THE MAHABHARATA QUEST:THE ALEXANDER SECRET

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  Radha drove slowly as she navigated the heavy evening traffic. After leaving the offices of Titan Pharmaceuticals, she had tried calling Imran but there was no response. Reasoning that he was probably still in his meeting with Titan’s CEO, she called Vijay next.

  Vijay had briefed her on the discussion over the journal and told her that they were on their way to the National Museum. ‘We’ll drop off your dad after we finish,’ he told her. She had then decided to go straight home and wait for the others. The story of the secret journal, the metal plaque and its possible relation to the ivory cube had intrigued her and she, too, was keen to know the outcome of their visit to the museum.

  She parked the car outside the gate of the white-walled bungalow in South Delhi, where she lived with her father. As she entered the house, she tried Imran’s number one more time. This time, he picked up the call.

  ‘Sorry,’ he began, ‘my meeting started late and then dragged a bit as the CEO kept getting calls during the meeting. I just finished and was about to call you. How did your meeting go?’

  Radha briefed him on her conversation with Saxena.

  ‘Hmmm. You certainly raised his hackles there. I think we’ll need to keep a close watch on Saxena. There’s more to him than meets the eye.’ Imran proceeded to brief her on his meeting. ‘Nothing spectacular to report. He said pretty much the same things that Saxena told you. Except, his tone was milder and less threatening. He assured us of their full cooperation and complete access to their records. Which I thought was interesting. If they have something to hide, they wouldn’t be so open to allowing us to inspect their internal records. I think I’ll ask Patterson to check their documents on the US side as well,’ he signed off.

  Radha decided that the others would have to eat something before heading back to the fort. It was a long drive back to Jaungarh and they would be famished by the time they reached. But before she set to work preparing dinner for the others, a quick shower would be good.

  She quickly showered, changed and began cooking. When she finished, she looked at her watch. 8.30 pm. Why weren’t the others here yet? Had they found something really interesting at the museum that was keeping them? For a moment, she was tempted to call. But she knew that, if Vijay hadn’t called yet, it would be for a good reason.

  Switching on the television, she began flipping channels. She would wait to hear all about it.

  Eliminated

  Imran sighed as he disconnected the call with Patterson. His initial assessment of the task force leader had been spot on. Patterson was hard-nosed, difficult to negotiate with and driven by logic. Imran, with his stellar reputation in the IPS and within the IB, had got accustomed to having his own way most of the time. And when he didn’t get his way, he would break the rules to get the results he wanted. His uncanny knack of sizing up a situation or a person and the accuracy of his hunches had served him well, enabling him to deliver the results his superiors wanted, more often than not. He had never had to justify himself or explain his hunches.

  Patterson was different. He wanted facts not intuition. Evidence rather than feelings. And he was not buying into Imran’s hunch that someone at Titan was involved in the incident at the outsourced medical facility.

  ‘Nothing extraordinary in the statements you’ve obtained,’ he had said dismissively, when Imran had briefed him on Radha’s meeting with the CMO of Titan and his own meeting with the CEO. ‘I’ve spoken to Kurt Wallace himself and the man has not only assured me of full cooperation but has convincingly argued against the involvement of anyone from his management team in the US or in India. This seems to be more of a local operation. It may be funded by a global terrorist organisation so I suggest you dig deeper and find out who or what is masterminding this, instead of chasing Titan.’

  Imran had briefly toyed with the idea of telling him about Alice turning up suddenly and her association with Kurt Wallace, and trying to connect the two with the bioterrorism angle. But he dismissed the idea as quickly as it occurred to him. He had spoken to Alice and was convinced that she was telling the truth. And he didn’t see any way to connect her experiences in Greece with what had happened here, even if Kurt Wallace seemed to be the common factor.

  Which reminded him; Alice had provided him with a photograph of Stavros and Peter, the two co-directors whom she had accused of murdering her team members. He had run the photographs through an international database and had scored a hit.

  Imran dialled Vijay’s number and spoke to him briefly, giving him the information he had come across.

  His car turned into the gate of his residential complex. The guard saluted smartly, and Imran responded with a smile. The guards were low paid constables with a thankless and difficult job. He had seen other senior police officers who would either ignore them or glare at them as they passed. It wasn’t in Imran’s nature to do either. The least, he felt, one could do for another human being was to smile and greet them, and thank them for doing their jobs.

  Imran reached his apartment block and alighted, dismissing the driver with a smile. The elevator arrived at the ground floor just as he pressed the call button, and he rode it to his sixth floor apartment. The bulb fixed to the ceiling of the landing was flickering as he exited the elevator. He made a mental note to complain to maintenance and unlocked the door of his apartment.

  His living room was in darkness as he entered. He switched on the light and immediately made his way to the window, grimacing at the ugly sight of the tower under construction across the road. Five floors had been constructed and the sixth floor was being built, which was level with his apartment. Prior to this he hadn’t really noticed the building but now he saw the workers every day.

  This was a daily routine. His housekeeper left the curtains drawn open every day and he would return in the evening and promptly draw them together to hide the sight of the tower.

  His Blackberry beeped as he entered the room. What he saw on the screen of his phone made his jaw drop as he walked towards his bedroom.

  Imran was shocked by the text message he had just received. So shocked that he didn’t head for the window to draw the curtains. He didn’t see the figure, on the sixth floor of the building being constructed across the road, rise from the shadows.

  He was barely two steps from his bedroom, when the glass of the window pane shattered, there was a whistling sound and something flew into the room.

  His instinct and training took over immediately and he reacted on impulse. The rocket propelled bomb had landed between him and the door to the apartment, which was still open.

  Imran dived to his left through the doorway to his bedroom even as the bomb hit the floor of his living room and exploded. The blast shook the apartment and the roar reverberated through the landing outside.

  The wall of the bedroom took most of the impact of the concussive force of the blast, but Imran felt a sharp pain in his chest as he lay on the floor of his bedroom. He saw blood pooling on the floor.

  His blood. He had been hit. He didn’t know by what. Shrapnel? Flying glass? Whatever it was, he was

  wounded. Badly.

  Then blackness overtook him.

  His Blackberry lay three feet from his outstretched, lifeless hand. The message still visible on the screen read: “Cooper passed through immigration today.”

  27

  Night at the museum

  Vijay disconnected the call and looked around at the others. ‘That was Imran,’ he informed them. ‘He ran a check on the photographs Alice gave him. He got a match. Peter is on the international criminal database. He’s known as “The Reaper”. Apparently, his real name is Peter Cooper and he’s responsible for scores of killings over the last thirty years or so. He’s an accomplished sniper, a whiz with a gun carrying a telescopic sight and known never to miss his mark. Twenty-one countries are looking for him. How did he come to be part of your excavation?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Alice’s voice was shaky. ‘He was… just …there. With Stavros. They
were co-directors. Appointed by the Wallace Trust. Stavros was the archaeologist. Peter was, well, more the financial and liaison guy. He knew nothing about archaeology or the dig. But that’s all I know about him. After signing up, I didn’t ask any questions. I was so excited about the prospect of excavating what was possibly the tomb of Olympias that all I could think of was the excavation. What about Stavros?’

  Vijay shook his head. ‘Nothing. He isn’t listed in the database according to Imran. That doesn’t mean anything, though. He could be someone who isn’t on Interpol’s radar or that of any other intelligence agency, for that matter.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Colin reassured Alice, sensing her fear. ‘You left this guy Cooper far behind in Greece. There’s no way he can trace you all the way to India. How would he guess that you would choose to come here, of all places, instead of flying home to the US? And even if he did, Jaungarh is so far off the map that even locals don’t know where it is.’

  ‘But we’re not in Jaungarh now.’ Alice suddenly realised the comfort and security the fort had provided her, especially with the security system installed there. ‘We’re sitting ducks for him here.’

  ‘Even if Cooper did track you down to India and Jaungarh, which is a long shot as Colin explained, how would he know that you are driving down to Delhi today?’ Vijay laughed. ‘I know you’ve been through a very rough night in Greece. But that’s behind you. And Imran has issued an alert to the Indian immigration authorities. He did that as soon as he discovered the man’s real identity. If Cooper passes through Indian immigration, we’ll get to know. Imran even offered to put you in a safe house run by the IB, if that happens. You’re safe here. Okay, here we are.’

  They had reached the museum. The main gates were locked since visitors’ hours were over. Vijay made a quick call to the curator, who was awaiting their arrival. A museum guard opened the gate to let the car in and locked it behind them.

  ‘Wow, will you look at that?’ Colin pointed to an enormous rath in an enclosure that they drove past. ‘That looks really ancient.’

  Vijay parked the car and they alighted. The guard came up and informed them that he would lead them to the curator.

  They walked past the replica of Asoka the Great’s edict from Girnar, which stood against the inner boundary wall of the museum and entered the building, which was built around an open air rotunda.

  The curator’s office was on the first floor. He rose to greet them as they entered.

  ‘Dr Shukla,’ the curator advanced to shake Shukla’s hand. ‘I’m Rajiv Sahu, the Curator – Archaeology and the Keeper of the Collection. Delighted to make your acquaintance.’ He turned to Alice. ‘And you must be Miss Turner.’ He shook her hand. ‘Delighted. Of what service can I be to you?’

  Colin scowled at Vijay and mouthed, ‘So we are the bodyguards?’

  Vijay grinned back and introduced himself and Colin to Sahu.

  ‘Oh yes, we spoke,’ Sahu beamed at Vijay and shook Colin’s hand as well, without saying anything to him.

  Alice looked confused. She thought that the subject of the metal plate had been discussed and agreed upon. ‘Er … I wanted to look at the plaque which was discovered in 1985 near Dasuya. The one that is supposed to have been buried by Alexander the Great at the base of an altar he had constructed near the Beas before he turned back to return to Greece.’

  ‘Certainly, certainly.’ Sahu didn’t move. ‘I wasn’t very clear what your interest is in that artefact. You know it isn’t available for public viewing.’

  ‘We spoke, Mr Sahu,’ Vijay interjected. ‘We were referred to you by Dr Dutta. You had agreed to show us the plaque.’

  ‘I agreed to let you into the museum after visitors’ hours,’ Sahu responded without looking at Vijay. His eyes were still fixed on Alice. ‘Which, in itself, is against government regulations. But I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Miss Turner to explain her interest in the plaque. She is asking to see an artefact that is not on public display. Surely you don’t think I’m going to oblige every person who claims to be an archaeologist and walks through these doors? Even if they are referred to me by Dr Dutta?’

  He peered at Alice, expectantly.

  ‘I am an archaeologist,’ Alice responded heatedly. ‘Do you doubt my credentials? You can look me up on the internet. One of my interests is ancient Greek history. Especially the Hellenistic period. When I heard that you had an artefact here that could be connected with Alexander the Great, I simply had to see it.’

  ‘I’m sure you have some sort of identification on you,’ Sahu continued as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘Your identity card, for example? Something to back up what you have just said?’

  Alice felt her cheeks flush as she rummaged in her purse and pulled out her identity card for the joint mission in Greece and handed it to Sahu. The curator studied it for a moment then handed it back to her.

  ‘You can see the metal plate.’ Sahu pulled out a key ring with a single key from his pocket. ‘I’ll show you where it’s stored. It’s on the second floor.’ He eyed the others disapprovingly. ‘Is everyone going with you?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ Alice said firmly. ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Follow me,’ Sahu instructed and marched off. He led them up the stairs and through the Arms and Armour gallery, which had glass cases containing swords, spears and all manner of ancient and medieval weapons. At one end of the gallery was a door marked “Private”. Sahu unlocked the door.

  A sense of anticipation gripped them. What were they going to find?

  28

  A new mystery

  The room was dark. Vijay used his mobile phone’s built in torch to search for the light switch which he now flicked on. A light dangling from the ceiling shattered the darkness with a burst of illumination and Alice gasped.

  The room had shelves lined with tablets of all shapes and sizes, inscribed in scripts of all kinds, none of which were familiar to her. She realised this was a treasure trove of history.

  Shukla, too, felt the same way. He looked around like a child who walks into a toy store and tries to figure out just which toy he wishes to play with first.

  ‘Which one is the plaque that we seek?’ Vijay wondered aloud.

  ‘It is this one.’ Sahu picked up a small black metallic plate, circular in shape, and showed it to them. On the face of the tablet were inscribed six symbols.

  They stared at the face of the tablet. The six symbols didn’t make any sense to them.

  Sahu made a show of looking at his watch. ‘I can give you fifteen minutes and no more. Please lock up after you finish. I will be in my office.’ Without another word, he strode off towards the stairs.

  For a few moments, they all stared at the seal, trying to make sense of it.

  ‘Well?’ Alice said after they had gazed upon the tablet for a while. ‘Any thoughts?’

  Shukla shook his head. ‘I really can’t see anything here that connects to the cube. I guess I was wrong.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Well, it doesn’t hurt to hope. Or speculate. It would have been really interesting if I was right.’

  ‘I can’t see anything either. This tablet just doesn’t make sense,’ Vijay agreed.

  ‘Okay, let’s get out of here and head for Radha’s place,’ Colin rubbed his hands. ‘I always look forward to her cooking.’

  ‘Wait, let me photograph it.’ Vijay held up his mobile phone and quickly took a few photographs.

  They locked the room and crossed the gallery. Even in the semi darkness, the weapons displayed looked terrifying. They could imagine just how deadly they were in battle.

  As they walked through the corridor leading to the stairs, there was a loud, anguished scream. It came from the direction of the curator’s office. It was followed by a series of screams, piercing and charged with agony.

  Trouble in the Museum

  Sahu strode towards his office, feeling somewhat irritated. He had wanted to leave on time today but Dutta’s unexpected call had thrown his plans
into disarray. He couldn’t refuse Dutta’s request especially since he had promised it wouldn’t take too much of Sahu’s time. But the curator still didn’t understand why an American archaeologist was so interested in an obscure metal plaque that had been discovered almost three decades ago. While the discovery of Alexander’s altars had made the news at that time, no one had ever been able to prove that the ruins discovered were, indeed, the famed altars. The entire theory had been swiftly debunked and Alexander’s altars had retained their distinction of having remained undiscovered to this day.

  The media had quickly lost interest in the story, and the metal plate had been forgotten and languished in the room upstairs ever since then. He had no idea how the woman had even heard about it, but Dutta had mentioned that Shukla was a good friend, so he had had to comply.

  Sahu entered his office and stopped short. There were two men in the room. Three, if he counted the dead guard who lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, his throat slit.

  A tall, blonde young man stood behind Sahu’s chair, calmly wiping a large and ugly looking Bowie knife with tissues from Sahu’s tissue box while the other man stood by the side of the door, holding a gun. Sahu noted that, even though the gunman had on a mask hiding his features, his nose, eyes and hands indicated that he was Caucasian.

  Sahu instinctively turned to run but realised there was no escape. The gunman had moved into position behind him, barring the doorway. He was trapped here.

  Riley slid the knife into a sheath at his waist and looked at his mobile phone. ‘Rajiv Sahu,’ he read from his phone. ‘Curator of Archaeology.’ He put the phone away and looked at Sahu. ‘Where are your visitors?’

  Sahu stared back at him, shocked speechless. Who was this man? He had walked into the museum, killed a guard and was now asking about the people whom he had just left in the tablet room.

  Finally he found his voice. ‘Upstairs,’ he stammered, indicating the second floor with his thumb.

  Riley nodded. ‘Let’s all sit down, shall we? I need to ask you some questions before I take care of your visitors.’