THE MAHABHARATA QUEST:THE ALEXANDER SECRET

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  ‘Two hundred and fifty cells,’ Saxena informed her as he noticed her gaping. ‘Eight floors of this facility are underground — the ones that you see before you. Two floors are above the ground. From the outside it appears to be a low rise, nondescript building. No one knows what we have in here.’

  ‘Who is Cooper?’ Radha asked, having got over her initial surprise.

  ‘You don’t know? I thought the American archaeologist would have told you. He was the co-director on her excavation project. Peter Cooper. He was planted there by us.’

  This was another shock for Radha. So there was a connection between these people and Alice’s experience in Greece. But what was it? And who was “us”?

  A thought struck her. She recalled her conversation with Vijay when the others were enroute to the museum. He had told her about Eumenes’ journal and the description of Alexander’s quest for the “secret of the gods”. Was that the connection between Saxena’s operation and the excavations in Greece?

  ‘So you’re trying to figure out the secret that is mentioned in the riddles on the cube?’ She voiced her thoughts, without mentioning the journal. If it was secret, then she didn’t want Saxena knowing about it.

  Saxena looked at Radha, appraising her. ‘You do know more than you let on. And you’re right. I am working on the greatest secret that the world has ever seen. One that will enable the Order to rule the world without anyone even realising it. We will pull the strings and people will dance like puppets at our beck and call.’

  Radha was intrigued. She had to know more. What was Saxena ranting about? She decided to call his bluff. ‘So you say,’ she scoffed. ‘All I see here are clinical trials that end in people dying. Everyone dies. What’s the big secret in that? Is the Order going to rule a world of dead people? Is this a new pathogen that you’ve discovered that will wipe out the world’s population, leaving the Order intact? Who will you rule if there’s no one left?’

  Saxena glared at her. ‘We aren’t going to kill people,’ he said emphatically. ‘We will give life, not take it away.’

  Radha looked at him, her expression clearly indicating her disbelief. ‘You want to believe you are important in the scheme of the Order. But all you’re doing is conducting clinical trials that are resulting in failure.’

  Saxena’s face revealed his fury at her words. He was immensely proud of what he was trying to achieve. He was very close to success. He longed for the recognition that was deservedly his. The Order would not be forthcoming with any recognition until the mission was over. But he had achieved so much! And here was a woman, who knew nothing of what he was doing, disparaging his achievements! He could restrain himself no longer.

  ‘You don’t believe what I say?’ he challenged Radha. ‘You think this is all about a pathetic virus and clinical trials that are going nowhere? You…’

  Radha interrupted him. ‘I think you are blowing up your little mission into something much bigger. Something that is important. But it isn’t. I don’t believe a word you say.’

  ‘Fine, then,’ Saxena fumed, his compulsion for recognition and admiration getting the better of him. This woman wasn’t going anywhere. And there was no way anyone would ever find her. ‘Come with me. I’ll prove it to you.’

  He led the way to a set of elevators and pressed his access card against the card reader as he punched the button for the lowest level of the building. The high speed elevator descended with startling swiftness and they soon reached their destination.

  Saxena briefly told her about the Order and how Olympias had obtained the cube and persuaded Alexander to extend his ambitions beyond conquering the Persian empire. The elevator doors opened to reveal a long, white corridor lined with doors on either side. Most were shut but some were open to reveal laboratories stacked with all kinds of equipment and devices, servers and monitors, and manned by technicians in white laboratory coats.

  ‘This is the nerve centre of our operations here for my mission,’ Saxena explained. ‘Freeman’s project occupies the two floors below us.’ He led Radha into an office at the end of the corridor. It was furnished with a large desk and a leather chair in one corner of the room, with a stainless steel workstation attached to the opposite wall. A tall bookcase stood to one side of the desk, the shelves sagging under the weight of enormous medical tomes. On the desk was an LCD monitor, a keyboard and mouse.

  ‘Sit down.’ Saxena indicated one of the two chairs facing him across the desk as he sat on the leather chair.

  Radha sat and watched Saxena fiddle with the computer keyboard and mouse.

  After a while, the virologist swivelled the monitor to face her. His demeanour was that of a scientific expert about to deliver a presentation to an awestruck audience.

  ‘You folks believed that we were manipulating pathogens for bioterrorism,’ he smirked. ‘That’s about as far from the truth as you can possibly get. The reality is just the opposite. We don’t want to kill people. We want to protect them from disease.’

  ‘You really expect me to believe that,’ Radha scoffed. ‘After all the mayhem you and your people have caused, now you want me to attribute all of that to a noble cause?’

  ‘Tch, tch,’ Saxena reprimanded her. ‘Every coin has two sides. You saw just one side. All that we’ve done, not just in the last few days but in the past decades, was essential to our success. We’re on the cusp of a major scientific breakthrough; one that even modern technology has not yet been able to deliver. Yet, the secret behind this revolution in medicine has been with us for thousands of years, hidden behind a veil of riddles and myths. A veil that most people don’t even know exists, leave alone being able to penetrate it.’

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ Radha confessed.

  ‘You do read the newspapers?’

  Radha shot a dark glance at Saxena but the virologist was asking the question in earnest. ‘Of course, I do,’ she replied.

  ‘Very well, then, you must have read about a major issue facing the medical world today. It has been a concern that has been building for years but the media have only recently got hold of it. For years now, people have been misusing and overusing antibiotics. The result? Bacteria have evolved and built resistance to many drugs used to combat some of the deadliest diseases known to humanity. Some of these strains have even become resistant to multiple drugs. There is a very real threat that the antibiotics that have shielded mankind from life-threatening diseases ever since the discovery of penicillin will very soon be obsolete. The shield that protected us from killer diseases like tuberculosis, for example, is weakening and will soon be gone. We will be in the prehistoric ages, medically speaking; we will find ourselves in the dark ages when deadly bacterial infections were untreatable.’

  Radha nodded. There had been a lot of coverage in the international media over this issue. New technologies were being researched and new breakthroughs were being sought to combat this frightening future scenario. She began to understand the motives of this group, whoever they were. ‘So the clinical trials are aimed at finding that elusive breakthrough that will replace antibiotics?’ She still didn’t quite understand how Saxena intended combating the threat he had mentioned.

  Saxena tapped a button on the keyboard next to him and a three dimensional image appeared on the screen, spinning slowly. It was an icosahedron — a twenty-sided polygon. He tapped another button and the screen split. To the right of the first image, another one appeared, also three dimensional, of irregularly shaped disks.

  ‘The figure on the left is a retrovirus,’ Saxena explained, indicating the first image. ‘And the one on the right is a bacterium.’ He paused. ‘Both are previously unknown pathogens. We obtained both from the body of Alexander the Great.’

  50

  328 BC

  Balkh, present day Afghanistan

  ‘What is troubling you, my dear Callisthenes?’ Alexander beamed at the historian. ‘Things are going the way they should. My plan is working. We have conquered P
ersia. Subdued the tribes of Bactria. Even vanquished the mighty Sogdian rock.’ He put an arm around Callisthenes. ‘And you, my dear historian; you have accomplished the great mission I sent you upon. The greatest mission of all. The one that will make me a god!’ The young conqueror slid his arm off the historian’s shoulders and looked at him. ‘You are troubled. Of that I have no doubt. Tell me why. I must know.’

  Callisthenes held Alexander’s gaze but hesitated. The fate of Clitus was fresh in his mind. This was not the Alexander with whom he had set forth from Macedonia to conquer the Persian empire. That had been a young man who had decided to build upon his father’s dreams and conquests. Who had the audacity and the courage to take on the mightiest empire in the world. And who had the charisma to get his troops to follow him through intense cold and starvation, and fight fatigue and thirst across thousands of miles. For that Alexander, Callisthenes would have willingly forfeited his life.

  But the Alexander who stood before him today was different. Was it his success that had made him arrogant? First the fall of Darius, then the capture of Bessus — the murderer of Darius and claimant to the Persian throne — and finally, the conquest of the Sogdian rock and, with it, sovereignty over the Bactrian tribes… This was enough to turn the mind of a mature man. And Alexander was still young.

  Or was it the secret mission that Alexander had harboured ever since he left Macedonia? Callisthenes hadn’t known about it until a few months ago, when Alexander briefed him on the assignment in the Bactrian forests and across the Oxus river. When Bessus had decided to flee across the Hindu Kush and take refuge in Bactria, this had provided Alexander with the perfect opportunity to march the entire army across the mountains and into Bactria.

  With all the fighting that happened, including the first ever defeat Alexander suffered since he set off on his journey of conquest, no one had noticed Callisthenes leave the camp and disappear for days on end. Events had conspired to work in Alexander’s favour.

  Maybe he truly was the son of Zeus and his divine father was looking out for him. But Callisthenes felt that still did not give Alexander the right to act the way he did.

  ‘Sire,’ he began cautiously, ‘you are a changed man.’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ Alexander slapped the historian’s back cheerfully. As was usual nowadays, the conqueror had drunk a lot of wine and was in an exuberant mood.

  And Callisthenes had seen how swiftly that mood could change to one that was dark and vengeful.

  ‘Maybe we should talk about this some other time,’ he suggested, not wanting to arouse Alexander’s ire. There was no way he could provide his king with a truthful answer without annoying him.

  And Callisthenes did not lie to his king. He might have overreached in his writings about the conqueror and woven fact with fantasy, all the more to increase the glory of his king. But to his king he would be honest. That was his way.

  Alexander looked him in the eye. ‘So,’ the conqueror rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘My historian has something to say. Something that he feels I will not like.’

  Callisthenes hated it when Alexander was this perceptive, which was very often. He said nothing.

  ‘Come on, Callisthenes,’ Alexander urged. ‘Do you think I have drunk too much wine? That I cannot hear what you have to say? You are my respected historian. Why, no one else has my ear the way you do! Speak up, man, and tell me what is troubling you! Come, I promise you that I will hear you out.’

  Callisthenes realised that he was cornered. Any further attempt at postponing this conversation would imply an answer in the positive to all the negative thoughts Alexander had in his mind.

  ‘Very well, my King,’ Callisthenes took a deep breath. ‘It is your announcement that worries me. That you wish to be worshipped as a God using the Persian rituals.’

  Alexander laughed, his laughter echoing off the walls. ‘And you do not agree?’

  Callisthenes was silent.

  Alexander looked thoughtful. ‘Why do you feel it is wrong?’ he asked finally. ‘You are the one who has announced to the world that I am the son of Zeus-Ammon. Your book, which will write history one day, tells of the proclamation of the Oracle at Siwa about my divinity. You write of the parting of the sea.’ He cocked his head and looked at Callisthenes. ‘Remember? And there is more.’ Alexander put a hand on Callisthenes’ shoulder. ‘You believe that I am a god, Callisthenes. Surely you cannot lie when you write. And if you believe that I am a god, what can you find wrong in my asking my people to worship me as one?’

  Callisthenes did not respond. He realised that he did not have an answer for Alexander. Everything that his king had said was true. Except the part about Callisthenes believing in Alexander’s divinity. But how could he tell the conqueror that his book was an exercise in flattery? To ensure his status in Alexander’s court even after he truly became a god?

  ‘Your silence is disturbing.’ Alexander became contemplative. ‘Am I to take that as assent? Or as dissent? Only you can tell me. I have heard you out as I promised.’

  ‘What you have said, sire, is true.’ Callisthenes struggled to find a way out of this mess. ‘Every word is true.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘But, my king, the mission is not yet complete. Only when you reach the secret location and drink of the waters as instructed, will you truly become a god! Not now. Not yet.’

  Alexander’s eyes flashed. ‘So you think I am not a god until I have followed every step of the map that my mother gave me?’

  Callisthenes lowered his eyes.

  Alexander correctly interpreted that as meaning that the answer to his question was “yes”.

  ‘And what of my divine birth? Does my mother lie when she says she slept with Zeus? You know I cannot be the son of that filthy scum Philip!’ Alexander’s fury was growing with every word he uttered. ‘And the words of the Oracle at Siwa – do they mean nothing to you? Is that a lie as well?’

  They were passing a wooden table with a bronze plate balanced atop the legs. Alexander bent down and flung the bronze plate down the corridor, trying to vent his rage. ‘And just who are you, Callisthenes, to pass judgement on my birth and divinity? A historian, that is all! Your job is to record events as they pass. To ensure that history will know what happened. Not to pass judgement. Never forget that I am your king. Your life is in my hands. Just like the life of every subject in my kingdom. Which now stretches from Macedonia to Bactria. Is that not the power of a god? To take away life? ’

  Callisthenes realised that the moment to restrain the conversation was past. He knew his king only too well. Alexander had already passed a sentence on the historian. He knew he was condemned. And in the face of death, he did not wish to appear cowardly.

  ‘The power of a god,’ he said calmly to his raging king, ‘is not to take away but to give life. And that is something that you have failed to do.’

  Alexander’s fury turned into a raging inferno. ‘I am Alexander! I don’t need you or your approval to be worshipped as a god,’ he shouted as his anger took over his senses. ‘I don’t need your secret ingredients to be a god. I am a god and will be worshipped as one. Damn you and anyone who thinks otherwise! Guards!’

  Callisthenes stood and looked Alexander in the eye. ‘Patroclus was a far better man than you, Alexander. But still death did not spare him.’

  The guards came up and held Callisthenes as Alexander smiled cruelly. ‘You know,’ he told the historian. ‘I can see now where the pageboys got their courage to try and assassinate me. Only someone who was very close to me could have given them the motivation to rebel. And the opportunity. I wondered who it was. But now I know. It was you, Callisthenes. And tomorrow, you shall be tried for it. The penalty for treason is crucifixion. You know that well. Goodbye, my friend.’

  He turned around to stalk away but Callisthenes was not done yet. Alexander froze at the last words of the historian as he was dragged away by the guards.

  ‘You may pretend to be a god, Alexander. You may believe you
are a god. But you will never be a god. You will die before you return to Macedonia! Never will you set foot in your homeland again!’

  51

  PRESENT DAY

  DAY FIVE

  Alexander’s secret

  ‘You’re joking!’ Radha couldn’t help herself. This was stretching the limits of credibility. ‘Alexander’s body disappeared from Alexandria hundreds of years ago. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘In the 4th century AD actually,’ Saxena corrected her. ‘To be more exact, around 391 AD. The Order stole his mummy from Alexandria and buried it in another location where it would be protected from desecration.’

  ‘But the Order desecrated his body anyway by subjecting it to pathological tests that extracted a virus and a bacterium.’ Radha realised that the Order only cared about one thing. Itself. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was out of bounds. Like the facility she was imprisoned in. She realised now, as she put the facts together, that these two pathogens were the very ones that had shown up in the tests Imran had told them about. Saxena and his team were testing the unknown pathogens on unsuspecting volunteers. Sentencing them to a sure death. And a slow one. She felt her anger rise and tried to quell it. She wasn’t sure if the drugs they had given her earlier had worn off their effects. It wouldn’t do to have a fit of rage at the moment. She could hurt herself badly now that she

  wasn’t restrained.

  Saxena shrugged. ‘Well, it had to be done for the advancement of science,’ he replied in a matter of fact tone. ‘Anyway, these two organisms hold the secret that will help us build another shield against disease.’

  ‘I still don’t get it.’ Radha’s disbelief was evident in her tone and expression. ‘You say Alexander went searching for this great secret. He found it. Yet, two years later he was dead. And all the victims of the clinical trials exhibited the same symptoms as Alexander after a few years. These organisms only bring death.’