Rising Tiger: A Thriller (61)

Nina was screaming.





CHAPTER 37


NEW DELHI

“G-Company,” Raj said, projecting the arrest records and photos of the men Asha had killed that morning.

G-Company was the name that Indian media had given to the organized crime syndicate of mafia boss, drug kingpin, and wanted terrorist Zakir Rahman Gangji.

Gangji, the son of one of Delhi’s most storied and honest police officers, had been on the wrong track since his early teens. His life in crime had begun in the late 1970s, when he had gone to work for a local smuggler.

The relationship had been profitable and amicable until years later, when, angry about police crackdowns, the smuggler had insulted Gangji’s father.

Two days later, backed up by a crew of trusted confidants, Gangji and his men attacked the smuggler, along with his chief deputies, and beat them to death with soda bottles.

India had never seen such an attack. It catapulted Gangji to the head of the smuggler’s organization and sent shock waves through the criminal underworld. The “Soda Pop War,” as it would come to be called, made Gangji a celebrity in the gangster culture and the mere mention of his name inspired fear throughout India and beyond.

Soda bottles became G-Company’s trademark and members wielded them with a viciousness that was unparalleled. Heads were bashed in, throats were cut, and faces were slashed. In some of the most extreme cases, Gangji had ordered bottles to be fully inserted into a victim’s rectum and then shattered—causing a slow and agonizing death as they bled out.

Even those who made it to the hospital and survived lived in constant pain, as it was impossible for even the best of surgeons to locate and remove every shard of glass. “Cross G-Company, and you’ll be shitting razor blades for the rest of your life,” was a common warning among the criminal classes.

“Why would G-Company want anything to do with me?” Asha asked. “RAW would love to get its hands on Gangji for the Bombay bombings of the 1990s, but that was before my time. I’ve never worked a case that involves him.”

Raj nodded. Gangji, a Muslim, had been behind a string of car bomb, scooter bomb, and suitcase bomb attacks in retaliation for a mosque having been illegally razed by Hindu nationalists. Over the course of two hours, twelve bombs had gone off.

Gangji had targeted the Bombay stock market, several banks, multiple hotels, the Air India building, and a passport office. Two grenade attacks also occurred.

In the end, 257 people lay dead and more than 1,400 were injured. While multiple G-Company members involved with the plot were either put to death or received sentences of life in prison, Gangji had never been apprehended.

He was said to have fled abroad. There were rumors that he was living in the Pakistani port of Karachi. Other intelligence pointed to Dubai. Still more reports suggested the Saudis had given him sanctuary.

The most persistent rumor was that Gangji hadn’t left India at all. Instead, he had flown in one of the world’s best plastic surgeons, who had totally transformed his appearance, right down to changing his fingerprints.

It was the stuff of Bollywood movies, of course, but for G-Company to continue to be a successful, feared organization, the threat of its founder hiding just around the next corner needed to live on.

“We believe,” said Raj, indicating himself and Gupta, “that in addition to everything else Gangji’s organization is into, they’re upgrading their kidnapping and murder-for-hire operations.”

“By going after a RAW agent?” she stated. “That’s one hell of an upgrade. Technically, this means war. In any other situation, we’d bring the full power of the state down on G-Company and crush them for this.”

“The key words being ‘in any other situation.’ Right now, that’s not in the cards for us. We’re off-book and we have to stay that way.”

Asha didn’t like it. What was the point of Raj being Raj if he couldn’t swing the hammer when he needed to? Even covertly. “So we just let it go?”

“I’d hardly say it’s been let go,” Gupta interjected. “You killed all three of the men they sent. Consider it sending your dinner back to the kitchen. You’ll get a chance to see the chef, just not yet.”

“In the meantime,” said Raj, “I want to discuss the likely actors who might have requested a capture-or-kill operation on you this morning.”

Asha leaned back in her chair. “I’m all ears.”

“The identity created for you to use down at Sulur Air Base was hastily prepared but should have passed scrutiny. Whatever happened, you caught someone’s attention. Someone with serious resources. They were able to figure out not only who you are, but where you live. They were interested enough to try to take you alive to find out what you’re up to or, failing that, to kill you on the spot to prevent you from getting any further.

“Our best guess at this point is that this is either elements within the Indian government who are against a defense alliance with the United States, or the Chinese themselves.”

“Do you think it was elements within our government that took down the helicopter of the chief of defense?” she asked.

Raj shook his head. “I think it’s more than likely, especially having reviewed the video you brought back to us last night, that it was the Chinese. We know they used some sort of directed-energy device in the Galwan Valley attack. We also have heard reports that they have been working on other sorts of similar weapons that do different things. One that scrambles aircraft electronics isn’t out of the question.”