by Rafael
Janesh had not dared hope but the attackers, needing every man for the assault, had left only two guards to make sure the crew did not wander. For sure they had not left their best. More might be posted inside but if he waited there would be far more. He eased back to become a shadow among the shadows. As Janesh stripped off clothing, deep, continuous breaths aerated his body. Moments later he slid crocodile-like into the channel. Leafy overhang along the bank hid his movement until fifty yards later he submerged. Clear, crystalline water guided him toward the anchor chain where he surfaced beneath the prow.
Nothing indicated discovery but the island’s gunfire had subsided. He grabbed a chain link and pulled up to his waist preventing body runoff from splashing. Two more pulls and his free hand reached the top. He waited until the forward guard’s footsteps receded before pulling himself over. No alarm sounded. It confirmed one more sentry had to be inside keeping the crew confined. He stood erect and calmly walked toward the patrolling guard. The sentinel turned to find a nude man five feet away walking as if on a Sunday stroll in the park. Startled hesitation killed him.
Janesh watched as the man’s machine pistol rose to fire. To the tiger hunter he moved as if in slow motion. His arm flashed. The guard tried to fire and block and accomplished neither. The blow smashed through his rifle arm and into his face. The weapon and body crashed against the pilothouse wall.
From the stern, footsteps rushed to investigate. Janesh ducked around the corner and climbed atop the pilothouse. Bent over to examine his fallen comrade, he froze at the thump landing behind him and never saw the blow that crushed his skull.
Janesh hurried to the doorway that muffled the footsteps rushing nearer. The door burst open. In one motion the guard found his weapon ripped away and a hand clamped like a steel vise around his neck. He struggled to pull it off but a kill punch to his solar plexus emptied his lungs and paralyzed his body. Janesh dragged him inside and down the short companionway.
Ahead he kicked in the door and stood in the entrance. The crew stared at the wild-eyed man before them. They watched as the man stretched out alongside and gripped by the neck weakened. His death rattle gurgled and the tremors ceased. Janesh gave him a last shake before dropping him to the deck. Fear widened their eyes. “You have one chance to live. Raise the anchor and maneuver out the channel. Choose your fate.”
The crew cast hopeful glances at the Captain then followed him out the door. In the pilothouse the anchor had yet to breach when he ordered half ahead. As he watched the left bank, Janesh’s hopes rose. Black-clad figures emerged carrying wounded, dead, and dying. The CIA strike team had not journeyed into the afterworld alone. The killers’ expressions morphed from confusion to rage.
Bullets thudded into the dhoni’s wooden structure. A crewman at the prow fell and reddened the water he’d just secured the anchor from. The pilothouse windows spider-webbed then shattered from a machine pistol stuttering across their front. His face turned into bloody meat, the helmsman screamed once then fell dead from a bullet that entered his chest and did not exit. The Captain picked himself up, dashed out the door, and leaped overboard. Cut across his body, Janesh lunged for the throttle, thrust it to full. The engines churned and strained, fought to bite. Around him bullets whizzed and wood splintered. Janesh pleaded with Vishnu. “Not yet, my Lord. Please. Not yet.”
The propellers grabbed, the prow surged. Janesh stood at the wheel, naked and bleeding. Down the channel he steamed, headed for open water. Their ammo stores embedded in a dead CIA strike team, the firing dimmed. Pure exultation flushed through Janesh’s veins. “Great art thou, Lord Vishnu.” he shouted. “Great art thou.”
A surviving crewman rushed to the door, yelled in a language he didn’t understand. Janesh followed his pointing finger to where waves crashed over the outer reef. Grinning ear-to-ear, he shouted over the now clanking engines. “Yes, I know.” He laughed with gusto. “If you can’t swim jump now.”
From belowdecks a putrid, black-gray smoke engulfed the ship. The engines gasped and labored to maintain speed. Janesh would not feel safe until he reached the open water. Doubly so if he left the attackers marooned behind him. Sixty yards ahead the ocean swelled and crashed over the reef. Body language and prayer urged the dhoni forward. It reached the point of no return and hurtled toward its death. Janesh braced for impact.
The sound of crunching, cracking, grinding wood echoed across the lagoon. A shuddering jolt rolled through the boat, buckling seams and joints as it passed. The crash snapped off the reef top and the sharp remnant sheared through the dhoni’s bottom. Even before the boat passed over the reef, it began to sink by the bow. He stepped out from the pilothouse and a quick glance showed a distant line of bobbing heads where the surviving crew had abandoned ship. Feet already submerged, he dove into the aqua-blue, bath-water warm sea. When he surfaced, the dhoni had disappeared.
Janesh grit his teeth and let out a low moan. Water burned the myriad cuts he had suffered but unless a shark prowled the immediate area, the salt would soon shrivel them closed. When the stinging subsided he made for a wood panel floating nearby. Buoyant enough to serve as a crude raft he took stock until startled by a head surfacing next to him. The crewman who had tried to warn him away from the reef let out a blubbery gasp.
Fury blazed from his eyes as gibberish spewed from his mouth. The tone left a bemused Janesh with no doubt the Maldivian had cursed every member of his ancestral line. “Well my friend, India is four hundred miles north. With twelve hundred islands to choose from we’re best off using the tide to reach one with tourists.” He smiled and pointed to himself. “Janesh.” No response. He pointed again. “Janesh.” The man’s tone softened but the glare continued.
“Keimi.”
CHAPTER 34 Friends Indeed
“Believe it, sir. Although to be sure, we Indians also find it incredible.”
Josh Timson struggled to remain calm. Despite the modern world’s vast technology, nothing replaced old-fashioned, gumshoe police work. Buried deep in McKenzie’s dossier, a newspaper article’s byline had brought him before the author.
“It’s hard to believe in this day and age someone hunts tigers with a spear.”
“He shuns publicity and avoids the limelight. The irony is the tactic has moved him beyond celebrity and into myth. A legend, if you will. Sighting him is considered good luck. There are rumors however it masks illicit activity. Nonetheless, the public’s perception of a hero remains ingrained.”
“And the man who carried him out of the forest. Is he still alive?”
“Oh yes. And they remain very close friends.”
“Well, Mr. Raju, I’m sure you would agree it is an incredible story to stumble upon. I would love nothing better than to bring it before an American audience. But it would be incomplete without interviewing the two principals. Do you know how I can get in touch with the man who saved Janesh McKenzie’s life?”
“Yes, of course.”
He paused for some quick taps on the computer screen. “Here it is. He lives right here in Raipur. His name is Ekani Jayaraman. Give me your number. I’ll transmit his address to your mobile.”
* * *
Ekani’s fascination for watching humans in coordinated action never lessened. It went far toward explaining why they sat atop nature’s pyramid. The crew’s careful, methodical, vertical assembly of three crates trucked aboard a flatbed awaited their final trip.
The foreman stood off flashing hand signals to the helicopter lowering a tethered hook. He held the aircraft steady while a crewman made the hook fast and seven others walked about the truck pulling straps and checking connectors. When they stepped away the foreman performed a visual walk around before letting the helicopter rise a foot. Again he held it steady while fourteen pairs of eyes scanned for any indication the load might fail. Under fluffed clouds floating across a blue sky, he cleared the pilot. Turbine-powered rotors throttled up. Eyes hand-visored against the bright sunshine watched a $2 million solar genera
tor and a reassembled science project sail away.
Quiet pride at having served the Mahān Śikārī swelled through Ekani. He’d stockpiled Camp G for a three-day layover and loaded Camp J with supplies and equipment to last the entire four-month lease period. Before sunrise tomorrow he would greet the science and security teams at the garage housing four all-terrain vehicles and lead them into the Tadoba Reserve’s interior. He signed the foreman’s delivery receipt recalling Chatur’s response at his concern over the mounting expenses. “The only ones who hold onto money are those who can’t make it.”
Ekani turned toward the parking lot where the patient Narsimha waited. “If this keeps up much longer you’ll have enough money to retire right after graduating.” Narsimha laughed and steered away from Chandrapur’s small airport. “When do you find time to study?” He held up a text book titled ‘Structural Mechanics’.
“While waiting for you. This job has plenty of down time. But you’re right. After a few years learning the business I hope to open my own engineering firm. But don’t think I’m so disciplined.” He picked up a booklet. “When it gets really boring this passes the time. I’m addicted to crossword puzzles. Where are we going?” Ekani paused to think if he had forgotten anything. No. Except for the few clothes in his rented flat, he had attended to everything. He could pack in the morning.
“That’s it for today, Narsimha. A cool shower, an early dinner, perhaps a movie and I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long one.”
He stepped from the car’s cool interior and into the noonday sun’s blazing heat. Somehow the busy street seemed busier. Inside the four-story residential, the heated shade provided no relief. He hadn’t thought to leave the air-conditioner running and with the windows closed the small apartment had to be an oven. One flight up, Ekani entered the flat to the sound of screeching brakes, honking horns, shouts, cries and general chatter streaming through the open windows. Neck hairs rose. Primal instinct turned him around to see an emaciated Asian with a healthy gun pushing the door closed. Another Asian emerged from the small kitchen.
“You’re quite a busy man, Mr. Jayaraman. Hard to keep up with.” His Chinese accent gave no life to his pitiless eyes. Ekani dismissed the thieves’ theory. Though they had rummaged through the apartment, neither carried anything. He played it anyway.
“Take whatever you want. There’s cash in my bag.”
“We don’t want what’s in your wallet, Mr. Jayaraman. We want what’s in your mind.” The silent one motioned him to the couch. The skinny one stepped closer. Ekani had no illusions about withstanding sustained punishment. And once they learned what they wanted he would never leave.
From the floor above a gaggle of laughing, jabbering children thumped their way down the stairs. Ekani raised his hands. “I’m unarmed. We can talk this out.”
“No, Mr. Jayaraman.” the skinny one said. “You will do all the talking.” The chattering children reached the bottom. Ekani grabbed the thin man, whirled and shoved him toward the other. He broke for the door. In one motion he flung it open and burst out. The children froze with wide-eyed expressions. Surely they wouldn’t shoot with children in the firing line. They did.
The first bullet burrowed into his side, the second into his shoulder. Ekani felt nothing but the added momentum hurled him down the stairs. Every step slammed some bone until he tumbled and rolled onto the ground floor. Then the pain struck. He gasped as his body oven-roasted in the heat. The children began to scream, shout, and wail. Doors flung open. Heads peered into the dank gloom. Ekani willed himself to rise. His paralyzed shoulder threw him off balance and he stumbled out the door.
He turned and like a drunken zombie lurched down the street. People swerved to avoid him. Men looked on with disgust. Women’s hands covered their mouths as they sped up to pass him. Some noticed the sodden clothes now soaked red. A street full of eyewitnesses prevented pursuit.
His left hand stretched across his torso, tried to stanch the blood loss even as it seeped between his fingers. The right hung useless. “Five blocks, five blocks.” he chanted. Each excruciating step threatened collapse. He blocked all else out. It became a race against time. Five blocks. “Hear me, Lord Vishnu. Just a little more time. I must not fail.”
* * *
“Three days ago, Chatur, you told me not to worry because only three days had passed.” Despite his stoic stance, Miranda saw the hurt. Her shoulders slumped, a hand covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, Chatur. That wasn’t fair.”
“Sorry? For what? For being human? For being concerned? That boorish oaf should have called by now. His thoughtlessness has no limits. Come, some hot tea will do us both good.”
“It’s none of that, Chatur. It’s me. I’m not happy with myself, with whom I’ve become.”
De rigueur for any house Chatur rented, they stepped into a roomy, well-appointed kitchen. He pulled out a chair from the table but before he bade her sit fluffed an extra cushion against its back. At a double sink, he ran the tap for a moment before filling a teapot a third full. The master chef then stood before a cabinet to contemplate the chamomile varieties within before some winnowing process unknown to her selected one.
“My self-confidence is broken. My sense of personal security is shattered. I feel needy, vulnerable. I jump at noises and shadows startle me.” Chatur nodded and glanced as he picked through tea leaves. Eyed some, dismissed others. A nylon mesh basket began to fill.
“Only when Janesh is nearby do I have any sense of normalcy. Without him I feel lost, unfocused, directionless. It’s not that I resent wanting him close, but I want to be strong for him. I want to be his rock.”
The pot began to steam. Chatur removed it from the stove then swirled the water well before discarding it. He placed the mesh basket within the properly warmed pot so the leaves could begin to expand. From the oversized refrigerator he removed a jug of filtered water and carefully refilled the pot.
“I live with a low-level dread that at any moment Kreetor might appear. I awake at night and imagine its wings flap outside my window. I close my eyes and it enters my dreams.” Chatur returned to sit opposite Miranda.
“My dear, sweet Miranda. Do you realize you are unlike anyone else in the world? You are the only person in history who has stood face-to-face with a sentient being from another world. You have been witness to its brutal, savage slaughter of human beings. You’ve seen rape and murder committed before your very eyes. You’ve been imprisoned and isolated in the most inhumane conditions imaginable. I would be very, very worried if you had returned indifferent to it all. Your reactions are not only normal, they’re healthy.”
The pot whistled for attention. Chatur rose to not let the delicate leaves over boil. A minute later he placed a mug before her and retook his seat. “I know you’re right, Chatur. I’ve said the same things myself. The words just seem to bounce off.” She stared at the steam wisps. They recalled a moment before dawn when she had crawled to the cave’s entrance to see the morning fog rise above the jungle. She began to shake. Convulsions and tremors wracked her body. Chatur rushed around the table to bend low and embrace her. Sobs escaped tremulous lips. “Oh, Chatur. I just want to be me again.”
Miranda clung vampire-like, draining him of reassurance, replenishing emptied calm. He straightened to hold her face between his hands. Thumbs gently dried tear-moistened cheeks. “You are a rock, Miranda. We shudder to imagine what you endured and marvel that you did.”
Nails clacked against the kitchen tiles. In trotted Duncan and Ronan. They nuzzled heads and noses against her thighs, stomach, and sides. She gave a short laugh and returned their love and devotion. Calm cocooned her.
Chatur returned to his seat, nudged her mug closer. “Sip, Miranda. Let it sooth your fears.” Quiet descended upon the four. With their heads in her lap, Miranda felt the tea’s warmth suffuse her soul and ease her pain. Emotional locks and bolts latched into place. “Thank you, Chatur. Janesh is better for having you as a friend.” She sprouted a smi
le. “Speaking of boorish oafs, do you have any idea where he might be?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere in the Maldives.” A ruckus outside the main entrance penetrated to the kitchen. The front door crashed open. Raised voices and shouts sounded alarms. In one motion the two pushed their seats back and raced for the foyer. Held on either side by security guards, Ekani staggered in. Relief washed over his eyes when he spied Miranda. He sank to his knees.
“Kumārī Logan, Kumārī Logan.” She rushed to his side. Knelt to place his head in her lap. Blood oozed everywhere.
“Call the doctor.” she screamed.
“We did, Kumārī Logan.” A security guard answered. “An ambulance is on the way.” Ekani gripped her arm. Swallowed hard.
“All praise and glory to the great Lord Vishnu. He has permitted me my final journey. Listen to me, Kumārī Logan. There is not much time. I am discovered. You must flee. The danger is great. You know where the vehicles are. All is in readiness. Flee now before it is too late.” He stopped to close his eyes. Swallowed and grimaced against the pain. “When you see my brother, tell him I am grateful for the time he gave me.” Ekani’s eyes stopped seeing, his mouth hung open. Miranda wailed.
Chatur gripped her arm and lifted. Blood rolled down pants now streaked with red. He grasped her shoulders and gave a gentle shake. “Miranda. Miranda. Look at me. You’re in charge now. You must lead the team into the preserve. Hurry. Change clothes and take only what is essential. Time is of the essence. I will remain here to cover your departure and wait for Janesh to make contact. Go.”
