The bestselling author of the Eleventh Hour, S. Hussan Zaidi, is back with another fast-paced thriller. The Endgame sees the return of the iconic team led by Vikrant Singh and Shahwaz Ali Mirza, who find themselves in an even more precarious dilemma than three years ago… can they come together once more to protect the people of the country? Read the extract to find out more.
‘Romeo One, coming in,’ Vikrant’s earpiece crackled. He whipped around to see Mirza rush into the fray.
Before Vikrant could say anything, Mirza grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him from the middle of the road to the far end. Both men crouched behind an ice-cream cart while stray bullets hit the containers on it.
‘Put the bloody gun away!’ Mirza snapped. Vikrant complied immediately. RAW was supposed to stay in the shadows. Any stray cell-phone camera aimed at the gunfight could capture them and expose them to the world as intelligence agents. Drawing his gun had been pure instinct and Vikrant regretted it already.
The sudden gunfire had caused complete pandemonium and vehicles which had been travelling in the opposite lane went completely crazy.
Pure survival instinct drove the motorists to take completely reckless U-turns to flee from commotion and, as a result, an entire cluster of vehicles swung right into the convoy’s path, blocking it completely. To make matters worse, motorists who found themselves caught in the snarl abandoned their vehicles and ran away on foot, creating a permanent hurdle.
‘There could be civilians trapped in those vehicles, lad,’ Mirza said as guns blazed all around them.
Vikrant nodded and brought his wrist-mic up. ‘Romeo Team, check the vehicles. We’re on civilian rescue. And keep your heads down and guns inside.’
Vikrant had barely issued the command when a barrage of bullets took out a large chunk of the ice-cream cart.
As they ran to take cover behind a parked car, Vikrant saw, for the first time, that Mirza was dressed like a Catholic priest.
‘Were you … were you inside Carmel Church??’
‘Not the time, boy,’ Mirza said as a BSF officer came running to their position with two assault rifle rounds snapping at his heels.
‘Who’s Mirza?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I was asked to meet a Mirza here…’
‘That’s me,’ Mirza cut him off. ‘Tell me honestly, how much can those vehicles withstand?’
The officer took a second before speaking.
‘Honestly, there’s a limit. But it will still take entire clips of ammo, and I’m not sure they have that much time. Already, a police commando team is circling around to enter the building compound from the other end. And NSG is on the way.’
‘Romeo Five is down!’ a screamed report came in through Vikrant’s and Mirza’s earpieces.
‘FUCK!’ Vikrant said.
‘Keep your head, boy. This is war,’ Mirza snapped.
A stray shower of bullets zinged past the three men and they shifted their position, hiding behind a cluster of three cars that had been abandoned in the middle of the road.
*
Inside his vehicle, Kumar gave a faint smile.
‘Thank you,’ he typed and hit the ‘send’ button. Then he turned to one of his guards.
‘I need this destroyed,’ he told the man.
Without asking any questions, the officer crouching in the rear part of the SUV opened up the cell phone and removed its SIM as well as the memory card. Fishing a cigarette lighter out of his pocket, he set both on fire. Then he placed the handset on the SUV’s floor and drove the butt of his gun into it.
*
‘What’s their play?’ Vikrant shouted as the faint sound of helicopter blades permeated the air. The NSG was coming. ‘What’s their endgame?’
At that instant, someone yelled, ‘BOMB!’
Vikrant, Mirza and the BSF officer all sprang from their cover, only to be thrown several metres backward by the sheer force of the blast. The BSF officer hit his head on a makeshift shack’s wall and passed out.
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