Free Fenix by Vivek Ahuja

reflecting off the concrete tarmac. Sunlight glistened off the shiny new ice patches and a chillingly cold wind swept through the cabin. The loadmaster jumped off the ramp on to the tarmac and Ansari prepared to do the same. He didn’t have to worry about personal belongings; he didn’t have any. His only concern was the winter jacket of his and his beret. He was wearing a regular army beret today instead of his red one that indicated his special-forces lineage. That would only draw unnecessary attention. Especially when the whole of Kashmir was on edge.
                  He returned the salute from the warrant-officer at the base of the ramp and walked off, looking around the airbase. Leh was abuzz with military activity. He cocked his head upwards to see a bright blue morning sky reverberating with the thunder of Mig-29 fighters on air-defense duties. To his side, a pair of massive air-force C-17 transport aircraft were parked, disgorging tons of cargo, vehicles and soldiers…
                  Not hard to guess our intentions, is it? Ansari thought as he put on his beret, shielding his thinning white hair from the bitter cold winds. He realized that amongst all this activity lay anonymity for himself. With the massive military mobilization in Kashmir, top brass were moving back and forth. If there was anybody in the pay of the Pakistanis watching the airfield for the arrivals and departures, he or she would have plenty to report. Amongst all that, a lowly colonel could blend in without drawing too much attention.
                  “Our enemies never learn,” a voice said behind Ansari.
                  “And command doesn’t know any better!” Ansari replied almost on reflex and then smiled as he turned around. “Gephel! You old dog!”
                  The bearish Gephel caught Ansari in a hug that left the latter gasping. Ansari looked his friend over, dressed as he was in combat fatigues similarly lacking in special-forces insignia. He didn’t say anything on that and didn’t have to.
                  “What brings you to these neck of the woods…uh, rocks?” Gephel said, still smiling. “Don’t see too many of you command folks out in the mud with the boys!”
                  “Yeah, yeah,” Ansari observed and then fished into his bulky winter coat pockets. He fished out a small box of sweets that he knew Gephel liked and tossed the box over to him. Gephel took it with a smile and his eyes lit up.
                  “I thought you would be missing these out here!” Ansari noted as Gephel wasted no time unpacking the small box. “You don’t know,” he said without looking away from his efforts to snap open the box, “how many air-force pilots I have bribed to try and get them to bring these goodies for me to this god-forsaken place!” Ansari smiled and then looked around.
                  “Listen Gephel, we need to talk. Any place less open we can go to?”
                  “Absolutely!” Gephel said, at once becoming serious. He waved to the small Gypsy utility vehicle parked on the tarmac next to the AN-32 and began walking to it. Both men jumped on and Gephel accelerated the vehicle off the tarmac and towards the army base near the airfield.
                  “So what’s going on?” Gephel said while driving past a convoy of trucks. “I mean besides the obvious, of course!”
                  “What have you heard?” Ansari asked above the noise of the vehicle engine. He cocked his eyes to the passing convoys: “About all this?”
                  “Only what the brass deems itself to tell us.” Gephel noted. “And the regular swathe of rumors over drinks in the mess, of course!”
                  “Of course!”
                  “But mainly that we are going to be handing major pain-in-a-can to the Pakis for what