Page 41 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

Sitting on a broken folding chair in a stone structure shaped like a minaret, Agam stared at the expansive grounds in front

of the Taj Mahal, seeing them still clear. He looked at his watch and knew the time for the attack was coming. Soon the crowds

would return and he would have to launch the drone.

The minaret was basically a stone gazebo on top of a large palace at the south end of the fort, and it functioned more as

decoration, serving little defensive purposes. Having a small open hole for an entrance, a low wall, and narrow pillars holding

up the dome of the top, it now protected Agam from being seen by anyone down below.

The roof of the palace, like many sections of the fort, was off-limits to tourists, but there wasn’t any way he could launch the drone from a lower level. He’d initially planned on launching the drone from either the lower walls or the original tower where he’d seen the Taj, but they were both constantly clogged with tourists. He’d walked around and seen the stone minaret on the roof of the palace, thinking about how he could get up there. He entered the palace, pretending to take note of the various markers, but really looking for stairs. He found some on the eastern side, deep in a dark narrow hallway that led to various royal chambers. It had a simple rope blocking access, a sign outside stating “No Entry,” but he could see light coming in from above.

He waited until the hallway was clear and then crossed over, running up the stairs and breaking out onto the roof. The first

thing he saw was the Army compound across the courtyard at the back of the fort, and he immediately crouched down, scuttling

to the tower.

Inside, he found a broken metal folding chair surrounded by cigarette butts, a sign that workers likely came up routinely.

Not ideal, but he didn’t have long enough to figure out their schedule, and decided to risk it. He took a seat, unzipped his

backpack, removed the drone, and set it on its canister. He clipped his phone into the controller and sat down, staring out

at the empty grounds of the Taj Mahal.

The waiting was eating at him, as was the thought of harming someone he’d never even met. He remembered Kamal’s words and

endeavored to remain strong. If someone was visiting the Taj Mahal, they were providing money for the state that oppressed

them, and in so doing had become the enemy. It rang hollow, but he focused on the words. Wanting to believe.

He heard a noise and saw the groups of tourists on the wall pointing out over the river. He looked that way and saw a helicopter

approaching, the rotors growing louder. It circled the fort, coming right over his head low enough for him to feel the wind

and see the pilots’ helmets, then flew to the Taj Mahal, hovering over the expansive grounds, then landing in a grassy area

south of the monument.

Kamal stood up, watching a group of people enter the helicopter.

Thakkar .

The rotors spun back up and the helicopter lifted off, retracing its flight path over the Agra Fort, once again flying so

low that Agam could feel the wash and see the people inside.

It disappeared, and the air grew quiet. Agam sat back down, know ing his time had come. He repeated in his mind that everyone who had paid for entry into the Taj Mahal had enriched the government that oppressed people like him. A mantra stated over and over: They pay the government, and the government kills the Sikh. They pay the government, and the government kills the Sikh.

He kept his eyes on the expansive Taj Mahal courtyard, waiting on the ordinary tourists to begin entering the grounds. He

saw a trickle of individuals, presumably the ubiquitous guides allowed to pester anyone who visited without one, then clusters

of four or five tourists. He waited until at least fifty were on the grounds, most gathered in the middle of the courtyard

around a pool of water, the single best spot for photographs with the Taj Mahal in the background. That group would only grow,

as nobody was leaving the Taj without a picture.

Resigned, he glanced back at the Indian Army compound, then exited the temple, moving to the edge of the roof. He set the

drone on the ground and conducted the rotor test again.

When the lights went from flashing to solid, he hit the lift button, watching the drone move to eye level. He checked the

camera and saw that it worked flawlessly. He left it in the air for a moment, not wanting to launch it on its deadly mission.