Shadow Tyrants--Clive Cussler

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Shadow Tyrants--Clive Cussler Page 20

by Clive Cussler


  “No one over here will know if you picked up a new himbo from Hollywood,” Linc added.

  “I’ve already come up with a few titles for Randle’s craptastic action movies. They’re all straight-to-video. Maximum Justice. Fatal Force. Time to Impact.”

  “Hey, Ah’d see those,” MacD said.

  “I’ll be playing your U.S.-based manager,” Eddie said, “and Linc is typecast in the role of well-muscled bodyguard.”

  “Wait a minute,” Raven said. “I don’t even know what she sounds like.”

  “You’re going to be watching a lot of movies over the next day or so. But we’re also going to say you’ve come down with a case of laryngitis to keep conversations to a minimum. MacD and I will be doing most of the talking.”

  “If they can understand me,” MacD said, then pointed at Murph. “He’s not coming? Don’t we need to break into a computer in there?”

  “You do,” Murph said, handing a pocket-sized tablet computer to Eddie. “This will connect to Mallik’s network once you’re inside his condo tower. I’ll be ordering room service back at the hotel room while I do all the hacking remotely.”

  “What about me?” Hali asked.

  “The real Kiara Jain is staying at the Mumbai Four Seasons,” Eddie said. “Your job is to keep her from getting to the party until we’re gone.”

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  “Apparently, you’ve never read about Ms. Jain’s prima donna antics in the tabloids. Seems she learned something from her Hollywood counterparts and became a bit of a diva since arriving in America.”

  Hali smirked at that. “Oh, great.”

  “How long will it take you to hack into the network?” Eddie asked Murph.

  “Depends on what kind of security Mallik has. Hopefully, less than an hour.”

  Raven gagged. “I have to parade around that party in a gown and high heels for an hour?”

  “We drink champagne and schmooze a little while Murph does all the work,” MacD said. “What’s the problem?”

  “I joined the Corporation to fight bad guys, not play dress-up at some fancy rich person’s prom.”

  “Don’t take this mission lightly,” Eddie warned. “We estimate there will be fifty uniformed police and at least twenty plainclothes guards at this function, not to mention the dignitaries’ personal bodyguards. Think of this as if we are sneaking into the White House. For the evening, Mallik’s condo building will be one of the most heavily protected places in the country. And if he or his attack dog Asad Torkan suspects that we aren’t who we say we are, we’ll be learning a lot more about the Indian prison system than we want to.”

  That silenced everyone.

  “Now, Murph,” he continued. “Bring up the blueprints you found for Mallik’s building. We need to know all our possible exits. We’re all going to know them backward and forward by the time we get to the party.”

  Eddie watched Raven intently following Murph’s rundown of the structure. He had no doubt she would realize that no Corporation mission was ever easy.

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE RED SEA

  It took less than forty hours for the Oregon to make the dash across the Arabian Sea to the Mandeb Strait, the narrow body of water between the countries of Yemen and Djibouti. The precise coordinates Lyla Dhawan had given to Juan were in a group of islets near the southern end of the Red Sea. While he waited for Max to call to say that they’d arrived at the location, he met in his cabin with Eric Stone, who had been struggling to identify the strange symbol with the swastika embedded in it.

  “I’ve looked all over the place for this,” Eric said as they sat at Juan’s dining table while they were served coffee from a silver tray by Maurice, the Oregon’s chief steward. A veteran of Britain’s Royal Navy under numerous admirals, the distinguished septuagenarian was the oldest person on the ship. He preferred to wear a black tie and elegant white jacket protected by a gleaming linen napkin folded over his arm.

  “This is not the Nazi swastika?” Juan asked.

  “No. It’s not on any military insignia from that era. This swastika is a backward version of Hitler’s. So unless Lyla Dhawan was looking at a mirror image, it is probably South Asian in origin.”

  “The swastika was originally a religious symbol, right?”

  Eric nodded. “For thousands of years before it was perverted by the Nazis. It’s commonly found on Hindu and Buddhist statues and temples. In Asia, it symbolizes well-being and prosperity, not the bigotry and hatred of the Nazis’ twisted emblem.”

  “What about the other part of Lyla’s symbol?”

  “The wheel and nine spokes? I have no idea.”

  As he poured Juan’s coffee, Maurice cleared his throat.

  Juan looked up in surprise. Usually, Maurice prided himself on coming and going without being noticed. “Do you know something about this, Maurice?”

  “I don’t mean to intrude, Captain, but I believe I may be of service in helping you solve your conundrum.” Maurice was the only person in the crew who insisted on maintaining naval tradition and calling Juan Captain instead of Chairman.

  “Please. Have you seen this before?”

  “I have,” he said, setting down the pot. “Thirty-five years ago when I was serving with an admiral who had once been based in India. He was a collector of rare artifacts from the subcontinent, and this symbol was on one of the pieces in his cabin, a strange medal that he kept in a case. I cleaned it every week for two years.”

  “Do you know what it means?” Eric asked.

  “The admiral told me it represented the Nine Unknown Men. He was fascinated with Indian military history, so I heard quite a lot about them from him.”

  “Who are they?” Juan asked.

  “I believe who were they would be the more appropriate question,” Maurice said. “They haven’t existed for two thousand years, if they ever existed at all.”

  “It’s a myth?” Juan would have motioned for Maurice to sit with them, but he knew the steward would never accept the offer.

  Maurice nodded. “From the time of Ashoka. Circa 261 B.C.E., if I’m not mistaken. He was an emperor who conquered most of India. But to do so meant waging the deadliest war in history at that time. Over two hundred thousand casualties. The bloodshed was so terrible that Ashoka abandoned his warlike ways and converted the entire country to Buddhism. He left pillars across India defining his laws, and many of them can still be seen to this day. In fact, his influence continues to be so great that his chakra symbol is on the Indian flag.”

  Eric typed on his computer and showed them an image of the chakra, which was a wheel with twenty-four spokes.

  “That’s not the symbol Lyla saw,” Juan said. “There’s no swastika, and her wheel only had nine spokes, I’m assuming to represent the Nine Unknown Men.” He looked at Maurice. “How were they connected to Ashoka?”

  “According to legend, the Emperor was aghast at the decimation he had wrought and was afraid that the knowledge of the world at that time was too powerful to be held by a single man. So he ordered his brother to find nine common men, unknown to royalty or positions of power, and gifted each of them with a scroll confined to one aspect of knowledge in the sciences. They were to protect that knowledge with their lives, so that no human would use that power to conquer the world.”

  Juan sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. Maurice’s description of the responsibility held by the Nine Unknown Men was the exact opposite of what Lyla had said was the purpose of Project C. An artificial intelligence—a font of knowledge—that could let someone rule the world.

  “Could this group of men have passed down their knowledge over the centuries?” he mused.

  “There are certainly conspiracy theories that suspect this cabal could still exist,” Maurice said. “But my admiral did not. He simply thought it made a wonderfu
l story.”

  He picked up the tray. “If there’s nothing else, Captain, I shall return to my duties.”

  “Thank you, Maurice. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “My pleasure.” Maurice exited the cabin with barely a whisper.

  “Do you think the descendants of Nine Unknown Men are really still around and built this advanced AI?” Eric asked.

  Juan shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible, but they would have abandoned Ashoka’s original intent in separating the Scrolls of Knowledge. From what we’ve seen, whoever built the Jhootha Island facility, launched a stolen cruise missile, and hijacked an airliner had to have a massive amount of funds at their disposal. If the Nine Unknown Men passed down their knowledge through the centuries, their descendants could now be billionaires working together.”

  “For example, people like Xavier Carlton, whose plane was found on Jhootha Island, and Romir Mallik, who’s palling around with Rasul Torkan’s brother?”

  “If those two are involved in all this, they’ll have infinite resources to fight us. And I doubt reporting them to governments that are in their back pockets will do any good. We’ll have to handle this ourselves.”

  They spent ten more minutes looking up information on the legend of the Nine Unknown Men, including the alleged contents of the scrolls. But they couldn’t find any trace of the symbol or the identities of the Nine Unknown. Their research was interrupted when Max called Juan’s cabin.

  “We’ve reached Lyla’s coordinates.” He said it as if he were telling them that his dog died.

  Juan frowned at Eric and said, “What’s the matter?”

  “If there’s a sunken ship here, we’ll have problems exploring it.”

  “Why?”

  “Turn on your external monitor and then head on up to the op center so we can figure out what to do.” Max hung up.

  Juan picked up his remote and clicked on the camera feed from outside.

  Clouds of steam billowed up from the sea in four different places.

  Eric snapped his fingers in recognition at what they were seeing. “We must be over the Red Sea Rift. It’s where the Arabian and African plates are spreading apart.”

  Juan pointed at the surging masses of rising white clouds. “Then that’s what I think it is?”

  Eric nodded. “The ship we’re looking for sank right on top of an underwater volcano.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  MUMBAI

  Driving a black Mercedes limousine, Hali pulled up to the front entrance of the Four Seasons Hotel moments before Kiara Jain strode out with a good-looking Indian man by her side. She was even more stunning in person, wearing a ruby red full-length gown with her shimmering hair cascading across her exposed shoulders. Her companion was dressed in a tuxedo and seemed to be in the same age range as the actress. Apparently, she wasn’t quite famous enough to require a real bodyguard. Neither of them looked happy.

  Hali got out and went around to open the rear door. “Ms. Jain, Mr. Mallik personally requested me to bring you to the party. He’s a big fan of your films.” Of course, Hali had previously canceled the car that was supposed to pick her up.

  She raised an eyebrow at him and then scoffed at the man beside her. “I told you, Gautam. At least he has good taste.”

  With a huff and a toss of her hair, she slid into the backseat. Before following her in, Gautam looked at Hali with an apologetic shrug as if to say, See what I’m stuck with?

  Hali pulled away from the hotel and began a slow drive in the direction away from Mallik’s party. Mumbai’s traffic was notoriously bad, and he was aiming for a jam that he’d already spotted on his mapping app.

  “I shouldn’t have even brought you,” Kiara said in a low voice that was meant to keep the chauffeur from listening to the conversation. In a show of discretion, Hali turned up the volume on a local station playing music, but he could still hear them clearly.

  “Then maybe I should have the driver turn around and take me back,” Gautam said. “You can show up at the biggest event of the year alone.”

  “If you’re going to be that way, maybe you should. We all know who the bigger star is here. You wouldn’t have even been invited if it weren’t for me.”

  Hali was glad for the petty argument. Gautam and Kiara spent the next few minutes sniping at each other, so neither of them noticed the route he was taking. But when there was a lull in the bickering, Kiara looked out at their surroundings, then peered at Hali in the mirror.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the party,” Hali said with a smile.

  “The party is at Mr. Mallik’s building.”

  “Yes.”

  She waved at the sea on either side of them. “Then why are we on the Bandra–Worli Sea Link?”

  The causeway stretched across the mouth of Mahim Bay to connect the western suburbs to south Mumbai.

  Hali played dumb. “We’re going to Bandra, where he lives.”

  “He doesn’t live in Bandra, you idiot!” she yelled.

  “That’s the address I have.”

  “He lives on Altamount Road in south Mumbai. Everyone knows that.” She leaned forward. “Where are you from? You sound American.”

  “My parents are from Mumbai, but I was raised in Los Angeles. I’m trying to break into Bollywood. In fact, when Mr. Mallik asked me to pick you up, I was so thrilled. I have a script I think would be great for you.” Hali reached into his bag and retrieved a script of some terrible movie he’d printed out from the internet. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but would you read it?”

  She slapped the pages away. “Of course I’m not going to read your stupid script. Now, get us to Mr. Mallik’s house or I’ll have you fired.”

  “Calm down,” Gautam said. “We’ll get there. This guy’s just trying to do his job.”

  “This guy is going to ruin my career if we don’t get there on time. Do you realize how many important people will be there?”

  “I’ll go extra fast and get you there right away,” Hali said. “Do you know the right address?”

  “Give me the invitation,” she said to Gautam. He held it out, and she snapped it away from him. “I don’t trust you anymore. I’ll look it up on my phone and tell you how to get there.”

  She could try, Hali thought, but he remained quiet.

  A few seconds later, Kiara groaned in frustration. “Why can’t I get a cell signal?”

  “Maybe we’re out of range,” Hali said. But he knew the real reason. There was a cell phone jammer in the trunk to keep her from calling anyone or posting on social media while she was supposed to be at the party. But the jammer didn’t interfere with the signal from Hali’s earpiece that was routed through a satellite transmitter also in the trunk.

  “Just turn around,” she demanded.

  Hali nodded. “Yes, Ms. Jain. As soon as we’re off the causeway.”

  “Can you believe this man?” she said to Guatam, who was trying to hide a crooked grin that Hali spotted in the mirror.

  Halfway across the causeway, traffic slowed to a crawl because of an accident up ahead, the one that Hali had noted earlier.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Kiara screamed.

  “Don’t worry, miss,” Hali said. “I’m sure I can get you there within the hour.”

  “An hour! I can’t believe this!” Kiara threw up her hands in frustration and continued futilely tapping on her phone.

  But Hali wasn’t talking to her. His message was for Eddie.

  * * *

  —

  “Understood, Hali,” Eddie said into his own earpiece. He was in a Porsche SUV being driven by Tiny Gunderson, who was taking a break from his piloting duties. Linc was in the front seat, while Eddie was sandwiched between Raven and MacD in the back. All of them could hear that they now had their hour to break into Romir Mallik�
��s computer system.

  They were just pulling up to his tower on Altamount Road, one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Mumbai. According to reports, Mallik had constructed the enormous five-hundred-foot-tall structure anticipating a large family before his wife died unexpectedly. Although it was bigger than many of the apartment buildings in the area, large enough to support a helicopter landing pad on the roof, Mallik’s vertical palace was a single home, and he was its only resident.

  The grand underground driveway to the entrance was already packed with limos and high-end SUVs, but they moved along quickly as guests were swiftly escorted to a security station before being let into the elevator that would take them to the huge ballroom on one of the top floors.

  When they reached the drop-off, Tiny said, “I’ll be close by. Just give me a shout when you’re on your way down, and I’ll be here before you arrive.”

  Playing the part of the bodyguard, Linc got out and opened the door for Raven, who looked like a dead ringer for Kiara Jain, resplendent in her clingy turquoise sheath. All the men within twenty yards gawked at her as she took MacD’s arm and sashayed toward the metal detector. Eddie, who was wearing glasses that fed video back to Murph, was happy to see that since this was a private event, there were no paparazzi. He and Linc followed close behind them, dressed in tuxes that looked more like rentals than the tailored Armani that MacD wore.

  Raven’s purse was searched, and all of the men had to put their phones in trays as they passed through the metal detector. A bevy of stern-looking guards surveyed the scene while the official greeters led them to the elevator after checking their IDs. Murph had broken into the security company’s computer system the day before and added their names to the list, and since they were with movie star Kiara Jain, nobody suspected anything was amiss.

  At the top of the building, the elevator opened to the sound of hundreds of people talking over the music of a ten-piece band. The huge dance floor was already being put to use by some of the guests, while a massive table overflowed with delicacies from all over the country.

 

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