THE
QUANTUM
MANTRA
Henri-Paul Bour
Text copyright © 2016 Henri-Paul Bour
All rights reserved
Mantras, such as the famous Tibetan OM, are sacred words.
When these words are uttered or chanted, they are said to connect our mind to a different reality.
In fact, the mantra concept goes far beyond the Vedic rituals,
and can be found in all religions, using other names:
(Mystic psalms, Kabbala letters, Gregorian songs, Islam prayers
and so on.)
They are the voices of our souls.
Nowadays, science and spirituality converge to similar conclusions:
Everything is vibration, energy, waves with frequencies.
The body and brain are waves, creating energy fields.
The energy fields from our body and brain emit special waves capable of resonating with unknown cosmic fields some call Ether, Matrix, Zero Point field, collective consciousness…
Nobody knows for sure.
But many think that it is how our consciousness emerges.
When the mantras are chanted, these resonances are stronger and produce a tighter entanglement between our mind wave/particles and the wave/particles of the outer fields. This fine tuning between those waves generates a higher consciousness.
Those who have experimented the chantings have certainly felt these connections and the awakening of a positive harmonious energy.
BUT
What would happen if some Quantum scientist
could artificially control our mind by entanglement?
CONTENTS
PART I : THE LOST MANTRAS4
SEASON 1: PASCAL5
SEASON 2: ENTANGLED WITH THE COLLECTIVE MEMORY.41
SEASON 3: CONSPIRACY75
PART II : THE RENAISSANCE94
SEASON 1: BRUNO GIORDANO95
SEASON 2: FATE118
PART III : INDIA129
SEASON 1: MUMBAI.130
SEASON 2: THE TYCOON147
SEASON 3: THE OTHER DIMENSION164
PART I : THE LOST MANTRAS
SEASON 1: PASCAL
The white Land Rover was parked in a cramped parking space facing the marketplace of Ban Kao village, near the Thai Burmese border. The temperature on the dashboard blinked 42 degrees Celsius.
The man in the car emerged suddenly from his power nap, hitting his elbow on the tough, leather armrest.
He was a tall man, solidly built without being intimidating. Like most Eurasians, it was difficult to discern exactly where he was from, but the mystery behind his demeanour was probably what was most appealing about him. He swung out of the four-wheel drive with acrobatic ease, a quality he was proud to have after all the martial arts and yoga training he had received over the years.
He gazed into the dusty rear view mirror and examined his reflection. “Not bad”, he thought with approval. He still felt young in his body. He was not untouched by experience and remained surprisingly optimistic despite his demanding work. For three years now Pascal Debussy had been a dedicated volunteer for a medical group in the Mae Baan town where he worked with other International and Thai volunteers, all very dedicated to help.
Pascal squeezed the soft bottle of plastic he had just purchased from the nearby market. The tepid liquid poured down his throat and splashed onto his sweat-drenched shirt. Every droplet of water landed on the earth in small puffs of steam. He brushed his black hair swiftly back through his fingers.
He took refuge from the sweltering sun by resting on a gritty bench next to the car. He began to roll himself his cigarette, attempting to block his mother’s admonishing voice inside his head: “Those cancer-sticks control you!”
Regardless, he lit it. The smoke caressed his lungs, and exhaling, he closed his eyes.
A man is on his back inside a small dark room, howling in pain.
Shocked by the sinister vision, he opened his eyes and saw wet, wide eyes staring straight back at him.
Once again, it was happening to him in: he could instantly see a reality beyond, normally invisible to his limited perceptions.
The young woman’s pale blue T-shirt blended with the sky. The traditional cloth longyi the Burmese girl had wrapped around her waist was so stiff that it looked as though it was a prop. Her plump cheeks were painted with two round cakes of Tanahka white powder.
With tears brimming, she hesitated to speak. Pascal was absolutely silent; afraid his breath would cause her to run away.
Hardly realising what he was doing, he found himself standing up, holding her firmly by the shoulders.
“Where is the injured man?” Pascal asked, feeling a burning connection to his vision.
Showing no surprise, the young girl pointed to a village nearby: Over there, doctor, my father has been shot, he is going to die.
Doctor Ram and the nurse Lek were waiting for Pascal at the Mae Baan clinic.
‘The Boss’ was late.
Suddenly, Boon and Noi, his assistant, rushed in with a stretcher. Pascal was following them holding the isotonic solution bottle; his other hand holding out a paper form with the supply list for the operation.
In his collected manner, Pascal stated his order, “Ram, ask the nurses to prepare the operation room; we have an emergency here.”
Dr Ram was incapable of remaining calm at times like these.
“Oh! God! Oh God! Who is he? How did he get into the clinic?”
“There’s no time for questions, just hurry!” snapped Pascal. “He’s lost a lot of blood and is unconscious.”
With Pascal’s words, Ram felt the adrenalin kick-start his body. He noticed the tender teenage girl standing next to the stretcher.
“And who is she?”
The girl answered in English. “My name is Ma Sue. This is my father, U Aung Win, a biologist working in a research laboratory in Yangon. We are Burmese and just escaped some unknown fighters sent on our trail. My father was shot.”
Ram was speechless and couldn’t accept such a strange story.
“Ma Sue, your father didn’t come to Thailand without a reason; he could have stayed and hidden in his own country.”
The girl started to panic.
“My father is not a criminal, he is a scientist, and you can check with his old friend here in Bangkok, Dr Placido, an Italian scientist. He is the one my father wants to contact”. Pascal looked at the injured and unconscious man on the stretcher. He wouldn’t of course question him now; not before a serious treatment.
The wounded biologist was a man apparently in his 50’s, whose black hair fell limply onto the pale blue material behind his head. His eyes were closed and his face was littered with bruises and scabs. Pressure pads drenched with blood were visible on his right shoulder and his legs were positioned at a painfully awkward angle.
“His femur is broken and the bone has been severely displaced. And may be other fractures we have to check” explained Pascal.
Ram had worked in the camp too long to ignore the signs: his injuries had involved torture.
“He is a fugitive from Burma. You know it is a big risk Pascal not to inform the Thai authorities first!”
“For the moment he is here Ram. We have no time and will do the paperwork later. This man has a bullet in his shoulder, broken bones and is literally bleeding to death. We need to operate now!”
Pascal stared Ram down. There would be no further discussion.
“There’s no more time to waste... Noi and I will take an X-Ray for his shoulder and leg as quickly as we can before getting him onto the table. Now hurry! Get scrubbed! We expect you in OR in 10 minutes.”
…
&n
bsp; It was almost 5 a.m. when Pascal woke up in his bedroom above the clinic ward. The small room he shared with Ram was still dark, but there was enough light from the full moon to make things out. Images of the night were invading his perception. He imprecisely remembered that Ram had been rummaging through a man’s body, extracting bullets from his flesh. He was obsessed by one particular detail that kept recurring in his mind. While removing the lethal bullet during the surgery, Ram had extracted another foreign device under the patient’s armpit; a microchip of some sort. He had immediately handed it to Pascal. Ram probably felt that something unusual was unfolding and he knew that Pascal was the one who could take control in these kinds of situations.
Half asleep and still immersed in some dream, Pascal’s awareness was vagabonding deep in the land of images. Everything was incomprehensible, like a foreign movie with no subtitles. Slowly, smoke-like faces began to materialise in his mind and the dream was becoming a more distinct vision.
A cold and sterile room… some kind of scientific laboratory surrounded by aluminium-framed glass panels. Giant machines occupied the room, communicating in high-pitched beeps to one another. An enormous cylindrical scanner, whose size was difficult to gauge, towered in front of him. It was pointed at a harnessed body and by some force was extracting pink flesh sending spattering around the room in a circular fashion, flinging blood in globs onto the shiny surfaces.
Buddhist monks were chanting.
The familiar smell of disinfectant was acidic, burning his nostrils.
The golden and sacred sound ‘Om’ resonated all around him. That famous Tibetan mantra rang throughout his body, reverberating inside his very neurons.
From deep within his heart Pascal heard someone call “Help me! They killed my father!” The Burmese biologist was dead on the floor and people around him were shouting in panic: they want to control us!
Pascal was trying to hold his breath, and suddenly he was suffocating!
He awoke with pupils dilated and his arms stretched out in front of him; he jumped up, totally awake now.
At this stage, he felt immersed in a cloud of indistinct perceptions that urged him to act. He felt he had, once again, no time to understand what happened to him, and why he was sometimes so inspired.
He got out of bed, legs trembling with adrenaline; managed to shove on his slippers, and rush to Ram.
“I can’t explain it but please trust me; you have to come with me now.”
Left with little option but to follow, Ram calmly followed him.
“Please check Ma Sue’s room; I will check that our patient is OK,”
Pascal said as he swung his body down the flight of stairs.
Ma Sue was sharing a room with Lek. When Ram pushed the door open, he saw immediately that Ma Sue bed was empty. The soft figure of Lek, the beautiful nurse, was lying on the other bed.
“Lek! Do you know where our patient’s daughter is?”
Lek sat up in her bed and turned the light on. Her nightgown seemed to hang over her half-naked body. She was aware that one of her breasts was protruding from her nightgown, revealing an irresistibly sensual body. She looked at Ram with half-sleeping eyes. Upon turning her head to the bed next to her, her expression changed instantly. She began to tremble all over, as though she had just received an electric shock.
“I do not know! I swear! She was here with me!”
Lek looked around the bedroom.
“Ram, her bag is gone. Did she left? I will call Noi who was on duty tonight”.
Ram was set back by his nurse’s strange behaviour as if she knew something.
A mixed feeling of doubt, fear and urgency invaded him. Slamming Lek’s door closed he dashed down to the ward without waiting for further explanation.
Ram peered cautiously through the sliding doors to check up on the patient and immediately noticed a pillow strewn on the floor. In the gloomy moonlight he also noticed Pascal standing rigid, and his face confirmed Ram’s fears. The French doctor’s eyes had all but lost their green spark. He knelt beside the bed, with one hand holding onto Aung Win’s wrist.
Pascal didn’t turn around as he spoke in a raucous tone.
“We’re too late. The biologist has been murdered; asphyxiated.” Pascal covered his face with his hard hands.
“All the signs of asphyxiation are here. I suspect he’s been dead for few minutes, no more.” Ram knew that Pascal was blaming himself; he usually did.
“The patient was so weak already, it would have been an easy job.” Pascal was electric with emotion. Did you see Noi? He was on charge tonight?” Pascal finally turned around.
Without saying a word, Ram turned to go upstairs to find Noi, but Lek barricaded his exit. Noi was behind her. His face was pale and he was mixing up his words.
He calmed down and tried again.
I do not know anything, I swear. K Lek just awaked me. Lek, please tell him! Pascal’s logic flared up. What did Lek had to do with Noi, why was he overreacting as if he were afraid Pascal that Pascal could discover some truth him and Lek were sharing.
He looked at Lek who had turned her face to avoid eye contact. She was looking out the window at the yellow moon that hung in the corner of the morning sky like an overripe mango. Its reflection was glistening in her eyes.
…
Pascal found Ma Sue, talking to the guard at the gate, ready to leave.
He ran after her: “Ma Sue, we have to leave to Bangkok, together, you have not a chance alone, or they will capture you. Do you understand?”
Like a small kid prepared to be punished, Ma Sue tuned back to Pascal.
The murder indicated that the criminals were well informed and probably well protected. Pascal was afraid that the dead man was going to create huge problems for him and his team, not for the assassins. If some corrupted authorities were involved, Pascal would never get away from the consequences.
That’s why the only tactic was to go immediately to the Capital meet influent friends. He had to bring along Ma Sue to save her from “Them” and get some protection, for himself and his team.
In Bangkok, he had to ensure that his clinic and staff were not readily implicated and accused in the murder investigation. With the help of Sumit, his best friend in Bangkok he would have the necessary connections. That’s the way it worked.
He also believed that the Italian scientist, friend of the murdered biologist, held some vital information. He had to meet him as soon as possible.
Pascal and Ma Sue rushed without delay to the white clinic car, aiming to Bangok Thai people call Krung Thep, The City of Angels. Instead of angels he had the feeling he was going to encounter sinister devils!
They had just left the clinic and were approaching the main road when they heard a distant cacophony of sirens and car engines. Police cars! Their sirens were getting louder: a dusty cloud preceded the entourage.
Pascal ordered Ma Sue to hide on the floor, grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.
“Ram, the police are coming! You know what’s going to happen. They’ll ask questions and possibly detain you because your patient was an illegal immigrant and now he’s dead. They will want answers.”
“Wait, how did the police find out so fast? Who informed them?” Ram hated the police here.
“There must be an informer in the clinic, paid to report to the police. We still don’t’ know.
Well, whispered Ram, his voice trembling with fear: “Pascal, don’t forget to take care of that thing—the microchip--that I found in U Aung Win’s body.”
Pascal comforted him.
“Just stay calm, Ram, I will get you out of there. Don’t worry!”
Just before Ram switched off his phone and placed it into his pocket, Pascal heard a strong male voice echoing down the corridor.
“Moo Kei yu nai na kap? Where is the Indian doctor?”
…
Arrived in Bangkok, Pascal and Ma Sue hurried to the Italian Scientist house. They rang the bell many times and waited
for a good fifteen minutes for someone to come to the door. It was silent and no one came. The Italian scientist was probably not there.
Mae Sue was about to suggest they leave when they heard some shuffling inside the house. Somebody was coming!
They could hear a persisting clearing of the throat and a shuffling of feet. After some fumbling with the lock, a foreigner opened the door. Thank God! Placido was home!
He examined the two silhouettes that stood at his door. He grunted that he did not appreciate being awakened..
With the blur of siesta fading, he opened one eye and recognised Ma Sue in the sunny light.
“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t realise it was you. What has happened darling?”
He noticed her gentile eyes begin to swell with tears and ushered them immediately into the lounge.
He was a tall, angular man with a noble stance. His hair was almost white even although he was only fifty. He had the frail appearance of an eternal student with thick glasses and a worn-out look. Acclimatised to the ways of the locals, he was wearing ragged, northern Thai peasant’s pants and a faded over-sized T-shirt printed with the vague outlines of ‘Phuket Paradise’.
His dark blue eyes, flicked with green, showed a strong determination. For as long as he could remember of his time in Thailand, he had been staying in this rented villa near Rama III undergoing blurry-eyed nights of research: his only company was his maid.
As an honorary member of Chulalongkorn University, he worked mostly from home and sometimes gave lectures to the University’s advanced students. In his other work, he also participated and conducted experiments checking the incidence of radiation on brain activity at the Nuclear Hospital located near the Chao Phraya River.
Placido often traveled internationally to attend fundamental research forums in physics. He tried to visit his Italian hometown of Torino regularly and attended seminar in advanced universities in the States. He was leading a group of scientists and neurobiologists in groundbreaking, but as of yet, secret experiments.
Pascal introduced himself to the startled scientist and recapped the night events, and the murder of U Aung .
Placido did not seem surprised. “I knew something was going to happen to my old friend Aung. He was such a generous and righteous man; a true friend and beloved father who could not compete with the evil forces. Even he knew that one day they would murder him. I tried to convince him to leave but it seemed there was no way. This is terrible. He was a gullible man when it came to business.”
He continued to lament in a plaintive voice.
“My dear Sue, I am so sorry for this revolting tragedy.”
Ma Sue stood up and stepped forward to hold Placido’s two hands and he embraced her affectionately. They both held tight and started to weep in silence.
Once the emotional wave had passed, Ma Sue stepped back firmly, flicking her tears from her face as she looked into Placido’s eyes, she said resolutely, “Whoever did this; I promise they will regret it.”
“Yes, yes sweetheart. Right now we need to understand what happened. Do you have any idea who might have killed him?”
“I don’t know, he never told me anything. They started the chase as soon as they learned my father had escaped and tried to threaten me as well. Placido, this is how gangsters do: they harm their victims families, and you know I am my father’s only family.”
She paused sadly.
“Was… I was my father’s only family.”
The sadness of the situation and the need to find the perpetrators, reminded Pascal to ask Placido the burning questions about the microchip. He pulled Placido aside.
“Can I talk with you privately for a second? It’s about a device we found when we operated your friend. I have a feeling it is crucial and I need to talk to you before anything else happens.”
Placido seemed unsurprised.
“Come with me to the kitchen.”
Pascal retrieved from his pocket the small black object that looked like a miniature flashlight: Placido, I think you know what this thing is? As a scientist you may have come across this kind of thing before.”
The scientist handled the curious object between his index finger and thumb. He turned to Pascal and threw it back at him as though it were burning his fingers.
“Come to see me tomorrow at the Nuclear Hospital. I can only give you the answers there.”
Pascal’s was excited. It was the first real link! Placido was involved.
Pascal mobile phone just rang. His Thai friend Sumit had good news. Dr Ram had been released thanks to his friend at the DSI, the special operations, and was waiting at the Lumpini Police station. They had to go and pick him up.
When they got to that station, they found Ram waiting in the public inquiry room facing several policemen who sat typing complaint declarations. He was relaxed and smiling. The room was filled with noise as claim applicants explained their problems to annoyed inspectors who were joking amongst themselves. The buzzing televisions were at the mercy of office girls addicted to soap opera series and who never let their attention leave the screens.
With the DSI team gone, most of the policemen were busy looking into the issue of the last TV news. For Pascal who never got interested in politics and particularly in foreign countries, it seemed an extremely confusing situation.
As they entered the inquiry room Pascal held his dear friend and assistant in his arms.
“I am so happy they could get you out. Thank you so much for staying calm and facing this difficult moment alone,” he said.
Now, let’s get going. I think we have to organize everyone safety. Let’s meet at the Sumit’s “martial art” center.” In Sukhumvit soi 31.
After everyone settled in the vast training room, Pascal wanted to value any information Ram could gather from the police.
“Did they treat you well?” quizzed Pascal.
“Actually, not too bad,” Ram tilted his head from side to side. “You know, I kept praying for that ignorant police captain because I know he’s in need of it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Karma.”
“Oh, so you think he will turn into a pig in the next life?”
They burst out laughing at the thought of Ram doing the classic yoga position in a cramped cell with the police watching.
“But did the police have information to tell you?”
“No! Anyway I did not understand anything they said. It seems to be a private matter between Lek, the nurse, and someone else. She must be involved, but why? Such a good nurse! I saw her come into the station. I was surprised when the Police Captain shouted to her to run and hide in Bangkok.
“Why”?
“I don’t have a clue. But I knew that you both would be able to solve it and help me out, and you did. I want to thank these friends around me with all my heart.”
Ram turned to Ma Sue.
“And Ma, I’m so sorry about your father. I did what I could to save him and I am so relieved to know you are safe. It was for you I worried the most; not for myself.”
“Thank you Ram, I am safe now, but I don’t know for how long.”
“You are safe.”
“You still don’t understand how it works in Thailand!” she said to them all.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” said Ram. “We are here to protect you. You had no reason to disappear. Pascal have brought you back himself.”
With desperation in her eyes, Mae Sue repeated her worries.
“I knew I was in immediate danger in the clinic, and Pascal did the right thing. But they are probably waiting for me outside. It means they will follow me everywhere.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Sure, they are connected to the guys from Burma who were chasing me and my father.”
Ram began to understand.
“ But why Lek and Noi were acting so strangely!”
Pascal jumped in. It was too early to make conclusions.
&n
bsp; “We all don’t know what’s going on yet, but I’m afraid we’re in a really sticky mess right now. None of us can explain who is behind this and what is exactly happening, but we need to inquire and be extremely cautious. Ma Sue, you are right. You are not safe here. Whatever the reasons, ‘they’ are trying hard to get to you and ‘they’ seem to know all our moves. We need to protect you”.
“I have a solution,” said Sumit evenly. Everyone turned his attention to him.
“My uncle, the famous Buddhist monk teacher, the Ajahn Chana, stays at the Temple of the Forest near the Laos border. If I explain the situation to him, I am sure he will agree to hide Ma Sue in the novice girls’ temple. She could go there and hide away as long as it is necessary. The temple would only need a couple of days to arrange it—possibly, less.”
He turned to Ram. “For the time being, the rest of you don’t need to worry, I would be happy to let you stay in my student quarters above the martial training room in Sukhumvit Soi 31. I have three available bedrooms where you will be safe. The only other students in the block are training as bodyguards and no one will dare harm you there.”
Everyone was impressed with Sumit’s swift decision-making. As a professional boxer, strategic thinking was in his blood, and he knew what it meant to take action.
“Everything will be under control as long as we take precautions,” he confirmed and mockingly simulated a military salute: “Kapom, Sir; yes Sir!”
Sumit’s contagious positive energy was uplifting for everyone.
As the others began preparing, Pascal asked Sumit to escort him to Baan Dokmail, his regular ‘home’ in Bangkok. On his way to his hotel, Pascal questioned Sumit.
“What do you think about the situation? You are probably more used to these strange events than me. I’m just a busy doctor in a jammed camp.”
Sumit was always the guy with his head screwed on tightest. He replied in his matter-of-fact tone:
“I presume that guy who was assassinated is hiding something very critical; something important, probably linked to the lab experiments and some Burmese dark organization wants to keep it secret. That is probably why they killed him. They are chasing his daughter because she might know some secret. What that secret is exactly, I don’t know. You need to follow up on that microchip with Placido.”
Sumit rubbed his fingers on his forehead, shaking his head briskly. “As for Lek, well,” he sighed, “these guys who attacked you seem to be connected to her. The events at the local station indicate she is part of it, and, if she’s responsible for that, well, that’s an entirely new problem.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Pascal.
“Because it means there’s another dimension to it: the local police and the Thai mafia are involved in some way. It means big business for them and that we have to bring Ma Sue urgently into safety and be careful not to show up in order to keep ourselves alive.
It is critical to find out who’s behind Lek. Right now, we’re fighting blind.”
Pascal’s hotel was located in the older district of Bangkok where, during the day, most of the streets were filled with buzzing tuk-tuks carrying tourists to the famous Emerald Buddha Temple, the King’s Palace and the National Thai Museum. Kao San Road, which was notorious for catering to the international backpacker culture, was close by as well.
This charming private hotel called ‘Baan Dok Mai’, which meant “the house of flowers” sat alongside the river, nestled close to the Siam Museum. It was obvious why Pascal liked to stay here. It was designed like an historical village featuring Thai traditional houses of the Lanna Period in the typical style of Chiang Mai, a previous capital of the Siam Kingdom.
A white Colonial house with its wide veranda and long columns was poised in the middle of a sumptuous, tropical garden. This space had been transformed into the lobby and lounge where guests were first received. A member of the extended Royal Family, the owner, had kept a small space inside for himself where he stayed occasionally.
Architecturally, everything was designed with taste and respect to the original model. Wooden carvings, statues and lacquered panels, were exquisitely displayed inside the rooms and comfortable mattresses covered with silk were set into old four-posted beds. Each of the private villas had their own ‘cachet’, a type of individual artistic personality. Around the grounds you could hear the soothing sound of water flowing in the Balinese-inspired ponds where the Chao Praya river splashed along the banks..
The most enchanting feature was the manicured, yet wild garden landscaped as although it was a secret refuge surrounded by narrow terra cotta-tiled alleys. The elegant coconut trees towering above protected giant acacia and mango trees and the dancing shadows made this garden a rare respite in Bangkok. In the hotter months, the breeze from the river was a welcome presence as it helped to dissipate the heavy humidity in the air.
Pascal explained to Sumit how a French couple that had lived in Thailand for over thirty years helped him to find his Bangkok home. Close friends, they had helped him to understand the idiosyncrasies of the culture whose layers, like a lotus flower, never seemed to stop unfolding.
Oblivious to the two stocky men waiting in a Black Toyota outside the hotel, Pascal felt secure and peaceful here.
Pascal collapsed with exhaustion onto his four-poster bed and fell in the cavernous pit of unconsciousness.
Since he had worked at the camp, Pascal found it difficult to sleep without stressful images flooding his mind. This time a flurry of strange events would invade his mind—
They appeared as recurrent images of an unknown reality he nevertheless was familiar with:
He was kneeling in a temple where the candles drew large shadows. The acrid smoke obscured all detail as it fumed in front of Buddha statues. One of the statues seemed enormous; it was holding two very small ones, keeping them on each side of its chest and embracing them as inestimable treasures.
Deep voices echoed throughout the space, repeating ‘Om’, the elemental Tibetan mantra; chanting those magic words.
A beautiful woman face appeared that he could touch with tenderness, feeling the caress of fascinating, lovely red lips. She was whispering almost inaudibly:
“Do not forget the promise to me, your beloved Imae. Please find the mantras, the mantras, the mantras….”
Sweating, Pascal awoke from the nightmare, wondering about the words and images pounding in his head: mantra, mantra, mantra…why these monks, this beautiful and inaccessible woman and these bizarre mantras were coming into the picture? And, out of the blue, a Biologist who was murdered, and, now, their lives in danger!
He suddenly realized the phone was ringing. Completely awake now, Pascal tried desperately to concentrate and fix his memory on the fading and evanescent images. He knew that soon he would remember almost nothing from the dream.
He could ignore the incessant ringing no longer and grasped the telephone receiver from its cradle.
“Allo, yes,” his voice crackled in his dry throat. “Who? You said Keno, Kano? Sorry, Kengo is it?” He waited for a response. “Did we meet?”
“Where? The martial arts training in Osaka? But it’s been two years already… You represent an important Buddhist movement and you want to see me. Why me? What important item do you want to show me?”
Pascal kept asking about the item, but the man on the phone could only express how confidential it was. He said they could not discuss the matter openly on the phone.
“This afternoon? But that’s so soon…Okay, at the Suan Siri temple along the Klongs of Thonburi...Hold on! Do you mean the famous canals near Wat Arun? OK I’ll find it. See you at 5 p.m.”
Pascal placed the receiver down. He had just agreed to meet with a man whom he barely remembers, in a secret location, for a mysterious object. What was going on?
“This is not a chance meeting,” he justified himself. Every event so far seemed so tightly knit that he was convinced this unexpected call was related to the previous drama in his clinic.
All this was becoming too confusing. Pascal needed to clarify his mind. He sat himself on the terrace ready for his yoga exercises and to repeat ‘the Oriya’, a form of mantra he was taught by his yogi friend.
Then, he felt ready.
He first decided to go to the hospital where Placido was working. Pascal knew that the Professor was hiding something important. There was no doubt; his body language couldn’t lie. Not only did he show no surprise when Pascal exhibited the device, it was as though he had been waiting to be asked about it. He pretended to scrutinize it unknowingly, but it was obvious he knew it. Why did he let Pascal so privately into the house kitchen otherwise?
Pascal also decided to attend the secret meeting with the Japanese guy, late this afternoon, whatever the danger. But he wouldn’t go through this alone, and made himself the promise to confer with his Thai friends before going.
He first called the number on the paper Placido had handed him and ordered a taxi to the Nuclear Research Hospital across the river.
…
“Each person is but a wave passing through space,
Ever changing, from minutes to minutes.”
Nikola Tesla.
The Quantum Mantra Page 1
