The Quantum Mantra

by Henri-Paul Bour

The standard black taxicab, was touring the Chinese suburb totally lost. The driver was becoming impatient. The driver ignored the fact that he was in search of the Secret Service—where they were located had become a real secret!

  London cab drivers were usually extremely polite and helpful until they felt upset for any reason. The driver had reached that extreme and was ready to turn back, furious and starting to nag about the ‘slanted eyes’, when finally they found their destination, thanks to Pascal’s knowledge of the Cantonese language.

  Still emotional, the driver mumbled, “Bloody Chinooks, who do they think they are?”

  A good tip was able to calm him down and Pascal finally got to the shop that was a kind of emporium with all the things you could find in Hong Kong.

  Of course you could expect the shopkeeper to be Chinese. He was very slim with a big smile nailed on his flat face and probably deaf and mute, as he never opened his mouth and didn’t pretend to listen.

  Inside the shop they passed the unmistakable red and gold altar dedicated to the Ancestors, with its blinking lights and candles, and surrounded by an acrid incense smell.

  This time the same agents looked nervous. They had been waiting for him a long time with the so-called Mr. Been, still wearing a tweed jacket and flannel pants under an ample overcoat.

  He probably has twenty of these costumes, or maybe it is the same one, thought Pascal. But he was not in a mood to joke. He immediately informed the agents about the incident at the airport, as he was anxious to know what they could do.

  Mr. Been answered calmly.

  “We know what happened; we were there.”

  “You were there?” shouted Pascal. “And you did nothing?”

  “Please, do not over-react. We didn’t expect it to happen. We didn’t have the information that somebody was to kidnap your girlfriend and we had only two men there. They saw you running and they followed; they were too late as well.”

  “Why didn’t they contact me then?” asked Pascal.

  “Sorry, Pascal; it wasn’t their job!”

  “So what is your job then? Can you find her?”

  “We have immediately put all our agents and the Scotland Yard Special Division on it,” Mr. Been soothed.

  “Now Pascal, let’s work on the present situation as it is the key to finding your friend. Don’t worry, their goal is to find the two mantras and they will approach you soon. We will be at your back to protect you and her. In the meantime let our best agents do their work. I promise you we will find her.”

  You promise? How much is that promise worth wondered Pascal.

  Nervous and anxious, Pascal reluctantly started to brief the MI6 team on his adventures in Rome and Naples, but didn’t mention the small, black package they found in the Roman statue that was covered in sticky wax.

  He and Mayumi had decided that for safety’s sake they would keep the mantra’s location a secret. Pascal had no confidence in any Secret Service agency. Experience always proved that they followed the wind at their advantage; that every agent was expandable, and that Mr. Been was probably two-faced.

  After Mayumi was abducted Pascal knew that it was more secure to put the mantra in a bank safe, so he had made a detour to London’s CDB, and using some tricks he had seen in a thriller movie, made sure he wasn’t followed in Oxford Street.

  The small package that contained the second mantra, together with the first one, were now treasures entrusted in a bank safe, ready to be exchanged for Mayumi’s life. It was her life insurance policy, so for the time being, he trusted no one, particularly not MI6.

  With a charming smile Mr. Been said, “Since you have now the two mantras that the hostile organization needs, don’t you think it will be more cautious to entrust them to us?”

  Pascal was surprised. He had always told MI6 about one mantra to be recovered. This was the second time Mr. Been mentioned two mantras, but Pascal had told him that he had recovered on mantra only. Who told him about it... or had he not listened properly?

  “I presume you mean one mantra, don’t you?” Pascal tested Mr. Been.

  “Oh yes, sorry,” replied Mr. Been swiftly. “I was mistaken. In fact you didn’t find the second one in Italy.”

  He was caught red-handed.

  “Well,” invented Pascal with a smile as well. “Unfortunately, we have one only. The Esoteric Buddhists say it is not enough to start any experiment corresponding to the Mandala symmetric rules. So we still have to find the second one.”

  Pascal hoped Mr. Been would believe that, and added another fiction. “Our friends in Bangkok have the first one.”

  At least, thought Pascal, they wouldn’t hurt him or Mayumi as long as they didn’t have the two mantras. He needed to buy some time.

  “Did you keep a copy of that mantra to to show our expert now?” asked Mr. Been.

  “No, because a copy wouldn’t be relevant; only an original can be used.”

  Been was quite disappointed, but he kept smiling and told Pascal.

  “Please make sure we can have it soon, otherwise it would be difficult for us to negotiate with the Cosmos agents to free your friend. I have just received a very important piece of information. The Thai general’s story has checked out. We are dealing with a very dangerous international group ready to do whatever it takes to get those two mantras, so you’re best to follow our advice Pascal.”

  Was this a threat?

  “Well Mr. Been, I think you’d better help me to find Mayumi first. This is the only important thing to me. Bring her to me and I promise I will find what is going on and give you the two mantras—when I find the second one.”

  He had learned quickly the game of making promises.

  “As I told you, don’t worry; it’s only a matter of time. Get yourself ready for the negotiation with these guys. Keep quiet for now and we will contact you soon.”

  With the meeting over, Mr. Been delivered him to an elegant hotel near Marble Arch facing Regents Park.

  “Your accommodation is on the house; sorry we couldn’t afford The Savoy.”

  Somehow, the joke calmed Pascal’s anxiety.

  “You still have a hand in the game Pascal,” said Been. “They need you and what you have. Believe me, they will contact you soon.” He repeated. “We will stay at your back and protect you.”

  Pascal pretended to appreciate the fact that they didn’t wish to leave him alone.

  “Stay on the forefront; visible in that hotel. That way they will soon know where you are. In fact, we have let them know, so they will come to you quickly to make a deal.”

  “They this; they that! Who are they?”

  But Mr. Been gave no detail, nor did he reveal who gave him the intelligence or how they contacted him. It was all very strange indeed! They just walked from the parking lot to the hotel. Mr. Been looked quite a character in his green and beige wool cap. Just before leaving Pascal in front of the first-class hotel he changed his manner and seemed to become friendlier, patting Pascal’s shoulder and making an effort to build a relationship.

  “Keep in touch soon mate! But please don’t do anything foolish on your own.”

  And he left Pascal alone, heart-broken and suspicious, following the impeccable bellboy to his room.

  The boutique hotel was very posh, stylish and cozy. The comfortable Laura Ashley fabrics and mahogany Chippendale furniture might have reminded Pascal of past weekends in the London countryside, but it wasn’t the time for melancholic memories, and he paid no attention to the luxurious setting of the hotel.

  He tried to recompose himself. They had Mayumi, and he had to accept that. And play smart.

  He was still in shock though and incapable of making a plan and completely obsessed with the same recurring questions: Why had they attacked so soon? ‘Officially’ we had only found one mantra and everyone knew it wasn’t enough. They should be thinking we had one more to locate. What had happened? How had MI6 known the way to contact them and why had Mr. Been talked twice about two mantra
s?

  As Pascal entered his luxurious room the telephone was ringing on the bedside table. He nervously rushed to grab the receiver.

  It was the receptionist downstairs.

  “We have a gentleman at reception for you sir... a Mr. Daisukei.”

  Jesus! The PR from the Mantrayana! What the hell was he doing here? How did he know I am here?

  “Send him up to my room,” said Pascal.

  When he opened the door, he ushered in the very elegant and handsome Japanese PR he had met in Bangkok.

  “Hi, Daisukei. Thanks for coming! Why are you here? How did you find me? Did you hear the bad news?”

  At ease, Daisukei, pretended not to hear Pascal’s barrage of questions, and sat on the sofa.

  “A friend at the Japanese Foreign Office in Osaka called me yesterday and told me they had been informed by the British Embassy that Mayumi, the daughter of the Master of the Mantrayana group, had been abducted. The British Ambassador apologized to the Japanese government and said Mayumi was kidnapped at the Airport in broad daylight while leaving Rome with a French man. They knew this French man was staying in a hotel near Regents Park and they asked me to contact you for more information. What luck to find you! I took the first flight and have just arrived... and I also have important news regarding the mantras.”

  Pascal was surprised, but suddenly remembered what Mr. Been had told him: “In fact, we have just let them know.”

  How clever! There was no accusation, nor prejudice to anyone; just the fact and a subtle warning. How very British!

  Was Daisukei a traitor? Pascal couldn’t believe it. This possibility was out of proportion. Daisukei was a wealthy man from a high-class family and very spiritually involved in his practice. Honesty and compassion surely were his objectives? But it was true that Kengo himself had told him that they had a mole in their organization.

  How could Daisukei possibly be that infiltrator? What kind of powerful feeling—perhaps hate or deception—could upset him so much that he would make such an extreme choice?

  Pascal kept his suspicions to himself and asked innocently, “What kind of news? I am so impatient to know.”

  Even he was too tense to hear any other news that was not related to Mayumi’s fate. He had to listen. He felt he was going to discover the link to Mayumi’s abductors.

  “The Mantrayana masters have discovered that only two mantras are necessary to match the Chinese tradition.”

  “What tradition?”

  “The Yin and the Yang,” said Daisukei.

  Why was this important? Who cared? Pascal couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “My God, Daisukei, what does that mean? Please don’t beat around the bush! How can it help me to find Mayumi?”

  “The Yin and Yang principle is the basis of Chinese philosophy. It explains the world as a balance between the opposite, or complementary, phenomena like man and women, black and white, positive and negative, day and night.”

  Pascal was ready to explode! “And again, what is the connection to our mantras?”

  “It means a pair of symmetrical mantras is necessary to start the experiment! These mantras have been designed from that perspective, and now the people from the Cosmos project have discovered that they need the two symmetrical mantras you have to start their experiment.”

  Ah, hah! Very cunning, Mr. Been! Pascal recalled the Mr. Been’s words. He understand now why Been had mentioned it last time; he was hiding the truth, and the words probably slipped out by mistake. And who had told him?

  Pascal was mystified but pretended, nevertheless, to give full attention to the Japanese executive who already knew that the resonance between the two mantras was the key. Maybe Daisukei would help find Mayumi’s abductors.

  “And you are now in danger,” continued Daisukei, “because they know you have both statues. It means you have no more chances to buy time. You need to negotiate quickly with these kidnappers.”

  Pascal suddenly listened carefully. So, that was it! Daisukei knew much more; even about their Italian odyssey. Clearly he was the mediator.

  Pascal had to play a subtle game.

  “Am I supposed to give them the two mantras so they will release Mayumi?”

  “Yes, the Cosmos people know you have these two mantras and they have no choice but to propose a deal to get them.”

  “How do you know?” asked Pascal.

  Daisukei hesitated for a second and replied without effort.

  “I don’t know for sure. I just presume.”

  Pascal knew that the Japanese PR wasn’t telling the truth; his story and the British Embassy’s stories were not consistent. Nevertheless, Daisukei was keeping it ‘matter of fact’; staying distant.

  Pascal was now certain that Daisukei was the ‘master making the decisions’.

  “We have to save Mayumi; we have to give them what they want.”

  “Really?” asked Pascal.

  Daisukei replied confidently, “Of course they will contact you. You have to keep the mantras in a safe place... by the way, where are they?”

  Hey, hold on! This guy, here, in my room, is already trying to get the mantras from me? He thinks it’s as simple as that?

  Pascal didn’t answer and Daisukei left.

  Pascal decided to listen to his intuition and followed Daisukei out of his room. He calmly took a right turn and ran along the corridor in the opposite direction taken by the Japanese man. He rushed down the service stairs to the lobby three floors below and found himself in the corner of a bar, hidden from the elevators and the reception desk by a glass partition.

  He was in time to see Daisukei get out of the elevator. Someone was waiting in one of the comfortable lounge chairs. They quickly nodded at each other and passed through the hotel’s revolving door, but Pascal had seen already. The tweed jacket gave him away; it was Mr. Been from MI6.

  Jesus! Pascal felt abandoned all of a sudden. The floor was tumbling under his feet, but he recomposed himself rapidly. His fears were confirmed. Everyone was playing with him! He really was naïve. He decided that he would be extremely cautious now and act alone.

  …

  “Hope is only an unstable enjoyment

  Born from an image of something unsure.”

  Spinoza, Ethics