SALIM MUST DIE Read Online Free Page A

motion. When the man rose he was settling the already loaded rocket launcher on his shoulder. In one rapid motion he aimed at the bus. He was steadying the weapon to fire when the escort spotted him. The launcher came alive with an ear-shattering, thunderous roar; its flaming back-blast charred the canopy of the Gypsy and then reached out to the car parked just behind him, shattering its windscreen with an explosive snort before reducing it to a smouldering heap.
    Despite the suddenness of the attack, the escort personnel reacted creditably fast. Three of the escort cops fired at the same time at the man with the rocket launcher. Unfortunately, the rocket launcher was a much bigger weapon and in a gunfight it's generally the guy with the bigger weapon who wins.
    The terrorist wielding the rocket launcher took two of the umpteen bullets fired at him smack in his face and chest. But only a second or so after the rocket had left the launcher.
    Whipping out of the tubular barrel, the 84-millimetre HEAT round hurtled through the air towards its target. It slashed past the stunned escort, went unhesitatingly through the front of the bus, then through the partition separating the driver's cabin from the passenger area and, striking the seat occupied by one of the three ministers in the doomed delegation, it exploded with an ear-shattering roar. Instantaneously, it killed most of the thirteen people seated in the front of the bus.
    The Peace Bus did not meet a very peaceful end. The peace process it was meant to initiate between the perennially hostile neighbours did not either, especially when it came to light that all five of the perpetrators had been permanent residents of Faisalabad, Pakistan.

Postmortem
    THERE WAS A STERN EXPRESSION ON THE INDIAN PRIME Minister Dr Singh's normally placid face as he looked at the men sitting before him. Also markedly absent was the sense of calm confidence that one normally associated with him. A renowned scholar and a statesman of stature, the usually even-keeled and soft-spoken Dr Singh was the best man to occupy this critical chair in the turbulent times that India faced.
    ‘How is it that we never seem to have enough hard intelligence?’ Dr Singh confronted the Home Minister who, despite being a hardened politician with decades of experience, squirmed uncomfortably.
    ‘That's not normally the case,’ he replied sheepishly, almost under his breath. ‘We detected the attempt well in time….’
    ‘No! We detected only the red herring that they wanted us to,’ the PM cut in sharply, ‘and that too was just sheer coincidence.’ Pause. ‘We all know the truth.’ Another pause. ‘We all also know that our intelligence set-up is just too fragmented to ever work effectively which is why I am unable to understand the childish attitude the states are showing when it comes to the proposal to set up a National Intelligence Command.’ The PM was so unusually worked up that he actually stopped to calm himself. ‘I am sorry, gentlemen, but this attack is definitely the last straw. I am not going to jeopardize any more lives just because the states are feeling insecure about central interference or because our intelligence agencies are so busy protecting their own little turfs that they don't have time to do their job effectively.’
    ‘I am completely with you. We have already faced eight major attacks in the past one year and each time we were caught with our pants down,’ the normally recalcitrant Defence Minister butted in. ‘I suggest we go ahead with the NIC right away. We have spent more than enough time and effort going over this issue.’
    ‘That's exactly what I am going to do. We're going to table this right away.’
    ‘What would be the NIC's mandate?’
    ‘As the primary federal organization it will ensure seamless integration of intelligence from all other agencies and sources, with a special focus on terrorism. This will ensure that terror activities meet with a strong,