Chapter XLIII: Perpetual Revolution
1330hrs, 17 December 2013, Kanaka Nagar, Bangalore, India.
"The inherent tendency of the State is to concentrate, to narrow, and monopolize all social activities; the nature of revolution is, on the contrary, to grow, to broaden, and disseminate itself in ever-wider circles. In other words, the State is institutional and static; revolution is fluent, dynamic." Emma Goldman, My Disillusionment with Russia.
Sudhir had spent much of the day hidden in his apartment as gunfire raged outside for hours on end. He didn't know what the hell was going on out there, but whatever it was, it most definitely wasn't good.
Suddenly, the door to his apartment had burst open, and a solitary figure staggered in, holding a pistol and bleeding from the head.
"Who…?" Sudhir started to say, but the man pointed the weapon at him.
"Shut up!" he screamed in Punjabi. Perhaps all those years under D.D were not wasted after all. "Stay in the corner there and don't move!"
The man looked frantically around the room, looking for any threats, any police, the military…those dammed soldiers had completely destroyed his plans and his chance to get back at the government for killing his Naxalite cause.
"Look, whatever you want, I'll give it…"
"Keep quiet!" he yelled. He continued to look around frantically. Several police cars zoomed past, but they weren't looking for him. He was pretty sure that this was the apartment where the safe house was supposed to be…right? Or was it across the street? He kept looking out of the window. Funny if they would have someone here already though.
"Are you with Jadeite?" he asked the man, cowering in the corner. He didn't respond right away. "Are you with Jadeite?!" he asked again, this time, more forcefully.
"Uhh…yeah!" Sudhir replied in English. Ramesh understood him, but continued to speak in Punjabi.
"Did he send you here?"
"Look, I just live here…"
"What about the mission?! Huh?! My team gets wiped out by this paramilitary unit, and I barely make it out alive, so Jadeite has some explaining to do!"
Ramesh kept ranting on, and Sudhir pretended to listen to his long winded speech, but all the while was trying to figure out a way to get out of this situation that he had found himself in.
"Where did the auto rickshaw guy say he dropped him off?" Iyer asked Prasad, who had been questioning several auto rickshaw drivers that might have taken their terrorist away from the main battle in the center of the city. The last person they had come across, in front of the Indian Express building, had yielded some results. After some "persuasion", Prasad had finally got him to talk.
"He said that a really bloody man came out of nowhere and asked him to give him a lift. When he asked where, the guy just told him to drive off."
"That's nice, but where?" Iyer asked again, this time more impatiently.
"Boss, where did you drop the person off?" she asked him, in Kannada. The driver was wearing a khaki shirt with matching pants, stained with chai, engine grease, and who knows what else.
The rickshaw driver shrugged. Prasad rolled her eyes and gave him a fifty rupee note.
"Now do you remember?"
"Yeah, it was near Kanaka Nagar, at some apartment complex on 7th Cross or something like that."
Iyar looked up from playing with her mobile phone and shot a glance at the driver. "Did he say, 7th Cross?"
Prasad asked the driver again.
"Yeah, that's what he said."
"That's strange…" Iyer thought for a moment about why that sounded familiar. "Wait, remember when we had that…incident at Manyata Tech Park?"
"Yeah?" Prasad asked, turning away from the rickshaw driver, who went back to reading his newspaper. Already, the headlines screamed "MASSIVE TERRORIST ATTACKS ACROSS INDIA FOILED; NUCLEAR ARMS SAFE."
"We had to go save two foreigners, right?"
"You mean, the ones with the blonde hair and the…blue hair?" Prasad never really understood how that was possible. Blonde hair on the other hand…mmm.
Iyer ignored her inner musings and continued on. "Those two, correct. They had an apartment there; I had to make sure that they were who they said they were."
"Uh…okay." Prasad wasn't quite sure where she was going with this. Some police cars zoomed by, nearly hitting some pedestrians but then again, this was India. Stuff like that happened all the time.
"Everything checked out. But if this guy dropped something off there…"
Lt. Iyer kept thinking about it for a second before making up her mind.
"Prasad, get Shetty. We're moving out." She started walking toward the Toyota Qualis that they had driven there. Prasad rolled her eyes and motioned to Shetty, who was chatting with one of the rickshaw drivers. Apparently, they liked her a lot.
"What's up?" she asked.
"We're going."
"Great…"
Iyer honked the horn of the Qualis and motioned quickly for them to get their asses in gear. Prasad and Shetty unhappily jogged over to the SUV and plopped in the back, ready to get over this entire day.
After about thirty minutes of going through traffic jams, checkpoints and the general chaos that had occurred after the terrorist attacks, they arrived at the apartment. They got out of the car and Iyer quickly rushed over to the entrance to the apartment.
"Shouldn't we call for backup?" Prasad asked nervously to Iyer, but she paid no attention. She went into the apartment building that she had remembered going into before, and headed up the stairs, leaving Prasad and Shetty to talk amongst themselves.
"What do you think that's all about?" Shetty asked.
"She thinks that she can take it all by herself," Prasad replied. "Next thing you know, we're going to be fighting Naxalites."
Shetty glared at her, but it was true. Naxalites were still a big problem in Andhra Pradesh…
"Tamils," Prasad rolled her eyes.
"Hey now," Shetty said, jokingly. "That's the third dig you've taken at them this week, and you told me you'd stop after two."
Prasad sighed, but whatever.
"Did you try the new skin whitening stuff that I sent you last week?" Shetty asked, fiddling with her French braid. She adjusted her beret that she was wearing, having switched her helmet out for it earlier in the day. In the humid air of the Deccan Plateau, wearing all of that armor tired one out pretty quickly. Gone were the M16A4 and the MG4, replaced by modest P226 pistols holstered on their waists. Their armor was not heavy Type III, but a light Type IIA, which could be worn for everyday use.
"Those things never work, you know," Prasad said. It was all one big scam to make more money and to prey on the hopes of Indians who wanted to live up to the fair skinned ideal.
"Nah, my amma said that she got a couple tones lighter," Shetty said, absentmindedly. "I'm sure of it."
"You're amma would believe anything these days," Prasad joked with her. "Remember that murder case in Noida? You know, the one that the CBI completely botched up?"
Shetty didn't know where she was going with this, but decided to go along with it. "Yeah, I remember. It was all over the news and stuff."
"Your amma was completely convinced it was the servant, even though the guy was found murdered a couple of days later."
"She still thinks that," Shetty said back, looking at the chaiwalla across the street. "Wanna get some chai while the LT plays hero?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
There was little traffic today due to the terrorist attacks, but that didn't stop some people from doing business. Prasad and Shetty jogged over from their position and over to the chaiwalla, who grinned when he saw potential business, his stained teeth from the betel he chewed shimmering in the sunlight.
Ramesh had been pacing back and forth, talking to himself all the while. Sudhir just sat there and stared at him, certifying that he was completely crazy. He noticed that Ramesh had not looked at him for awhile now, so he slowly brought his mobile phone out, and started to text to Mercy to call for help. He had a iPhone, so at least the keypad was silent when he pressed the buttons; he knew the keypad pretty well but he had to keep the keypad out of sight of the crazy man pacing his apartment. After a few harrowing minutes, Sudhir got the text message all typed out; it read, "MeRcy plz send h3lp crvzy guy at mai plice." Good enough. He sent it, and hoped that help would come soon.
Ramesh took another look outside the window and almost had a heart attack. There was a black Toyota Qualis parked across the street, and two of the soldiers he had seen earlier were crossing the street to the apartment! He cocked the pistol just in case, and hoped that they didn't come over to investigate any further.
The two of them walked to the chaiwalla instead, ordering a cup of tea. Ramesh took a breath out. Just getting some chai, they're just getting some chai, he muttered to himself. He hoped that it would stay that way.
"I heard that Col. Krishnan might get a really high award," Prasad said idly, taking a sip of the spice-laden brown stuff. "Like the Vir Chakra."
"Typical. We do all the fighting and they get all the awards," Shetty scoffed. "Boss, you call this chai?" she bitched at the chaiwalla. "There's too much cardamom in the tea, and you didn't brew it long enough."
"Sorry auntie," he chirped back. "No extra cost." He started to brew another batch of tea, adding just the right amount of tea leaves and less on the cardamom this time around.
"Fine."
"Auntie?" Prasad giggled. "You must be getting old."
"Ha ha," Shetty groaned. "Jokes at my expense."
"Hey!"
Prasad and Shetty looked over to see Lt. Iyer, not happy with them standing and drinking chai.
"What are you two doing?!"
"Just having some chai," Prasad shouted back. "You seemed to have everything under control."
Iyer opened her mouth to say something back, but knew that Prasad was right. In her haste, she hadn't asked for the two of them to come with her or to call for backup. So they did what any reasonable soldier would do without orders; take a nice break. And the worse part of it all is that she hadn't found anything. The apartment was bare, completely cleaned out and no evidence of it ever been occupied before.
"I'm calling it into HQ," she yelled over to them, reaching for the radio in the SUV. "Get me some as well."
The chaiwalla heard that and immediately got a glass ready. He sure was in luck today.
Iyer hit the transmit button on the radio to get into contact with Col. Krishnan.
"Devi 1, to Devi Actual, come in, over."
After a moment of static, Krishnan replied.
"This is Devi Actual, go ahead."
"Followed up on the lead from the auto drivers. Nothing so far. We'll continue searching the area, out."
"Affirmative," Krishnan said, wondering if they were getting chai. She made a mental note to admonish the unit for taking too many chai breaks. Then again, they had performed well last night, so they certainly earned an extra chai break here and there.
"Devi 1, out."
Iyer put down the radio and closed the door when she noticed two cars coming down the road at high speed.
"And it smelled kind of weird…" Prasad began to say, before being interrupted by the squeal of tires.
Two white Maruti Suzukis screeched to the front of the apartment complex, bringing Shetty and Prasad out of their inane conversation. A serious looking woman, dressed sharply in a suit and slacks, hopped out of the passenger's seat and looked at them. Two other CBI agents also got out of the other car, dressed in suits as well.
"Who's in charge here?!" she asked Prasad.
Prasad just looked at her. What she said was complete gibberish to her ears.
The woman sighed, and pulled out a badge and ID card. It read, "Mercy Abraham, CBI Special Agent."
"Ah." Prasad couldn't read that either, but she figured that she wanted to find the person in charge. She pointed to Lt. Iyer who had just crossed the road.
"You there!" Mercy said, gesturing to her to come over.
"Who are…oh, I see." It was rare to see Lt. Iyer to be caught off guard, but this one incident did. "What do you want?" Iyer asked, somewhat flustered.
"Have you noticed any suspicious activity around here?" Mercy asked forcefully.
"No, I have not," Iyer replied sternly back, in English.
"What are you doing here then?" Mercy asked, even more forcefully this time. "There's a hostage situation in one of these apartments here and you're just standing around?!"
"I checked one of the apartments." Iyer pointed to the one across the street. "I visited it on a suspicion that terrorists might be hiding out there."
"Well, they're hiding out in that one!" Mercy pointed to the top floor. "Come on!" She pulled out a P226 from a holster and motioned for the others to follow her.
The lock to the entrance of the apartment complete was soundly defeated by one of the CBI agents smashing lock with his foot, and breaking the door open.
"Which floor?" Iyer asked her.
"It's on the fifth floor," Mercy replied. "502."
She took the lead, with the CBI agents following her, and the 108th Defence Force troopers trudging up behind them.
"She's excited," Prasad said to Shetty, who was panting a little bit as they got up the stairs.
"Tell…me…about…it," Shetty replied, gasping for some more air.
They made it to the fifth floor, regretting that cup of chai as they did so. Mercy and the CBI agents were already stacked up by the door, and the rest of the team rushed to join them.
"Okay, here's the plan," Mercy said to them as they took up positions. "There's a big living room as soon as we go in. The kitchen is on the left, and the bedroom on the right. You three," she pointed to Prasad, Shetty and Iyer. "Take the kitchen." Iyer translated that statement for the other two who didn't speak English.
"I thought I took this job so I wouldn't have to spend time in the kitchen," Shetty complained, quietly. Iyer and Prasad just glared at her.
Mercy continued on. "We're going to take the bedroom. Understand?"
"Yes," Iyer replied. She translated that part too for them. Prasad and Shetty both nodded, and checked their pistols.
"Alright." Mercy kept close to the door. "On three."
"One."
Ramash had seen the cars pull up. The woman who got out of the car started berating the people at the chaiwalla stand before rushing into the apartment complex.
"Shit!" he said to himself. There was no way he was getting out of this situation by shooting his way out. He looked at Sudhir, who was still huddling in the corner.
"Get up," he said to him. Sudhir complied, and Ramesh shoved him in front of him.
"What's going on?" he asked real nervously.
"Do what I say, and you don't get hurt, understand?"
"Yeah, I get it," Sudhir replied, somewhat mockingly.
"Don't mock me, bourgeois," Ramesh hissed back, cocking his Makarov pistol next to Sudhir's head.
"Okay, okay." Sudhir was a little less mocking on that statement.
"Two."
Ramesh did not position himself in front of the door, where he could be easily surrounded and cut down. Instead, he shifted over to the left, keeping a wall to his back and Sudhir to his front, grabbing hold of him by the collar. This way, whoever was entering the apartment could only engage him from one direction, and he could slowly make his way to the exit instead of having to plow through a bunch of hostiles to get out of the building.
"Three."
One of the CBI agents kicked down the door, only to have a couple of rounds go over his head. But the momentum was carrying the rest of them forward, and so they charged forward anyway. Ramesh held his fire now; his main goal was to get out of there, and killing more police was not conductive to that goal. Mercy and the CBI agents trained their weapons on him, and Mercy started shouting things at him to get Ramesh to surrender. Shetty, Prasad and Iyer ignored them and continued into the kitchen, making sure that it was secure before turning their attention onto the hostage situation.
"Hey, let that man go!" Mercy shouted at Ramesh, in English. "Put the gun down!"
"Not in a million years, you capitalist pig!" Ramesh replied, in Punjabi. The amount of languages being spoken would have given any sane person a headache, but then again, this was India. He waved the pistol around threateningly, making sure to keep behind Sudhir. Sudhir was actually pretty calm, considering the situation. But he was certainly surprised to see Mercy holding a pistol and pointing it at him (well, at Ramesh, but still).
"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to let that man go," Mercy said, making sure that the hostage taker did not know she had a personal connection.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get a ride out of here and to a destination of my choosing," Ramesh shot back. He knew that wasn't going to happen, but he was just stalling for time.
"Twenty seconds," Mercy replied, stoically. She kept the sights on Ramesh's head.
"That accent…" Ramesh scoffed. "How could you betray your comrades at arms?"
"Ten seconds."
"You Keralites are so soft. You wouldn't know Communism if it stared you in the face," Ramesh taunted. He knew that he was running out of time, and slowly inched his way toward the door, with six guns still trained on him.
"Five."
"Go to hell."
"Four.
Ramesh still continued to advance, slowly.
"Three."
The door was in his reach, he could make it! From a single cell, he would rebuild the revolution. He was already thinking of the vengeance he would bring upon the elites and to those who sold them out for a couple of paisa to the west.
He was planning ten moves ahead, but forgot that those moves are dependent on the first one. In his excitement, he forgot about the doorway that led to Sudhir's small bedroom. As soon as he started to pass the door, Sudhir suddenly jerked away from Ramesh, tearing away from his grasp and ducked into the room.
Ramesh was left there, awkwardly, pistol unraised and with a completely blank expression on his face. In a split second he knew that his revolution was over.
Six guns spat out death, twelve rounds each, riddling his body with 9mm bullets as he crashed to the floor.
"Long live the revolution," he sputtered, and died. The CBI agents rushed forward and kicked the weapon from his hands, making sure that he was alright. Sudhir popped back from out of the room and looked at Mercy.
"How…what…err…" He was obviously at a loss for words.
Mercy just nodded at him before speaking. "I'm with the CBI, if you haven't already noticed."
"But…how…?" Sudhir was still looking for those words.
"Let me explain," Mercy continued. "I went undercover with the CBI to discover what Nakanishi was up to. During the course of my investigation, we took notice of your email to that Representative, and started to dig further. Turns out, Nakanishi was a much bigger threat than we had ever envisioned. Those threats were backed up by concrete evidence we received from the Japanese Government concerning a massive operation to secure Nakanishi's place on the world scene. Thanks to these guys," she pointed at Prasad, Shetty, and Iyer, "Those attacks were defeated."
"So…all those times…?" Sudhir asked Mercy. "We just…I…?"
"We can talk later, if you wish," Mercy said with a slight smile. "In the meantime, let's get you out of here and we can take your statement." She held out her hand, and Sudhir took it, stepping gingerly over the body of the very dead Ramesh.
"Why did you have to shoot him so much?" Sudhir asked.
Mercy shrugged. "That's all the bullets we had."
Lt. Iyer looked confused by that statement. She checked her tactical belt; there were still two more full magazines there. Prasad and Shetty just shrugged, and headed back downstairs to get another cup of chai from the vendor outside.