'What a spectacle! This is awesome! Where have you been for the last two overs?'
Arnab cut him off, and his tone immediately made Aggarwal stop and listen.
'Please listen to me. I am not joking here. There are terrorists inside the stadium. I am at the back gate, and if you don't believe me, come and see for yourself.'
When Aggarwal hung up without saying anything else, Arnab wondered if he was going to ignore his plea. After a couple of minutes, he wondered if he should call again, but then he saw the businessman sprinting towards him, accompanied by two of his managers. Aggarwal looked at the scene of carnage around him, and then looked straight at Arnab.
'I can clear the VIPs and alert the cops, but we need to be careful. If we spark panic, a stampede with a hundred thousand people inside could kill more people than any terrorist attack.'
Arnab noticed that the two men with Aggarwal were standing ashen-faced, too shocked to do anything, but Aggarwal had instantly taken charge of the situation.
'You go and see if you can find the terrorists, I'll get the PM and the other VIPs out.'
Arnab was about to protest that clearing a few VIPs was hardly enough when thousands of other lives were at stake, but he decided that rather than argue, he needed to go after the six terrorists still inside the stadium. As soon he entered the stadium, he realized just how difficult it was going to be. The area that he would need to cover was huge, and with the various tunnels and passageways criss-crossing the stadium, locating six men was as hard as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. He called Balwant's number, hoping that now the Minister would listen to him, and assist with the considerable police force in the stadium. Balwant's voice was dripping anger when he answered the phone.
'So my superhero, I see you're enjoying your day in the spotlight.'
Arnab hurriedly told him what had happened, but Balwant laughed it off, saying he had no time for games. However when Arnab asked him to check with Aggarwal, the Minister seemed hesitant. When Arnab called him after a couple of minutes, Balwant's tone had changed, the belligerence and sarcasm replaced by an emotion Arnab had never heard in his voice before-fear.
'I believe you. We're working on evacuating the VIPs now and will send some police your way.'
Balwant seemed to be in a hurry, probably waiting to lead the list of the VIPs being evacuated, so Arnab asked him to hang on for a few minutes.
'Sir, these are dangerous terrorists, why don't you send the NSG commandos. I saw several of them near the VIP box.'
Balwant cleared his throat before answering.
'There are only a handful of them and the NSG commandos here are tasked with VIP protection, so they will stay with us. With the PM here, I cannot risk leaving him unprotected. We are sending a heavy police force that will be more than enough and in the meanwhile are asking for reinforcements.'
With those words, Balwant hung up, leaving Arnab fuming. Yes, it was important to get the Prime Minister out of harm's way, but he had hoped that the life of a hundred thousand ordinary people would have counted for something. Then he chided himself for expecting anything more from someone like Balwant. He climbed one of the fire ladders and he had a clear view of the VIP box. He could see movement there, and as he looked more closely, he could see that the PM, Balwant, a few other political invitees and Aggarwal had left. He didn't know how they had managed it, but he guessed that those remaining in the box had no idea of what was going on, as they were still watching the match. There were still several dozen people in the box, Mishti and Jayantada included, and it seemed that unless you were a rich tycoon like Aggarwal or a member of the political establishment, your life counted for very little indeed.
Just then, he heard someone clearing his throat behind him and he turned to see Upadhyay. He was leading a group of a dozen policemen, and Arnab noticed to his dismay that only half were armed with guns, the others carrying riot batons and shields which may have been useful for crowd control but would be useless against armed terrorists.
'So we meet again', said Upadhyay with a hard glint in his eyes. Arnab had no time for settling old scores, and jumped down to face Upadhyay.
'This is all you have? You plan to find and kill six heavily armed terrorists with just these men?'
'I would have thought you would have learned by now to keep your nose out of police business. Let us do our job.'
As Upadhyay started instructing his men to fan out, Arnab heard a series of loud pops from the right. He thought they were mere firecrackers, a part of the celebrations planned during the match, but Upadhyay's reaction told him otherwise. The policeman had jumped at the noise, and Arnab heard him mutter under his breath.
'AK-47s.'
Before Upadhyay and the other policemen could react, Arnab ran towards the direction where the gunshots had come from as fast as he could. He burned away from his mind any thoughts of what Balwant or Aggarwal should have done or not, and whether Upadhyay and his men were up to the task. He was focused on only one thing.
He had to stop the terrorists no matter what it took.
***
Upadhyay and his men took off after Arnab, but with his speed and knowledge of where the maintenance tunnels were, Arnab arrived at the scene well before the policemen were even a quarter of the way there. When he reached the scene of the firefight in the basement parking lot, Arnab was taken aback by what he saw. Two private security guards, presumably on Aggarwal's employ, were trying to hold off three terrorists. The guards had small- calibre handguns, while at least two of the terrorists seemed to have AK-47s. It was a lopsided contest, but Arnab's heart went out to the brave guards who were trying to make a stand. They were crouched behind a car that seemed to be pockmarked with bullet holes, and one of the guards was bleeding from his right foot. The terrorists were behind another car across the parking lot, and as Arnab watched, one of the three terrorists was trying to escape the scene, slowly moving from behind one car to another. Two things came to Arnab's mind-the first was a sense of relief. Rather than scattering as six individuals, it seemed the terrorists were working in groups of three, with two gunmen, presumably the role Arif had been recruited for, giving cover to one man seemingly carrying no weapons but wearing a large backpack. The second realization was the fact that while the gunmen posed an immediate threat and had to be neutralized, the main attack was to be carried out by the men with the backpacks, and Arnab could not let them get away.
The terrorists had seen him now, and one of them fired a burst at him, sending Arnab scampering for cover behind a car. As bullets riddled the car, Arnab looked around frantically for something he could do. The parking lot was bathed in fluorescent light from overhead tube lights and he shouted to one of the guards.
'How does one turn off the lights?'
The man motioned to a junction box a few feet behind him, and as Arnab frantically motioned to him to kill the lights, the guard crawled to the junction box and switched off the lights. As darkness fell over the parking lot, the terrorists stopped firing, disoriented and unable to see their targets. Arnab took off his glasses and then stood up, surveying his targets. The two gunmen were still crouched behind the car, while the third man was now even closer to the exit.
He saw a scooter parked a few feet away and ran to it. One of the terrorists heard the noise and fired a burst, but in the darkness his aim was off and the bullets missed Arnab by several feet. Arnab picked the scooter up with both hands and whirled it over his head before flinging it at the terrorists with all his strength. His aim was far from perfect and instead of hitting the car as he had intended it to, the scooter hit the wall behind the gunmen, at a height of at least ten feet. As Arnab dove for cover behind the car, he cursed himself for missing, but he had done quite enough, with his superhuman strength more than making up for his poor aim. The scooter had hit the wall at a speed equivalent to at least a hundred kilometres per hour and had exploded on impact, showering the two terrorists below with shards and pieces of metal that proved no less deadly than if Arnab had fired a rocket at them. The two terrorists were flung aside by the force of the impact and both men lay still, bleeding from a dozen wounds. When Arnab heard the security guards roar in triumph, he looked up to see his handiwork. Arnab rushed after the third terrorist, who after having seen his friends' fate, had given up all attempts at stealth and was running flat out towards a door that led to the playing field.
The man never really stood a chance. In a split-second, Arnab was in front of him, blocking his way. In the darkness, the terrorist nearly bumped into them, and then stepped back, looking at his hooded adversary. The
