Rising Tiger: A Thriller (21)
“Me? In what capacity? I don’t work for RAW anymore.”
“You still work for RAW. You just no longer work at RAW.”
Asha had no idea what he was talking about. “Meaning?”
“Because RAW is a ‘wing’ of the cabinet secretariat and not an ‘agency,’ it enjoys a certain unorthodox legal status.”
“Meaning?” she pressed.
“Meaning,” Gupta clarified, “that RAW is not answerable to Parliament and can, within reason, carry out black operations at will.”
“Is that what this is?” she asked, sweeping her hand in front of her as she took in the room again.
“Yes,” said Raj.
“And its objective is?”
“Stopping the Chinese,” Gupta stated. “No matter who in the Indian government we have to burn down to do it.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute,” Asha balked. “What are you talking about?”
Raj gestured for his colleague to pause and took over the conversation. “We believe that the Chinese not only know about the proposal, but are actively working from inside our own government to kill it.”
“As well as anyone associated with it,” she said, chilled by the thought.
“It’s very much looking that way. Which is why we needed to set up things here. It’s of the utmost importance that we remain unseen by both the Chinese and any elements within the Indian government that have been co-opted.”
“In this place,” offered Gupta, “no one sees us.”
Asha wondered if he was referring to being in such an obscure, nongovernmental location, or that this was literally a facility for the blind. Either way, the foundation was a curious choice.
Looking at Raj, she asked, “How was this site selected?”
“I have a prior relationship with the organization.”
“What kind of—”
“My son was a student here,” he said, cutting her off.
“I didn’t know that.”
“No one at RAW does. And I expect it to be kept that way.”
“Of course,” she replied.
She was about to launch into a new line of questions, when Gupta’s phone chimed. Removing it from his jacket pocket, he read the message and announced, “The plane has arrived.”
“What plane?”
“Your plane,” Raj stated. “The one taking you to Sulur Air Base. That’s where General Mehra took off from. You’ll begin your investigation there. Gupta will continue your briefing on the flight down.”
Asha held up her hand. “I’m just going to land at an Indian Air Force base and start asking questions? Under what authority? Even if I was still ‘officially’ with RAW,” she said, making air quotes, “this wouldn’t fall under our jurisdiction.”
Raj picked up a light brown envelope with a string-tied closure and handed it to her. “Open it.”
She did. Inside was a cell phone, cash, and two credit cards. There was also a new set of credentials, with her service photo, identifying her as a senior investigator in the Defense Security Corps. The DSC was responsible for securing India’s military installations against sabotage. Coupled with the credentials was an official set of orders empowering her investigation. Raj had seen to almost everything.
But before she could raise her next point—that she was hardly dressed to pose as a uniformed DSC operative—Gupta said, “There’s a change of clothes waiting for you on the plane.”
She should have known better than to underestimate two of India’s most accomplished spymasters. Apparently they had thought of everything.
“The same rules still apply,” Raj reminded her. “Watch your back and don’t trust anyone. If this was intentional, they’re going to be keeping a close eye on anyone who comes to investigate. Don’t linger. Get in, get what you need, and get out as quickly as you can.”
“Understood,” she replied, gathering up her things as Gupta picked up his briefcase and they prepared to depart. “Anything else?”
“If you cock this up, if you get caught—there won’t be anything we can do to help you. RAW will disavow any knowledge of your operation. You will be completely on your own.”
“Then you, and India, have nothing to worry about,” said Asha as she opened the door. “Because that’s when I do some of my best work.”
CHAPTER 13
DUSHANBE, TAJIKISTAN
When the Antonov An-26 touched down at Ayni Air Force Base, ten kilometers west of the capital, Harvath could feel the weight being lifted from his shoulders. He had been wound so tight that he hadn’t slept a wink, not even after they had safely entered Tajik airspace and were largely in the clear. He was exhausted.
They taxied for several minutes until they arrived at a large hangar occupied by a sleek, Gulfstream G700 private jet and pulled inside.
Once the large hangar door had been closed, Haney dropped the Antonov’s ramp, while Gage and the other team members prepared to transfer their gear.
Despite having pulled out of Afghanistan, the United States government still pursued close, albeit very quiet, ties with Tajikistan. The government in Dushanbe didn’t want any trouble with the Russians or the Taliban. The more covert the relationship, the better. That suited Harvath’s needs just fine.