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the more convinced he was that he didn’t wish to delve any further into her background. Whatever he had seen and heard so far was enough for him.
    For Iqbal too had suffered at the hands of the terrorists. Recruited by a maulavi in Delhi and sent for training to the Lashkar-e-Toiba camp in Pakistan, he had returned to India to find that his mother and sister had been killed by bombs that had been planted by the same group. 2
    T he sun had begun to recede into the shadows of another night when they finally reached the turning for the border crossing that would take them back to India.
    Twenty-five minutes later, Captain Vikram Tiwathia brought the red and white station wagon to a halt near the solitary hut on the edge of the field where they had linked up with Tanaz the previous day. Their guide Rahmat was waiting for them.
    ‘Give us a few minutes to rig up a stretcher for Iqbal,’ the young Indian Army captain told Tanaz as he leapt out of the vehicle.
    Tiwathia was in his late twenties but had probably seen more action in his tenure with the Special Forces than most regular army officers see in a lifetime. He had been part of both Force 22 operations into Pakistan, the first in retaliation against the Sarojini Nagar terror bombings and the second one to eliminate Salim. He was a die-hard optimist who never failed to see the brighter side of any situation. However, at this moment his dust-streaked face was lined with worry.
    ‘Do you think it’s a good idea for you to attempt the border crossing with Iqbal in this state?’ Tanaz asked, stepping out of the vehicle. Anxiety marred the radiance of her finely chiselled features. ‘What if his condition worsens along the way? He’ll slow you two down, and may even inadvertently give you away.’
    ‘We can’t leave a buddy behind, Tanaz!’ Captain Mohammed Sami, who was seated next to Tiwathia, exclaimed as he climbed out of the vehicle. Sami was the seniormost officer and second-in-command of Force 22. A tall, heavily built man with surprising grace and agility, Sami had also been on both Force 22 missions into Pakistan. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get Iqbal across. In any case, how will he manage alone?’
    ‘He’s not alone,’ she answered softly. ‘Not unless he wants to be.’
    For a long moment there was only the crackling sound of the hot engine as it slowly cooled. Iqbal lay huddled on the rear seat of the station wagon, listening to the conversation. Sami and Tiwathia saw him exchange a glance with Tanaz. She looked away immediately, her face devoid of expression.
    ‘No, I am not alone.’ Iqbal finally broke the silence. ‘I need to get better and continue the fight. There will be many more Salims and Cheemas to take the place of the ones we have killed.’
    ‘True, but there will also be many more Iqbals,’ Sami pointed out. ‘This is going to be a long war, long and bloody... and it’s not just your problem.’
    ‘It’s everybody’s problem. All of us have to act, and I, having been through the mill, am relatively better positioned to contribute to the fight. In any case, I have much to atone for...’ He looked up abruptly. His breath was running short and he was clearly in pain, but there was a firm resolve in his gaze. ‘I will stay here.’
    Tanaz turned to the commandos and smiled. See! she seemed to be saying. I told you so.
    ‘He needs a doctor,’ Tiwathia pointed out. ‘And he needs one fast.’
    ‘I can get him to one much faster than you can,’ Tanaz countered immediately.
    ‘Here? Is that sensible?’
    ‘Someone who won’t ask any questions… he is one of us.’
    ‘Where do you plan to go?’ Tiwathia asked.
    ‘Eventually?’ She raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘To the desert, of course.’ Tanaz waved westwards. ‘I was born and brought up in the desert. I know it well. The sands will hide us.’
    The two commandos exchanged a rapid glance. Sami nodded briefly. ‘Okay. Take care then. And Tanaz, I suggest you move fast. You