Pascal arrived early at the Nuclear Research Hospital. As a doctor himself, Pascal needed some scientific explanation, to understand the strange behavior of U Aung at the secret Laboratory in Yangoon. As Placido was his friend, in charge of nuclear and particle physics, it will be easy for him to explain—hopefully in a clear language—what was going on.
Waiting impatient and anxious in the large conference room at the Nuclear Research Hospital, Pascal’s head was thumping.
Placido staggered awkwardly into the room. This once handsome, now haggard gentleman was the definition of the expression: ‘live to work’. Placido did not get to become honorary member at the nuclear research association without going the mileage first.
“Sorry I kept you waiting; I had to make sure we were alone.”
Outside, the light was reflecting off the Royal Palace roof. The light flickered into Pascal’s eyes, testing his patience.
“Thank you for coming. I felt it would be safer to speak here. Before we get started, I need to see you have the chip with you.”
Pascal removed a tiny, plastic box from his pocket. He opened it and flashed the device between his thumb and index finger. The physician’s pupils widened and he took a step towards Pascal.
“Thank God it’s safe. Now, I ask that you return it to me,” requested Placido, his palm open, ready to grasp it.
Pascal slipped the chip back into the box and clicked it shut; shoving it back into his jeans pocket.
“I don’t think so.”
The physician coughed nervously and took several seconds to recover from his initial shock.
“Ragazzo, this device does not belong to you; you have no business with it,” Placido regretted his choice of words immediately.
“Listen, I’m here because I need to find out what is going on. I try to save a man who I find brutally tortured only to have him assassinated in my own clinic that very same night. My staff have been turned completely upside down; some of them arrested; and now being placed into hiding…and now, you are trying to tell me I have no place in this? I think you know precisely what is happening and you are going to tell me what the Hell this thing is.”
“You must understand that what you are holding is essential to me,” countered Placido. “It has no relevance to you, in any way.”
“If you think I can just walk away from everything that has just happened, you are deeply mistaken. I have been extremely patient with you and agreed to meet you to get an explanation. I’m not leaving without one.”
Grabbing Pascal by the hand, the Italian spoke softly:
“Maybe you are right after all. It is too heavy to bear: I don’t know what events would bring you to me, but you came to my house yesterday. I understand now that we were supposed to meet somehow. When I first saw you, I thought it was shock, but it was the opposite: I felt incredibly relieved.”
He started to talk in a dull voice.
“I had warned Aung that he would meet this fate, but like me, he was too absorbed in his work. When he would visit me from Yangoon he would tell me that things were going to get well; that he had a master plan.”
“What work was he involved in?”
Placido ignored the question.
“The people who employed him were very clever, and particularly that old German director who seemed to have a very dark past, a person who trusted no one. I have no idea why he began to be suspicious of him, but once he had doubts, it was like a seed of danger fomenting.”
Placido began speaking faster.
“They knew Aung was hiding something big and they tortured him to have him talk about what secret he might have been leaking out. Fortunately, he found a way to escape with his daughter before they could hold her hostage; but they killed him anyway. They probably thought that his daughter had information, but it wasn’t true. She had no idea about any of this.”
“But what was he doing?” insisted Pascal.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t explained it properly. Let me start from the beginning.”
Placido’s voice was strengthening and he pushed his back upright, regaining some dignity.
“All throughout 2014, Aung made frequent visits to Bangkok to see me. He told me about those powerful businessman who had built an obscure, experimental research laboratory somewhere near Yangoon, and hired him. He was never curious about those things.
Aung’s lab was performing experiments on the human brain to study consciousness.
These people seemed to use very advanced technology and that got him excited. Himself had found some secret formula he also wanted to test, but he never talked about it.
That’s all he told me.
He was happy as a dog to lead a team in an area he was passionate about, you see, and was making remarkable progress. Not many scientists are researching how the neurons react in relation to consciousness. It was a really groundbreaking work coming out of it.
“Pascal, you have the microchip, so, it’s time to see more.”
Placido placed his hand under the table and revealed a thin, aluminium remote control. At a click, curtains slid along the bay windows and darkened the lecture theatre.
Turning his body towards Pascal, the lecturer extended his hand gently.
“Please give me the device so we can download the information together. I have not seen its new contents either.”
From the table he took a barcode wand; directed the device Pascal had given him towards the blue window of the wand and switched it on.
Shocked, Pascal could not believe his eyes! The video images that appeared on the screen: a glittering lab, chanting monks in chains and loud sounds interjecting randomly were the exact replica of his past vision in his room at the clinic when he awoke and found the biologist murdered.
The video stopped abruptly, but the image displayed by the microchip, extracted from the victim, was still flashing in his mind.
What the Hell? Why the downloading stopped, what happened to the microchip?
Placido stared at him bewildered, but seemed to recover a little too quickly.
“You can see that we cannot retrieve the complete information,” said Placido, but his body language seemed to say something else.
“Maybe your format is not compatible, that’s all,” shrugged Pascal.
“No, No. Let me explain how the system works.”
Placido pushed another button and a new image appeared on the screen. It was the very same device they were viewing:
“The device you found in his body is a very sophisticated Ultra High Radio Frequency identification tag currently used in developed countries as a spy radio to trace and identify subjects. In order to transmit information long range, the biologist tattooed himself with conductive ink that worked as a mini-antenna. This antenna was able to receive signals from satellites in space that fed the nano coil inserted in the microchip hidden in his armpit. Radiations are also vibrations, you could say. They provided the necessary energy to receive and transmit any kind of sophisticated information through the USB port and micro camera I attached to Aung’s glasses.”
“And why did it stop?”
“Maybe Aung has entered a code into it. I don’t understand why he would do that,” puzzled Placido. “He was probably spied and needed a very secured codification. I have no idea what information it is hiding.”
“So what’s going on?” demanded Pascal. “What is the meaning of torturing monks, what does that all mean?”
Placido looked relieved not to have released more data. All of a sudden he darted to the door and without turning he ordered:
“You want to be aware of what’s going on? Follow me. I’ll show you what the microchip should have told you.”
They crossed a long corridor to a door that opened smoothly when Placido exhibited his magnetic card.
“Hey dottore, you don’t need to look into an optical device like in the Hollywood thrillers?” joked Pascal.
“Just wait young fellow; you might be impressed all the same!” chuckled
Placido.
They reached an elevator and Placido inserted a key to the B10 basement.
“How come you have ten underground floors?” asked Pascal.
“Oh, we have more than that. You know what nuclear means: radiation. So we are cautious! Our labs are immersed in a concrete block.”
When the elevator doors slid open the men entered into a large lobby bright and busy with people waiting on comfortable chairs, and a reception area wrapped in a glass cube.
“This way.” Placido led Pascal into a long corridor leading to thick metal doors.
As they walked through them, Pascal saw lights; dozens of them, twinkling on control boards and reflecting onto a machine. The machine, once again, was identical to the one he had just seen the deceased colleague, Aung, working on. A chill ran through him.
“The machine you saw earlier is similar to the one you see here.”
And the same as my vision, thought Pascal. His interest grew.
“What is it for?”
“My dear Pascal, you must be patient if you want to understand what’s going on,” said Placido as he entered a room lit with neon lights.
“This is the torture chamber,” Placido joked.
He walked to a small cubicle behind a huge glass panel that had a tiny desk. In it sat a tall, slim, Indian man with glasses wearing a white coat. He was talking with a middle-aged woman, seated on the opposite side. In one corner sat a young child who looked about ten years old.
“Let me introduce you to Dr. Rama Singh, a renowned neuroscientist who collaborated on our project,” said Placido. “He has just arrived from California.”
“Dr. Singh, may I introduce you to Dr. Pascal who is trying to help me solve the mystery of my old friend Aung’s brutal assassination. Please kindly explain to him what we are doing here.”
A large and warm smile illuminated the handsome, dark face.
“No problem,” replied Singh. “If you are a medical doctor, I presume you know of course the brain’s anatomy, its different areas and their functions. We neuroscientists try to discover the functioning of the brain by studying what goes wrong with it. When patients have some part of their brain damaged we can check which function isn’t working. Simple!”
He came up to Pascal and whispered: “You see this woman sitting in front of my desk? You may wonder why she is so agitated; moving erratically and grabbing her right hand with her left? She has a rare disease called Alien Hand Syndrome. One arm cannot obey her will and she is obliged to stop it with the other hand. We have discovered that one area of her brain in her parietal, the cingula to be precise, was damaged when she had a stroke. It is an important discovery for our project because it shows that we can manipulate that precise area that control this woman’s free will. Unfortunately, we still do not understand clearly how the reproduce the process.”
“Dr. Placido believes the brain function is controlled by vibrations. In fact, he believes that everything is vibration. That is why I am collaborating with him with these experiments. If his theory is true, we will identify the vibrations that will influence the brain.”
“How to identify these vibrations?” continued Singh. “That’s the point! The theory of resonance is simple, but in actuality, we cannot apply it as long as we don’t know the matching frequencies: The conclusion is crucial: whoever controls these frequencies, capable to resonate with the brain, controls the freedom of action.”
Pascal began to understand, but still curious, he asked the neuroscientist, “What about that young boy over there?”
“This is really sad. He is autist and can’t communicate with others or with the outside world. He can make no distinction between himself and me; he has no idea of his ‘self’.”
“How is this boy’s disease related to your research on vibrations?” asked Pascal.
“After many experiments, I have come to the conclusion that the boy’s incapacity is linked with a scarcity of his mirror neurons.”
“What’s that?”
“When someone looks at someone else, his first move is to imitate that person. It has been recently discovered that, when it happens, special neurons fire in the temporal area of the brain; neuroscientists call them mirror neurons.”
“Imitating; looking at things from the vantage point of others is essential for the development of the self: our will and consciousness. This is precisely what mirror neurone do and our research is to discover how to influence these neurons, but it is not simple.”
“Why not?” asked Pascal.
“Because our body emits counter waves-vibrations called mu waves--which control and stop inadequate movements. It is a kind of ‘watchdog’ that counteracts the mirror neurone impulses.”
“It is why we have to create complex action/reaction connections and use the proper vibrations, or lets say, frequencies, to influence the mu waves and the mirror neurone at the same time. If we succeed we will be able to create and control a person’s will and consequently his actions.”.
A long silence followed, and Pascal, immersed into the complexities of the information, began to be convinced that everything was a matter of waves, frequencies.
What he had just been watching demonstrated that whatever wrong happened to someone brain was a defect in connections, a lack of vibrations, a disturbance of the waves frequencies. The trillions of neuronal connections happening in one single human brain, more than the numbers of stars in the universe, had to be tuned with utmost precision to work together in harmony.
Placido interrupted his reflection:
“Thank you Doctor Singh, but I don’t have much time. I’m sure your explanation is enough for Pascal to figure out the neurological fundamentals that drive our research.”
Placido turned to a still curious Pascal.
“Let’s see the machine that I built with Aung.”
Placido opened a door to a dark and immense room where Pascal had noticed the machine from the corridor.
“What is the purpose of this monster?
“Simply to identify the frequencies of radiations surrounding the human body and the brain, said Placido.
“Radiation surrounding the body and the brain?” asked Pascal.
“Yes, many kinds of vibrations are emitted from and outside of the body/brain areas.
“How do you know they exist?” asked a skeptical Pascal.
The scientific community knows already. The technology to identify vibrations inside the body has been tested for decades with scanners and MRI’s, which create images of tumours in the body and the brain.
Pascal, who was not a radiologist, was curious to know exactly how resonance could create images.
“Let me try to simplify, but it is more complicated. The body and brain are matter which contain hydrogen atoms, made of a nucleus and electrons spinning around an axis. Magnets located on each side of the machine create a magnetic field measured in Tesla units, and align all the electrons with a certain angle. Then, the machine sends electric pulses. What happens? The pulses push all electrons to another angle. As soon as the electric impulses cease, the electrons come back to their initial position, but at different speed, according the nature of the tissues. It is roughly the time and speed of that movement which generates an image the specialist can interpret.
But the MRI cannot go further and cannot identify frequencies AROUND the body and brain. So we had to create this “monster”, a kind of super sophisticated MRI.
The most surprising is that the machine is revealing what was known from antiquity, probably even “before” the dynastic period of the Egyptians Pharaohs 30,000 years ago, and clearly established thousands of years ago in the Vedic culture:
Every living being has fields of energy surrounding his body/brain: an aura, if you will. Even nowadays, the Shamans, scattered all over the world, perceive it as a “Luminous Body” around the physical body and say that we are only an avatar of that body, the true one.
With testing, we have experimented that each o
f these outside fields vibrate with certain, distinguishable frequencies and resonate in a controlling or collaborative way.
“Is that the new age of human paradigm.?” Asked Pascal.
“Not really,” answered Placido. “My technology is based on the last discoveries of Nikola tesla”. He was the first to discover, one hundred years ago, the power of rotating magnetic fields.”
“He was also a pioneer who understood the implication of the Indian Vedanta tradition that had long ago established the existence of energy fields in the universe and around the body and brain”
According Hindu beliefs, these fields were said to be in three layers:
=The first one they called the “physical body” or Morphic Field, related to the physical functions.
-The second one “the Astral body”, related to emotions.
-The last one, the “causal body”, was emitting waves with frequencies beyond measure. The Hindu called it Atman, the Soul. But it had different names such as‘ the matrix’, or even the “Zero Point Field,” the mother of all fields.
No matter what, all these names were speculative, and I do not want to confuse you further;
Let’s concentrate on what the machine can analyze.
“You know that we are bombarded with billions of waves as Neutrinos and ‘cosmic energies and many more. You probably heard very recently that astrophysicists discovered that more than 70% of the energy and matter in the universe belonged to some unknown field of particles they called ‘dark matter and dark energy’, which are invisible. Can you imagine that? We really are still in the Middle Ages.” Placido chuckled.
Now, look at the body emissions:
“Researchers have already measured the emissions of energy from the first level of energy emissions: the aura of the physical body. Vibrational Technology Specialists such as Dr. Motoyama have devised tools to calculate that energy, emitted from the body’s energy centers.”
“You mean the chakras?”
Pascal knew about these centers used in Chinese medicine.
“Exactly,” said Placido.
“ But we are now on the road to identify the other levels of energy fields which were said to circulate around the human body and mind, creating resonances that control all its physiological aspect, including consciousness and behaviour.”
“You really think you can identify such vibrations and with your technology, create resonances that can control the mind?” asked a bemused Pascal.
“Absolutely!” retorted Placido, “but not all.”
“Whoa!” said Pascal. “You mean like weapons of mental mass destruction?”
“To be frank with you, it is just an extrapolation, since no one could ever clearly identify their frequencies. Some might even be virtual and transcendental, beyond our pure scientific capacities to observe and measure. We remain at the frontier of new findings, and conventional scientists are not going to help us. We have to be patient and continue to use our pragmatic science-based operational methods and system of controlled experimenting.”
“Can you show me?” asked Pascal.
“Of course!
Placido turned to a number of monitor screens in the dark control room.
“Here you can see the heart’s activity; here, the blood pressure; here, the brain’s EEG activity in various areas of the cortex. The subject’s body is under complete observation.” He pointed to the largest screen.
“Each variation shows which body or brain areas are affected and influenced.”
Pascal then turned his attention to a patient lying in a round capsule. The subject wore a body suit wrapped around his entire body. On his face was what appeared to be a breathing mask connected to a retractable tube that led out of the capsule into a compressor of some sort.
Pascal was impressed.
“Why do they wear such strange outfits?”
“They have been designed to isolate the inside layers of energy from the outside ones, and consequently, study their frequencies separately.”
“So you found the frequencies you’ve been looking for?”
Placido let out a sigh. “Only randomly, unfortunately. Most of the time, they are evanescent and disappear every nano seconds without reason. We are far from controlling them all”. That’s why I was so amazed when Aung explained how he could not only identify these subtle frequencies emitted by monks chanting mantras, but also manipulate them.
Let me show you an experiment and you will understand how complex it is already.
“This is Patient One.,” he said, as he clicked on the control board. On the top left corner of the screen was a time stamp showing it was footage from a week before.
“Look at what happens when the frequencies match.”
As the video played, Pascal heard a humming sound grow louder. On another monitor, he noticed the subject’s heart rate increase. The brain monitors display showed changes in temperature. The patient started to move and talk and suddenly, a bright red ribbon of light illuminated the chamber. The patient was in a trance.
In a flash, it was gone and the patient’s vital statistics returned to a normal state.
“Wow, it works!” Pascal exclaimed.
“Yes, but not quite.” Placido clicked on the control board again to display the same patient’s video 24 hours later.
“Here, watch what happens when we attempt to recreate the same experiment.”
Keeping a careful eye on each monitor, Pascal watched and listened as the same hum enveloped the room. Everything seemed to be exactly the same as the previous video. As the hum grew louder, Pascal’s eyes widened. He waited for the flash of light.
This time there was no light; no increase in heart rate or brain activity.
Pascal felt confused.
“The truth is we have not really mastered the technology the scientists in Yangon seem to have already developed.
At that moment, Pascal remembered the shouting in his vision: “the symmetry has collapsed”
As a matter of fact, he asked Dr Placido:
“And what about the symmetry?
The scientist stopped looking at the machine and turned to Pascal, interlocked:
How do you know that, young man? Only Aung and me know it.
“Pascal answered, evasive: I don’t know, just an idea.
But know he was certain his vision was right.
Placido, was shocked:
“ My God, are you a psychic? Yes, your idea is correct. We cannot progress because of that symmetry problem; we still are in the blue and cannot balance our technology.
Pascal felt suddenly too lost to make any comment. His visions proved correct but he still needed to understand these complex scientific implications. Moreover, he had to digest all these strange events: the chanting monks, the lost mantras, the dangerous Thai mafia…. What all this had to do with him?
Placido led him out of the chamber.
On the way to the hospital exit the physicist whispered into Pascal’s ear.
I possess a secret information which could explain how the lab in Burma could have got the formula to create new technologies and control the waves emitted by the brain.
But I cannot tell you know and to make it more difficult, Aung had it on the microchip, but encrypted, probably with a very advanced algorithm I could not break out.
Pascal, you have to stop these criminals, you need to investigate for yourself, decrypt the microchip, and clarify the content of the formula.
I will tell you later, when necessary. For the time being, I don’t want to lure you, away from your own instincts. Please note my website in case something happens to me, but don’t look at it now. Enter my website, “soulenergy.com”, only as your last resort,” implored Placido as he waved goodbye to Pascal with a sad smile.
Pascal was puzzled. Why didn’t Placido just tell him everything right away? Why did he keep secrets? It was obvious he knew how to read at least some parts of the microchip. Was he involved somehow in a sort of conspir
acy? Was there someone else involved? Did Placido’s own lab discover the new technology? Did he want to keep it for himself?
Like the shuffling of sand underwater, Pascal’s mind was in disarray and all of the information was waiting to settle.
Perhaps his next meeting with the man who called himself Kengo would help fill in some gaps.
What relation could exist between monks chanting mantras, a Buddhist organization, and murderers? And now, science and holistic practices were entering the picture.
Bewildered, Pascal hailed a long-tail taxi boat passing by on the river.
“To Hell!” he said jokingly to the boat driver.
…
Perched uncomfortably on the thin wooden bench in the long tail boat, Pascal was fascinated by the diversity of the landscape along the way to the Wat Suan Kiri, the old temple on the canal. Small wooden houses were scattered in organized chaos, juxtaposed against steel and glass high-rise buildings. Behind these buildings lay an intricate network of canals that only locals could understand.
The old boat driver donned a thin white beard that flapped sideways in the wind. He had navigated these waters his whole life and witnessed the metamorphosis that had occurred over the last 50 years. Everything he knew was connected to this river. Along these canals, peoples’ lifestyles had scarcely changed. The residents of the traditional wooden houses that bordered the tepid and smelly water seemed unaware of the high technological world hidden just a few hundred meters away. Children still jumped and played, shouting with great delight while swimming in the polluted stream. Untouched by most of the vulgar aspects of modern life, they effused the charm of a simpler existence.
In less than 30 minutes Pascal arrived at the temple grounds.
While disembarking, Pascal examined the Suan Kiri Temple. The small, white building was hidden behind walls slightly recessed into the canal’s embankment. He had never been here before, but could see the enormous black Buddha of Burmese origin towering over its admirers. Pascal noticed a kind of shelter above it, deceivingly fragile although it had held its post there for many years. Old trees crowned the empty space in front of the temple, several of which were surrounded by sleeping dogs.
This place of worship was usually open until late at night.
The main temple stood in the middle of the compound. It was a tall, elegant structure with narrow doors and windows and a pitched roof of red and gold tiles.
Smaller buildings where the monks slept at night were scattered around the main temple.
Pascal noticed one strangely proportioned building that rose almost as high as the temple. He couldn’t read the placard engraved in Thai but guessed from the dark soot at the top that it must be a cremating chimney of some sort.
The Buddhist ceremony of cremation is integral to its ideas concerning life and death. In the act of burning, it is believed that the spirit is released from the material body. The particles of the soul evaporate in the air and into the next life, passing on through the karmic cycle.
Scientists have measured energy emissions from the bodies of dead people and discovered that they hold the energy of the chakras for several days after death. And it is probably why in this religion bodies were to be cremated only seven days after death.
The presence of death here was not frightful; the lush gardens surrounding this place of peace were quite serene.
Before Pascal entered the compound, he asked the boat driver to stay put and wait for him. A powerful speedboat was already docked at the entrance and looked abandoned, which was somewhat suspicious. Either someone of great influence was parked here to make a prayer or perhaps the boat had run out of petrol and a person was off to collect the fuel.
Alert, Pascal measured the risk but decided he had no choice but to meet with this enigmatic Japanese man. He decided to use caution.
Pascal was early to the meeting so he decided to use the time to carefully inspect the temple surroundings. First, he walked up the steps of the pier and took a mental picture of the small kiosk outside on the river embankment. Kengo was to meet him here at 6 p.m.
The small concrete cubicle stood beside a large Banyan tree, whose hanging roots swung down like languid arms almost to the water. A ruined wooden bench was placed at the base for devotees to sit and enjoy the quietness of the sacred place.
The story recounts, Buddhism’s founder Gautama discovered enlightenment under this kind of tree. As a result, the Banyan species remains sacred to Buddhists, and this one was no exception. To celebrate it’s sacredness, multi-coloured ribbons had been wrapped around the trunk and various fruit offerings were scattered around the base. As per tradition, next to the tree was a miniature temple with tiny figurines held up on a wooden platform by a thin pole.
Pascal looked around the compound. He now felt a strong pressure and all his senses were on alert; ready to identify any danger. He focused to pay close attention to any unusual details. He inspected, watched and paced around the garden planted with imposing centenarian trees.
Once every corner was carefully checked, Pascal felt the need to regain full control of his emotions. He was not religious, but he still had some time and enough curiosity to encourage him to use what he learned in martial arts training to increase his concentration. As he was next to a temple; meditation would be the perfect tool. At the thought, he walked inside the temple.
Several yellow dogs followed him silently. Many stray animals are abandoned each year in Thailand and most find refuge in temples where they are welcomed and fed. These dogs weren’t used to the presence of a foreigner, but Pascal loved dogs. He had a good connection with them and these half-wild animals had understood his empathy towards them. When he stopped and bent to caress a young one, they all rushed over, wagging their tails and licking his fingers. He had made new friends.
Today it was relatively quiet inside the temple.
An old, skeletal monk was practicing an informal blessing to a handful of devotees who sat on a carpet in the lotus position; others simply rested on their knees. The monk was drawing elegant arabesques on their arms with a kind of white chalk. According to tradition, these convoluted symbols would protect and heal.
After drawing, he held some of the follower’s palms and endowed them with his advice. When he was finished they bowed with their palms touching in the traditional Wai posture and began praying together. The monk was surrounded by gifts: baskets with fruits, groceries, flower garlands, Nescafé pots—even toilet rolls—all dispersed haphazardly on a red carpet.
Still alert, but free from anxiety, Pascal relaxed. Everything was peaceful; there was no sense of menace here.
The skinny monk in his saffron robes began to recite the traditional Theravada mantras:
“Buddham saranam gachami…..
Sangham saranam gachami….”
People echoed the chant in unison. Pascal was happy to participate in this simple and genuine ceremony. Once recited, he walked up to light a few incense sticks arranged around dozens of smaller statues that stood at the feet of the principal statue. He stayed for few minutes more to meditate, surrounded by incense fumes and candlelight, using his breath as his guide.
He looked at his watch in the dimming light. Only ten minutes until the meeting.
Then something bizarre happened. Two tall monks casting immense shadows walked into the compound. Their movements were fast, which was very unusual for Thai monk, but the most surprising was the attitude of the dogs towards them. Customarily, saffron robes are a mark of assurance for these abandoned pets that are often rejected by lay people. The dogs usually love and respect monks, but they were growling and barking at the two large figures.
Something was wrong, but as he was still preoccupied with the coming meeting, Pascal dismissed the thought. They were probably monks from a provincial temple who weren’t accustomed to dogs.
Pascal diverted his attention and saw in the indistinct distance a short figure walking slowly towards the kiosk. His contact was early.
As the silhouette came closer, he could make out a man in a business suit who was carrying a backpack on his shoulder. This guy had to be some kind of stiff. Pascal didn’t know anyone else who could bear a city jacket in this hot and humid environment.
The figure was only moments away, unaware of Pascal, who was standing immobile in the dark at the threshold of the temple.
The man in the suit stopped unexpectedly. He had noticed the two monks who had been walking towards the kiosk and for no apparent reason had turned back and started to run towards him.
Pascal noticed then the extraordinary physical performance of the two monks who were muscular and very energetic.
Pascal looked for the messenger, but he had already run away. Minutes later, two large monks silhouettes ran back alone, exhaling loudly and out of breath. When they passed near the place where he was hidden, Pascal could hear one shout “Pidzdiest!”
Were there Russian Buddhist monks in Thailand?
The two characters, now rushing to the pier, disappeared into the shadows. The sound of a powerful motorboat filled the silence of the night.
Pascal was disappointed that he had missed the meeting, but was happy that the messenger had escaped.
Tired now, Pascal was anxious to return to his hotel. He felt completely lost. He had planned to discover another layer of the puzzle with Kengo tonight and yet he had not come any closer to the truth. He exhaled a long breath.
His cell phone vibrated. It was his Thai friend Sumit who was eager to have news from the meeting. He was also excited.
“Listen Pascal, I just made a really good contact. Some people have invited us to dinner. If you feel in good shape we could meet in one hour. The restaurant is in Yaowarat in the Chinese district. I feel like we could find out more about what is happening here. You have this empathy to perceive the true nature of people so you must come with us. It is the only way we will know whether or not to trust them.”
Pascal agreed and within minutes after disembarking from the boat on the other side of the river he settled in a tuk tuk.
Bangkok’s famous open aired taxi was an evolutionary design for a city swamped with cars and automobiles. With its colourful designs and multi-coloured lights, the fusion between motorcycle and car was small enough to weave its way around in the traffic. Its small roof provided shelter when it rained. He was able to reach the very crowded Chinese district in relatively good time. Tourists with their new Thai girlfriends waved at him as they passed by, happy and unconscious of the drama that was unfolding for Pascal.
…
“In a dog’s mouth grows no ivory!”
Chinese proverb
The Quantum Mantra Page 2
