditional sawed-of shotgun and Hie an assassin’s 1911. Hie
took aim at me leisurely and said “Nice to meet you Tom
Miller, I wish you could stay a bit longer but you are a busy
man. Now where would you like this? Head? Chest? Balls?”
And as he said this, a laser dot slid from my forehead to
between my eyes and went down up to my crotch.

“I want an open coffin and at no point in my life do I want to

be a guy with no balls.” I said to him with a smile.

“Chest it is then. Die Agent Miller.” He said and the 1911

recoiled like a cannon as the bullet raced at me. My attempt
to dodge was a failure but not worthless. The bullet that would
have passed through my heart pierced my arm instead. I
grunted as the blood flew out like a fountain and dropped to
the floor, spinning. While falling though, I had pulled out the
desert eagle from my belt and as soon as I fell, I put a bullet in
the Russian’s face. Blood had splattered the walls and floor
now and I could hear twenty or more soldiers storming their
way towards the sound of the shots. I grabbed another 74u
from near the dead guy and started shooting at Hie but he
had grabbed the Russian and was using him as a human
shield.

The gun ran out of ammo soon and before I reloaded, I formed
a different plan. I didn’t grab a cartridge from my back pack,
rather another flash grenade. As Hie came pointing his dam
gun at me, the flash rolled away towards the wall.

“Well, you tried I’ll give you that agent Miller, but this time I
won’t give you a choice of spot.” He smiled and the laser
pointer marked a red dot between my eyes; the asshole had
not noticed the flash. It exploded in a puff of smoke and my
eyes went numb and static filled my ears. I heard Hie’s
annoyed scream and a gunshot almost as if the sound had
come from a mile or two away. But even though I couldn’t see
or hear, I could tell that the bullet had barely missed my head.
I swung my gun upward and knew I had landed a hit right Hie
right between his legs. Through the blurred vision I saw Hie
grasp at his crotch so I quickly got up and sprinted away from
the sounds of armed soldiers crashing on the stone floor. I
shoved the AK into the backpack, which now had a few
chocolates, ammo, flashes, money and to my surprise, two
cans of beer.

I blazed through corridors dodging barrels of who knows what,

boxes of guns and ammunition and trunks which had such a
bad stench that I guessed they were either filled with rotten
beef or dead bodies. The greenish blue paint was peeling off
the walls and the cold wind coming from outside was blowing
through the corridors with eerie an eerie sound. Half the lights
were flickering and the dark alleys had their windows all
boarded up. In the process of my escape, I hid in a small
broom cupboard to dodge soldiers and as I ran my hand
through the shelf to find anything that would help me survive,
I found a parachute, (talk about luck). I found matches and
kerosene using which I burned the other parachutes. In the
light of this fire, I spotted oxygen tanks, more kerosene and to
my luck, a hydrogen tank. It would be hard to carry all these
outside and I also knew that the burning parachutes would
attract a lot of attention but I knew the door exit was just a
few feet away. I did an extremely quick couple of rounds and
managed to drag them out. And more to my luck, I found the
vent system just above me, I grabbed the pipes and climbed
them with a lot of effort (the bullet in my left bicep was
causing a lot of problems) and popped the tanks into the
vents. Highly flammable gases- hydrogen and oxygen were
bursting through those pipes. I splashed the walls with
kerosene and threw whatever was left in the container into
the vents.

I jumped off the pipes and saw two soldiers come around the
corner of the building. I was the last thing they saw. I lit a
match and threw it into the vents. This gave me two seconds
to jump off the cliff to avoid getting barbecued. I ran for it; the
cold wind was freezing my nerves and the altitude had already
made me light headed but as I ran, I still noticed my
surroundings. I was on top of a snow peaked mountain, in the
ranges of the Himalayas. Surrounded by misty clouds and
above me a night sky beautifully studded with a gazillion
stars. It was a pristine sight but the gore of the battle I had
left behind did not let me enjoy the view for long. I jumped as
an ear shattering explosion lit up the night; I felt its force
whack me through the dive. I was falling off mountain, the
wind rushing was across my face and the whole world was a
blur. As I fell, I had to dodge the rocks sticking out of the cliff’s
side and make sure I kept a firm hand on my bag. But in its
own unique way that was fun. I pulled the parachute a little
reluctantly and a little desperately, and it opened with a pop,
spinning me around to face the mountain that I had jumped
off.
Smoke was billowing from a huge fire on its top causing the
whole range of surrounding mountains to get covered by
dancing glow of orange. No man could possibly have survived
that explosion, at least that’s what I believed at the time.

As I approached the lake, which was meant to be my landing

zone, I glanced at the watch, it was four minutes to midnight,
so yeah, and I had enjoyed fireworks on the first day of Year
2009. Happy New Year, Tom Miller.
 Chapter 2: On the run

1st Jan 2009.

Somewhere on the northern border of India,

Himalayas.

Narrated by Tom Miller.

0010 hours

I landed on the wet and mushy bank of the pond and quickly
released the parachute. After flattening it and ripping out the
ropes from it, I folded up the chute and buried it in the snow
so that the search parties that would be looking for survivors
from the destroyed building would get no clues of my path.

I moved as fast as I could along the guidelines of Aalee.

Trekking through the snow in my uniform kept me reasonably
warm but I could tell that I needed to find or build shelter soon
and if I didn’t find one by nightfall, I would be in a hell of a
bind. As I trekked, I picked up firewood and rolled it up into a
bundle. A fire at night is a necessity for anyone to survive in
the wild but a big campfire would give away my position. I had
to be careful about every step I took and make sure I covered
my footprints best as I could. The snow must have been at
least six to seven feet deep and this again hindered my climb.

Aalee had instructed me to make camp in a cave which was

about 200 feet high in a mountain to the south-east of the
bunker. I was to get a view of the surrounding area from there
and carve out a path to get the boathouse. I had made a good
enough plan for the time being- go down the river and end up
on the banks of the nearest village. Blend in with the people
until the news about the explosion died out and after that
make my way into the bigger cities of India. Make some
friends and money and after a good amount of time, like six to
seven months pass, get in touch with my agency and find out
how to get back to them. As I thought about this, I couldn’t
help but not get spooked by the emptiness of the woods. The
foggy forest played tricks on my mind, making me see
shadows that no one cast and hears sounds that no one made.
Other than thinking about ghosts, I thought about the animals
and how I was a potential prey for them. I had barely no food
except for a couple of chocolate bars and had to reach the
boathouse by third Jan if I was to stay alive without resorting
to hunting and eating.

It took me a while to get to the cave, almost as long as it took

me to spot it. It was pitch black against brown rocks and was
next to as it was on that side of the mountain that was not lit
by the burning building. I put down my bag and unrolled the
parachute to make a decent bed to get some desperately
needed sleep on. And as expected, I couldn’t sleep.

I had been lying down for a few hours now and noticed that
the sun was beginning to give sky an orange tint. My eyes
were stinging and my breath freezing in front of my face as I
sat up sheepishly. Initially I had not been able to fall asleep
but what kept me awake later on were the search parties of
the Indian Army investigating the destroyed bunker. I quickly
packed the parachute and chocolate wrappers into the bag
and kicked the ashes and stones which were around the tiny
ember I had made the last night down the mountain. I slowly
and carefully took a peek outside and traced a path around
the side of the mountain until I got a view of the bunker. There
were two helicopters next to it, a few jeeps at the base of the
mountain and men with guns everywhere.

Making sure there were no search parties close to my position,

I ran diagonally down the slope and leaped into a blanket of
snow, sliding down the mountain at a great speed. I got to my
feet as soon as I stopped sliding and ran to nearest tree to get
cover. My uniform was black in colour so I had to stay in the
shade no matter what because it would be extremely easy to
spot me against the white snow. I shook the snow out of my
hair and brushed it off my clothes. Looking around, I failed to
judge which way I was supposed to go. Dark trees and bushes
with no leaves were the only things around me and they
stretched as far as I could see until the mist ended my sight.

I turned around and checked the direction of my slide based

on the demarcation. Then I faced the same way. I closed my
eyes, picturing in reverse my movements until now. I was
back in the cave and was looking out over the Himalayas.
Twelve o clock was covered with more mountains and 21 at 2
o clock was the lake. I didn’t have memory of the view
between two to five. At six was the destroyed bunker. No eyes
again from six to ten o clock. Then it hit me. I had seen a
reflection of light from between the woods at eleven. I knew it
wasn’t the ice, it couldn’t have been, the faint reflection had
flickered. To me, eleven from the cave was currently a sharp
right.

I yanked my eyes open and started trekking in the direction of

the river.

It was a gruelling walk, the thick snow hindered me to my

point of breaking and the cold was chilling my bones but when
I got to my destination, my mind was blown away. Aalee
seemed to have miscalculated. The water that I saw was
hardly a stream and no boat would float on it. I could see the
bottom which was hardly even two feet deep. I punched the
air in frustration and sat down with a thud to think up my next
move. The stream would have to run miles before it became
nearly deep enough for someone to build a boathouse next to
it.

My mind was running at a million miles an hour but except

obstacles, I wasn’t coming across a finish line. As I sat
thinking, the worst possible thing that could happen
happened. I heard the sound of an approaching army jeep. I
spun on to my feet and leaped to cover while grabbing fistfuls
of snow and throwing it over my footsteps. As they
approached, I saw that there were three men dressed in the
Indian army uniforms with sub machine guns and a berretta
handgun each. Then it struck me, I needed the jeep.

I pulled out the silencer and the desert eagle from my

backpack and attached them together; and waited until the
jeep came up parallel to the tree I was hiding behind. I spun
out from behind the tree and in a second shot the jeep two
times and hid again. The bullets caught the men’s attention in
a second and the jeep slid to a stop. I heard the soldiers draw
the guns and one of them said, “Come in command. Come in
command. Delta team one o eight reporting multiple shots
fired at our location. Request immediate backup. We are
engaging enemy as soon as we get eyes on them. Over.”

“Command here d one zero eight. Message confirmed, troops

inbound in five minutes. Can you confirm the number of
tangos? Over.”

“Tangos in hiding command, we do not have eyes on them.

Over.”

By the time this conversation was over, the muffled sounds of

the two other soldiers’ feet crunching the snow told me they
were trying to flank me. I leaped caching hold of a branch and
pulled myself up on to the tree as quietly as possible; and
then hung my bag over there. I leaped and landed a few feet
away from the tree with the army knife in my hand. I got my
first close look at the three when I peeked from behind
another tree. I knew the soldiers would notice the hanging bag
first. Among the two men coming towards me, one was
wearing a green turban and the other was wearing a woollen
cap, both were clean shaven and well built. The guy in the
jeep was holding a walkie talkie. He was wearing a thick
woollen coat and was loading up his rifle with his other hand.
They did, and one of them threw it to the guy in the jeep.
Then the one turban curled his fingers like a gun and jerked it
towards the left. They split up going in opposite directions,
leaving my twelve totally unguarded. I moved straight and
escaped from the woods, ending up just behind the jeep. I
peeked to check the kind of experience the guy hand and was
able to read his badge, it said ‘Major Rakshit Singh’. Major was
almost like a corporal in the Marine ranks and this meant in
hand to hand combat he was an equal. I flanked him it and
within a second jumped into the jeep and put a knife at his
throat.

“Agar jeena chahata hai tho gadi chala aur kuch bol math.” I
said to him. It basically meant shut up and drive, if you want
to live; But I should have known it wouldn’t work. The man
spun around in a second releasing himself from my grip and
punching me in the face. He reached for his gun but I kicked
his arm away making him drop his gun. I spun and tried to
knock him out of jeep with a reverse kick but he caught my
leg with his left arm. He smiled and grabbed me by the three
stripes on my shoulder and swung me into the air. He released
me in mid air and I almost flew on the tangentially backwards
and crashed into the trees. Almost. I saw his move before he
made it and grabbed his hand just as he released my leg. I
propelled myself into the jeep again and threw him onto the
snow laden ground .

I looked at the jeep I was in. It had four wheel drive with six
different gears and a full tank of fuel. I jammed my foot on the
throttle and the engine roared into power and the jeep sped
off down the stream.

Barely a few minutes later, I had the whole search party on

my tail. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw three or four
jeeps with about five big guys with big guns. Luckily the jeeps
had no machine guns on them which meant they wouldn’t be
able to blow my ride to Mt. K2; But I was in a fix, I had to lose
my tail before one of those choppers showed up.

I spun the wheel to the left and the jeep roared into the woods
dodging the bullets that bombarded the snow and trees
behind me. The cold wind was almost freezing my face and
making snow get caught in my hair. I drifted back into the
open leaving my tail to deal with the woods and sped through
the stream on to its other side; the cold water splashed onto
me and left me shivering. It seemed I had gotten a good fever
to deal with now.

I heard shots get fired and they shattered my rear view mirror
and put two three holes in the front glass. I gritted my teeth
and yanked the handbrake. I jeep skidded to a halt and I
pulled out the desert eagle. I took aim at the chaser’s tyres
and pulled the trigger thrice.

The busted tyres didn’t give me the results I had expected. I

had hoped the guy would just skid to a halt but apparently I
had miscalculated with my physics because at such a speed a
busted tire makes the vehicle topple and spin violently. The
jeep burst into flames as the other jeeps behind it crashed
into it. I had hurt and maybe killed soldiers, but then one jeep
with a lone driver spun out from behind the wreckage and
came after me again. I looked at the guy driving and saw that
he was the same other I had a fist fight with.

His thick and long black hair was whipping in the wind. His
face had zero chubbiness and his eyes were curled in fury. I
tried shooting his tyres too but the guy veered his vehicle and
made me miss. He drifted towards the woods until I ran out of
the clip and pulled out his berretta. I ducked behind the jeep’s
door and hear the bullets ricochet off the other side of it. I
reloaded and shoved my foot onto the throttle. My jeep
rushed forward and just dodged the soldier’s. I rushed back
onto the seat and twisted the steering, spinning back onto my
path and roaring down it.

I tried to shake him with every trick I knew about losing a tail
but the guy stuck to me like a pro. I gritted my teeth and tried
to keep the jeep on track but the fog was setting again and I
couldn’t see more than ten feet further. I negotiated many
hidden bumps and tree roots while dodging the bullets but
what really made my heart leap to my throat was when a cliff
drop jumped into view. I yanked the hand-break and stomped
on to breaks making my jeep skid to a halt but I turned and
saw the soldier speeding towards me. I grabbed the bag and
leaped out before the vehicles collided and mine went for a
few thousand feet drop. I landed and spun around to see the
soldier foot coming to my face. I blocked it and punched him
in the stomach. He retracted and that’s when I heard my jeep
explode from somewhere down the cliff.

I looked around and saw that the bag was a few feet away and
turned to look at my opponent he too was unarmed. This was
going to be a fucking fist fight again and this time I doubted
my luck a bit.

The fight went on for quite a long time but I somehow

managed to take to jeep and run.

The stream had evolved right before my eyes and turned into
an agitated white water river. I left two live grenades with
their pins pulled in the jeep and jumped out of it. I ran to the
woods for cover as the jeep exploded and toppled into the
river. I turned to look at the cabin and it was quite lame. Just
a cubicle made of wood and a row boat next to it. There was
no chance it would take me far and that was the most
disappointing incident until now but I stuck to the plan. I shot
off the ropes which bound the boat to the bank, threw my bag
into it and started pushing it towards the river.
I had gone about two three steps when I heard, “Oye,
Charlie!”

I spun around but the butt of a rifle smacked me across the

face and I fell into unconsciousness...

Chapter 3: The chase

1st Jan 2009

Location: Himalayas- northeast border of India, near

Leh

Narrated by Major Rakshit Singh

1030 hours

The fucking bastard had killed half the troops under my

command and was still driving away. I was not going to let
that happen. I pulled out my berretta and reloaded it with one
hand while steering with the other. I took aim at the jeep’s
tyres but he sped off into the fog and out of my view.

“FUCK!” I swore and accelerated to make sure I didn’t lose

him. I chased him for a while based on the sound of his
veering and roaring jeep but then I heard him come to a
screeching halt. Thinking about the layout of the region we
had studied in the camp, I realised we must have been at the
cliff and smiled. My jeep put on more speed and soon I had
eyes on the bastard.

He was bent into the jeep so I was sure I had gotten him. I was
going to crash into his jeep and push him down the cliff but he
leaped out at the last second holding a bag.

The bitch was still wearing his black uniform. And from the
colour of his skin he was probably an American or an
European. His long hair was brown in colour and quite messy.
Fucker didn’t seem to know about shaving either but he was a
soldier and that much, I knew. I tried to break but still had a
head on collision with the other jeep and pushed it off the cliff.

I leaped out of the jeep and rushed towards the bastard. He

turned and I kicked his face. He retracted a bit and punched
me in the stomach. He was quite strong.

I checked myself and noticed that both me and my opponent

didn’t have a gun so I changed my plan from kill to capture. I
ran at the him again yelling and tackled him, lifting him into
the air and throwing him a few feet farther.
He jumped to his feet, brought his fists up and started hoping
on his toes. He knew the basics which was not a surprise to
me. I took a look at his uniform and it resembled the S.A.S
task force ones but had no badge on it. He threw two punches
at incredible speed but I dodged them. I bent and tried to
bring my knee to his gut but he blocked. Another attempt with
my other foot but this time I grabbed him by his collar. The
grab broke his block and I smacked him with my head.

He was bleeding from his mouth and nose. I kicked him in the
shin and he went onto his knees. I broke his jaw with punches
to his face and he went limb.

“Come in command. Rakshit Singh reporting capture of target.

Request immediate air lift. Over.” I said into my radio.

“General Visesh here. Good work Major. Your e-vac is on its

way.”

I smiled to myself as I bent down and pulled the guy to his

feet and dragged him to the jeep. I threw him into it and went
back to get the bag but when I bent to pick it up, I heard the
click of a loaded desert eagle.

“Stand up slowly and with your hands on you head Major. Oh!
And you mind handing me my bag?”

I gritted my teeth as I put my left and on my head and held

the bag at an arm’s length. His accent was fucking useless
and didn’t give away his nationality one bit. He took the bag
slowly and I heard him say, “Thanks Major. Now get on your
knees and lie down back to the sky.”

I was not going to stand for this. I bent but then without a
second thought spun my leg around like a lasso to trip him. I
hit his leg and he flew sideways so I lashed out my arm and
jammed a finger behind the trigger so he couldn’t pull it and
with the other hand twisted the gun out of his grip but the
smartass tripped the release ammo button and the gun’s clip
fell to the snow beneath. And yet again the bitch was holding
a gun at my head. This time, it was my berretta.

“Major, I am sorry but listen,” he said with a heavy breath. “I

am an operative in the command sequence one zero four
three, operative Miller, Op Groundhog. I am not sure if you are
aware of what I am talking about but I am NOT a terrorist. Ask
your General or commander about sequence one zero four
three and he’ll tell you what to do.”

I made sure I remembered the numbers before he whacked

me across the face with the gun and I went limb. With my
distorted sight, I saw the man grab the bag, leap into my jeep
and speed off and then, I blacked out.

****

I was splashed into consciousness again after about ten

minutes but this time I was in a helicopter.

“Ah, Uht jao Major, saale ko abhi pakadna hai.”

‘Get up major, we still need to catch the bastard’

It was the general. He was sitting opposite me and the only

other people in the chopper were the pilots.

The general was wearing his shades as always and his white
hair and stubby beard were a brilliant contrast the black. His
age had no effect on his fitness and his lion like proud face
was what made me respect the man so much. His uniforms
had over ten medals pinned onto it but he always pinned
them on in a way that there is space for more.

I took his hand and pulled myself into a sitting position. I

looked outside and saw the snow sparkling white in the
afternoon sun and there were about three or four jeeps
speeding along the white water river. Adjacent to us were
more military helicopters, three of them.

“No report necessary Major.” The general said as I turned to

tell him what happened. “I have guessed what went on
between you two so save your breath.”

“I’m sorry general. I failed you.”

“Don’t be Major, it happens to the best of us. Just promise me

it will not happen again.”

“I swear upon my country sir, I will die but I will not let this
happen again.”

We flew in silence for the next few hours until I remembered. I

almost smacked myself as I told the general, “The target told
me something and said to confirm with you general. He said
that he was not a terrorist but an operative in the command
sequence one zero ...err..yea, one zero four three. Mean
anything, sir?”

I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in the general’s face but

I couldn’t tell as his eyes were hidden behind the shades.

“I am not aware of any such op by the command sequence

you tell me Major. We need to track down this man and that is
of prime importance. Now enough about this-“

“General! We see a destroyed jeep and a boathouse down

there. We are going to reduce altitude but we cannot land,
you will have to descend by ropes.” The pilot said and cut him
off.

“Good work captain.” The general said and that was the end
of the conversation. I had not doubted the general at the time.
I had been a devoted soldier and had full faith in my
superiors... He got up as I
hooked the ropes and threw them out. On the count of three,
we rappelled down to the snow covered ground with ours
assault rifles drawn.

“Clear!” “Area Clear and secure!” I heard the troops call out
and so lowered the weapon. I looked around and saw the
cubicle boat house which the troops had declared clear. I went
towards it for a closer view and saw that it was empty inside.
The general was talking to the soldiers and dispatching them
in various directions so I sat down and pulled out a pack of
Davidoffs and an expensive lighter, which my father had given
me. I popped a cigarette into my mouth and lit it, taking a
deep calming breath.

The smoke warmed me from inside and calmed to a great

extent. I let it out through my nostril and took another pull. I
stood up and bent my neck as I shoved the cigarette and
lighter into my pocket and I noticed a rope. I went over and
started kicking at the snow until I saw it, a 40 cal bullet from
my handgun. I picked up the bullet and noticed how someone
seemed to have dragged something heavy into the river.

“General! I’m calling in an airdrop from our base in Leh. Looks

like we need to send a search party down the river.”

“Fine you do that and follow me. We have found a pair of

footsteps leading into the woods.”

****

We were running with heavy breaths that froze in front of our

faces. The general had ordered me to throw my smoke and I
had to reluctantly obey; which had left me feeling colder than
ever. I looked down again and saw two adult size footprints.
One of them was walking smoothly while the other seemed to
have been injured because the footsteps weren’t even, After
the while the uneven steps disappeared and the even ones
became deeper. This obviously meant that one had carried
the other.

We came upon a clearing soon enough and saw an English

type outhouse. There were cylindrical blocks of wood with a
barbed wire running around the wooden house. An axe and a
bundle of chopped wood was lying in the clearing. The house
itself was a duplex and made of red brick. It had a small
wooden patio with armchairs, a table and leg rests and smoke
from was billowing out of the chimney. Red mint curtains lined
the square windows and a red mat lay in front of a wooden
door which had a simple square design on it.

The troops split in two groups. One group led by the general
went around the back and the other two soldiers followed me
to the front door. I thought I saw movement in the top floor
window and glanced. When I did, I the figure pulled the curtain
suddenly and disappeared behind it.

“Breach now!” I heard the general say through the radio and
kicked in the door. It is always good to breach a building from
two sides, it gives you more advantage than just the element
of surprise.

I rushed in through a short corridor which was lined with shoes

on one side and had a few hooks with keys on the other. The
hall I came upon had an old English man with stubby white
hair who was staring at us with surprised anger. He had a half
smoked Cuban cigar in his mouth and was pointing a double
barrel shotgun at us. The TV was flashing with star world’s
‘Who’s line is it anyway’. A gramophone was placed next to it
and photos decorated the walls. Men in black uniforms were
what most of them had but I didn’t focus much on them. I
leaped over the compound leaving the soldiers to deal with
the old man and ran up the stairs to the room where I had
seen movement. I pulled out my G3 as I blazed across the
carpeted floor and breached the room to find a fat old English
woman pulling on a gown.

In a second I had turned the room inside out, but I had not
found the target. I kept hearing the soldiers scouting and
giving shouts of “Room clear” from all over the house so I
responded saying the same.

I turned and walked out the door with a feeling of a heavy

chest.

Back in the living room, I found the two soldiers that had
followed me lying unconscious on the floor, and was totally
confused. I turned and saw the general apologising to the old
man.

“Ah, Major Singh, this here is Captain Mason. Ex-Captain of

S.A.S.”

I felt like someone had slapped me across the face. This man
was a fucking hero and I had breached his house. I saluted
him with a stiff stance and apologised for my actions.

“No harm done lad. I will keep a look out for this man who is
on the run, the general has described him to me already.”

I nodded and tried to hold my tongue but couldn’t so I blurted

out, “Sir, I noticed that out of the two pairs of footprints
leading up to your house, one pair was uneven and
seemed...well, injured. The man we are after was heavily
injured and I had personally caused him to become a little soft
on his legs. And later this pair of footprints disappeared, I
checked and it seemed like the person to whom they belong
was carried by a companion. So...err...”

I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. I was going to say did

you carry him here, but that sounded like an accuse since he
had already said he hadn’t seen him but I continued on with
something else that I was sure would land me in trouble. “And
sir, his uniform, it resembled the S.A.S uniforms greatly and
you are an ex- S.A.S yourself, so...”

I clearly saw the blood rise to Mr. Mason’s face and so shut my
mouth and looked away from his eyes. “How many stripes did
the man have on his shoulders Major?” The captain asked me
in a serious tone. I thought back and put pressure on my mind
as I remembered the fist fight I had with the bastard when he
first stole my jeep. I had grabbed him by the shoulder when I
swung him out of the jeep. Two was it? No three.

“Three.”

“An S.A.S task force uniform has five stripes on the shoulder.
Not three. The captain has six. Study your recognition basics
again Major.”

“I am sorry sir. I did not mean to offend you.”

He nodded and we left the house in embarrassing silence. We

walked into the blizzard created by the helicopters outside the
house and struggled through it. As we gained altitude, the
general did not speak to me about my behaviour in front of
the captain.

“Sir I..” I began but he raised a finger at me and I shut my

mouth.

“You are going to Baramullah; Major Singh you have a new

objective there under the command of General Aqeel. You are
going to be briefed on the way by your team captain.”

I nodded wondering what I was into now but ready for it all the
same.
 Chapter 4: So, Now What?

Narrated by Tom Miller

Location: Himalayas, northeast border of India

1st Jan 2009

1440 hours

“Wake up! They are here the lady said and slapped me
awake. I sat up with a jerk and remembered what had
happened. Some guy had whacked me with the butt of his gun
and then dragged me back somewhere through the woods. I
remembered seeing an English type outhouse and a plush red
carpet in a double and disoriented vision but after the slap, I
was wide awake. I lady motioned towards the red curtain
covered windows and I crept over. Just moving the curtain
slightly I saw him, Major Rakshit Singh leading two soldiers to
the front door and another three soldiers went around the
back. I watched as they slowly made their way, their g3s
drawn at pointed at the door but suddenly, my good friend
Rakshit glanced up to where I was and I jerked back pulling
the curtain behind me. The woman was undressing as she
pointed at the wall and I rushed over to it.

“It had a false door, it’s too thick to tell and you can hide
behind it, pull it sideways with your palm and shut it
completely behind you. I did as I was told because even if I did
refuse to saying that I do not trust her, my chances of not
getting caught were very slim. I found that my bag and
uniform were in there too. That’s when I noticed that I was
wearing someone’s pink sweater and a black cargo pant. I
imagined being found looking like looking like a gay bastard
and sighed to myself.

Just then, I heard a man breach the door of the room and so I
held my breath. He questioned the fat lady outside and I
heard him pull out doors and cupboards with exaggerated
force. He even came and knocked to check at the wall behind
which I was hiding to make sure it was not a false wall. The
knocks were muffled due to the thickness of the wood and so
he went out shouting, “All clear, no sign of him.”

I heard conversation from the floor below and tried to listen in

but heard nothing. Waiting is never fun but it is something a
covert operative needs to get used to, basic rule of survival
number 3: Patience.
I heard helicopter landing outside the house and in a few more
minutes, the house fell into silence again. I sighed and slid
down to a sitting posture but the false door swung to one side
and I saw the man again. He was holding a shotgun to my
face and smoking a nice Cuban cigar at the same time.

“Hands on your head and on your feet now.” He said

brandishing his double barrel at me. I obeyed him without
question and it turned out to be for good move to obey him. I
recognised the man as soon as I caught a glimpse of his face.
He was the war hero slash legend, Captain Vaughn Mason. I
grinned as I was ordered to get on my knees and got smacked
in the face for that Mr. Mason sat opposite me on the bed and
said, “Your story, now.”

I did not hesitate one bit to tell him my story, I knew he would
be of great help. So I began...

“My name is Roy Miller. I am a spy working for a CIA funded

agency that runs covert ops the government cannot be held
responsible for. In recent past, many of the marine and navy
operations by the U.S. government in the middle east have
been going south. Covert and special ops included. The other
side seem to know every move the government make before
they make it so we tracked down a hit list of men who need to
die so operations start to fail. It included a few governors,
army generals and political hot shots even multi millionaires
who fund these terrorist organisations.”

Mr. Mason was listening without any expression, so I assumed

he wanted me to keep talking.

“Our organisation, Counter is an assembly of a chosen few

special op agents from various countries. We do not have a
nationality once we join this group and we do not come under
laws of any countries. We run black ops that favour human
peace.”

“Are you trying to tell me that by killing governors and

political readers, you are to achieve peace? Killing such hot
shots will cause a political and economic collapse that will put
the world into a state of emergency.”

“When we kill, the head of the country and the president of

the united states have a conversation to ensure that the man
will be replaced within no time. All preparations are made to
avoid a collapse and limit media exposure to make it look like
homicide and person from counter gets accused and the
media gets to cover and staged execution of the criminal. A
nice load of dollars is distributed and the whole news attention
shifts to sports or local politics.”

“When you say an execution is staged what really happens?”

“You know that media will cover everything right until the
entry into the room where the actual execution takes place.
The man who takes the blame gets a new identity and is
slipped back into a prison hospital for plastic surgery. A dead
body is worked on and made to look like the executed person.
It is taken out through the doors for shots from the media and
the case closes right there.”

“So how many people have been murdered until now?”

“We are not hitmen. We assassinate potential suspects in

crimes against humanity if proof cannot be provided to the
media and an all out war must be avoided at all costs. We
work ops like spying on other governments which are seen as
threats to world peace. We have the location of every major
Taliban and Al-Quida leaders and men who will blow their
brains out at our command. But these terrorist organisations
are crap compared to what is actually happening in the world.
Businessmen are extracting billions out of these wars that are
being fought worldwide. Yes, the death and destruction
happening is all business now. There is nothing like a I will
fight for my nation now. It’s all some fucking business.”

“How exactly do these businesses work?”

“We are not sure. But we have theories. I am not aware of

these theories as I do not hold high enough position but the
handlers do.”

“Handlers?”

“Yea, they are like commanders to an army. Above them is

directly the president of the U.S.”

“Ok, then tell me how you got here.”

“The Indo Pak standoffs have been a distraction to cover the

war in the east. The Black cat commandos are fighting and
barely holding off the ultranationalists from the Chinese
border. We were air dropped here for the first hit on the hit
list. Scott Deffer.”

“Deffer? As in that big steel industrialist turned NGO owner?”

“The very same. We were to assassinate him as he was known

to openly fund the fight against the Black cats. His funds run
the wars raging in these mountains and until he is dead,
peace cannot be achieved here. Once we hit him, me and my
partner would go into hiding for the next six to seven months
during which another hit would be done by other operatives in
the Counter. And by then we return to base where we undergo
training for another six months before we are briefed and
dispatched on the next hit.”

“So, uh, these assassinations that you are telling me about,

these are the main focus of the Counter at the present and
you and your partner were on a mission to assassinate Scott
Deffer. And where is this partner of yours?”

“This, I need to start from the time that I served in the Marine
Corps. I was just a Corporal back then, under the command of
sergeant Gibbs. Cody Gibbs. We had been fighting next to
each other for about five years until we were air lifted out of
an ongoing op and transported to an unknown location. We
were thrown into an underground enemy base and put in
charge of taking control of it. We did and only then did we find
out that what we had blown up was the base of the opposing
army, it was like getting a hole through the head of every
soldier in the opposing army and we walked over that battle.
And we just went on from there.

My senior became my partner and we were recruited within

twenty four hours of this we joined the covert. We went on
succeeding with black and covert operations one after the
other, helping our troops inch closer to the Al Quida bases. On
one occasion we even came face to face with the most
wanted criminal on earth. Osama Bin Laden, he is on our hit
list too, top of it actually; But after that op, the whole streak
collapsed, the head of counter was killed by an unidentified
sniper making all our missions go south. The Terrorist and
ultra nationalists anticipated each and every one of our moves
and we were ambushed as soon as we landed, almost every
time. I cannot even begin to explain the artillery and armour
that we have lost to the bastards. They are fucking us up with
our own fire power.

This was when the hit list was drafted with the consent of the
chief of U.S military, chief of Russian military, chief of British
military and the political heads, the Queen and Prime minister
of Britain, Russia and even the president of U.S.

And so here I am.”

“I asked you where your partner is...”

“Uhh...I don’t know.” I said, bewildered by the fact that I was

blabbering and pouring out confidential information that he
hadn’t even asked. “We airdropped by a Lockheed SR-71A
black bird. And within seconds were surrounded and captured.
I woke up in that bunker and somehow managed to escape
from it.”

“I know the story after that, but tell me do you plan on

rescuing your partner? And what’s your move ahead?”

“Yes. And I don’t know.” I said, it had been my shortest

answer yet.

I wanted this conversation to end, I was confused and I

needed to gather myself. I had blabbed like a moron. Years of
training to counter interrogation, being taught to keep a
straight face and go against natural human reactions and
keep information holed up but I had blabbed like a child in
front of an old man and all he had to do was ask. I suddenly
felt weary about this man, he had a strange vibe, something
that made you want to respect him and succumb to his
orders.

“Lunch will be set in a few minutes, bathe and get dressed in

one of my son’s clothes from the closet in the room down the
hall. This conversation is far from over.”

****

And so I did, I stood in the hot water for a long time letting the
water wash off the blood and from my face and the steam
took away the heaviness I felt in my head.

I thought about Walton Gibbs, my partner; but I couldn’t help

him right now. Not when I was being hunted myself. Then I
thought about Serra, my fiancé’. She was a beautiful brunet
who should have been totally out of my league but I had
proposed to her after we had dated for about five years. I was
surprised the relationship had actually held its own for such a
long time with me disappearing for six seven months and the
last year I had not seen her at all. Only emails or short phone
conversations but she reassured me that everything was
perfect back home. She was kind enough to move in and take
care of my seventy year old mother too.

As I thought about his, I couldn’t help thinking of the sex. And

as embarrassing as it is, I masturbated recalling the
memories. Another thing you get used to as a soldier, a sex
life that becomes active between intervals of long months. I
cleaned up and walked down to the cosy living room with
questions of my own.

I had pulled on the only clothes that would fit me- a pair of
grey baggy tracks and a cotton full sleeve black shirt. Not
warm enough but the jackets were extremely tight and looked
like blouses. Whoever Mr. Mason’s son was, he was a frigging
dwarf.

The room was smoking and smelled of t-bone steaks. It felt

dam cosy the cushy sofas and the ember strewn fireplace. Mr.
Mason was sitting at the table and eyeing him with an
expression he couldn’t recognise. His arms were folded in way
that his elbows rested on the table and fists covered his
mouth. I walked over and slid into the teak wood chair of the
dining table.

The same stout woman who had slapped me awake came in

pushing a cart. She seemed nice or maybe it was the food that
made her look like a nice lady because I was starving. I
flipped the china and put the cloth over my lap as Mrs. Mason
served me salad and dressing.
We ate in silence, the t-bone steaks followed the salad but the
ice did not break, the captain stared at me throughout and I
did the only thing I could, smile and eat. Finally, the plates
were cleared away with loud clunks and Mr. Mason got up and
walked over to the couch, picking up the remote and
switching on the CRT. The Tata sky menu faded in and blue
light flooded the room. I felt odd but I followed Mrs. Mason to
help her with the dishes but she swept me outside so I went
back into the uncomfortable presence of you-know-who. He
didn’t spare me a glance which pissed me off, first he stares
at me like a hungry homosexual then he ignores me like I am
impotent. Odd choice of words but they fit best in the context,
so anyway, I stormed over and said to the captain, “I have
questions of my own, Mr. Mason and I need them answered
you know all you need to about me but I am quite confused.
So I need answers now... LISTEN TO ME!” I had lost control
because the old bastard was ignoring me and browsing
through channels.

When I screamed though, it didn’t seem to have much of an

effect, his glanced at me from the corner of his eyes and said,
“You may want to see this.”

And so I did and there he was, Major Rakshit Singh on NDTV

news. Flashing in white across a red background were the
words, “ESCAPED TERRORIST!” and “TERRORISTS STRIKE
AGAIN!”

“That’s all I can tell you. He is not middle eastern or Asian. We

do not accuse the west of anything but we believe this man is
linked to the explosions on peak 302 yesterday. The general
has confirmed the man to not be a friendly and we want
residents to keep a look out for a man that fits the description
given earlier. We realise it is not much that we are telling you
but we can reveal only this much data. Thank you.”
I was staring at the screen with a shock, how could the
general have confirmed me as not a friendly even after he
heard the identity proof I had sent through the major. Or
maybe it hadn’t even reached him or he was just unaware of
it, whatever the reason, I was screwed right now. I turned to
Mr. Mason who had now turned of the television and was
puffing a B and H cigarette.

“The description they have given sucks, don’t worry about it

yet, at least until they draft a sketch, by then, you will be long
gone. I will make sure of that.”

I turned towards him with an expression that was a fusion of

confusion and fear.

“How?”

“I have already made a call to a friend, he will meet you on

highway 47 at 0004 hours tomorrow. He will then accompany
you to Delhi. There are over five toll booths between here and
there but don’t worry about those, my friend will help you out
with those. You will catch a flight to Bangalore from Delhi and
someone will be there to pick you up. From there, you do as
you wish. I don’t want to be linked with you so I want you out
of my house by mid night today. It will take you four hours to
reach the highway. When you reach, look for a black Scorpio
which has crashed in the snow. That’s your ride out of here.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked wearily, wanting to

trust but knowing better.

“You don’t know that you can trust me but even if I am not to
be trusted, you don’t have much of a choice.”

****

At exactly twelve, Mr. Mason kicked me out of his house

telling me to get to the highway in less than four hours or that
I would miss my ride. The car would apparently arrive exactly
at four in the morning, not an ideal time if you want to have
eggs and bacon before you leave but perfect if you need to
cross over an international border.

I found out I was in no man’s land between the Indian and

Chinese line of control. Mr. Mason seemed to think it was best
for me to head into India, get to Delhi somehow and take a
plane to Bangalore. He had told me that there would be
someone there who would meet me and help me with
whatever I want. What I wanted was to kill Scott Deffer, find
my partner and go back to Washington DC to Serra. Then I
ended up remembering my op, the one that left me a fugitive.
The details didn’t come to me but I remembered jumping out
of the plane upon hearing, “Go! GO! GO!” from the
commander... releasing the chutes before hitting the
ground..sneaking towards the distant White Dames Hotel...
hearing a voice through a radio in the woods saying..”Take
‘em out” and then being ambushed...guns blazing...My
partner being brought down...and then I had blacked out from
a hit to my head.

It was a cold, annoying and boring walk to the highway and it

took me about three and a half hours to spot the car. It was
half buried in snow so I kept my distance and waited for a
sign.

At exactly four o clock morning, the lights inside flickered on

and off for five minutes and a man got out with what looked
like a camera and started looking at the woods. He was
probably zooming and looking for me but I wasn’t about to
just about to walk into the open and meet the stranger.

I took out my own Nikon and zoomed at him. He was a

fat...err...big man wearing a long black cotton shirt and black
baggy trousers with a thick brown overcoat. He seemed half
drunk and was puffing on a cigarette as he tried to find me.
His round face was left unshaven which was more than what I
could say about his shiny head.

I quickly set up the hunting rifle Mr. Mason had given me on a

just in case basis and aimed it at the man. I pulled out the
walkie talkie and said, “I am here and I have a gun aimed at
your head. Drop your weapons and get on your knees. Then,
identify yourself.”

The man obeyed without question. He pulled out an MP5, a

magnum and a knife and threw them on the ground and got
down on his knees. “Name’s Dushyant Patel, I was told to get
someone to New Delhi by Mr. Mason.” He said and then went
silent.

After scanning the environment, I dashed over to the car

which Patel was de-snowing. As I got close I got a whiff of him,
a smell of vodka and cigarettes, not an assuring smell on a
driver but I left it alone.

“Tom Miller, let’s go.”

****

We didn’t talk as he drove. It was probably a good idea not to,

he was drunk and he was driving at over a hundred and thirty
miles an hour.

We had driven over the snowy highway in the company of

nothing but dark woods and howling winds when he finally
broke the silence. “We are getting close to the first toll booth.
So climb into the back will ya?”

He gulped down the last bit of his third vodka bottle and
chucked it out of the car’s window as I threw my bag into the
back seat and stepped over the gearbox.
“The seat, it has a zip, pull it open and spread the guns you
have inside it.”

When I heard it, I raised an eyebrow but it turned out that

Patel wasn’t joking. The seats were actually hollowed out and
left with only a bit of sponge on the insides, leaving enough
space for a guy and his guns to lie down.”

“You get the plan mate?” He said smiling through yellow

teeth. I glanced him an annoyed look as I lay down into the
seat and zipped it shut. There was no room to peep outside
just a few small holes that let the air in. And it was NOT
comfortable either but it was warmer than sitting in the front
seat. I heard Patel unzip another seat and shove his own
weapons into it. Soon, the car slowed and the windows slid
open.

“Hello sir. License please. Step out of the vehicle we need to

check it.”

“Yea, sure.” Patel said and I heard the door open.

The soldiers checked the car through and through but lucky
for me, they didn’t see the zip. And soon, the car was moving
again.

“Got through that easily huh? You better stay in there from
now on buddy, we should expect surprises so I will tap you out
once we get close to the nearest town. Which is a day away.
Sleep tight.”

And so I did. I slept.

 Chapter 5: A message

Narrated By Serra Stone

30th December 2008

Washington DC

4:00pm

I walked right past the checking counter even though the

soldier was shouting at me to stop and show ID. Instead, I
showed him the finger and then told him to id me thorough
facial recognition as I stormed into the glassy lounge.

The people on the black couches peeped at me from above

their magazines and papers with bored expressions. All of
them wore black or grey suits and a politician’s cordial smile.
Soldiers in black uniforms lined the circular room and also the
balcony above.

The elevator pissed me off as much as the *ding* that was

sounded when it arrived. I almost kicked the senator inside in
my anger. (not that I haven’t done that before.) Button forty
light up with a click and in five minutes, I was looking down
the top floor hallway.

A twenty feet long stretch lined by security cams at breaks of

every five feet and three metal doors. The doors had the
American flag painted onto them and the name of the person
who owned the offices. I walked right past General Fredrick
and General Shepherd and faced the door of Commander
Recot. I looked at the wall mounted monitor and said, “Serra
Stone, Personal Secretary to Commander Frank Recot.”

As soon as I walked in though, I was going to go more on the

lines of shouting at the Commander but then he held up a
finger and said into the phone, ”Great job. Yes...Yes... I
understand. I will wait then.”

Then he turned to me with a frown and said, “Yes Serra?”

“Where is he?” I said as calmly as I could.

“Sorry?”

That pissed me off to breaking but I controlled my mouth;

after all I was talking to the operational head of all military
forces, excluding the president of course. So instead of
throwing a chair at the guy, I took a deep breath to calm
myself.

As I stood there I started noticing that the room had changed

since the last time I visited it. (about four weeks.) It was lined
with security screens at one corner, as it had always been but
the other corner by the end of the huge room was filled with
communication devices like satellite phones, radios etc..which
were previously present in the conference hall a floor below.
About six phones rested on the teakwood table accompanied
by a monitor and a laptop. At the far end of the room, a floor
to ceiling window was boarded shut casting a dull gloomy light
over the room. A TV, a recliner and a PS3 occupied their own
personal place in the office and they were right next to the
mini fridge (another addition). It was as if the commander had
tried moving everything possible right into the room so he
would have some privacy; but I didn’t understand the sudden
need for the privacy. And in the final corner was my desk. Just
the way I left it...two mobile landlines, a hibernating laptop
and a half empty can of Pepsi
Mr. Frank Recot himself was a tired man. He had been trying
to take care of crisis in the middle east. When every single
military activity across the world goes south, and this leads to
the enemy getting their hands on U.S. Weaponry, it takes its
toll on the head of that military. Mr. Recot was red eyed, the
left one was also little black in fact. His beard had taken over
his face, leaving it a mess of grey. His hair was combed back
in a hurry; yet, his uniform was in top condition. The green
camouflage was neatly ironed and his badges were arranged
neatly over his chest.

“Err... Tom sir, he is missing since last week. He had just

returned a few days back from his operation and he is already
gone. As you know, I was in Moscow for the meeting with
General Rezva...And when I got back he was gone.”

He sighed which told made me fear that I was going to hear

what I had been dreading ever since I fell in love with Tom
Miller; That he would one day die in combat.

“Tom went on a quest for the organisation Serra, the op went

zodiac.”

My ears went numb when I heard this. Then it spread to my

head and then my heart heavier than it should be. Zodiac was
the code word for operatives captured. I knew then that if I
ever did see Tom again, it would not be the Tom I knew or it
would be a Tom that’s dead.

“YOU INCOMPETENT OLD FOOL!” I shouted at him but he kept

his silence. His eyes didn’t mean mine. “First you fail the
marines, men are dying by the hundreds there and then it was
the navy and now THIS?! THEY WILL KILL HIM FROM THE
INSIDE!!! HE IS FUCKING LOST FOREVER!!! DO SOMETHING!”

I continued to scream at him, tears started to drop, men with

guns came in and the commander hung his head like a
defeated man but I went on. I don’t remember what I said but
I remember my knees buckling which made me stop.

I sobbed as Mr. Recot hugged me with apologies and empty

assurances that they would find my fiancé but I was hollowed
out. I needed to get my mind off Tom. Now. And so I gathered
myself and then getting escorted to the ladies room to get
cleaned up.

A stranger stood in the mirror. Someone who dressed like I did

but looked like an undead.