The Velvet Gloves

By Balakrishna Kamath

The day Mr. Godbole retires from the Agency things take a sinister turn.
In a strange coincidence, India’s Internal Intelligence Agency and the FBI of the US, come face to face in what was initially an innocuous conflict of interest. Both have their own binding reasons for their stands on the dispute and cannot budge to make space for settlement. When the matter escalates into a dangerous tussle, both try to avoid it spill into the public domain, wary of diplomatic fallout and possible repercussions on the otherwise two friendly countries. Therefore, the precarious game becomes a tightrope walk for both. To avoid complications they studiously keep their organisations away from clashing in the field. Despite their deft manoeuvres, in some time, things go out of hand and both parties suffer setbacks. With Mr. Godbole positioned in the eye of the storm, while battling personal loss...
Will both sides come together to understand each other’s position?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Nov 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9789352011292

Balakrishna Kamath

Balakrishna Kamath is a retired Intelligence officer of a premier Intelligence agency of India. He is a recipient of the coveted national-level honours such as the Indian Police Medal and President's Police Medal. Although passionate about writing, being in Intelligence service, Kamath had no opportunity to write for the open media. It was only after he hung up his professional boots that he started writing, mainly fiction based on spy and intelligence operations. His first novel 'The Velvet Gloves', a thriller published in November 2018, was received well, and is being adapted into a web-series. With his first book, Kamath demonstrated his flair for telling stories on intelligence operations that can keep the reader spellbound.

Book preview

PREFACE

Stories on Intelligence setups and its operatives, factual or fictional, continue to generate wonderment in many. This is because of the curiosity people have about the so-called murky, but also glamorous world of riddles and enigmas. The common perception about intelligence profession is that, it is a bizarre realm of cloak and dagger game played in picturesque locales with damsels and guns thrown in at regular intervals. The general depiction of detectives and spies in popular novels and films only strengthened this pompous belief. Anyone associated with intelligence organisations will know that the truth is far from this simplistic interpretation. Intelligence in actuality is a strenuous, monotonous and most often a lonely game played away from the limelight. Behind the juicy bits and spectacular endings of the operations that become known in the public domain, there always is a long trail of hard work and grit shown by operatives to overcome constant physical and mental challenges. All through the career, an intelligence operative has to learn to lie low for long periods without losing patience, train self to absorb failures without feeling defeated and be ready for personal sacrifices, without losing his family. Among the many attributes a good intelligence officer should have, the cardinal ones are his ability to smell opportunities that are scarce and tact of acting timely, keeping the element of surprise intact. An opportunity does not wait and the time to act may not come again. That is why many operatives tied up to work, at times fail to be there for their family or instantly leave on a call of duty midway through a long promised outing with his wife and children. Such is the cost operatives have to often pay for the profession they have chosen.

From time to time, technical advancement has brought in sophisticated gadgets and procedures to assist intelligence operations. All these gadgets and procedures have revolutionised surveillance methods, secret probes, clandestine communication techniques, reporting and so on. Nonetheless, intelligence being essentially a mind game, the individual operatives still plays a predominant and vital role in deciding the success or failure of the operations. This book does not cover the entire ambit of the functioning of intelligence setups or the finer nuances of running operations. Here, a fictional story line has been woven and an attempt has been made to shed light on the various aspects of the human factor that sustain an intelligence operation, even at extreme personal cost.

Chapter 1

WALKING INTO THE DUSK

Yashwant Narayan Godbole felt comforted as he turned towards the nondescript lane leading to his destination, the ‘Coromandel Square’ – one of the many imposing granite-walled buildings of the British Colonial era, in the South Mumbai’s Fort area. The Coromandel Square housed the ‘RHQ’ (Regional Headquarters) of the India’s Internal Intelligence Agency or ‘Agency’, as it was popularly known. Despite the half an hour disruption in the local train traffic, Godbole was pleased that he was not late in reporting at the RHQ. It was only 4:40 pm, a good twenty minutes ahead of the time he was supposed to report to the Admin Officer. He had chosen to travel by local train, mainly to avoid driving through over 30 Km long traffic clogged roads from Borivali East to the South Mumbai’s Fort area. Besides, on the day of his retirement, the local train ride would help him to re-live the day he had come to the very same office some thirty seven years ago, to join the Intelligence Service. Although, after joining service he was soon sent to New Delhi for training and then posted to several places, for Godbole, the RHQ at the old grandiose Coromandel Square always had a nostalgic value.

Godbole’s fifteen minutes’ walk from the Churchgate railway station in the sultry weather had resulted in his sixty years old frame sweating profusely. Bothered by the sweat trickling down his face, he took out his handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped his face. On reaching the entry gate of RHQ, he showed his ID badge to the Security Guard. It then suddenly struck Godbole that this was the last time that he was using his official ID badge. The Security Guard scrutinised the badge and led him to the reception area in the building. The middle aged gentleman at the Reception barely recognised Godbole. After all, Godbole was assigned to the Operations Unit of the Agency located at the periphery of the Rajiv Gandhi National Park in Borivali East. So, his visits to the RHQ were indeed few and far between. The Reception Officer handed over the entry slip to Godbole and requested to fill in his details.

Even before Godbole filled the slip, the officer asked, Retiring?

Godbole nodded his head. There was no prize for Reception Officer’s conjecture. Everyone knew elderly looking staff visiting the RHQ at around 5 pm on the last working day of every month, was coming to take part in the typically low key function organised by the Department to bid farewell to the retiring staff. It was Friday, September 30, 2016, the day Godbole was retiring from service. The Reception Officer requested Godbole to deposit his backpack at the adjacent counter and be seated in the lobby till someone from Admin came to take him to the Admin Officer’s cabin.

Being the last day in service, he had been busy taking several calls since morning, meeting his colleagues and seniors in his Operations Unit, attending the lunch hosted by the unit staff and rushing to different desks to surrender Government property he had received, including the sensitive files he had in his personal custody. Now, finally waiting in the lobby, Godbole realised that he hadn’t had the time to read the newspaper. So, Godbole picked up the Times of India from the wooden newspaper stand. He first looked for the news covering the high profile abduction incident. Capt. Rohit Mehra, an Indian Army officer and son–in–law of a senior Union Minister was abducted just three days ago by some unidentified persons in Mumbai. The incident had taken place around 7:30 pm when Capt. Mehra was returning from a walk in the Five Gardens area in Wadala (central Mumbai) on 27th September. Capt. Mehra had come to Mumbai on 22nd September on one month leave, to be with his family. Three days had passed and there was no clue about the abductors or Capt. Mehra’s location. Till then, the abductors had contacted no one to make any demands. Naturally the security and police departments were on tenterhooks, more so the Agency having the charge of India’s internal Intelligence. Godbole read the boldly printed headline ‘Capt. Mehra Abduction – Police & Security Agencies Groping in the Dark’. There was a clear photograph of Capt. Mehra in civilian attire to help the public report in case they spotted him somewhere. Godbole looked at the photograph closely and sank in his seat. He said to himself, ‘Oh God! I know this man, he was the one who had provided the significant lead about four years ago to locate Arun Devkar, the subject of an extremely sensitive operation’. Capt. Rohit Mehra in the photograph was the same bright young man Godbole had trailed for some days. After Rohit Mehra cooperated and assisted in the investigations, Godbole had left him alone. No track was kept, and he did not even know that Mehra had become a Commissioned Officer in the Indian Army. In the photographs the papers carried earlier, Capt. Mehra was in his Army uniform. Godbole, therefore, could not identify Mehra. Besides, being in the retiring mood, he had not bothered to follow closely the details of the abduction case from the print and electronic media. Suddenly Godbole felt an urge to delve deep into the case, purely for his personal knowledge. However, before Godbole could go through the news item, an attendant came to escort him to the Admin Officer’s cabin. After keeping his phone on silent mode, Godbole followed the attendant.

The Admin Officer, Rajnath Bhalla along with two junior officers, was already waiting for him. After greeting Godbole; wasting no time, Bhalla took out all the forms which a departing employee had to sign. Once the forms were signed, Bhalla hastily gave Godbole a printed sheet containing the undertaking that he had to sign before he would be finally relieved of all duties. The undertaking was merely to reiterate that the retiring officers were duty bound to safe guard the secrecy of the work and assignments they were part of or otherwise had knowledge of. Godbole read the undertaking and signed it. The two junior officers present in the room signed as witnesses just below Godbole’s signature. Even before the signed papers were collected by the junior officers, Bhalla proceeded ahead with his next item in the procedure. He handed over an envelope to Godbole containing the standard advisory for retirees. The advisory, among other things, asked the retirees to avoid visiting the Agency offices or maintaining regular contacts with serving officers. However, a few designated phone numbers and a mail ID were provided in the advisory, so that the retirees could communicate with the Agency, if required.

Just as Godbole was getting uneasy about the rush with which Bhalla was trying to finish the formalities, Bhalla requested Godbole to surrender the ID badge. Of all the items the department had issued him, Godbole was left with only the ID badge. He had already surrendered all other items at his Operations Unit before setting out for the RHQ. As he took out the badge to hand over it to the officer, he felt a surge of emotions that started mentally choking him. It was like snapping the only remaining link with the institution he was proud of and had selflessly served close to four decades. The dangers he had kept confronting day in, day out and the grave risks he had taken in the line of duty were indeed a National call for him. It was the only way of life he knew. And now, after all those demanding and tumultuous years, he would suddenly step into what he considered as nothingness. He started feeling anxious. All along his service, Godbole had barricaded softer emotions. ‘Were the flood gates of his contained emotions crashing, was the tough operative in him crumbling?’

Godbole momentarily glanced at the Admin Officer Bhalla and sensed that Bhalla was getting rather impatient. Observing Bhalla’s behaviour he thought, ‘Perhaps, after handling many retiring officers, Bhalla has become utterly insensitive to a departing officer’s emotions’. Godbole once again raised his head and found Bhalla watching him. As their eyes met, Bhalla slowly got up from his chair and kept his hand on Godbole’s shoulder, I understand, Bhalla said, I myself am due to retire in a few months’ time, I too might feel the same way then. For now please ... Bhalla halted and continued, … you know the top boss from Delhi is here in connection with the highly sensitive abduction that is currently rocking the country. Since the Boss came to know that you are retiring today, he desired to meet you, just a courtesy meeting. With such a record of good work behind you, you have a certain reputation that compels even the top Boss to have a word with you. The Boss is waiting, please complete the formalities fast and I will take you to him. Bhalla’s words did not sink in instantly. Even while in service, the operatives at his level normally did not get to see the DG (Director General), the national head of the Agency. He then realised, it was a big honour if the DG had indeed wanted to meet him. Godbole promptly handed over the ID badge to Bhalla and stood up. For the first time, Bhalla put on a faint smile and said, Well, come with me.

Bhalla gently knocked at the door, waited a full second and then pushed the door partially open.

Mr. Godbole is here Sir, Bhalla said.

Please let him come in, The response from the room was quick, Bhalla held the door fully open to let Godbole in. Once Godbole walked in, Bhalla gently closed the door and left. Godbole took slow, but steady steps towards the table where DG Kailash Panth and RD (Regional Director) Gautam Naik were seated.

Good evening Sir, Godbole bowed and uttered. He then stood in attention. The DG immediately got up, moved forward and shook hands with Godbole. He stood looking at the face of Godbole intensely.

Mr. Godbole, I have immense pleasure in meeting you. I haven’t had a chance to meet you earlier, but I know that you are one of a kind, a legend as an operative and one of the few whom the Agency used to look up to in crisis situations. The DG fell silent for a while. He then took out his pen from the shirt pocket and presented it to Godbole. This is my personal pen I have been using to scribble short notes and sign. This is a gesture of my appreciation, handing over the pen to Godbole, he added, for your truly dedicated service to the nation. At short notice I could not think of a better present than my own pen. It was by chance that I was here today and I get rewarded with a meeting with one of the Agency’s distinguished soldiers.

Panth’s words echoed in Godbole’s ears, as he smiled, I feel grateful sir… the honour is mine… have no words to thank you, he said.

Godbole felt at ease, and even the DG appeared to be comfortable than he was at the beginning of the meeting. The DG then turned to proceed towards his seat, but stopped and asked Godbole, What next, I mean what are you going to do after retirement, any plans?

As Godbole was pondering to give an answer, the DG, with a smile on his face added After a hectic life with no time for family, I know giving quality time for the family may be the one thing you have on your mind. Godbole promptly nodded in agreement. DG continued, Your family… who all are there?

Godbole replied, Me and wife, our only daughter is married and settled in Australia.

After a brief silence, the DG came forward and again shook Godbole’s hands saying, Wish you all the very best in your retired life. Please do not hesitate to let me know if there is something I can do, any time. Glancing at his watch DG continued, Have to go, there is a meeting with the Chief Minister in a short while, all the best again.

Godbole bowed, thanked the DG and turned to go when the RD Naik, who was witnessing the exchange between DG and Godbole, came forward and wished Godbole all the best for a good retired life. RD said, since he would have to accompany the DG to the CM’s office he would not be attending Godbole’s farewell function. RD suggested that soon on one of the mutually convenient dates they should meet up for lunch at a good restaurant in South Mumbai. Godbole agreed, thanked the RD and left the room.

When Godbole came out of the room, Bhalla was there waiting. It was 5:25 pm just 5 minutes to the scheduled time for the farewell function. As per procedure, the Admin Officer would have to take the retiree to the conference room, which was the fixed venue for the farewell functions for retiring officers.

Passing through the corridors towards the conference room, Bhalla asked, How was the meeting?

It was good, rather I would say an honour, Godbole said.

Bhalla added, Indeed so, you know the abduction has put everyone here into a tricky situation, they are searching for answers, he continued, all the pressure is on the top Boss and yet in these difficult times he found time to meet you. You are a stellar achiever and a classic Intelligence Officer; over and above physically you are fit as a fiddle. Is the top Boss trying to rope you in to work on this abduction case?

You mean the DG is trying to rope me in? a surprised Godbole said, The DG did not look tense, he was very warm, did not even refer to the abduction case. He bid me farewell and gave this pen, his own pen, as a souvenir, nothing more. Bhalla was not convinced, but they already reached the Conference Room and the conversation ended.

In the Conference Room there were barely ten middle and junior level officers. They all stood up and applauded when the Admin Officer Bhalla and Godbole entered the room. He quickly scanned the room to see who all were there. Such farewell functions were always subdued affairs, only limited staff that one was acquainted to or had actually worked with the retiring officers, were invited. Out of the total seventeen of Godbole’s batch mates (those who trained together and inducted into service in the same batch) posted in Mumbai, only nine were in service as seven had already retired and one had died. Even from those nine batch mates posted in Mumbai, only five had come for the function. The other four batch mates, Godbole guessed, might be on emergency duty related to the challenging abduction case. Others present in the room were three of his colleagues and two junior staff who had joined the Agency four years ago. Both the juniors -Vivek Vohra and Manjunath Murthy, were assigned to Godbole till sometime back. Godbole had a hand in moulding them into promising operatives. While both Vivek and Manjunath were closely bonded with Godbole, Manjunath had a deeper sense of attachment. After a year’s training when Manjunath was merely a few months into his posting under Godbole, Manjunath’s widowed mother had fell critically ill needing prolonged hospitalisation. In the absence of his father, Manjunath already had the burden of the family, on his young shoulders. The challenges of his new job and mother’s treatment were too much to cope with. Had Godbole not been considerate, Manjunath would have found it unmanageable. In due course, during routine transfer exercise, Manjunath along with Vivek was shifted from Godbole’s Operations Unit to the RHQ.

As it was time to begin the function, Bhalla got on to the small podium and carried out the ritual of introducing Godbole to the audience and praising his contribution to the Agency. Although he announced that if anyone wanted to speak at the occasion could come forward, no one came forward. Instead all went to Godbole in a line. Each one of them presented Godbole with a rose flower, hugged him and just stood near him to get a chance to speak with him. For Godbole it was an emotional moment, remembering the days they had spent together, the adversities, dangers and joys they had experienced together. Although they might not have been meeting regularly, they had still remained as a family with immense concern for each other. Amid the snacks and tea served in abundance, they continued to talk about their families, their plans after retirement and so on and on. At 6.45 pm Bhalla indicated that they had long over-shot the scheduled time to vacate the conference room. Yet, they all lingered for some more time. Bhalla once more requested the officers to wind up. At last, as the officers prepared to leave the room, Godbole hugged each one of them and thanked them for their affection and support.

Godbole took just one of the roses he was presented with and started walking out. Bhalla and all those colleague officers who participated in the farewell function accompanied him to the reception desk where Godbole collected his backpack. Godbole securely kept in the backpack the rose and the pen he had received from the DG, as for him, those were the priceless gifts on the day of his retirement. He shook hands with the Reception Officer. Then, he thanked Bhalla for all the help rendered and took leave of him. The officers thereafter led Godbole to the gate and bid him the final goodbye.

It might have looked like an anti-climax, a man of such an illustrious career record, most of it at grave risk and away from the public eye, was departing so quietly with no fanfare or fuss. All the colleague officers stood at the gate looking at Godbole slowly disappearing from the end of the lane and melting into the crowded M.G. Road. For them, it was curtains for the fabled intelligence operative – a legend of their time.

Chapter 2

A DISQUIETING EVENING

With the twilight fading fast and streetlights and neon signs on the tall buildings switched on, the M.G. Road had a glittering majestic look. Countless people working in the innumerable offices in the premier business district of India were pouring into the M.G. Road to head to their homes after a gruelling day’s work. Somehow, Godbole was oblivious that he was walking towards the Churchgate station with a never ending fast paced stream of men and women. As long as he was with his colleagues at the RHQ, Godbole was insulated from the retirement-related worries. Now that he was alone, the anxiety and uncertainty about the retirement life caught up with him. He had not planned anything about how he would spend the free time, rather he was pre-occupied with such hectic work schedule that he did not have time to plan for the after service years. Like many others, he was working as if there would be no retirement. He knew his first priority would be to spend time with his wife, Radha. They had to catch up a lot.

Suddenly, someone while trying to walk past Godbole, bumped into him. That person in an irritating tone mumbled something and rushed forward. It jolted Godbole and he realised that he was walking at a very slow pace. The burden of the disturbing thoughts was indeed proving to be heavy on his mind. In a street where everyone was rushing to catch the local train or bus to reach home at the earliest, a slow walker might get scoffed upon or even pushed over. Godbole felt apologetic that with his slow pace he was causing inconvenience to the other walkers. He then casually looked back to see if there were some more who were trying to get past him. He saw almost everyone was rushing, avoiding him, but there was a medium built young man behind him walking without any great hurry. The man in a white T-shirt seemed to become conscious when Godbole looked at him. Nevertheless, Godbole moved forward, this time matching his pace with the other walkers.

After a ten minute walk, Godbole entered the well-lit sub-way leading to the Churchgate Station. Although it was crowded, he could spot the same young man in the white T-shirt still not very far from him. The man was talking on the phone while walking. In the dim light on the M.G.Road footpath, the man’s face was not clear then, yet from the body frame and the white T-shirt, Godbole felt it was the same man. There was an uneasy feeling in Godbole. When Godbole eventually reached the station’s main entrance, he could feel his cell phone vibrating. He moved on to one side, away from the rush and took out the phone. It was his wife Radha calling, Where have you been? a concerned Radha enquired, I tried calling you several times. Where are you now?

Godbole answered, Oh sorry, I had kept the phone on silent mode as I was meeting officers at RHQ.

I was getting worried, you know? Radha told instantly.

Godbole said, Just reached Churchgate Station. I am intending to wait here for some 20 odd minutes so that the rush will somewhat ease out and I could have a comfortable journey.

So you have parked the car at the parking area of Saki Naka metro Station? Radha asked.

Yes, Godbole said, I will change from local train to Metro at Andheri. On reaching Saki Naka, shall call up. Godbole and Radha lived in a two bedroom modest residential apartment on the far side of Chandivali, a 4 km drive from Saki Naka.

I know in what state of mind you will be today Radha said. With retirement, you have lost your first love forever, please take it easy Radha continued, do not get lost in your thoughts when you get into the train.

With a mild laugh Godbole reassured, I am fine.

Please take care, Radha told him before ending the conversation.

‘How concerned was Radha about me!’ Godbole wondered, ‘Despite her own health worries, Radha always was more concerned about my health than her own.’ Since Rashmi, their only daughter, got married and settled in Australia about six years ago, Radha had been a different person. Although she was excited to see Rashmi settling down in life, Radha had also started feeling as if her life’s mission had come to an end. With Rashmi’s departure to Australia and a husband who was never available to spend time with, Radha slipped into a monotonous life, her health suffered and then she was detected with breast cancer. It was a trying time for him and Radha – hospital visits, a minor surgery, chemotherapy and radiation sessions all amidst Godbole’s pressing official duties. To their great relief, a year ago the doctors confirmed that she had been completely cured of the deadly disease. However, she still needed medication and would have to go for periodical check-ups. Godbole knew that Radha felt immeasurably lonely and her ill health only complicated the matters. Now that he was retiring, he thought he would be able to devote ample time for her.

Since Godbole decided to wait some time to allow the crowd to thin, he went to the book stall and flipped through a few news magazines. He noticed that, ‘The India Today’ and ‘The Week’ had already covered Capt. Mehra’s abduction story. He purchased both the magazines and kept them in his backpack. The magazines would help him kill time from the following day. Meanwhile, the thought of the man in the white T-shirt, was bothering him. Godbole reasoned that while walking from M.G.Road to Churchgate Station, he was initially walking at a slow pace and then after a walker bumped into him; he had walked at a brisk pace as others. The man was similarly walking at a slow pace. Had that man not been following and changing the pace as Godbole did, the man could not have reached the Sub-way that too at roughly the same distance behind Godbole. ‘Was that man following me?’ Standing at the book stall, Godbole looked in all directions to see if the man was still around. No, the man could not be spotted. ‘Good riddance,’ Godbole thought. However, the professional instinct in Godbole prompted him to be on guard.

Godbole noticed that the crowd had started thinning. It was 7:50 pm and he decided to wait for 8:04 pm Andheri slow local so, he could board the train comfortably. He checked and ensured that the first class return journey ticket he had purchased was there in his pocket. He then went to the coffee shop near platform no. 4 and ordered a cold coffee. Sitting on a bench close to the coffee shop, he started enjoying the coffee. From there, Godbole once again looked for the man in the white T-shirt, but did not find him. At that time the train schedule indicator displayed that the 8:04 pm local was expected on platform no. 2. Godbole got up and started walking towards platform no. 2 so that he could occupy a seat as soon as the train arrived. Soon the local arrived on the platform and people started rushing to grab seats. Godbole managed to occupy a window seat. Just then, a middle aged well-dressed man came and sat near Godbole. There were still a few empty seats. As the train started moving, Godbole saw some people hurriedly boarding the train from the left side door. Suddenly, among the crowd, Godbole spotted the man in the white T-shirt. Godbole also noticed that just after boarding the train that man casually glanced at Godbole and stood at the entrance. He did not attempt to have a seat even though there were empty seats. He just stood at the left side door clutching a rod on the side of the gangway. Alarm bells rang in Godbole’s mind. It now became clear to him that he was being trailed, but ‘Why, what did that person want, would he hurt?’ Godbole felt sweat beads trickling down his face, ‘What exactly was happening; worst of all why was it happening on the day of his retirement?’ Godbole thought, ‘He was now a private person, now there was no Agency to stand behind him. ‘Do not panic,’ the professional in Godbole told him. He mentally started taking control of the situation.

The train was picking up speed after halting at the Marine Lines Station. Godbole decided to assess the situation quickly. As of now the only plus point he had was that he could detect that a man was trailing him. Godbole knew at that stage rather than wasting time about thinking who that person was, it was important to first concentrate on saving himself from falling into that man’s hands. He did not have an idea about how many ‘enemy’ men were present. Somehow, Godbole had a strange feeling that at least one more hostile man was present and the middle-aged man sitting beside him could be the one. Yet, that middle-aged man looked like a gentleman, black polished shoes, full sleeved shirt, and cuff-links. ‘It was intriguing. Whatever it be,’ Godbole said to himself, ‘I have to plan my escape’. He feared that the person sitting near him could harm him. He could even tactfully inject strong sedative or worse, poison him. Despite the grave situation, Godbole did not outwardly show the sign of any concern, leave alone panic. Regarding escape, the first thing Godbole considered was that the man in the white T-shirt was still standing at the left side door. Therefore, a dash to the door on the right side could be an option. However, for that he should choose a station where the right door of the train would face the platform. Besides, since there was no crowding in the passage between the two doors, the man could swiftly move from the left side door to the right side door. So Godbole decided to wait till the passage got full. By that time the train had reached Mumbai Central Station. A good number of people got in from there. Godbole planned to wait till Dadar Station from where the maximum number of people would board. The station next to Dadar was Matunga Road and there the right door would face the platform. He decided to take that opportunity to escape from the train. However, he still needed some more preparation. As the train approached Dadar, Godbole gestured an elderly person standing nearby, to take his seat.

Godbole then slowly got up and in a fairly audible voice said, I need to get down at Mahim, just two stations away. He then glanced at the gentleman sitting next to him. That man moved a little uncomfortably, took his phone out of the pocket and started typing something. Godbole thought, perhaps that person was sending a message to the man in the white T-shirt that Godbole was alighting at Mahim. His hunch was correct; Godbole could see the man in the white T-shirt struggling to check his cell phone with one hand, while still tightly holding the handle bar with the other. Godbole’s assumption was that since Mahim station platform would be on the left side, the man at the left side door would remain there only expecting Godbole to come there to alight. When the train left Dadar, Godbole swiftly moved to the gangway and waited for a while. From the corner of his eye Godbole could see that the gentleman was intensely watching him and was preparing to get up. Just as the train approached the Matunga Road station platform, Godbole lunged to the door on the right and quickly got down. Without looking back, he moved fast through the crowded platform. Even before he could reach the exit gate to take steps to the flyover, the train was departing Matunga Road station after its thirty second halt. Although it would have been easier to go to the western side of the station, he preferred to rush to the eastern side. Getting down from the flyover into a dimly lit lane, Godbole got into a taxi and asked the driver to take him near Sarvodaya Hospital in Ghatkopar. For Godbole it was in fact a random destination, which just came to his mind.

Sitting in the back seat of the taxi, Godbole tried to recap the events that unfolded since he left the RHQ that evening. He thought of it several times, but there were no answers to the questions as to who they were and why were they following him. ‘Did they know where he was residing, would it be safe to go home now, would they harass and hurt Radha?’

He instantly took his phone and called up Radha and enquired whether everything was alright. Radha laughed and said, It appears that after retirement, you are getting on the track. Earlier, while in service, you would never have bothered to call up and enquire like this. Okay dear, take it easy, I know you deeply feel for the job from which you just retired. Do not be emotional, come home early I have cooked a great meal.

Godbole mumbled, Thank you, but I might be late.

What? Radha said raising her voice.

Just to pacify Radha, Godbole said, I met some people on the way and so got a bit late. I will come home as early as possible.

Meanwhile, from his seat, Godbole kept looking back to make sure that he was not being followed. As he thought over about the trailing he underwent, it seemed rather mysterious. He had no personal adversaries and was not in conflict with anyone. All along he had lived in the shadows away from the public domain. It was a professional requirement. If at all he was known well, it was only among the professional circles – the staff members and officers of the Agency. There too he did not see any scope for conflict with anyone. However, the fact that the trailing started when he came out from the RHQ might suggest that the incident had a professional angle. Godbole became certain that those two guys who had followed him were not ordinary criminals. ‘Were they connected to terrorist outfits or spies working for an enemy country?’

He tried to figure out what those two men wanted from him. As he was to retire, he was not assigned any serious project since past several months. As per the standard procedure, all the sensitive and classified files he had in possession were surrendered to the Agency a few weeks ago. So if the stalkers were intelligence professionals they should have known that from the retiring officer the chances of they getting something concerning Agency’s current operations, were grim. Or, were they looking for something he was involved in the past?

Godbole then thought of the gentleman who sat beside him in the local train. His features, dress, well combed grey hair or even the responses did not fit in to that of a standard terrorist or for that matter a mafia operative. It was truly intriguing, but Godbole wanted answers fast enough to know what was going on. Being a retired officer, he would not get any immediate assistance from the Agency. Not having access to Agency’s database was a big disadvantage in such a situation.

‘Was it an abduction attempt?’ Godbole wondered.

The very thought of abduction disturbed him very much but thinking about the abduction possibility, Capt. Rohit Mehra’s case came to his mind. The Capt. Mehra case appeared to be a thoroughly professional job because the perpetrators did not leave behind any clues. No ransom was sought till then, nor did anyone claim the responsibility. From what he read, Capt. Mehra appeared to be a non-controversial person, not