“I got me a pair of them too. Probably burned up in the fire you started. I’ll add them to my bill.”
He thumbs some switches on the remote and suddenly, the drone propellers come to life with a low-key, buzzsaw sound. A moment after that, we have lift off. While the drone quickly gains altitude, I peer over Anjali’s shoulder and focus in on the smartphone screen. I see the jungle floor we occupy, our bodies illuminated in a bright orange glow. I even wave at myself down here on the ground.
“What’s our range?” I ask Tony.
“We can operate this baby safely within a radius of twenty miles. Elizabeth and the assholes who took her are any further out than that, we’re screwed anyway.”
“How will you know which direction to go?” Anjali asks.
“I start by making small circles and then I’ll make like a corkscrew and increase the radius a little bit more and a little bit more with each revolution until I find them.”
“A plan as good as any,” I say.
We stand in silence while the drone performs its reconnaissance mission, scouring the forest for any sign of artificial light besides our own. The machine makes six or seven full circular sweeps before Anjali’s screen begins to broadcast something other than pitch darkness. A dim light begins to bleed into the small rectangular screen. Barely noticeable at first, but getting brighter all the time, as the silhouette of the leafy treetops begin to take shape.
“Try and tighten the circle to the northeast, Tone. We’ve got something.”
Anjali inverts her smartphone, reveals the picture to Tony.
“Okay,” he says, “I’m just gonna make a few figure eights in a northeasterly direction.”
Within a few seconds, the project comes into view. An area about the size of an acre, lit up with mobile lamps. The infrared light is picking up bodies moving back and forth from what looks to be an opening in the ground, like a man-made tunnel. The opening appears to be hidden by a tin-roofed shack. It’s exactly how I relay it to Anjali and Tony.
“Can we zoom in at all, Tone?”
He does it. The camera zooms in close enough so that I can see the vague faces of men dressed in black robes, boots, and matching turbans, automatic weapons slung over their shoulders. They’re guarding another group of men and women who are scantily dressed and wheeling wheel barrels out of the tunnel opening, depositing their contents onto conveyor crusher belts that feed flat vibrating screens which I know from experience serve as sieves or sifters.
“Holy crap,” I say, “they’ve employed slave labor to do the digging.”
“Funny way to put,” Anjali says. “Employed.”
“What about Elizabeth?” Tony says. “Do you see her?”
Anjali and I stare down at the phone, at the pathetic people coming and going from the cave with their wheel barrels. But there’s something else going on too. As the drone camera shifts further east, the ground seems to open up wide as if it weren’t ground at all, but a giant mouth. There’s a bright light emanating from the opening. Light isn’t even the right word for it. More like an earthly sun glowing or radiating from out of the ground.
“Need more detail!” I bark at Tony.
“Let me adjust the contrast on the camera,” he says.
The brightness of the illumination is shielded somewhat to reveal a hard surface that glows. The surface must be at least one hundred feet wide by the same distance long. Surrounding the glowing surface on all sides are worshipers. It’s hard to tell, but I’m guessing they’re all men, all of them dressed in black, down on their knees as though praying in reverence before the opening.
It hits me then.
“The diamond deposit,” I say. “That can be the only explanation.”
“But I thought the map engraved on the back of the Kali Statue was supposed to lead us to the diamond deposit,” Anjali says. “I’m not following.”
The camera continues to move, continues to focus in on the deposit. Soon, I begin to make out something situated in the center of the glowing deposit. It’s a statue.
“More focus, Tone,” I insist. “More zoom. Hold the drone’s position right there.”
“Okay,” he answers. “She’s hovering. But it’s only a matter of time before one of those religious fanatics spots it.”
As the picture on the smartphone zooms in, I begin to make out the statute. It’s about the size of a large human being. It’s the eight-armed golden Kali. She’s seated in lotus position, a portion of her lower body embedded into the deposit itself as if it the statue were miraculously born from out of the mammoth diamond.
“The Golden Kali Statue wasn’t the source of a map at all,” I say. “It was a marker. Elizabeth finally found it. And at the same time, revealed it to Kashmiri.”
“At gun point no doubt,” Tony points out.
There’s something else going on too. A commotion coming from the crowd as they split in two. Two big men are dragging someone by her arms towards the diamond deposit. The woman has long hair, and she’s wearing a black shawl.
“Holy Christ that’s Elizabeth,” I say, my heart sinking into my stomach as if it were made of rock.
She’s clearly struggling. Clearly not wanting anything to do with what’s happening. The two big men proceed to lead her out onto the glowing diamond deposit before chaining each of her arms to what appear to be two concrete pillars set before the Kali statue. My heart pounds. I want to scream at her to get out. To run. But I’m powerless.
“My God, Chase, what are they doing to her?” Anjali says.
“I don’t know for sure,” I say swallowing something bitter and dry. “I’ve only seen it in old documentary movies, but I’m beginning to think this is the start of a Thuggee ceremony. And if that’s the case, she’s in deep trouble.”
As the two men leave her, a kind of billowing smoke rises from the surface of the diamond deposit as if it’s heating up. Two more figures enter the scene. One man is tall and black-bearded. He’s also wearing a black robe and turban, wrapped around his waist is a blood-red sash. He’s also holding a staff.
“Kashmiri,” I whisper. Then, “Tony, how far away are we from the diamond deposit? I need to get to Elizabeth. Get to them now.”
“You’ll never make it, Chase. It’s twelve or thirteen miles out through thick jungle, minimum.”
I feel almost faint I’m so panicked by the sight of the ceremony. There’s not a damn thing I can do other than stand there and watch.
“Do you see Rajesh?” Anjali begs, panic in her voice.
Another object appears on the screen. It’s a mobile platform being pulled by two Thuggees. Chained to the platform is a little boy with six arms. The boy is outfitted in a gold turban, gold tunic and pants, his feet bare. Because of the spotlights and the glow from the diamond deposit, the drone camera is able to pick up the sparkling light that’s shining off the many diamonds he wears on all thirty of his fingers.
“Rajesh,” Anjali screams, slapping her hand against her mouth.
I wrap my arm around her.
“It’s okay,” I say. “He’s alive and that’s what counts.”
As soon as Kashmiri comes to the edge of the diamond deposit, he spreads his arms and stares up at the dark night sky. Raising his black staff, it appears that he’s begun to chant something. Chant something to the Gods maybe. Because we’re not always picking up audio, there’s no way to make out exactly what he’s saying. But just watching his intensity makes my heart pound. Behind him, it appears the worshippers begin chanting along with him. They’re now down on all fours, banging their foreheads on the hard ground, as though inflicting pain on their own bodies is a way of summoning something evil up from the very depths of the earth.
My heart beats harder. Mouth goes dry. Throughout my adventures, I’ve witnessed physical proof of a divine God and even proof of alien beings. But never before have I come face to face with Satan. The smoke coming from the deposit grows more and more intense while the surface takes on a red/ora
nge glow. Elizabeth struggles against the chains that bind her. She’s in great pain. I can feel her pain even from where I’m standing. Meanwhile, the boy seems to be trembling, shaking, as he enters into a convulsive state.
“What are they going to do to her, Chase?” Anjali cries out. Then, “What’s happening to Rajesh?”
I turn to her. “Don’t look at it.”
Something extraordinary happens then. The earth seems to shake, and Kashmiri begins to levitate. His body lifts up and he is carried by a power not of this world over the surface of the smoking, glowing diamond deposit. The closer the bearded man comes to Elizabeth, the more she struggles against the chains.
When finally he is upon her, he reaches inside his robes with his free hand, produces a dagger shaped like a crescent moon. He holds the dagger up to the heavens as if for inspection. The earth shakes once more and a bolt of lightning flashes from the sky to the tip of the blade. For a brief moment the drone trembles and shakes.
“Easy baby,” Tony says, his hands maneuvering the remote controls. “I can’t hold the drone for much longer, Chase. Not if we wanna get her back in one piece.”
Elizabeth…
I want to respond to Tony. But my throat has closed up on itself, my pulse speeding so rapidly I feel like I might pass out. But I can’t pass out. Won’t pass out. Part of me wants to run. To save Elizabeth and the boy. But that’s crazy. They’re a dozen miles away inside a remote portion of jungle. It would take me ten or more hours to get to her. Like I said, no choice but to stand there helplessly, hopelessly…impotently.
Elizabeth…
The lightning disappears as the blade of the dagger takes on the same glow as the diamond deposit. Then, as kneeling worshippers raise up their torsos and their hands, Kashmiri thrusts the blade into Elizabeth’s chest.
“No!” Anjali screams.
“Look away!” I insist. “Do not look at the screen anymore. You hear me?”
“Do it, Anjali,” Tony insists. “Listen to Chase. Look away now.”
Kashmiri twists the knife in a circular motion until he has cut a perfect circle in her chest. Returning the knife to its scabbard, he reaches inside with the now free hand, pulls out her heart.
Elizabeth…Do you believe in love at first sight?
The drone’s audio manages to pick up a scream.
But the scream is not coming from Elizabeth. It’s the kind of scream that can only come from a little boy in distress. In pain.
Elizabeth, I love you…I…love…you…
The earth beneath me feels as if it has dropped away. My head spins while an orchestra of screams and shrieks fills my brain. Kashmiri turns, holds the heart up for his worshipers who now raise up their bodies and their arms, praising the presence of Elizabeth’s still beating heart. Looking at her face, I can tell she’s not quite dead, but instead moving her mouth as if trying to shout, but unable to. The glow from the diamond deposit increases to an almost blood red, as the heart goes still in Kashmiri’s hand and Elizabeth’s mouth stops moving, her soul departing her body. At the same time, the vaporous smoke rising from the deposit begins to take the shape of a giant skull, its eyes glowing yellow/orange, a pair of sharp horns protruding from the top of its cranium.
Anjali, her eyes closed, is reciting the Our Father prayer aloud.
“Kali is summoned,” I mumble, the words barely making it out of my mouth.
Kashmiri raises the heart, then brings it to his mouth, taking a large bite out of it. Once more raising his staff up to the heavens, he is then transported across the surface of the diamond deposit as it erupts into bright red flame. As a final sacrifice to Kali, he tosses what’s left of Elizabeth’s heart into the fire as the rest of her body is incinerated.
“They’ve done it,” I say, tears of rage and sadness filling my eyes. “Resurrected the Thuggee god. They’ve reincarnated Kali.”
Maybe a half minute passes before the flames disappear and, along with them, any sign of Elizabeth Flynn’s body. Kashmiri takes his place before Rajesh, bows his head in reverence while the boy’s body begins convulsing, as though acting as the catalyst for summoning Kali has sucked the life right out of him. The ceremony over, the worshippers stand, shoulder their AK47s and begin to shoot indiscriminate rounds into the air. It’s as if they are ready to go to war with the world, kill anyone who doesn’t prescribe to their black magic. Their evil.
That’s when I notice a couple of the black-robed guards who are taking up the rear of the procession. They appear to be communicating. When one of them looks up at the night sky, points directly at the camera, I know we’ve been made.
“Bring her in, Tony,” I say, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hand. “We’ve been spotted.”
Just then, both guards take aim with their weapons, plant their separate beads. We see the muzzle flashes and just like that, the image on Anjali’s smartphone goes dead.
“So much for one slightly used drone,” Tony says, tossing the remote control into the bush.
“Anjali, do we still have the GPS coordinates?”
She finishes the prayer, peers up at the night sky, makes another sign of the cross over her chest. Then, breathing in deeply, she runs her hands through her hair which has become thick with perspiration.
“Got them,” she assures, having gathered her composure. Her voice, however, still trembling from the Thuggee ceremony. “Saved.”
“Let’s get back to camp and consult a map,” I say, my voice cracking. Grabbing my walkie-talkie from my pocket, I radio Rudy. “Rudy, come in. Rudy. You there?” Releasing my thumb, I wait and listen. But all I get is static. “Rudy man, come on, you there?” Nothing. Then, to Tony and Anjali, “Rudy’s probably into his second pint by now. Let’s just go.”
But first, Tony reaches out, grabs my arm.
“Chase,” he says, his eyes wide, not blinking. “You okay?”
I nod. “I’m not sure what I feel.”
“She didn’t suffer. You hear me? She didn’t suffer.”
“The fucker cut her heart out, Tone. He cut her heart out. Don’t tell me she didn’t suffer.”
He releases my arm.
“Let’s just go,” he says.
We hump the three hundred feet through the darkness to the camp. Although the distance is short, it takes a while to break through the tall grass with the machetes in the night. But it’s then, for the first time since Dr. Singh approached me in Piazza Santa Maria Novella in Florence, that this thing is beginning to make sense. What was once a three-part mystery has now merged into one single, well-connected plot of insidiousness.
This is no longer simply about rescuing a little boy born with a congenital deformity that a handful of religious zealots interpreted as a God-like attribute. It’s no longer the search for a legendary diamond deposit that might provide an entire army with the cash it needs to wage a war of evil and terrorism. It’s no longer about confirming the truth about Elizabeth.
This is about Satan himself being summoned from the depths of Hell by a known terrorist turned Thuggee. An animal capable of ripping the heart out of an innocent woman’s chest while it’s still beating.
This is no longer just a job. It’s now become personal.
What does personal mean, exactly?
It means that no matter what happens with the God Boy, I will find Kashmiri, and I will find a way to eradicate him from the earth … as slowly and painfully as possible.
The light of the fire in our camp is a welcome sight.
But what’s far from welcome is the first thing I see when breaking through the brush.
I see Rudy, his hands tied behind his back, a noose wrapped around his neck.
20
They must have followed us here the entire way. But it wasn’t until we left camp to put up the drone, that they made their move.
Aussie Tavis and Aussie Bruce…The angry gamblers…The poachers.
They’re positioned four-square on either side of Rudy, who is standing…no,
scratch that…who is precariously balancing himself on one of the small collapsible tables the Sherpas packed for the trek, the rope wrapped around his neck tied off to a thick branch belonging to a nearby iron tree. Situated not far behind him, the Sherpas themselves, tied together at the wrists, seated on the ground, facing away from one another, their mouths covered with strips of duct tape, as if there’s anyone to hear their screams out here in this heavily forested nowhere.
A fire is burning in a shallow pit in the center of camp and the tents have been set up a dozen or so feet away from it. The elephants are not visible since they’re hidden by the brush, but I can hear them rustling uncomfortably about, yanking on the thick ropes and chains that secure them to the tree trunks.
The New York Yankees baseball cap-wearing Tavis is once more holding his revolver while the cowboy-hatted Bruce has a scope-mounted 30.06 bolt-action Springfield gripped in both his hands, port arms position. Apparently, the bullet that grazed his shoulder just a few hours ago isn’t bothering him all that much. But then, maybe he’s too drunk to notice. Or too drugged up. Or just too much of an asshole.
Rudy is trembling, the table beneath him looking like it’s about to tip or even crumble under his weight, simple physics the only thing keeping him from entering into the kingdom of heaven before his allotted time.
“Rudy,” I say. “Be still. I’m gonna get you out of this.”
Tony reaches for his gun, takes a threatening step forward. But Tavis aims quick, fires off a round that hits the dirt only a few inches from the excavator’s feet. Anjali screams, presses herself up against me.
“Down on your knees, digger man,” Tavis says. “Hands over your head. Do it now.”
Tony drops to his knees, locks his fingers together at the knuckles, rests them on his cranial cap.
“They know you, Tone?” I say out the corner of my mouth.
“Nepal is a small town, believe you me,” he says. “Kathmandu is even smaller. These two kangaroos have gotten themselves kicked out of every bar in the city, including mine. I almost said something about it earlier, but I never imagined this happening.”
Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) Page 10
