“I see. This is a well-thought plan. RAW will be very interested in this and will track them down.”
“Nasim and Tariq are other names that come to mind. I don’t know much about Nasim, but Tariq was one of the men, along with Sudar, who took us from the rooftop restaurant yesterday morning.
“I should have fought them in the restaurant. They needed Elena and they wanted me under their control. I should have attacked them in the restaurant and yelled out to call the police. It would have worked.”
“Maybe yes, and maybe no. It is difficult for an unarmed man to fight against guns. You did what you thought was right at the time, just as Elena thought what she did was right when she first got sucked into this plan.”
“Names that Elena mentioned come to mind: Emir, Prabahakar, Basant, and Abdul-Aleem. That last name…he was the pilot of the biplane who would fly it to Pakistan. We have to get these guys, Meher.”
“We will, I’m sure we will. When you speak to some of the RAW officers, they will be very thorough.”
“I remember her mentioning the name Abhasa, but now I know he was one of yours.”
“Yes, but he’s not a professional spy like Emir. He goes by the code name Checkmate and uses ciphers related to books by Homer. He was just somebody I met who is now helping us. He is smart and unknown. It sounds like he got to know Kamran, but maybe Kamran had his suspicions because Abhasa faded out of the picture. He is now giving us updates on possible future attacks and the things you are telling me can help.
“Abhasa has given RAW information that a major attack will take place the end of November, which is just a month from now, but he had no details. Abhasa shifted his focus to a terrorist group in which he is a trusted member and he will give us definitive information about an attack planned in Delhi in January. We are certain that his information and whatever you can add will help RAW head off the attack.”
“It seems you are still involved in Intelligence in some way.”
“Yes. When I worked for the Indian intelligence agency, I was asked to continue in that capacity in addition to my medical duties. The government felt I was well-suited for it.”
“How did you meet Abhasa? Are you allowed to tell me?”
“I met him in a strange way. I was in Jodphur, in uniform, wearing my summer semi-ceremonial dress, which included black shoes. I accidentally stepped on some fresh cow dung with both feet, which filled the deep ridges of my soles. The smell was unbearable.”
“And this is a spy story?”
“It is. Maybe I shouldn’t have started so close to the beginning. Anyway, I tried rinsing the bottoms of my dress shoes, but nothing came off. I searched for someone who would clean them and found a line of shoe repair people on a street nearby.”
“That was easy.”
“Not that easy, Rick. None of them wanted the job at any price. When I showed them my shoes, they shook their heads. One man finally agreed to do it because I answered some questions for him about his mother’s health. I watched him use different solutions and brushes until after an hour he finally got them clean.
“He accepted no money, but he asked if he could talk to me. His name was Abhasa. What he said was unexpected. He told me his job helped him support his family, but he wanted to do something for his country. He told me his dream was to be a spy.”
“What did you make of Abhasa?”
“At first I blew him off as someone who had daydreams. He didn’t have the looks of a James Bond. He was a small, unusually thin man who didn’t appear to be well-educated.
“When we talked, I learned that he had knowledge of electronics and ciphers, but I didn’t think he matched the job description of a spy. I gave him my card, pushed some money into his hand, and thanked him for cleaning my dress shoes.”
“What changed things?”
“A few months later, Abhasa came to my office and told me he had cracked an elaborate Pakistani code. He intercepted and decoded messages that were broadcast on his shortwave radio. The messages involved a plan by Pakistanis to attack a military post in the state of Jammu and Kashmir.”
“I know there is much trouble there,” Rick said.
“There is. I took it seriously and sent a request to RAW, who went to see him. At first they thought he had been tricking them and might be a double agent, giving them credible information to gain their confidence.
“They soon found out that the information was genuine. He had to have cracked a code to get it, a code RAW was unable to decipher. Abhasa was screened and double screened and was asked to spy against Pakistan. Through outrageous schemes, he tested his ability and was able to convince the Pakistanis that he would be useful to them as a spy. They soon became confident he was on their side because he provided them with credible misinformation, but he wasn’t. He worked for India.”
“Always testing his ability to deceive, you mean? What happened in Jammu?”
“The Pakistani commandos attacked, but the Indian army was ready and killed twenty-six of them, wounded others, and took the rest prisoners.”
“Did Abhasa supply you with any information about Kamran?”
“He told us what little he could. There would be an attack, he didn’t know where, but a man named Kamran would orchestrate it, and he also might be associated with an attack taking place at the end of November against rich people and foreigners, in Bombay or Delhi.”
“Was this Abhasa on Kamran’s team, or was he a double agent? At least tell me that.”
“Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. I cannot say more.”
Chapter 21
Rick walked out of the hospital overwhelmed, exhausted, and alone. He had to sleep. His body and heart were drained. He got a room at a small guesthouse called the Desert Moon in Jaisalmer. His phone rang and Rick recognized Sylvia Weisz’s Hungarian accent, the same accent as his mother.
“Hello, Rick. How are you doing?” She spoke in a low voice.
“It’s not easy, but I’m doing okay. Please tell me how you and Laszlo are doing.”
“I’m at St. John’s Hospital and the ambulance brought us here. Laszlo had a heart attack. They did emergency surgery and removed blockage from his arteries. He is sedated and asleep now. First my little girl, now my husband. It’s the end of my life.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know it’s not easy for you, either. She was taken away from all of us. Thank you for making the arrangements to bring her home. We will contact the Rabbi.” She hung up.
No human being should have to endure the pain Elena’s parents have to bear because of evil people. How can I get through life without her? She breathed her last breath of life into me during that final kiss.
Rick swallowed two lorazepam tablets and fell into a deep sleep.
Meher arranged for Elena’s Air India flight from Delhi to New York. Rick would be on the same plane. He was consumed with thoughts of Elena and his heart ached. He relived their first moments: when they met on the plane, their surprise meeting at Mrs. Vidya’s restaurant, and their sweet kisses in the desert. He sat in his seat, feeling his pain.
Elena, you are not alone. I am here with you.
***
The plane landed in the morning. Rick watched as her casket was placed into a waiting hearse. Elena’s face and smile flashed through his mind. He rented a car and drove to Kew Gardens to meet Elena’s parents.
Rick and Sylvia embraced each other as he looked into Sylvia’s red, swollen eyes. Laszlo was still in the intensive care unit of the hospital. The funeral service would take place at noon the next day and the internment would be at a Jewish cemetery in Elmont with Rabbi Math officiating at the services.
The Weisz family have known him for many years. He was Elena’s dear friend and confident. She would be pleased to know that Rabbi Math was now bringing comfort to the family.
Rick spent the night with close friends who lived in Katonah, New York, an upscale town in Westchester. They drove him to the funeral home the next
morning and stayed with him.
At the service, Rick met Elena’s family and friends. He saw her closed wooden casket at one end of the small room. Pain ripped through him. There were pictures of Elena everywhere. A monitor showed a slideshow of her life, starting from the time she was a baby.
He saw her when she was five with her pail and shovel at the beach, and later, a little older, with her friends at Halloween, where she was dressed as a princess. One picture showed a smiling teenaged Elena holding hands with a boy.
Perhaps it was Dan, her first love.
Rick was introduced to everyone as Elena’s fiancé, which made him feel like he was part of the family. He met Rabbi Math, a man in his early sixties with silver hair and a kind face. He began the service with a prayer in Hebrew.
As he listened to the Rabbi, Rick reflected on his disbelief in God, but there was still a space in his thinking where he felt some sense of spirituality. He listened to the Rabbi’s Hebrew chant as his mind slipped back to the wonderful warmth of his childhood, where he’d felt the peace and serenity his belief in God had offered.
Several members of Elena’s family and friends spoke at the podium with glowing words of their love for her and shared their personal experiences.
When Rick’s turn came, tears were already running down his cheeks. This would not be his last time with Elena. She would always be with him. He took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Rabbi. As I look at all of you in front of me, I see faces full of love and sadness for Elena.” Rick put his hands on the podium and looked down.
“Elena and I planned to get married and share our lives. Many of you would have been at our wedding. I know the special love she shared with each one of you. She loved life, every moment of it, and as many of you know, she pushed aside her own interests and fought for other people’s causes.”
Rick looked toward her casket and spoke in a soft voice.
“Elena, we shared so much together, but it’s not over. Our love will go on. We both know that, and it will never change. We were given a rare and special gift.
“In the scheme of things, we shared a brief moment together. But it was our moment to share the gift God has given us. You were the one who made me believe in Him again. You changed my life. You made me feel emotion. Thank you for that.
“I thought I knew about life, but you knew more, much more, and I learned about love from your heart—True love.” Rick heaved a deep sigh.
“We shared a kiss in your last breath.” He bit his lip and wiped his eyes. “It’s still part of me. When our eyes met on our flight to India, we knew it was our beginning, and we confided to each other on a star-filled night in the desert that it was love at first sight. Thank you for loving me.
“I’m happy to be standing here with all your friends and family and seeing the same faces you had once looked upon. The most beautiful days I’ve ever had in my life were when we rode our camels through the hot desert sands in India and slept in a tent under a sky full of stars. The stars were so close to each other, they looked as if they touched. But it was our hearts that touched, giving us the warmth we needed.
“Sitting on the dunes at sunset, we watched each day end, our camels standing by as silhouettes against the deep orange sun as we gazed at its amber glow burning itself into the sand. As if in a fairy tale, the moon lifted itself from the horizon and rose into the black, starry sky. We sat, awed, by its magnificence, and yet remained silent because we knew that moment told us that just being together was always enough.”
Rick lifted his head. “There’s good luck and bad luck for people in this world. Our good fortune was simple. The good luck was that we had seats assigned next to each other on our flight to India. The bad luck was for us to be here today. It seems God compressed a lifetime of love, passion, and sweetness into the few moments we shared, and we thank Him for that gift.
“Elena, remember when we arrived in India, and we lost contact with each other? I was deeply hurt. Then you reappeared, out of the blue, in a small desert town not far from the Pakistan border. How could that have happened in a country so big? Why weren’t we swallowed up by the masses of people in India, never to see each other again? I don’t know the answer to that question. I said it was luck. You said, ‘Maybe the universe conspired to make it happen.’”
Rick faced the casket and wiped away his tears. “Whether it was luck or the universe, we were drawn to the same place at the same time in this country of over a billion people. I love you, Elena. We said it would be forever. You had to leave before me, but our paths will cross again. The best is yet to be. I love you and always will.”
Rick walked to his seat. Rabbi Math hugged him.
The casket was covered with a blue velvet cloth with a large, gold Star of David woven into the center. Sylvia walked to the casket, kissed the covering, and whispered a few words in Hungarian.
The congregation left for the cemetery, her final resting place. Elena’s casket was lowered into the ground. It was a cold, sunny day. Everyone took turns throwing soil over her casket as Rabbi Math chanted the mourning Kaddish prayer, the central blessing in the Jewish prayer service.
Rick hugged Sylvia. Her eyes were red from crying, her face wet with tears. She told Rick he was part of the family and wanted to know about the things he and Elena shared. Rick said he would call her often and would say a prayer for Laszlo for a speedy recovery.
Rick had time before his flight to Bombay and asked Sylvia if he could accompany her to the hospital.
When they arrived, Laszlo was asleep, but he awoke when they walked into his room. Sylvia introduced Rick.
“Call me Laszlo,” he said with a hoarse voice.
“Yes, uh, Laszlo. I’m terribly sorry about Elena.”
“She was all we had, our wonderful, beautiful daughter, always full of life with new ideas and different thinking. She was beautiful. My little girl said nice things about you, Rick. I can see you’re a nice man.”
“Thank you. I loved your daughter and we planned to get married.”
“Yes, Sylvia told me. It made us very happy. Tell me what happened.”
“No, no, maybe another time, when you feel better. I’m going back to India tonight, and when I come back we can sit and talk.”
“Please, Rick, tell me something, anything, about her last moments. Did she suffer?”
“No, sir, she did not suffer at all. It was very quick. We were at the airport at a place called Jaisalmer, and we were going to take an early morning flight. There was a terrorist attack. Many people were killed and injured. She died instantly. I’m so sorry.”
Tears ran down his cheeks. “It’s a bad world now. They took my girl. What did she know about life? Nothing. She was an innocent, sweet girl, trusting, loving, smart, and full of life. Please, Rick, be part of us. We all loved her. Never lose touch with us. Because she loved you, we love you.”
“I’ll never lose touch, never. Anyám magyar.”
“Oh, yes, she told us. Your mother is Hungarian. Do you speak?”
“Beszélek egy kicsit a magyar. I speak a little Hungarian.”
“Nagyon jó, very good. Welcome to the family. You’re important to us, Rick. You loved our little girl. No one can replace her, but she was always very particular about the men she went out with, and it wasn’t that many,” he said in a weak voice. “If she chose you, you must be special. We don’t want to lose you.”
That night, Rick called his parents from the airport and then left on a direct flight to Bombay.
Chapter 22
It was time for Rick to explore Bombay and find his son. His gut feeling told him this was where he would find Eric.
After landing, he found a nice homestay in Colaba, one of the seven islands in the Arabian Sea that make up Bombay, or, as it’s now called, Mumbai.
Bahula and his wife, Madhur, ran the homestay. They both spoke Hindi, Marathi, and English. Bahula’s passion, aside from sports, was the study of foreign cultures.
The morning after Rick arrived, he walked to the nearby Colaba Causeway market and visited the stalls, which sold everything from saris, jewelry, watches, and antiques to the finest gold coins. He walked through the market in a daze. He thought of Elena.
She will always be with me.
He imagined them together as he watched an event where a tourist paid a few rupees to have his name put on a grain of rice. Elena would have enjoyed doing the same. He could hear her saying, “Let’s do it, Rick!”
As he wandered through the market, Rick often heard the words sab kuch milega, which he learned meant, “Where you’ll find everything.”
Also in this area was the famous Taj Mahal Palace Hotel and Tower, an exclusive, five-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel that overlooked the Arabian Sea on one side and the causeway on the other. It was another reminder of Elena. He remembered her telling him that she had stayed there when she’d visited Bombay.
Rick stopped for lunch at the Leopold Café, a popular restaurant and bar on the causeway. He ate the Shezwan fried rice and, with it, drank a Kingfisher beer.
When he returned to the house, Madhur was preparing dinner. He asked her if she knew an Indian who spoke reasonably fluent English who could help him find his way around Bombay for a few days to assist him with a delicate matter.
Madhur suggested they talk together with Bahula after dinner. Rick went to his room to rest and swallowed an alprazolam. It relaxed him and relieved his anxiety.
After dinner, Madhur brought a tray of tea and Besan Laddu, an Indian sweet made of round balls of dough. Rick smiled to himself.
Indian people seem to have a penchant for round-shaped desserts.
They sipped their tea. Rick explained the reason he was in India and added that he needed help finding his son, Eric.
Meeting Max Page 22
