Mainak Dhar - Sniper’s Debt

SNIPERS DEBT

A 7EVEN SERIES THRILLER

MAINAK DHAR

Copyright 2020 Mainak Dhar

All rights reserved.

As always, for Puja and Aaditya

PRAISE FOR SNIPERS EYE

Mainak Dhars writing flows, takes no breaks from being awesome, and delivers a cracker of a story!

- New Indian Express

Dhar masterfully captures the political tensions between India and PakistanA taut thriller that refreshingly departs from genre norms with its multilayered protagonist and South Asian setting.

- Kirkus Reviews

Highly recommended. Riveting and spinning. Mainak is a master story teller. Plot revolves around a former special forces officer combating an urban terror scenario. Just go for it.

- Fauji Magazine
The magazine of the Indian Armed Forces

With a good dose of suspense, mystery, thrill and lot of action and adventure, Mainak Dhar's Sniper's Eye is a book that I would highly recommend. Mainak Dhar is surely a master storyteller.

- BookGeeks

A smart and adroitly written thrillerpacks a powerful punch with its fast-paced, edgy and nuanced storyline.

- The News Now

PRAISE FOR MAINAK DHARS WORK

03:02

The plot, the tactics and the description is as realistic as it can get.

- Frontier India

When terrorism is a daily part of our lives, the book seems very relevant to our times.

- The New Indian Express

The action never seems to leave the pages even when there are no bullets flying or RPGs being fired. And it is for this reason that it is going to stay in my mind for long.

- Arvind Passey, Blogger and former Army Officer

If this book is ever turned into a movie, then Akshay Kumar would be a perfect choice. Once you end reading the book, you might just actually clap, stand up and say Vande Mataram.

- Kitaabikeeda Blog

LINE OF CONTROL

An outstanding book. Better than Tom Clancy any day.

- Air Commodore Jasjeet Singh (Retd.)

Captures very well the cut and thrust of combat. A thrilling read.

- General V.N Sharma, Former Chief of Army Staff

A scenario that seems possible yet apocalyptic.

- The Hindustan Times

By placing readers in the thick of action, similar to the circumstances that we find ourselves in today, Dhar has actually managed to find a connect that cannot be missed easily.

- HT City

A page-turner right the word 'go', this racy war-thriller is exciting, to say the least, as the reader is drawn deep into the action of war.

- Deccan Herald

The spine-chilling war scenario entertains, by all means, with skilful plot, well-drawn variety of characters, thrilling action, a high degree of intrigue, suspense and tension, grim humour.

- The Tribune

HEROGIRI

Strikes a chord somewhere, chronicling his journey from a nobody into a somebody and this theme for a dream - to dream big, rather - is what makes it endearing.

- IBN Live

The plot is engaging, and wholesome Bollywood film material. Herogiri ends on a high note, the action sequence is exciting.

- Hindustan Times

A delightful take on the superhero genre.

- LiveMint

Excellent, Herogiri also has a surprisingly refreshing take on politics and society. Arnab 'GA' Bannerjee is the unpretentious hero you want by your side. The most super man ever, this affable, retiring 25-year old is possibly the most likeable of all characters you shall meet this summer.

- Financial Express

Here's a delightfully engaging take on the superhero genreRacy roller coaster

- Mid Day

Exhilarating!

- Tehelka Magazine

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,

Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,

Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck

And march to your front like a soldier.

Front, front, front like a soldier...

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,

And the women come out to cut up what remains,

Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains

An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

Go, go, go like a soldier,

Go, go, go like a soldier,

Go, go, go like a soldier.

- Rudyard Kipling

Contents

You know your vacation to Paris wont end well, when the guy sitting behind you tries to be a hero and ends up dead.

When Zoya and I had set out on our long-planned and overdue holiday, we had thought that the most challenging part of the trip would be lasting the overnight flight with our baby, Aman. At just under six months, he was a bundle of restless energy, forever flailing his arms and legs, apparently able to get by without much sleep and with no seeming consideration for the zombie-like, sleep-deprived state he had reduced us to. Zoya took all the credit for his good looks and his dimples, conveniently blaming his restlessness on me. I never made more than perfunctory attempts to argue the point, as I believed she was probably right.

When we sat on our seats, Aman was in my lap, looking at me with his big, twinkling eyes. I smiled at him and his face widened into a grin that would melt anyones heart, even someone as battle-hardened and scarred like me. I looked at his dimples and wondered how many hearts he would break when he was older and thanked whoever decided which genes went where that he had indeed inherited his looks from his mother. His head was in the palm of my right hand, his soft skin in sharp contrast to the calloused and gnarled slabs my hands had become after years of training them for one specific purpose to kill.

While I could have never imagined it a few years ago, it felt right somehow. It felt right that these hands, which had taken so many lives, were now finally learning the one important use they had to bring up a new life in a world which would hopefully be less violent than the one I had seen.

If only my old buddies could see me now, armed with a diaper bag and an arsenal of milk bottles and baby toys for the mission that lay ahead. I smiled at distant memories of setting out on very different missions at night, armed with very different arsenal, and of old brothers-in-arms, some of whom never returned from those covert ops. How my life had changed, and how lucky was I that I had lived to be able to see such days, full of simple, innocent joys.

Zoya caught the wistful look in my eyes. Major, where are you lost?

I smiled back at the woman I loved and held her hand. Nowhere, Im right here. Right where I want to be.

Over a year had passed since the events in Mumbai, which had thrown our lives into turmoil, led to the deaths of many innocents and brought Zoya permanently into my life. Zoya and I had been dating for a few months, after facing death together, we came closer than ever before. It had all started with a shooting in a mall where Zoya and I had gone to watch a movie. That one shot had spiraled into a series of deadly events. Events that had brought me face to face with a sniper, who had vowed to kill me. A sniper, in whose memory I had named our son.

It would be easy to say that we had put those days behind us, but Zoya still wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, her breath racing, sometimes shouting in alarm, and I hold her tight, reassuring her that she is safe. While I had managed to protect Zoya from the man who had masterminded the terror attacks, I was helpless in protecting her from the demons that still haunted her sleep.

I had proposed to her the day after the attacks had been brought to an end. Aman had come into our life prematurely seven months later, seemingly in a haste to join us. He was growing up fast, perhaps an indication that at least in height, he would take after me. I had finally got a job as a security consultant with an oil company, and while we werent rich, it paid the bills and helped me get time with my family. Zoya never said anything, but both of us knew that when it came to getting a great full-time job in the civilian world, my chances were more than tainted by all the infamous media exposure I had got during the terror attacks in Mumbai. Not too many companies wanted to hire someone, who had featured on a terrorist kill list and whose previous boss had been hacked to death. To be honest, even without all that ignominy, I didnt have too many skills that could be seen as an asset in the civilian world. I knew many ways to kill a man with my bare hands; I could make improvised explosives using everyday household materials; and, I could disassemble and put together a handgun in a dark room. Unfortunately, none of those skills came in handy in jobs that required long, tedious meetings and making of slides, spreadsheets and number crunching. Sure, I could join a security agency, but after having served as a Major in the Indian Armys elite Paras, I didnt fancy being an underpaid security consultant to firms which supplied a bunch of ill-trained men in bad uniforms and faulty weapons to banks and other multinationals.