The story continues...
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The sudden dazzling light blinds my eye. Look at the number of vendors. There are more people gathered at the Gateway than the entire population of Germany. This will be easy. Get in, get out. Merge with the crowd. This is going to be a piece of cake.
Well well, what do we have here? Wow! Is she attractive! Rahman was right. Indian women are pretty. In an unusual, unconventional sort of way. This one is licentious. Look how she coyly catches my eye. I too can play the part of a charmer ma’am. There. All it took to steal her heart away and make her blush was one flick of my chestnut brown hair and a slight adjustment of my rimless glasses. I feel almost tipsy. The sweet fragrance of cotton candy and the heavy aroma of perfume intoxicate me with desire. If all goes well today, I will visit this spot again. Pick one of the many apsaras flitting around like butterflies. Give way to my carnal desires and breathe in the scent of her body, feel her smooth skin rub against mine…
Hey! Where is everyone? Fahim? Ram? Ah there I see Christopher in the distance! I better hurry. It is almost time. I really need to focus now. Think of what rewards this mission will bring. I cannot allow anything to disrupt my thoughts, especially not something as worthless as a woman, a mere chattel.
No one is giving us a second glance. And why would they? Dressed as I am, in my blue checked shirt and black jeans, I look like any ordinary what’s-that-word… ah Mumbaikar! No one can see the bullet proof vest inside. Everyone is oblivious to the contents of the little blue vial tied to my wrist. The most deadly of all poisons. Cyanide. There was a book by Agatha Christie. It was one of my favourites. Sparkling Cyanide I think it was called. It exposed me to the potency of the drug. I still remember the beaming look of appreciation that Huzoor gave me when I suggested we use cyanide. It fills my heart with such warmth to think how proud he will be of us when we return. Especially of me. He tries not to show it, but I am his favourite. Hardly any of the others are educated; forget having a Master’s in Islamic Studies or an A+ in research. And it was my computer knowledge that helped them discover and pinpoint the location of the mission. Well GPRS helped. A lot. So did Google, that great invention of Larry Page and Sergey Brin.
How much more do we need to walk? I think we should reach in a couple of minutes. Where are those dry fruits? Ah here. I better pop a couple in my mouth, I don’t know when I will get to eat again. They will help keep me satiated during the long siege. This city looks so pretty tonight. I’m just waiting to see how pretty it will look after our mission is through.
“We turn here. In this alley Chris! Call Farhan, the bafoon has overshot!” My God. Was tue ich mit diesem Jungen? How do I handle this idiot? Still, we need his knowledge of the hotel. He knows it inside-out. Well, if his knowledge of the hotel is as good as his knowledge of the street, we are sunk.
Holy Mother of God, is that the hotel? How regal. Bedecked with lights. It’s sparkling with the brilliance of a thousand splendid suns. Arre wah what a book that was. Khaled Hosseini. What poignancy. Maybe I’ll also write about this mission once I get back. Or tell my roommate Max to make a short documentary; it would be useful for the next few generations of young ones.
“Bloody fool Farhan! The back door, not the front one. What has got into you today? Bist du betrunken? Seriously? You’re asking me what it means? It means are you drunk, you idiot! Now move it!” Hey Bhagwan! This boy will jeopardise the entire mission. I better go in front. “Are you sure this is the back entrance? Why are there so many guards then? I’ll create a diversion, you guys slip past fast.”
*********
Whew, that was close. The watchman was such a dim-witted moron, swallowing the tripe I fed him. Give me strength oh Lord! Hitler, guide me in my Holy Mission.
How sweet. So many families and couples. Phoniness dripping like honey off the sides of toast. I could gag at the false sweetness. How many of them are having extra marital affairs? How many of these men have abandoned their wives to eat with these whores here? And how many women are secretly scheming and plotting to enter these men’s lives and hearts and destroy their families? And orphan their children? And unhinge their wives? All of them deserve to die, every single one. Except the children. But how can I avoid that? How can I separate the young ones from their parents? What is their crime and how are they at fault?
Aim, point and shoot. The feel of the AK 47 sturdy in my hand, the look of fear in all their eyes. This is so exhilarating! Why then does one second seem like an hour? It’s like someone has pressed the slow motion button in an action flick. Like everyone is walking in space. Especially the kids. They stand stupefied, expressionless, horror-struck. See the terror in this one’s young eyes! I cannot take his life away from him. My hand quivers, hovering on the trigger, but I just cannot get myself to squeeze it. It is hopeless. I cannot harm him. Usko jeene ka haq hai. He deserves to make something of his life.
Let me shoot somewhere else. Kill that bastard of a Jew sitting there. And also his wife. Fools! Dressing in their traditional clothes as if they almost want me to kill them. They stick out like sore thumbs. They deserve to be butchered. They are nothing but the thorns among the beautiful roses of our lives. This is only the restaurant. There must be scores of them in the hotel. They always gather here at this time of the year, some bloody festival of theirs, what is it called? Aim. Shoot. There. Leave the little girl. Aim. Shoot. Only the babies are wailing. Why isn’t anyone coming to save them? Why this stony silence? What is going on?
That one there. The one with the black eyes. So piercing. She is calling me towards her, I’m enchanted, charmed. Such innocence on that radiant face. Is she an angel? She looks exactly like Zubeidaa did when she was a child. Why is she resisting my touch? Her pupils are like deep, black, lifeless tunnels. Boring into mine. What is she searching for in them? Does she find it? “Farhan? Chris?” Where is everyone? I better make my way to the second floor. This deathly silence is unnerving me now.
I cannot bear to drag myself away from her. She has not moved an inch in the last few minutes. Or is it an hour? I have lost track of time. Is she in shock? Did someone kill her parents? I must go upstairs, I must. Hitler! Keep your hand on mine, guide me. Schützen Sie mich. Protect me.
What do we have here? A CCTV? Boom, there you go! I’m not going to let the Indian government gather evidence against any of us. Now, why don’t I start a fire? Maybe that will grab a few eyeballs and get some media attention. Then according to plan, we shall take a few hostages and ask for the release of Huzoor’s brother and chacha. And then, we shall return, triumphant.
*********
Farhan and Christopher are supposed to be in the second wing by now. I hope they have reached. I am lagging behind once again and I must find Ram. We should make our way to the kitchen and from there to the Maharaja Suites on floor six. There must be some high profile celebrities we can take as hostages. Doesn’t the sixth floor also have a huge herd of Jews? Waiting... Like cattle ready for slaughter.
What is this new noise? This doesn’t sound like our AK 47s. It is the sound of a 1A SMG 9mm Sub-machine gun. It has a reputation for excellent reliability under adverse conditions. Damn. Why did our spies miss this during their two and a half month recce? They never said the police had such sophisticated weaponry. Maybe it’s not the police then. Maybe the army has been called in, but no, the time span is too short. Who knew Bombay would react so quickly? This is definitely going to jeopardise our plans. Big Time. We had planned an hour of uninterrupted shooting and killing, but it has barely been thirty minutes. Or has it? Shit. We are so screwed.
Our only hope is if Farhad and Chris reach the second wing in time. Then they may… who goes there? I swear I saw a shadow lurking in the corner stairwell there. Or are my eyes playing tricks? I think my nerves are frayed and it is just my imagination. The guns are pretty far away, no one can come now. Unless that is Ram. But why would he be here? He should have been on the third floor. Unless he is lagging behind like me. The guns seem closer now, I better move… Oh Lord, what was that deafening crash? I think that door across the hallway leads to the fifth floor. Ok I better run across. No one seems to be about as of now. Ok. Here goes noth… “Aarrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhh! Fuck!”
Stay tuned for the third and final part of the story...
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