Coalescence

‘facts’.

Prologue

It took him almost an hour to get his ‘hide’ ready. By the time it was completed to his satisfaction, it was 0700 hrs. He still had an hour to go.

He had walked three hours in the darkness carrying all his stuff, relying totally on his hand-held Garmin GPS unit. His ‘hide’ was on a slightly raised finger of land projecting from the hill range behind him. The target area was an open field that lay about 70 to 80 feet below him.

It was a two man job – one as spotter and one as the shooter. But, he worked alone. He had set up the Bushnell Elite Tactical LMSS 8-40x 60mm spotter-scope on its tripod, and focused it accurately at the centre of the field. His rifle was set up on a bi-pod. It was a Dragunov SVD with a Kalinka Optics POSP 3-9 x 42 sight attached. The actual average slant distance to the target area was 483 metres – he had ranged it using his laser range-finder. This tallied with the figure he had calculated during his study of the target area map earlier. The sight and rifle had been zeroed by him using this information, and no changes were required in the zeroing. He made a mental note that he had to aim just a ‘tad’ lower, since he was shooting downhill. The air was still; allowance for wind would not be required.

He attached the ten round magazine to the rifle, and chambered a round. He left the safety catch ‘off’. He had five more spare magazines. He was also carrying a Sig-Sauer P226, nine mm pistol with a 15 round magazine along with three spare magazines; he had enough ammunition to start a small war. The ammunition for both weapons was the hollow point type.

He took a swig from his water bottle, and took a bite from an energy bar. After that he waited.

At 0755 hrs people started converging on to the field. Most of them were dressed in ‘Shalwar’ suits, which was the dress worn by the locals. He estimated the total number of persons to be about 50. The 10 hostages were being led on to the ‘hanging platform’. They were dressed in bright orange overalls. He avoided looking at their faces – he did not want any emotional baggage to distract him. The platform was a large, slightly raised cement plinth, and it had two pillars on either side with a stout metal pipe connecting the two pillars. He could see the benches below the pipe on which the hostages were being made to stand. Once the nooses were put around their necks, and the ropes stretched tight, the benches would be kicked away to execute the hostages by hanging.

He scanned the crowd through the spotter-scope and picked up the bright orange baseball cap – removing the cap would be the signal to him that the ground rescue party was ready and he could start shooting. He looked through the rifle sight, and saw the group leader getting on to the platform. He put the cross hairs on the leader’s head – he was the first target.

He could see black hoods being put on the hostages’ heads; the execution would start any moment. He switched his attention to the spotter-scope. The man’s hand should have been on the baseball cap; it was definitely time to take the shot. It was then he realized that it was a ‘setup’. The guy with the orange baseball cap was gesturing with his hands in an animated manner – the others were crowding around him. There was no rescue party; the bastard was a traitor!

When he had accepted the job, he had a ‘bad feeling’ about it. This was the reason why he was carrying the extra ammunition. As he looked through the rifle sight he realised that the executions had commenced. His first shot took out the leader’s head. He swung the rifle slightly to the left, and shot the traitor. A few from the crowd were running towards him firing their AK-47s. Since he had spent time preparing his ‘hide’, they could not spot him and were firing blind. He now started picking them off systematically, targeting the closer ones first. He was operating the bolt using his forefinger and thumb, and was squeezing off a shot every few seconds. He was aiming for their torsos – the hollow point bullets would ensure clean kills even with torso shots.

He went through three magazines. The rifle barrel had become hot, but it did not bother him too much. The Dragunov was not the greatest sniper rifle in the world, but it was designed to take abuse and still function – it did. He now scanned the field using the spotter-scope. Other than the dead, the rest had run away. Unfortunately, all the hostages were hanging lifelessly. What a monumental fuckup!

He dismantled the Dragunov and the spotter scope and put them into his backpack along with the laser range-finder. He then picked up the empty magazines and the cartridge cases he could find, and dropped them also into his backpack. These actions took him a little over a minute. Before leaving his ‘hide’ he took out a slab of C4 explosive from his backpack pocket, attached a detonator with the timer set for five minutes, and then placed it in the centre of the hide. This was his ‘contingency’ plan. He put on his backpack, activated the timer, and then left the hide. In addition to the backpack, he was carrying the pistol with the spare magazines, his water bottle, some emergency rations, and his GPS. As he walked towards the ‘extraction point’ he heard the explosion of the C4 which would effectively obliterate all traces of his ‘hide’. For the first time in his life he felt genuinely disgusted.

PART 1

THE ELEMENTS

1

Uncle

He wasn’t as old as he looked; he was just 49 years old. His receding hairline and white hair, and the fact that he was a chain-smoker made him look much older. Most people called him ‘uncle’ – he was okay with that; in fact, he didn’t really give a shit. He had a chronic cough which had become quite bad, and he had gone to the doctor a few days back. The doctor had suggested a few checks including a chest X-Ray, and had called him for a review. The hospital was about 30 km away, and he was on his way to the hospital. He liked driving, and the Greater NOIDA Expressway was in excellent condition, but the ‘road-manners’ of the majority of drivers had started putting him off. After reaching the hospital in NOIDA which was a satellite town of Delhi, he was relieved that he could meet the doctor almost immediately.

The doctor went through the test reports and the chest X-Ray, and asked him How many cigarettes are you smoking?

Well, I average a little over a pack a day he replied.

The doctor did not respond immediately. He looked at the X-Ray once again and then said, Right now you are having a bronchial infection. I would suggest that you stop smoking totally, lest other complications set in.

What other complications are you are talking about? he queried.

For one, it could easily progress into pneumonia, and in the long term, lung cancer is a distinct possibility.

Oh! Come on doc! Just the other day it came in the news-papers that the link between smoking and lung cancer has not been established conclusively.

The doctor was definitely not pleased with this response. He quietly wrote out the prescription for the medication, and said Sir, you are old enough to take your own decisions. I can only offer medical advice.

He went to the dispensary to buy the medicines and then realized that he did not have adequate cash with him; they would not accept his debit card. So he decided to drive back, draw money at the ATM in Greater NOIDA, and buy the medicines from the nearby medical shop.

By the time he got back, it had become 7 PM, and the area around the ATM was looking deserted. He had read reports about a few cases of people being held up outside these ATMs. The option was to come back in the morning on the next day; this did not appeal to him. So, he parked the car and went into the ATM to draw the money.

As he was stepping out from the ATM he saw the two young guys converging on to him. He looked around; there was no sign of the security guard.

The two guys were in their mid twenties, and seemed to be experienced in the drill. One guy came up to him, while the other guy stood well to his left and farther away. The one farther back had pulled out a knife and was playing with it. The guy who had come up to him, said in a very soft voice Uncle, why don’t you just give us your ATM card and the PIN? That way nobody gets hurt.

He looked at his watch and then replied I am really not a rich man. It will be even better if you step aside and let me go.

There was hardly any change of expression on the guy’s face as he hissed You old guys never learn. We are now going to beat you up so badly that you will be bedridden for the rest of your fucking life. He now came up to the old man, and his right hand shot out to grab the old man by his shirt collar.

The guy with the knife was not sure what happened next. The old man broke both the guy’s hands, and then crushed the guy’s larynx. The guy was down on the ground gasping for breath. The old man now walked up to the guy with the knife and said in a soft voice You better take your friend to the hospital. He needs immediate medical attention.

The guy with the knife did not respond, and came forward holding the knife – he was quite handy with the knife and planned to really carve up the old man. For the second time that evening, the guy with the knife did not know what happened next. The old man broke both his hands, and then as a bonus plunged the knife through his right palm - he was not going to be handling knives for a while. The guy also felt a kick to his throat, and then his scream of pain became a silent one.

As he was walking back to the car, the security guard who had ‘suddenly’ appeared came up to him and asked him what happened.

I am so glad to see you started the old man, as I came out from the ATM these two guys appeared to be fighting. I was really scared that they would attack me also. Since you are on duty here you may know who these guys are. Maybe you should inform the police about these guys. I almost had a heart attack

The guard did not say anything as the old man got into his car.

He then drove to the nearby medical shop and bought the required medicines. As he was driving back to his flat, the scene outside the ATM was repeatedly playing back in his mind. What struck him was that if he had his earlier body language, the thieves would have probably left him alone.

They had gone to the local market. He was buying groceries, and his wife had gone across the road to buy fruit from a road-side vendor. He wasn’t really paying attention to her. His ears pricked up when he heard a scream, and he looked in the direction which his wife had taken. He could see a dusty white Maruti Swift which had stopped in front of the fruit vendor; he could not see his wife. The car suddenly sped away; that is when he saw his wife being dragged along-side the car. The occupant of the co-driver’s seat appeared to be holding on to her hand – she was the person who had screamed. He charged across the road. As he was crossing the road he saw his wife’s body hit the edge of a culvert; the guy in the car let go of her hand, and she fell face-down on the road. As he was running to reach her he was trying to take in the details of the car. It had very dark film on the windows and the rear glass, and he could not see the occupants. The registration number plate was coated with dust, but he managed to read the last two digits – ‘10’. The car continued at high speed and disappeared after it turned left at the next intersection.

His wife was lying still; there was blood flowing out from her nostrils. He could not feel her pulse. With a sinking feeling he picked her up, and carrying her, ran to his car. He put her in the back seat and drove to ‘Kailash Hospital’ which was close by.

The doctor on duty in the Emergency Department checked her vital signs and declared that she was ‘brought in dead’. Since it was a ‘medico-legal’ case, the police were informed.

It took a little time for the reality to sink in, and by the time the police reached the hospital, he was still unable to come to grips with the fact that he had lost his wife. The police were quite supportive, and recorded his statement. Much later when he was having a cup of tea with the Police Inspector, the latter told him informally that with the vehicle description – it was a very common car – and only the last two digits of the registration number, the likelihood of apprehending the perpetrators was low, if at all.

He went back to the fruit vendor who told him that the car had two occupants, and the guy in the co-driver’s seat was trying to pull the lady into the car. When she screamed, they drove off. The co-driver held on to her hand and had said that he would teach her a lesson. The vendor had not seen this car earlier, and as per his recollection, the occupants of the car appeared to be young and well built.

After the funeral, he contacted a few of his old friends to try and trace the car. While they were supportive, they also said the same thing which the Police Inspector had told him – the chances of locating the car were extremely low.

Throughout the next week, he went to the market and hung around all day observing the road, hoping that the car would appear. He finally realised that it was an exercise in futility. The feeling of helplessness was something that he could not cope with. He started having regular nightmares about the incident, and quite often got up at night bathed in a cold sweat. He started drinking regularly, and resumed smoking which he had given up quite sometime back. In short, he just let himself go.

The incident at the ATM was the wake-up call he needed. Lieutenant Colonel Kuldeep Jamwal definitely needed to get his shit together.

After reaching his flat he poured himself a drink and sat thinking for a long time. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Just as he was about to inhale, he changed his mind and stubbed it out. He took out the cigarette packet from his pocket, crushed it and threw it into the dustbin. He had not touched his drink, and he got up and poured it into the sink. He then rang a number on his mobile phone. It was the number of an old colleague whose offer he had turned down a while back.

2

The Rookie

Flight Lieutenant Ranjit Cherian. To him this sounded better than Flying Officer Ranjit Cherian. His Air Force nick-name ‘Cherry’ would remain. Cherry had just got back to his room after a ‘beer-session’ in the bar, to celebrate his new rank.

Cherry’s parents and his sister had been murdered in Mumbai some time back. After he got back from the funeral, there was awkwardness amongst his squadron mates. As time passed, this was gradually wearing off. After a couple of beers that afternoon his squadron mates had opened up, and Cherry enjoyed the old feeling of camaraderie. He was drinking after a long time and as he reached his room, he decided to sleep it off.

Cherry was now a Fully Operational pilot and was doing interesting flying – the ‘exercise boundaries’ had been expanded to make the flying more operationally realistic. He was flying a one-versus-one air-combat mission, and he was briefed by his ‘leader’, Squadron Leader Dabbu Chauhan. The exercise would be flown starting at a commencement altitude of four km. The two aircraft would initially be separated laterally by about three km. On Dabbu’s call, both aircraft would turn towards each other and manoeuvre to try and gain a positional advantage over the other. The manoeuvring would continue until either pilot managed to attain a position of advantage, or, if the combat turned into a stale-mate. This exercise required the pilots to fly the aircraft to the very edges of its flight boundaries – crossing the boundaries could get one into trouble. What made this exercise even more challenging was that one required to fly, looking out at the other aircraft, so, monitoring the flight parameters required a combination of ‘feel’ and flying skill.

They got airborne as a two aircraft formation and climbed together to the exercise altitude of four km. On Dabbu’s radio call, Cherry spread out laterally to the commencement distance of three km abreast of his leader. Once he attained the correct commencement speed of 800 kmph Cherry called up on the radio Cherry ready. A few moments later Cherry heard Dabbu’s call through his helmet earphones Free to commence. The fight was on.

Cherry pushed his throttle to the full afterburner position. A few seconds later he felt the ‘kick’ as the afterburner cut in, and the aircraft started accelerating. Cherry had turned towards his leader, and was now pulling back on his control stick to turn his aircraft as tight as he could. The idea was to try and turn inside the path flown by his leader. As the turn tightened, the centrifugal forces, referred to in aviation parlance as g’s, were also building up. He was pulling six g’s – the vertical force acting downwards through his spine was six times the force of gravity! Suddenly he felt a sharp stab of pain from his lower back. As the pain persisted Cherry reduced engine power and called out on the radio Stop combat Stop. Cherry rolling out straight ahead. Dabbu acknowledged the call and asked Cherry to turn towards the airfield. Dabbu joined up with Cherry and asked Any problems Cherry? Cherry acknowledged Back problem. Will return to base.

Dabbu flew alongside Cherry, and once they came over the base, he asked Cherry to proceed for landing. Cherry managed to land the aircraft safely. His back was really hurting, and he was having trouble using his feet to move the rudder pedals for directional control during the landing run.

Dabbu had informed the Air Traffic Control about Cherry’s problem, and as Cherry taxied the aircraft into the parking area, he could see the Ambulance waiting. After he switched off the engine, the ground crew had to help him to get out from the cockpit; his back was really throbbing.

The medical officer looked at the X-Ray of Cherry’s spine and said My assessment is that you have a prolapsed disk in the lower spine. This may have happened during your earlier ejection. I am referring you to the Central Medical Establishment (CME) at New Delhi.

Cherry had been on pain killers and the pain was much less. He had ejected about a year and a half back, after his engine had seized in the air because of the failure of the engine oil system. During the ejection he had hurt his ankle; his back had not given any indications at that time. So, now the experts at CME, which was an Air Force organisation specialising in aviation medicine, would have to pass judgement about his medical fitness to resume flying.

At CME, the orthopedic specialist who was a very thorough individual got a spinal MRI done on Cherry. After studying the MRI result, he called Cherry. By now Cherry’s pain was just a dull ache. Cherry told the specialist that he was much better and felt fit enough to resume flying. The specialist listened to Cherry patiently, and then said "Your problem is more complicated. To put it in very simple terms, one of your spinal disks has bulged due to compression, and is almost touching the spinal chord. This injury probably happened during your earlier ejection. The damage at that time may have been insignificant and hence you did not experience any symptoms. The condition could have deteriorated over a period of time. When you experienced the high ‘g’ situation, this disc may have touched the spinal chord causing the intense pain that you experienced. This could happen again. Here we are talking about ‘g’ values of six to nine ‘g’ which are what you could experience during fighter flying. But the real problem is, if you were to eject. During an ejection, the vertical force experienced by the pilot could be 15 to 20 g! Unlike during normal flying where the ‘g’ forces build up gradually, the ejection g’s peak in milli-seconds! With your spine in this condition, there will be a very high probability of damage to