THE MAHABHARATA QUEST:THE ALEXANDER SECRET

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  His agent stared back at him. ‘You want us to hack into the ISP’s database?’

  ‘Do it. I’m authorising it.’ Imran was conscious that this was a gross misuse of his authority. But he was convinced his friend was in dire trouble. Tonight was the night he would break rules if necessary, even though he had never done it in his long career with the IPS.

  The men scurried out, looking at each other in bewilderment. Imran leaned back in his chair and exhaled.He could only hope they figured it out in time.

  5

  Hunted

  The roar of the explosion came to Alice seconds after the blast of the shockwave that rocked the Land Cruiser as it sped towards the asphalt road that would take her off the dirt road and onto the highway. She screamed involuntarily.

  In the rear view mirror, through her tears, she saw the ball of fire rise above the excavation site. She couldn’t believe it. They had destroyed the tomb! Fortunately, she had photographed the find. She still had the memory stick from the camera with her. She consoled herself with the thought that, though the destruction of the tomb was an irretrievable loss to history and archaeology, she still had something that could be salvaged.

  Then it struck her. If these people, whoever they were, could blow up the tomb, then they clearly didn’t want to leave any trace of what had been found within it.

  And she was a living testimonial to the discovery within the tomb. They would not rest until she was dead.

  There was a sudden bump on the roof of the Land Cruiser. The pilot was battering the roof of the vehicle using the struts of the helicopter. Alice jumped in her seat and screamed again, her nerves on edge with the trauma of the evening and the realisation that she would be relentlessly hunted down.

  She shifted gears and accelerated again. Whatever happened tonight, she was not going to give up so easily. They may get her in the end, but she would not meekly surrender.

  Apparently the helicopter pilot realised that, and, with a sudden burst of speed, the chopper veered off to the right, racing ahead of her and then arcing back towards her, descending as it approached the SUV.

  Alice stared in horror at the sight of the helicopter heading straight at her. She instinctively realised what the pilot was trying to do. While it was evident that he planned to land on the motorway and block her path, he was also trying to add to her terror by playing with her mind, making her believe that he was going to ram the SUV head on.

  Alice struggled to get a hold of herself. The thought of someone thinking that she was so helpless that she would allow herself to be toyed with helped her centre herself.

  ‘Okay, pal,’ she said grimly. ‘Two can play at this game. You want a game of roulette, you got it.’ She shifted gears and slowed down for a brief instant before speeding up again, heading directly at the helicopter which was now just a few metres above ground level. ‘Let’s see who blinks first.’

  For a few moments, the helicopter and the SUV roared towards each other, both apparently bent on a collision.

  Then, the pilot seemed to think the better of it and settled the helicopter down on the motorway, straight in the path of the oncoming Land Cruiser. He had given up the psychological tactics and was now banking on a physical rather than a mental obstacle.

  A lone figure emerged from the helicopter as its rotors died down and Alice realised that there was no one accompanying the pilot in the helicopter. The man stood to one side, waiting like a spider in its web watching the approach of a fly, secure in the knowledge that the fly would be trapped in its

  silken snare.

  Alice looked wildly around, desperately searching for a way out. She struggled to fight the wave of panic flooding her mind as the helicopter’s bulk filled her vision, blocking out the highway beyond it. If there was a way out of her predicament, she knew she would never find it if she allowed herself to succumb to the terror that was threatening to overcome her.

  Blinking back her tears, she forced herself to focus on the scene ahead of her, even as her instincts goaded her against it.

  Then she saw it. A chance, however slim, but it offered her hope. She knew the odds were stacked against her but she wouldn’t give up without trying.

  Alice slowed down again and did some quick mental calculations. It might just work.

  The pilot, interpreting her slowing down as an indication that she was going to stop, began advancing towards her.

  Jaungarh Fort, 130 km from New Delhi, India

  ‘I can’t say that I’m happy about this development,’ Colin grumbled.

  He and Vijay were sitting on a balcony of Vijay’s ancestral fort, enjoying the pleasant weather. Winter hadn’t set in yet and the nights were cool, especially at the fort which was built upon a hill that towered over the farmland around, with its own little village nestled at the base. The fort had belonged to Vijay’s uncle, a retired nuclear scientist, who was brutally murdered a year ago. The murder had led to the uncovering of a shocking secret that involved Asoka the Great and

  the Mahabharata.

  Vijay grinned at Colin. ‘You don’t like the guy? I thought he was all charm.’

  Colin frowned at Vijay. ‘You’re damned right I don’t like the guy. You know, when our friend Kidwai first told us that the US and Indian governments planned to set up this joint task force, I thought it was a great idea.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Vijay agreed. ‘Putting together a team of scientists and engineers, specialists in their fields, to anticipate and investigate technology based terrorism, supported by both governments – it is an idea whose time has come.’

  ‘Yeah. But now I know how Red Riding Hood felt when she went walking in the woods. It was a great walk until the wolf jumped out at her.’

  Vijay chuckled. Just this morning they had both been summoned to the headquarters of the Intelligence Bureau to meet with Michael Blake, the CIA operative who had worked with the IB on their adventure last year. Blake was accompanied by the American who had been appointed by the US President to head the joint task force. It was for this meeting that Colin had flown down from the US a few days earlier.

  Bill Patterson was 6 feet 3 inches, all muscle, and evidently all brain too, given his credentials as a PhD in molecular biology as well as chemical biology. A former US Navy Seal, the African American had a brusque manner, leaving no one in doubt that he was in command.

  Colin, a natural rebel, had disliked him from the moment he laid eyes on Patterson. His instinctive feeling of repulsion had led to an acrimonious debate over how much devolution of decision making would take place, with Colin ending up at the losing end of the argument. He was still smarting at the encounter.

  ‘Listen, if the President of the US thinks he’s good enough, I’m fine with that. And you should be, too.’

  ‘I just don’t like having to go back to him every time we need to do something,’ Colin glared at Vijay.

  ‘Hey, don’t bite my head off! And we don’t need to ask him for permission for everything we do. Only if there is military action or anything that requires specialist training. Let’s face it. You and I had nothing to do with preventing Farooq from getting away with the secret of the Nine.’ Vijay was referring to their adventure the previous year. ‘It was the commandos who took over the situation in the end. Our job as part of this task force is to investigate and test hypotheses. If there is any action, it should be left to the guys who are trained for the job.’

  Colin grunted. He knew Vijay was correct but didn’t want to admit it. He looked at his watch instead. ‘Time to turn in,’ he said, still scowling. ‘I just hope I don’t have nightmares with Patterson playing a ghoul. That’s all I need at this moment.’

  6

  Calling for help

  As the helicopter pilot moved into the middle of the carriageway, Alice swerved hard to the right and accelerated. She was aiming for the narrow gap between the helicopter’s nose and the shoulder of the highway, gaining speed as she approached the edge of the road.


  She whizzed past the surprised pilot who began running after the speeding SUV. Alice prayed fervently that her gamble would pay off. Was the gap wide enough?

  The next instant, the Land Cruiser was scraping metal on both sides and the sound of metal crumpling and tearing shattered the silence of the night, as the vehicle squeezed past the helicopter on one side and the metal railing at the shoulder of the highway, on the other side.

  For a long moment, time seemed to slow down. It seemed to Alice that the helicopter and the railing were both converging on the SUV, crushing it, shattering the remaining windows that had not been shot out earlier that night.

  Alice closed her eyes and willed the SUV to force its way through as the harsh grinding of the metal seemed to pierce right through her brain.

  Suddenly, the Land Cruiser seemed to leap forward, freed of the crushing restraints it had endured. With a start, Alice realised that the vehicle had made it through the gap and she could see the highway stretching ahead of her.

  A new burst of energy surged through her and her hopes lifted. She forced the accelerator to the floor trying to put as much distance between the SUV and the helicopter, before the pilot could recover and take to the skies once more.

  Behind her, through the glassless windows of the SUV, she heard the pilot shout curses and hunched down in her seat in anticipation of the shooting which she was sure would follow. Bullets began whizzing past her head once again. The front windscreen metamorphosed into a spider web of silvery cracks as a bullet tore through it.

  Somehow, she was able to keep driving but she knew that she couldn’t drive as fast with the windscreen blurring the view ahead of her. Her hopes sank again, as she slowed to a pace that allowed her to focus on the road ahead.

  She kept listening for the sound of the helicopter’s continued pursuit. But minutes ticked by and she heard nothing apart from the sound of the wind rushing through the cabin of the SUV, through the shattered windows, and the roar of its engine. She wondered if the helicopter had been damaged by her daring getaway or whether the pilot had decided to give up the chase.

  The mystery behind the night’s events reared its head again. Initially, she had thought that the antiquities mafia was behind this. That would certainly explain the furore over photographing the tomb. If photographs of any artefacts within the tomb were leaked to the world, it would become very difficult to hawk them on the antiquities black market, especially for a tomb that was as famous as this one.

  But that theory was blown to bits along with the tomb itself. There seemed to be no logical explanation. What could anyone gain from the destruction of a two-thousand-year-old tomb?

  And why go to the trouble of excavating the tomb for over a year only to destroy it? There seemed to be no answers forthcoming.

  She was now driving over the Loudias river and she knew it would not be long before she reached Thessaloniki. With an effort, she pushed away the thoughts about what had happened so far and tried to focus on what lay ahead of her.

  It was extremely likely that the pilot, if he was linked to Stavros and Peter as it seemed, also had accomplices in Thessaloniki. Rather than pursue her, it would have been easier to call ahead and have people waiting for her to enter Thessaloniki. She realised that she was not out of the woods yet.

  Alice stopped the SUV, and got out, forcing back her tears. She had to take control of herself. Marco was dead. And so was Damon. But she wanted to get out of this alive. She stood at the rail of the bridge and pounded against it with her fists until they hurt, trying to vent her frustration. She thought of Marco and his unnecessary death. Why did his luck have to run out so soon?

  She turned her tear-stained face to the sky which was speckled with stars, but found no solace there.

  Gripping the rails of the bridge, she forced herself to think. There was a US consulate in Thessaloniki. She had to get there. It was the only place where she thought she could be truly safe. Though she had left her passport back at the hotel, she still had her driver’s licence on her. That would suffice to establish her identity and seek asylum in the consulate.

  She whipped out her mobile phone and looked up the address of the consulate. 43 Tsimiski Street. That was a start.

  Next, she figured she should call someone and ask for help.

  Her boyfriend. For a moment, she hesitated. Was he even her boyfriend any longer? She had no idea. But he was all that she had. Apart from her few friends, none of whom were close enough for her to rely on.

  Alice dialled his number. It rang a few times and was abruptly disconnected. She looked at the time. It was early morning back in the States. She tried again with the same response. A few rings and then a busy tone. Disheartened, she looked at the phone screen which displayed a message informing her that the number she was trying to call was busy.

  He was awake. The thought that he was deliberately not taking her calls hurt even more tonight. The one person who should have been there for her at a time like this, when she was so delicately balanced between life and death, was suddenly missing from her life. Another surge of tears threatened to well up and she forced them back.

  She had to be strong if she wanted to make it.

  Another name swam into her thoughts, and she punched in a number. This time it was not a mobile but a landline number. She wasn’t privy to Kurt Wallace’s personal cellphone number.

  A female voice answered the phone after two rings.

  ‘Mr Wallace’s office. How may I help you?’ It was Clara, Wallace’s assistant.

  Alice found her voice shaking with the trauma of her experience. ‘I need to speak to Mr Wallace, please. It is urgent.’

  ‘Mr Wallace is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed at the moment.’

  ‘It’s a matter of life and death. Literally! Please, you have to connect me to him,’ Alice pleaded, a cold fear gripping her as the last straw slipped through her hands.

  ‘Please leave your name and phone number with me and I will ask Mr Wallace to call you back the moment he gets free. I’m really sorry but I don’t have access to him right now.’

  The words struck her like a sledgehammer. She was on her own. There was no help at hand.

  7

  On the E75, near Thessaloniki, Greece

  For a few moments, Alice stood stunned, numb with shock at Clara’s words. With an effort, she pulled herself together. Perhaps if she explained…?

  ‘My name is Alice Turner. I’m part of the mission Mr Wallace has funded in Greece. Please...please tell him that the tomb has been destroyed, two team members are dead and someone is after me as well. I… I’m scared.’ Alice found herself sobbing as the words tumbled out.

  Clara’s voice softened. ‘Ms Turner, I’m really sorry to hear about your predicament. I will have a message sent to Mr Wallace right away. Unfortunately, he does not believe in carrying a personal mobile phone, so it may take a while before I can reach him. My only request to you is to ensure that you keep checking to see that your mobile phone is accessible to incoming calls.’

  Alice nodded and thanked Clara, then slid into the driver’s seat, wiping away her tears. She was on her own. Hopefully, Wallace would call back soon and help would be at hand.

  But until then she had to get by on her wits. And panicking wouldn’t help. She tried to clear her mind, trying to define a goal that she could work towards.

  The US consulate. She had to reach the consulate.

  She keyed in the coordinates of the consulate into the Land Cruiser’s GPS system and forced herself to concentrate on working out her next steps.

  ‘Interesting,’ she murmured to herself as she gazed at the route that had materialised on the GPS. The A2 motorway, which had merged with the E75 a short distance back, delinked from the E75 at the Axios Interchange which lay a short distance ahead, and then carried on towards Thessaloniki. A few miles after the Galikos bridge, the A2 merged into the Nea Dytiki Isodos which eventually led to the Navarchou Kountouriotou from where, after a short d
istance, she could turn left for Tsimiski. This was the route outlined by the GPS.

  What had caught her interest were two alternate routes that she could see on the screen. The first alternate route entailed branching off the Nea Dytiki Isodos and onto 26 Oktovriou which curved back to rejoin it at the junction where she would turn into the Navarchou Kountouriotou.

  Neither of these routes would help her, she realised, since there were sure to be men lying in wait for her at the junction that both routes led to.

  The second alternate route seemed more promising. Instead of turning into 26 Oktovriou, she could take the next exit which would lead her under the motorway and onto 28 Oktovriou and then, after a while, turn onto Monastiriou which eventually led to Egnatia, from where a right turn would bring her to Tsimiski.

  It was this route that she decided to take. It was still a gamble, because there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be watching this route, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

  As she walked towards the car, another name occurred to her. Someone she could trust and rely on. At least she thought so. Her boyfriend at college. It had been one of her best relationships, while it lasted. But she hadn’t kept in touch over the years, though he had called her a few times and sent her emails which she had chosen not to respond to. Eventually he had stopped trying, realising that there was no point. Part of the reason why she had broken off all contact with him was because she was bitter about the manner in which they had broken up. She had always thought this would be the one that would last, culminating in marriage and a lifetime together. But it hadn’t worked out that way.

  For some reason, today, alone and hurting, in trouble and needing someone to talk to, she felt the compulsion to call her former boyfriend. But she still wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do after all these years. She didn’t even understand why she was still thinking of him after so many years, after a break up that had burnt all bridges.

  She thought for a few moments then scrolled through a few more contacts. She quickly made up her mind and punched in a number. Come on, pick up! It wasn’t that he wouldn’t recognise her number. Unless, of course, he had deleted it from his contact list. Which was possible after all these years.