Spectre (The Beginning Book 1)

by Anil John

  The media coverage was enormous. There were photographers and reporters from a dozen countries. They had all been carefully checked, and their equipment searched before they were allowed to enter the Residence.’

  ‘A cockroach couldn’t sneak into this place tonight,’ the marine officer in charge of the commandos boasted.

  In the storage room, the manager of the Residence was getting bored watching the person in the army fatigues filling up the balloons.

  He pulled out a cigarette and started to light it.

  Carlos yelled, ‘Put that out!’

  The manager looked up, startled, ‘What’s the problem? You are filling those with helium, aren’t you? Helium doesn’t burn.’

  ‘Put it out! Smoking can be injurious to health. I won’t ask you again.’ He groaned.

  ‘Shit man,’ the manager grumbled and dropped the cigarette and put it out with the sole of his shoe.

  Carlos watched to make sure there were no sparks left, then turned back to filling each balloon from a different cylinder.

  It was true that helium did not burn, but none of the cylinders was filled with helium.

  The first cylinder was filled with propane, the second one with white phosphorous, and the third cylinder with an oxygen-acetylene mix. Carlos had left just enough helium in each cylinder the night before to make the balloons rise.

  Carlos was filling the white balloons with white phosphorus, the green balloons with oxygen-acetylene and the orange balloons with propane. When the balloons were supposed to explode, the white phosphorus would act as an incendiary for the initial gas discharge, drawing in oxygen so that breath would be sucked out of the body of everybody within one hundred yards.

  The phosphorus would instantly turn to a hot, searing, molten liquid, falling on everyone in the ballroom. The thermal effect would destroy the lungs and throat, and the blast would flatten the Residence. It is going to be spectacular, I promise. He thought with an evil grin on his face.

  After an hour, Carlos straightened up in the ballroom and looked at the colourful balloons floating against the ceiling. The ballroom had been decorated and the ceiling was completely covered by the tri-colour balloons replicating the Indian flag.

  Carlos stood at the doorway for a while, staring at the riot of colours ascending in a rising rainbow, and smiled. One thousand of the lethal little beauties nestled against the ceiling.

  He glanced across the ballroom at the entrance. Indian Ambassador Sunny Jordan was entering with his Deputy Chief of Mission, Dev. Carlos grinned. Perfect timing.

  ‘I am finished with my work.’ He told the manager.

  ‘I will have you escorted out.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  When the manager turned his back, Carlos quickly set a small micro device under the cloth covered table, where it could not be seen. The electronic automatic timing device was set for an hour delay.

  Everything just went perfect. Let the show begin.

  Ten minutes later, Carlos was outside the residence, strolling down the street.

  Chapter 20

  In spite of the fact that it was a hot and humid night, the area outside the Indian Embassy Residence had become a madhouse. Police were struggling to keep back the hundreds of curious visitors who were arriving. Every light in the Residence had been turned on, and the building blazed against the black night sky.

  Sunny Jordan and his official team entered the ballroom. They walked across the floor, greeting guests, trying to conceal their nervousness.

  There was a loud crash and Jordan jumped. He span around to see what was happening, his pulse racing.

  A waiter had dropped a tray and was picking up the broken plates. He tried to stop the pounding of his heart. How was Carlos planning to assassinate him? He looked around the festive ballroom, but there was no clue.

  The orchestra had begun playing, and the guests were dancing. The guests were enjoying themselves tremendously. Those who were not dancing were helping themselves from the silver trays of champagne being offered or the relishing the delicacies from the buffet tables.

  The ballroom looked spectacular. Jordan raised his head, and there were the balloons, thousands of them- Indian tri-colour-floating against the magnificent ceiling. It was like a festive occasion.

  His nerves were so taut that he was ready to scream. A guest brushed against him, and he braced himself for the prick of a deadly needle.

  Or was Carlos going to shoot him in front of all these people? Or stab him? The suspense of what was about to happen was unbearable. In the midst of laughing, chattering guests, he felt vulnerable. Carlos, the world’s most prominent assassin could be anywhere. He could be watching him this minute.

  ‘Do you think Carlos is here now?’ Jordan asked Dev.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dev said, and that was the most frightening thing of all. ‘Look if you want to leave...’

  ‘No, I know I am the bait, without the bait, none of you won’t spring the trap.’

  Dev nodded and replied silently. ‘Absolutely right.’

  The General of Security was approaching. ‘We have done a thorough search, Dev. We haven’t been able to find a thing. I don’t like this suspense.’

  ‘Let’s take another look around.’ Dev signalled to four armed marines standing by, and they moved up next to Jordan. ‘Be right back,’ Dev said.

  Dev and the General of Security, accompanied by two guards with sniffer dogs, searched every upstairs room in the Residence.

  ‘Let’s try the downstairs.’ He snapped.

  They came to the kitchen.

  ‘What about poison?’ the General asked, ‘Would he use that?’

  Dev shook his head in disapproval, ‘Carlos is not an amateur, and he will go for big bang show.’

  ‘Dev, there is no way anyone could get explosives into this place. Our experts have gone over it, the sniffer dogs have gone over it-the Residence is clean. He can’t hit us through the roof, because we have snipers up there. It’s impossible.’

  ‘There has to be a way, a vulnerable way.’

  The security chief looked at Dev, ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know, but Carlos does for sure, so let’s find it.’

  They searched the library and the offices again. Nothing.

  They passed the storage room where the manager and his men were shoving out the last of the balloons, watching them as they floated to the ceiling.

  ‘Pretty spectacular, huh?’ the manager said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  They started to walk on. Dev stopped.

  ‘Where did these balloons come from?’

  ‘From the Indian Air base, sir.’

  Dev indicated the helium cylinders, ‘And these?’

  ‘Same place, they were escorted to our warehouse as per your instructions, sir.’

  They turned to leave and a marine commando from the entrance gate of the Residence walked in, ‘Sir,-the person you sent forgot to leave a time slip. Is that going to be handled by military or civilian category?’

  ‘Which person?’ The general frowned.

  ‘The one you authorized for the spectacular ceiling decoration.’

  The general shook his head. ‘I never- who said I authorized it?’

  ‘He had his authorization papers with him.’ The manager said.

  Dev turned to the manager, ‘What did this man look like?’

  ‘Oh, He was six feet and above in height, well built, in forties and had a scar-face.’

  Dev said to General, excitedly, ‘That sounds like Padre Pio’s description in the files that he read recently from Interpol.’

  The revelation hit them both at the same time.

  Dev said slowly, ‘Oh, my God! Padre Pio is Carlos!’

  He pointed to the cylinders, ‘He filled the balloons from these?’

  ‘Yes, sir, He was funny. I lit a cigarette, and he screamed at me to put it out but helium doesn’t burn.’

  Dev looked up. ‘The balloons! The explosives are i
n the balloons.’

  The two men stared at the high ceiling, covered with the spectacular green, white and orange balloons.

  ‘He is using some kind of remote control device to explode them.’ Dev turned to the manager, ‘How long did he leave?’

  ‘I guess about an hour ago.’

  Under the table, unseen, the timing device had six minutes left on its small screen.

  Dev was frantically scanning the huge ballroom hall. ‘He could have put it anywhere. It could go off at any moment. We could never find it in time.’

  Jordan was approaching. Dev turned to him, ‘You have got to clear the room. Fast! Make an announcement. It will sound better coming from you. Get everybody outside.’

  Jordan was looking at Dev, bewildered, ‘But-why? What has happened?’

  ‘We found out our soul mate’s toy,’ Dev screamed grimly,

  He pointed towards the ceiling. ‘Those balloons, they are deadly.’

  Jordan was looking at them, horror struck his face. ‘Can’t we take them down?’

  Dev snapped, ‘ There must be a thousand of them. By the time you start taking them down,...’

  Jordan’s throat was so dry he could hardly get the words out.

  ‘Dev - I know a way.’

  The men were staring at Jordan.

  ‘The Ambassador’s folly. The roof. It slides open.’

  Dev tried to control his excitement, ‘How does it work?’

  ‘There is a switch that...’

  ‘No,’ Dev said, ‘nothing electrical. A spark could set them all off. Can it be done manually?’

  ‘Yes,’ the words were tumbling out. ‘The roof is divided in half. There is a crank on each side that...’.

  Both Jordan and Dev were frantically racing upstairs. When they reached the top floor, they found the door opening onto a loft, and they hurried inside. A wooden ladder let to a narrow walk which was used by the workmen to clean the ceiling of the ballroom. A crank was fastened to the wall.

  ‘There must be another one on the other side,’ Jordan yelled.

  Dev started across the narrow walk, pushing his way through the sea of deadly balloons, struggling to keep his balance, trying not to look down at the mob of people far below. A current of air pushed a mass of balloons against him, and he slipped. One foot went off the narrow walk. He began to fall. He grabbed the boards as he fell, hanging on.

  Slowly, he managed to pull himself up. He was soaked in perspiration. He inched his way along the rest of the narrow walkway. Fastened to the wall was another crank.

  ‘I am ready,’ Dev screamed to Jordan, ‘Careful, and No sudden moves.’

  ‘All right,’ Jordan replied with a yell.

  Both of them began turning the crank very slowly.

  Under the table, the timer was shown to two minutes.

  Slowly, very slowly, the roof started to slide open. A few balloons lifted by the helium drifted into the night air, and as the roof opened farther, more balloons began to escape towards the black night sky.

  Hundreds of them, poured through the roof opening, dancing into the black night sky.

  On the floor of the ballroom, there were 45 seconds left on the hidden timer. Both Jordan and Dev stood there, watching the last of the balloons escape.

  The balloons soared higher and higher, and suddenly the sky exploded.

  There was a tremendous roar, and the tongues of red and white flames shot high into the air.

  It was an Independence Day celebration such as had never seen before. Below in the ballroom everyone applauded.

  Jordan and Dev watched, drained, too tired to move.

  It was over, finally over.

  Carlos was furious. In fact, he was more than furious. He was like an enraged animal. The contract had gone wrong somehow for the first time. He was prepared to make up for it.

  When Carlos landed in Istanbul Airport in Turkey, he went to a telephone booth and called up the private number of ‘the Pindar’, the Chief of Confidential Panel, Eight Deadly Sins Committee.

  The familiar voice responded from the other end of the phone, ‘Roy.’

  SPECTRE: THE CONCLUSION

  2017