Reborn in 1914: I Will Build India into a Superpower

Mullick nodded, closing the Burma dossier and sliding it into his dispatch case. He then picked up the second red-bordered folder, his expression darkening slightly.

”Now, Prime Minister, to the second matter,” Mullick said, his voice lowering. ”A matter occurring directly within our sovereign territory.”

”Speak,” Ram commanded.

”For the past three months, the Bureau has been conducting a covert counter-intelligence operation codenamed Operation Sanctuary,” Mullick reported. ”We directed our assets to monitor foreign funding channels, diplomatic pouches, and intelligence movements passing through foreign missionary institutions, church organisations, and affiliated medical trusts across Southern India, specifically within Travancore: Cochin, the Madras Presidency, and the borderlands of Assam.”

Nehru looked up, a subtle expression of distaste crossing his face. ”Missionary organisations? Mullick-ji, surely, we are not subjecting religious and humanitarian bodies to political persecution? The Christian communities of the South have been part of our national fabric for two thousand years.”

”We are not monitoring faith, Pandit-ji,” Mullick replied respectfully but firmly. ”We are monitoring espionage.”

Mullick opened the folder, revealing a dense array of surveillance photographs, intercepted radio cyphers, and bank transfer records.

”Our investigation has conclusively identified a massive, highly structured British intelligence presence operating under the cover of the South Indian Church networks, the Anglican diocesan trusts, and several evangelical missions,” Mullick announced. ”To date, we have positively identified at least thirty active, high-ranking MI5 and MI6 operatives holding key administrative posts within these institutions.”

Patel’s hand tightened over his walking stick until his knuckles turned white. His dark eyes blazed with sudden, fierce coldness. ”Thirty operatives? Inside our southern states?”

”Yes, Sardar-ji,” Mullick said, handing a sub-dossier directly to Patel. ”They are not mere informers; they are trained intelligence officers. Disguised as archdeacons, mission school inspectors, medical superintendents, and relief coordinators, these men have constructed an extensive subversion network. Their objectives are threefold: first, to map our internal industrial and military movements in the South; second, to covertly encourage separatist sentiments among regional and religious minorities to keep the Union fragile; and third, to establish an indestructible, long-term intelligence beachhead for His Majesty’s Government before the British civilian administration completely departs.”

Nehru took one of the surveillance files from the desk, his eyes scanning the photographic evidence and intercepted telegrams. As he read, his initial scepticism vanished, replaced by profound, dark disillusionment.

”Good God,” Nehru breathed softly, his voice trembling with quiet anger. ”Rev. Arthur Henderson... Vice-Principal of a mission college in Trichinopoly... verified as a Major in MI6 Special Operations. Canon Donald Mercer... head of a charitable trust in Kottayam... managing covert sterling accounts routed through Zurich. To turn houses of God and centres of education into front offices for imperial espionage... it is an utterly grotesque desecration. It is an insult to the very concept of religion!”

”It is standard imperial tradecraft, Jawaharlal,” Patel said, his tone icy and cutting. ”When the British hand over the front door keys, they always leave five servants behind with skeleton keys to the back rooms. They think that because we are a new government, we are blind, deaf, and foolish.”

”What is the present posture of these missionary groups, Mullick?” Ram asked, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk.

”Deep, systemic anxiety, Prime Minister,” Mullick replied. ”Over the past fortnight, as our Bureau officers quietly closed off their unregistered bank accounts, revoked diplomatic immunity for certain ’charitable’ transports, and placed their key communications under twenty-four-hour surveillance, the leadership of these mission networks realised that their perimeter had been completely breached.”

Mullick produced a stack of intercepted diplomatic communications. ”In a state of near panic, the heads of these missions have been holding secret, late-night consultations. They have fired off a stream of frantic, encrypted pleas to both London and Washington. They are begging Whitehall to intervene diplomatically, claiming that the new Indian state is preparing a total suppression of Christian institutions. And they have appealed to Washington, pleading with the Truman administration to use American economic leverage to protect Western religious interests in South Asia.”

Ram tilted his head slightly. ”And how has Washington responded to their frantic pleas?”

Mullick allowed himself a brief, dry smile. ”Washington, Prime Minister, is ignoring them entirely.” 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Nehru looked up from the dossier, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. ”Ignoring them? President Truman and his Secretary of State are usually hypersensitive to appeals from Western religious institutions.”

”Under normal circumstances, perhaps, Pandit-ji,” Ram answered for Mullick, his voice calm and filled with absolute strategic clarity. ”But not today.”

Ram gestured toward the signed American liquidity package sitting on his desk. ”Three days ago, we signed a five-hundred-million-dollar financial and industrial credit agreement with the United States Department of the Treasury. We agreed to supply American industry with essential raw materials, we opened our commercial markets on terms favourable to American capital, and we maintained our stance of strict geopolitical neutrality in their developing Cold War against Moscow.”

Ram stood up from his chair, walking slowly toward the rain-slicked window. ”Harry Truman is a transactional politician. To the White House, India is an anchor of stability, market power, and industrial potential in Asia. Do you truly believe Truman gives a single damn about thirty panicked British MI6 spies hiding behind clerical collars in Travancore?”

”Not in the slightest,” Patel agreed, letting out a sharp grunt of satisfaction. ”The Americans view the British Empire as a decaying, bankrupt entity whose time has passed. Wall Street and the State Department want direct, unhindered access to Indian markets and Asian trade. They will not burn their newly forged five-hundred-million-dollar economic relationship with New Delhi merely to bail out rogue British intelligence officers who were stupid enough to get caught by Mullick’s men.”

”Indeed,” Mullick confirmed. ”The US State Department sent a curt, classified response to the mission boards in Madras yesterday, advising them to ’comply strictly with local civil laws’ and stating flatly that the United States government would not intervene in sovereign Indian administrative or security matters.”

Just as Mullick made to collect his papers and lock his briefcase, Ram held up a single hand, stopping him.

”Before you depart, Mullick-ji,” Ram said, his eyes narrowing slightly in intellectual curiosity, ”there is a technical detail I wish to understand. This entire southern intelligence architecture, thirty entrenched officers, hidden behind centuries-old ecclesiastical foundations, backed by foreign sterling accounts, was formidable. How, precisely, did this entire web come to light? Where was the thread pulled that unravelled it all?”

Mullick leaned back slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of pride appearing in his cold eyes.

”It began with a single, deeply anomalous intercepted communication, Prime Minister,” Mullick explained. ”Not from a cathedral in Madras or an archbishop’s palace in Travancore, but from a small, isolated village parish church in the deep rural hinterlands of the Malabar coast.”

Nehru leaned in, intrigued. ”A village parish?”

”Yes, Pandit-ji,” Mullick continued. ”Immediately following our announcement that India and Pakistan had agreed upon a complete, total population transfer, clarifying the finality of national borders and religious political alignment, a wave of deep administrative panic ripples through the higher hierarchy of the central southern church authorities. They realised that the old political order was vanishing permanently. In their anxiety, the leadership of the main metropolitan cathedral sent an urgent, highly unusual encrypted message downward, to the reverend of this tiny, obscure village church.”

Patel stroked his chin, his sharp mind immediately detecting the flaw. ”Why would a high cathedral authority be asking directions from a rural village priest?”

”Precisely, Sardar-ji,” Mullick said, nodding. ”That was the glaring irregularity. Why would a metropolitan bishop’s office seek operational guidance and administrative reassurance from an obscure village preacher? Our signals intelligence unit flagged the traffic. We placed the village church under direct telegraphic and physical surveillance.”

Mullick tapped the folder. ”Within forty-eight hours of receiving the cathedral’s panicked query, that ’village reverend’, who was, in reality, a senior MI6 communications handler embedded under a false identity, bypassed all domestic ecclesiastical channels entirely. He transmitted a direct, highly complex cypher telegram straight to a private postal box in London, seeking guidance from the War Office and Whitehall on how to protect their covert assets in light of the population transfer.”

”A fatal tactical error,” Ram observed softly, a cold smile touching his lips. ”They broke operational security out of sheer panic.”

”Exactly,” Mullick agreed. ”Once that rural radio link to London was established, our cyphers unit traced the routing back up the chain. From that single rural reverend, every branch of the tree became visible: thirty senior operatives, their funding channels, and their secret political directives. The entire network stood exposed.”

A/N: Let me know your thoughts in the comments and reviews. Stone me?