The Secret of Ka

by Christopher Pike

  My heart began to pound. Now there was an amazing coincidence. "He said nothing about a temple. Is that why Amesh kept going to see it?"

  "Amesh saw temple only once, with Spielo," Mr. Demir said.

  "Spielo fell in the cement the other day. Do you think someone was trying to kill him?"

  Mr. Demir shrugged. "Amesh and Spielo saw temple inside cave. My grandson lost hand. Spielo almost lost life."

  "Amesh said that he's still in the hospital?"

  "Yes."

  "What's the name of the hospital?" I asked.

  Mr. Demir told me and I wrote it down, as well as the address.

  "I'm confused," I said. "I know Mrs. Steward and Mr. Toval. They're friends of my father, and they're nice people. But they testified against Amesh in court."

  Mr. Demir nodded. "It make no sense. Mrs. Steward say Amesh bad worker. But Amesh hard worker. And Mr. Toval lie. Those boys not at his house that night. They were at job site."

  I flipped through the transcript. I wanted to get this next fact right.

  "Is that where Amesh was attacked?" I asked.

  "He attacked in Shar Cave. Near temple."

  "I can't believe he never told me this."

  Mr. Demir raised his hand. "Many strange things. The four boys lost jobs after trial. But Amesh got job back."

  "They gave him his job back instead of millions of lira."

  "I not understand," Mr. Demir said.

  "Amesh should have sued them."

  "Amesh cannot sue. He lost trial." Mr. Demir added, "Your father help Amesh keep job. Others want to fire him."

  I hesitated. "You speak of my father like a friend."

  "When Amesh in hospital, he visit every day. He get best doctors. Pay all the bills." Mr. Demir paused. "But sometimes I feel his guilt. Like he know bosses lied. Like trying to help Amesh to make things right."

  "My father was not called to testify?"

  "No."

  "I can't believe he'd bury something like this."

  "You want me believe carpet is magic."

  "That's different. My father has honor. If he knew a crime had been committed, he wouldn't let it get swept under the rug."

  "He work with bad people many years. Who know pressure they put on him?"

  There was not much more I could learn from Mr. Demir. It was time to say goodbye. He surprised me when I went to leave. He did not want to accompany me to the roof.

  "You not really flying away," he said.

  I took his hand. "Some things have to be seen to be believed."

  But he shook free. "Part of me believe you."

  I studied him. He seemed almost scared. "You're worried about what I said earlier. That the treasure we found was cursed."

  He hesitated. "I do believe in such things."

  "So do I. But this carpet is the opposite of curses. It's sacred."

  "Where in scripture does it say magic carpet sacred?"

  "I don't know the scriptures that well, but I know what I feel. There's an energy surrounding this carpet that's as holy as any shrine or temple. I wouldn't be surprised if you felt it." I paused. "I'm going to give you a ride home."

  "What?"

  "On the carpet. I'll drop you off a couple of blocks from your house so no one sees us."

  Mr. Demir shook his head. "Not possible."

  "Let's just say your vision of possibilities is about to expand."

  I led him up onto the roof and we stared out over the city. It took me a minute to find the ley line I had flown in on. As I unfolded the carpet and set it floating, I heard Mr. Demir gasp.

  "It's true!" he cried.

  I chuckled. "Do you want to sit on the front or the back?"

  "No! I not get on that thing."

  I led him to the carpet and put his hand on the material and let him feel how soothing it was.

  "Do you feel the energy?" I asked.

  He went to reply, then frowned. "Feel something."

  "Does it feel evil?"

  "Sara..."

  "Seriously, in this business, the only thing you can go by is your gut feeling. That's why I keep trying to help Amesh. I feel he's worth saving."

  Mr. Demir placed both his palms on the swirling stars and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he wore a faint smile. "You wise, Sara," he said. "Wise beyond years."

  I hopped on the front. "Tell me if you feel the same way after you've seen me fly."

  As promised, I set him down on a street a few blocks from his own. There were no streetlights; the area was black as the beach at night.

  "Will you call if you find Amesh?" he asked.

  "Of course. And I'm going to find him."

  Mr. Demir hugged me. "I know most of your story I not understand. It does not matter. I trust you, Sara. Allah blesses you. With His help I pray you bring Amesh home safe."

  "Thank you for your blessing. Don't worry if I call late. I have a lot of ground to cover." The carpet began to rise, almost of its own volition. "Take care, Mr. Demir."

  "Goodbye, Sara!"

  It was possible someone was watching us. The carpet kept rising without any instruction from me—perhaps it sensed danger. Soon I was higher than any skyscraper and had a splendid view of the city. Yet I was concerned about the time. It was already after midnight.

  There was so much to do before dawn. I had to use the carpet to its fullest capacity to find Amesh. That meant I needed the stars to keep it charged.

  "Lova, this is Sara. Come to me now," I ordered.

  There was a long pause—perhaps she had been asleep—before she materialized on the opposite end of the carpet. We sat cross-legged, facing each other.

  "You want to make a wish?" she asked.

  "I want you to adjust your radar for Darbar. We're going to crisscross this city from this height. I want you to focus on what's below us."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked.

  "None of your business. Just do as you're told."

  I increased our speed to as fast as cars generally drove on the freeway. I couldn't have withstood the wind had I not been able to raise a force field around us.

  How did I accomplish this latest miracle?

  I focused on the carpet and willed the shield to appear. I was learning fast!

  It was eerie, flying along in such a silent cocoon, and at such a speed, swooping back and forth across Istanbul. If Darbar was in the city, I knew we would find him.

  But then we got interrupted. Big time.

  Lova suddenly opened her eyes. "I feel something," she said.

  "Is it Darbar?"

  "No. A flying object, with two humans inside. It's big, made of metal, has wings, and is armed with an assortment of weapons. It's coming toward us at high speed."

  That sounded like an extremely accurate description of a fighter jet.

  "Which direction is it coming from?" I asked.

  Lova nodded toward the desert. "It will be here in a few seconds."

  By increasing our altitude and speed, I must have made us visible to the local radar. Turkey has a modern air force. It was no surprise they had dispatched a jet to check us out.

  I spoke to the carpet. I was frantic—I assumed that meant I was mentally focused.

  "Carpet! Increase our speed to four hundred miles an hour! Dive down to, I don't know, five hundred feet. Turn toward the sea."

  The carpet obeyed my command, although I wasn't sure if it responded to my verbal or mental instruction. We went into an extreme dive, so steep I slid forward and bumped into our invisible shield. For the moment, at least, there appeared to be no danger of falling over the side. Nevertheless, I said, "Keep the shield in place so we cannot be knocked off the carpet!"

  A large, partially lit building swung by on our left.

  "We almost hit that!" I gasped.

  Lova pointed in front of us. "We're about to hit that one."

  She was right; another building loomed before us. We were rushing toward it at an incredible speed. My pr
oblem was, frankly, I was no pilot. I didn't know how to give specific instructions that involved speed and distances, especially above a busy city like this.

  "Carpet! Veer to the left! Go back up to a thousand feet!"

  We missed the skyscraper by inches. The jet was still on our tail. I wished I could just order the carpet to fly us to safety. Indeed, I mentally made that order but the carpet ignored it. I assumed that meant it wanted me to think for myself. That was hard to do when I was hyperventilating. I had to struggle to take long deep breaths and calm down.

  I spoke to Lova. "Are there skyscrapers taller than a thousand feet?"

  "I don't know, this is your world."

  "A big help you are," I snapped.

  "I can help. If you are willing to make a wish," Lova said.

  "What kind of wish would that be?"

  "I can cause their armaments to explode."

  "The pilots will die if we do that."

  "You'll probably die if you don't do something soon."

  "Why do you say that?"

  Suddenly, there was a high-pitched ringing sound.

  "They've locked their weapons on us," Lova said calmly.

  "I'm not killing innocent people to save myself," I replied, although the idea was tempting. I was scared—no, terrified. Using the carpet to get rid of them crossed my mind.

  But my gut told me the carpet was not to be used for killing, though I had no time to discover if it even possessed weapons. Plus, it would be reckless to assume that the carpet's shield would stop the missile. Maybe it could, maybe not. I had to stop relying on the carpet to save us.

  On the left side of the fighter jet, I saw a red light begin to blaze. It was seconds away from firing a missile.

  I did my best to speak in a calm voice. "Carpet," I said. "Reduce our speed and drop our height so that we move beneath the jet. Do it now and do it quickly."

  The jet gained on us and seconds later we were floating beneath it. The ringing stopped, but the turbulence caused by the plane seemed to disturb the carpet's trajectory. The carpet was thrown back and forth. So were we.

  "Carpet," I said. "Raise us up high enough to where I can touch the jet if I stand."

  The turbulence decreased quickly; then it all but vanished. Soon we were sitting five feet beneath the jet, the smell of diesel thick in the air. A magical combination of speed and stillness gripped me. The jet's landing wheels were close enough to touch. I knew the men inside the plane must be wondering where the heck we had gone. They might guess.

  "Carpet, this instruction is important. I want us to move exactly as the jet moves. If it banks to the right, we go to the right. Keep us directly under the jet."

  The red fire around the missile on the left side seemed to have gone out. I was pretty sure we had vanished from the jet's radar. I was pleased with myself. I had been hoping to turn the carpet invisible but now I had done the next best thing by using my head instead of magic.

  The pilots must have suspected that I had slipped beneath them because a minute later they suddenly banked left, then right. Fortunately the carpet was able to match their reflexes and we continued to remain out of sight.

  Now I just needed patience. The jet could only carry so much fuel. Even quicker, I hoped, the pilots might get restless and want to return to base, especially with nothing to chase.

  That was what happened after forty minutes of circling the city. The jet suddenly turned toward home and the desert. But I was ready with one last smart move. I could not allow the carpet to reappear on their radar. To do that I had to drop away from the jet as we passed a...

  "Carpet!" I shouted. "A skyscraper's approaching on our right side. As we near it, I want to break away from our position beneath the jet and fly around the building. Circle it as many times as you need to lose our speed, but stay close to it." I paused. "Ready! Break toward the building!"

  I doubted that we reappeared on the jet's radar. The carpet required only one circle of the building to lose its vast speed.

  I quickly brought the carpet down to a low level where we flew between homes, factories, and warehouses. Even if someone spotted us, I figured they wouldn't have the nerve to call and report us. I mean, it was the Middle East, the home of tales of magic carpets and powerful djinn, but who really believed in such things?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  AN HOUR LATER, with my nerves significantly more fried than when I had started the day, I flew the carpet to the hospital where Spielo was recovering.

  Spielo's hospital was more of a clinic. It had only two stories and it was T-shaped. The rooms for the patients were all on the second floor. I circled the building twice before I found Spielo's room. I was able to land on the roof and still get a clear view into his window. With my dark clothes and the moonless night, I was not worried about being seen. Still, I hid behind an air vent.

  It was late. He was one of the few people who still had his light on. He was in bed, hooked up to a bottle of oxygen. I was not surprised to see that he had a visitor.

  Amesh was inside, sitting on a chair beside his friend. Every now and then Spielo would explode in a fit of coughing. It was likely Spielo still had some cement in his lungs.

  I probably could have used the carpet to translate what they were saying, but Lova was faster. I listened as Amesh tried to convince a confused and sick Spielo that tonight was the night they had to take revenge on those who had wronged them.

  Amesh kept rubbing at the hand hidden beneath his long-sleeve shirt.

  "I showed you the jewels I found," Amesh was saying, and I could hear for myself the agitation in his voice. "I have hundreds of thousands of lira. I can get more if we need it. I've hired private investigators and mercenaries. They captured Bora Lomal and Hasad Sahim earlier today and took them to a secret place where they're being tortured. And now they have Jemal and Omer, too."

  "Why torture them?" Spielo did not appear to like the idea any more than I did. The question angered Amesh.

  "They deserve to suffer the way I've suffered! The way you're suffering!"

  That was Amesh's theme. He kept repeating it like a broken record. But I knew it was really Darbar who kept repeating the line in his head, to keep Amesh focused on his need for revenge. Darbar was too close to closing the deal on this human. Whatever it took, the djinn was going to fulfill that third wish and make Amesh his thrall.

  "But I'm not even sure those were the guys who pushed me into the cement," Spielo said.

  "It doesn't matter. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I've discovered who's been behind this plot."

  "What plot? You were attacked last year. I got hurt two days ago. Or was it yesterday? Anyway, you knew you were taking a risk when you kept sneaking into that cave. You were warned to stay away from it."

  "So they warned me to stay away! So what! Did that give them the right to chop off my hand? You were there. You saw what they did to me. If you hadn't heard my screams and rescued me, they would have killed me."

  Spielo shook his head. "I don't know."

  "What don't you know? They tried to kill you two days ago. These people are evil. And there's evil inside the Shar Temple."

  The Shar Temple, I thought. There had to be a connection between that temple and the ones on the island.

  "Amesh. You're talking like a crazy person," Spielo said.

  Amesh stood and began to pace. "You don't know where I've been the last few days. I was taken to a secret island on that magic carpet I found, where there were many temples. The island was shown to me because I had the courage to challenge the evildoers who control the Shar Temple. That's where I mastered my djinn. That's where I got the jewels from!"

  "Lower your voice. You're going to wake the other patients."

  "You think I'm crazy, huh? Even after I showed you the jewels. Well, I have something even more crazy to show you."

  I leaned closer to see what Amesh would do. He stepped back from the bed and tore off the knot that kept his transplanted hand hidden
. With a wild look on his face, he held it up for Spielo to see.

  "Look! This is the hand those animals took from me. But the djinn I command was able to retrieve it and put it back on my arm, when the best doctors in the world said it was impossible."

  Spielo sat up, impressed. Until he touched Amesh's new hand. "Does it work like it used to? It looks ... funny."

  Amesh withdrew the hand. "It works. Allah has blessed me. The djinn I control can work miracles for you, too. But you have to show him that you're strong. You know what it says in the Koran. It's our right and duty to strike back at those who have struck us. And this is not just about us. I keep telling you, the Shar Temple has power. It's like the place Allah took me to."

  Spielo was confused, and I couldn't say I blamed him. I kind of liked the guy. He had a comical face, with big ears and a huge nose, but there was an innocence in his eyes. He was taller than Amesh, but skinnier.

  "But you just said the Shar Temple is evil," Spielo said.

  "No! It's controlled by evil people! It's a place of great power!"

  "You flew to this island on a magic carpet?"

  "Yes. I flew there, across the sea."

  "But you told me that girl found the carpet and forced you to go to the island. You told me her name. What was it?"

  "Forget her. You misunderstood. The carpet is mine. The djinn is mine. They're all under my control now."

  "Show me the carpet. I need to see it with my own eyes."

  Amesh shook his transplanted hand in front of Spielo's face. "I have shown you enough miracles! If you don't believe me, I'll get someone else to go with me and help me do Allah's work!"

  I was disappointed to see Spielo respond to the childish threat. I got the impression he was used to following Amesh. I watched as he unhooked himself from the oxygen tank and got his clothes from the closet. Now that Spielo was joining him, Amesh's mood suddenly improved. He began to boast again.

  "Do you remember the first night we snuck into the cave and saw the Shar Temple? There was a row of holes in the ground. We stopped to peer in them. They were ten feet deep, wide enough to put a person in." Amesh paused and grinned. "Guess what? My djinn put Bora and the others into their very own holes."

  "I thought you commanded the djinn. Was it your idea or his?"