Life is full of contradictions. Whatever one wants, he ends up

getting the opposite. Dr Williams firmly believed in this philosophy.

He wanted to be a corporate lawyer like his father, who had lots

of distinguished visitors. Young Williams was impressed by the

visitors his father had. There never was a weekend when a senator

or a governor or a secretary was not the guest. If the guest was not

from the Government, then it would be a big corporate hot-shot who

probably was his father’s client. Though the parties were barred for

children, Williams watched them from the balcony. There was not

much of alcohol, and even less food. Their guests probably weren’t

hungry for food. Their appetite was for something else - maybe

money or power.

Watching his father grow from lawyer to senator to Governor,

Williams wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. If luck favours,

he may even become President. As a teenage boy, he used to get

goosebumps whenever he imagined himself in the White House,

addressing press conferences and holding meetings with other

leaders of the world.

Unfortunately, he had a flair for mathematics and his father wanted

to make him an engineer. After graduating from MIT in electronics,

Williams went on to work for Boeing and, on an impulse, joined

the air force. As his profession changed over years, his flair in

mathematics evolved into a flair in logic and strategy. Suddenly,

he found himself scheming for the intelligence wing. By forty-five,

he was one of many deputy directors of CIA. Immediately after

winning elections, the new President had requested the permission

of senior Williams to allow his son to lead CIA. Williams recognised

that his chance to enter the political establishment would be closed

permanently. In his rage, he willed himself to become the best CIA

director and started using his powers to the maximum. He might

have ruffled feathers of few friendly nations in the name of national

interest, but he never gave the President a chance to complain.

He was sitting in the wooden chair in front of the long mahogany

study table that had only a water bottle and one telephone on it.

He had never seen any table so bare. He was sitting there staring

at the Egyptian mural hung on the wall that was the only piece

of decoration in the entire room. He drank two coffees and was

now consuming the third one. He came at about six in the evening

and was told to wait till the host chose to grant audience. He

heard of the weird behaviour of his host, but this was more than

ridiculous. He never waited for so long, not even for the President.

His cell phone was not working. On enquiry he was told that a

jammer installed by the very organisation he was heading was

functioning—well. His irritation was exponentially compounding

with every minute.

He asked the butler who served the coffee about the host and got

a simple answer that he was sleeping. Williams tried to bully the

butler and ordered him to wake up his master. The butler, dressed

like a corporate executive, laughed. He replied, “It is not possible,

Sir. If you want I can serve you another coffee and sandwiches, if

you prefer. You may wait in the lounge where there is a television

and some newspapers.”

His face turned red at the insult. Reining in his fury, he started to

breathe in deep to remain normal. He couldn’t afford to take on

the old man. It sounded funny. The entire world thinks that the

President of the United States was the most powerful person on

the earth. The President considers him, Williams, Director of CIA,

as the best executing authority at his disposal. And both he and the

President consider that the old man with the fragile body possesses

superior ways and means at his disposal. He smiled at the situation

and at himself. Loosening his tie, he prepared for a long wait.

At quarter to nine, he was called to the dining hall. Feeling sleepy

with boredom, he thought even waiting could be used as an

effective instrument for torture. A small wooden table was set with

two chairs near the window. One chair was already occupied by his

host. Fuchs, with two plates of shrimp before him, looked up at his

approaching guest, and welcomed him with a warm smile.

“What brought you here, son?” picking fried shrimps, Fuchs asked.

“It’s Borg, Sir. He schemed something in Asia again. The manoeuvre

is not with ripples, except for one lieutenant of Pakistan suddenly

becoming interested in nuclear physics and one banished scientist

touring China. As a fact, we control the warheads in Pak. But if

Qadar is reaching out to his old friends in China ... it is our concern

to find out the reason. How he is out from isolation and why he is

in China? Are seeds for a greater evil being sown? What is the plan?

There are many questions for which answers are sought. President

thought it was time we disturbed you. And I am here.”

The long reply of Williams was brushed aside. Waving his hand

in a dismissive gesture, Fuchs said, “You need not worry. I repeat.

Absolutely, there is no need to be anxious.”

Williams cleared his throat, “Forgive me. Even if I try, I can’t be

without apprehension. But, there were reasons for me and for you

to have contradicting opinions. I request you to clarify yours.” He

was all ears.

Fuchs stared at him as if he was wondering how such a dumb guy

could attain a position so critical for the security of not only America,

but to the world, at large. As if giving a lecture to an imaginary

audience, he said, “The problem with dealing with complex issues,

day in and day out, my friend, is we see even simple things from

a complex perspective. You see shadows in the dark, assuming

there is light. Now, in this case, the schemer was Borg. And he,

like any other Jew, is a businessman. Being American, he never

prefers instability in his own land lest his interests are affected.

This is the primary reason for not being apprehensive. Now,

coming to the Pakistani soldier and scientist, Borg is planning to

create an opportunity for business, possibly on a large scale. Any

intelligent businessman has to think of creating opportunities, not

only utilising existing ones.”

Seeing the guest still not convinced, he asked, “Are you aware that

there really are no nukes in Pakistan?”

Williams nodded. “Yeah! That’s known to me. We safeguard

dummy warheads while their political authorities believe they

are real ones. But, Qadar scouting in China for nukes is the only

perturbation. If he gets hold of one, then what?”

“Oh! Willy! Not everybody can handle the nuclear bomb. China

will never give them anything that can jeopardise the vicinity.

For China, Pakistan may be a strategic partner, but the growing

business with India favours Indians. If India is destabilised, it will

affect a lot of income.”

Williams considered the explanation. He was thinking of all possible

permutations and combinations. There were some circles and some

squares. He needed to reconstruct the full picture by identifying

these. Relaxing his face a little, he asked for a final confirmation:

“So, you suggest I tell the President not to worry.”

Fuchs smiled. “Yes. For now you may tell him so.”

“What do you mean by ‘for now’?”

“You need to worry only if Qadar visits North Korea and they agree

to provide something that can really explode.”

“What are the chances of Qadar going to Korea?”

“Plenty,” he smiled. “In fact, China is the first and an essential

stopover. Qadar cannot go around Chinese establishment. They

laid the foundation to his being a scientist. However, now times

have changed. And Qadar is not representing the Government of

Pakistan. In his personal capacity, he may seek some favours. But,

there will not be results. At most, if he could persuade, he may be

guided to North Korea, but the Chinese will ensure that nothing

will explode. Nevertheless, there is a minute chance of him laying

hands on a bomb. Let’s see what happens.”

“Now you are telling me two different things at the same time.

How can I tell the President not to lose sleep when you are sure

that Qadar’s next stop will be North Korea?”

“There is time for everything. By being anxious you don’t achieve

anything. Keep watch. You may alert your network in Middle

East and South Asia. You may alert even India, but that doesn’t

serve any purpose.”

“Surveillance is not an issue. Alarming India was a point on

which there were opposite opinions. This is a bit confusing

as information leaks easily in India, as with all democracies.

Opposition may try to coerce the Government to take pre-emptive

action on Pakistan.”

“That was, is and will remain confusing. There are no defined

responses from India, no matter which government rules. If you

inform them, they’ll start talking to Pakistan and warn them of

consequences. The problem is that the establishment in Pakistan

genuinely doesn’t know the sinister designs of Borg and his

stooges. They treat these warnings as unnecessary provocation

from the Indian side. Even if we confirm, they simply cannot control

anything and deny. They may try to investigate internally, but

nothing will come out of it. When their army was fighting others,

their Prime Minister didn’t know of that. With time, only people

changed but not systems. In total, there will be lots of hot news for

panel discussions on television.”

Fuchs paused to catch his breath. He continued, “Well, India cannot

point fingers at us, in case something happens. No harm in sharing

intelligence. You may inform them vaguely. Tell them no concrete

information is available. And, when Qadar visits Korea, we’ll

discuss further.” He dismissed his visitor.

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