Several hours later, the thick tree cover gives way to a vast open plain.
I order the caravan to stop while I pull out the topo map from the chest pocket on my bush jacket, unfold it. Tony comes up on my right side.
“We’re close aren’t we?” he says from high atop his elephant, the tusked beast brushing its head lovingly up against the head of my own elephant. Anyone who doesn’t believe that elephants are complex, monogamous creatures who aren’t evolved enough to love and care for their own, had better think again. How anyone could shoot these glorious creatures for their ivory, or anything else, ought to be shot in the heart by a firing squad.
“We are close,” I confirm, as I consult the map along with the GPS coordinates on my smartphone. Then, pressing my index finger against the topo map on what is our exact position, I lock eyes with Tony. “A mile and a half at most,” I add. “Once we cross this open field, we enter into another small stretch of woods and then come upon another open plain. That’s where we’ll find the diamond deposit.”
“I’ll tell everyone to keep their eyes open,” he says before spitting a short stream of black tobacco. Then, turning, “Rudy, wake up for Christ’s sake. We’re not on vacation.”
I turn to see Rudy raise his head up fast.
“I’m awake,” he mutters, wiping drool from the side of his mouth.
“Chase,” Anjali says, her face filled with anxiety. “I feel my son. I feel he is nearby. Is it true?”
“Not long now,” I say.
But one glance at the Sherpas and I can see that they are growing fidgety and nervous. It’s like they are perfectly aware the territory they are entering is not only bad, but evil. Even the elephants are getting restless. Sensing that if we don’t keep going, I’ll lose the confidence of both animal and man, I swing my arm around John Wayne style, shout, “Keep it moving!”
Out on the open plain, the sun beats down on us. I can hear my heart beating in my chest. The elephants grow even more agitated. The air around us seems somehow different. Like some of the oxygen has diminished making breathing more difficult, much more labored. The sky, which had been a brilliant blue, now begins to fill with thick black clouds that swirl as if a tornado funnel is about to emerge from them. The wind picks up, blows coldly and swiftly.
Coming from behind me, the Sherpas are talking in rapid-fire Nepalese. Even with the diamond mine not yet in sight, they are clearly not liking the atmosphere. Can’t say that I do either.
“You order up the end of the world, Chase?” Tony barks from the rear.
“Not lately,” I say. “But it is a little creepy.”
The earth beneath the elephants begins to shake and quake.
“Earthquake,” Rudy shouts.
“Chase, I’m afraid,” Anjali says as the tremors get worse.
The elephants bend their forelegs, kneel down, and practically toss us off their backs.
“Dismount,” I order.
As soon as we’ve dismounted, the enormous animals rise back up onto tree trunk legs, extend their trunks, and blow out trumpeting wails.
“Grab the stuff,” I say, a bad feeling settling into my stomach. “Quick before they run away.”
I pull off the 30.06 and my pack. Anjali grabs her pack as well. I can only assume that Tony and Rudy also grabbed their bags, which is a good thing. True to my gut, the elephants turn tail and begin trotting in the opposite direction.
Can’t say I blame them.
The tremors are so intense, I have trouble standing upright. It’s one thing to be caught out in the open during a major quake, I can only imagine the horror unleashed in overpopulated Kathmandu. The grass burns away and the bare earth beneath it opens up as a hot fire materializes from it. There’s a loud wailing while steam heat escapes into the air. Anjali falls on all fours while Tony and Rudy awkwardly make their way to where I’m standing only a few feet away from the now blistered and heaved up earth.
It’s then I view an incredible sight. What first appeared to be an earthquake is becoming something else entirely. The shaking ground before us is taking shape. An ovular area about the size of an in-ground swimming pool. The fire isn’t randomly spouting out of the openings but is, instead, emerging from out of four distinct holes that have formed in the grass-covered earth. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The earth has formed a giant face that seems as if it were delivered from hell itself. The face resembles the face that formed above the diamond mine when Elizabeth was murdered. I’m standing not far from the mouth when flames spit out of it.
…Kali…you are alive…you are trying to stop us in our tracks before we even come close to the diamond mine…
A great scream comes from down inside the earth. So loud it makes my teeth chatter. The fire that came from the face dies, and in its place something else arises from the four openings.
Anjali comes up on my side.
“What is that black stuff?” she says, her tone urgent and afraid.
“Hey,” Rudy says, “it’s oil. We’re bloody rich.”
I take a closer look. “That’s not oil.”
“Then what is it?” Tony says.
“Those are snakes. Black snakes, rising out of the earth, and covering the ground like a plague.”
The Sherpas shriek at the sight, about-face, and begin to run away in the direction of the elephants.
“Our guides are abandoning us,” Anjali warns.
“It’s what Kali wants!” Tony shouts. “He wants us to turn tail and run.”
“That would be a she, Tone,” I say. Then, “What we have to do, we have to do on our own. Grab your stuff and let’s get the hell out of here. To the trees. Now!”
The earth stops shaking, but the snakes keep coming from the face formed in the earth. An evil face that is surely a sign we should stay away from Kashmiri’s diamond mine. The warning doesn’t come from God. Far from it. The warning comes, instead, from Hell’s eternal wrath.
26
We make a run for the trees. We don’t stop until we reach the treeline where we collapse onto our backs in exhaustion.
“It’s good to get away sometimes, ain’t it?” Rudy says. “You know, a little rest and relaxation, fresh air, and exercise. Five-star hotels and room service. Free drinks all around and man oh man that breakfast buffet. I could really get used to this kind of traveling.”
“Very funny,” Tony says. “You missed your calling.”
“Huddle up everyone,” I say. “This is where things get serious.”
I catch the expression on Anjali’s face. It couldn’t be more serious if it were chiseled out of granite.
I say, “I want everyone to stick together. Don’t wander off. Keep your eyes and ears open for booby traps. This narrow strip of forest is the last line of cover between us and Kashmiri’s compound. I have no idea what to expect, which means anything could happen.”
Turning to Rudy. “That means you, pal.”
He’s got this tight as all hell expression on his round face like a big part of him wants to run away along with the elephants and Sherpas, forget about having any part in rescuing the God Boy. But I know he has his own agenda in mind.
“Sure hope the diamonds are worth it, Chase,” he says.
I, too, am feeling the pressure. I’m no stranger to supernatural events. But an evil power like Kali…a power that has the ability to invade my brain while I sleep…is entirely foreign to me. It’s not so much being afraid because fear I can deal with. It’s more a matter of not knowing what to expect. But then, that’s the essence of adventure, isn’t it? Not knowing what lies in wait for you.
The jungle is dark and foreboding even midday. Monkeys jump from tree branch to tree branch while giant vampire bats fly away from us in packs of hundreds, or even thousands. Animals don’t like earthquakes any more than we do. There isn’t much of a trail to follow, so we’re forced to bushwhack our way without the assistance of a machete. The going is slow and tough, and our bodies are covered in sweat.
/> After an hour of hiking, the woods thin out and the grassy plain becomes visible through the breaks in the trees and foliage. There it is, a sight for sore eyes.
Kasmiri’s encampment and the diamond deposit.
We look out onto the encampment while hidden by the bush. Trucks and 4X4s circle the many-acred operation. Dozens of slaves have formed an assembly line from the mouth of the tunnel that is housed by the tin-roofed shack. The line of slaves extends to the outside where they dump the contents of their overloaded wheel barrels onto the motorized screens which then sift the rocks and gravel for pieces of priceless diamonds. By all appearances, the earthquake hasn’t had any effect on the mining operation as if it was built to withstand a seismic event.
Every now and again one of the many black-robed Thuggees who guard the place fires off a round or two in the air to keep the assembly line moving as rapidly as possible.
“Tony,” I say, “binoculars.”
The excavator pulls them from around his neck, hands them to me. I put them to my eyes and grab my first close-up view.
“Four soldiers guard the tunnel opening and the shack that surrounds it,” I say. “Another four to six are walking the perimeter of the exposed diamond deposit. The Kali statue has gone underground since last night’s ceremony.”
I feel the key hanging from the leather strap around my neck. It’s not only crucial that I get to that boy. I need to get at that statue to unlock it. To find out its secret. A secret that, in my mind, could mean the end of the line for the resurrected Kali.
“We could just shoot them,” Tony says.
“Once we drop the first man, the rest will spill out of that hole in the ground like that plague of snakes we saw back there.”
“Good point,” Tony says. “Best to go with our original plan. Wait until dark, plug up the air intakes, force them out by suffocation.”
“Does that mean we’ve got to wait?” Anjali asks.
“We need the cover of darkness,” I say. “Without decent firepower, we’re as good as doomed.”
Rudy shuffles closer to me.
“You mean I gotta go all night without a drink?” he says. “That ain’t right.”
“Sorry, Rudy,” I say. “Look at it this way. It’ll do you liver good.”
He makes a sour face. “Stuff I gotta go through to get rich.”
I pull out my .45, release the clip, check the load.
“Everyone make an inventory of their weapons,” I say. “Something tells me we’ll need every last round.”
I’m just about to return the piece to my shoulder holster when I feel the solid metal gun barrel pressed against the back of my head.
27
So much for our plan of cunning, stealth, and plugging up the air intakes.
The new breed of 21st century Thuggees bind our hands behind our backs with good old fashioned duct tape. They scream orders in Hindi and Nepali. Words that mean nothing to me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel their punches to my gut. To my head.
The man I pick out as the Captain of the Guard is as big and tall as a giant. He’s got a thick, black beard and mustache, and he bears a black half-moon tattoo of the Thuggee on his forehead. Wrapped around his waist is a wide yellow sash with a large medallion planted in its center. If my history serves me correct, the Thuggee were famous for utilizing the scarf as a garrote—a device by which they would torture their captives by strangulation and/or flogging.
I hope my history serves me wrong.
“Anjali,” I whisper. “You okay?”
“I’m okay, Chase,” she says. “Just do as they say. These men aren’t interested in quick kills. They will torture you first.”
“Silence!” Black Beard shouts. “There will be no talking.”
…So the big man speaks English…maybe like a lot of terrorists, he was educated in the States…
“Sir,” Rudy interjects. “Sir, allow me to explain. This isn’t what you think.”
“Rudy, shut up,” Tony says.
But the bartender barrels his way for Black Beard like he has no business being his captive.
“Please allow me to explain,” Rudy presses. “You see, I have no idea who these people are. I was only out for a hike when I came across them after that dreadful earthquake. If you let me go, I can get you money. Lots of it. I promise.”
“Traitor,” Tony says.
“We should have let him hang,” I say.
“So, what do you say?” Rudy presses to Black Beard. “Let me go and I’ll fetch…”
Raising his fist, Black Beard brings it down upon Rudy’s head, knocking him cold. But the bartender comes back around when Black Beard tosses half the water from his canteen onto his chubby face. From down on the jungle floor, Rudy shakes his head, looks around. “Where am I?”
“Things are definitely not looking up,” Tony says.
“Couldn’t agree more,” I say.
“That monster tried to scramble my brains,” Rudy mumbles.
“Silence!” Black Beards repeats.
The Thuggees collect our weapons and begin to march us across the grassy plain, all the time poking us with the barrels of their automatic rifles until we come to the tin shack protected entrance to the tunnel. Two solid steel doors secure the entry. But for now anyway, the doors are wide open while slaves move in and out with their wheel barrels of diamond-studded earth along a concrete ramp that steadily descends into the earth.
Rudy perks up as soon as he sees the wheel barrels being dumped onto the screens, some of the crystal clear diamonds automatically separated from the worthless earth, others not so bright and still embedded in chunks of rock.
“Look at that,” he whispers. “I can bet that each one of those wheel barrels represents a million Pounds.”
Obviously his head isn’t hurting anymore.
“You will follow,” Black Beard insists.
“Like we have a choice,” I say, as the guard behind me once more pokes me in the spine with the barrel of his Kalashnikov.
We’re led into the tunnel entrance where we immediately hook a left down an empty corridor made of reinforced concrete and illuminated with ceiling-mounted lamps protected behind metal cages. These guys aren’t kidding around. The floor descends at a thirty-five-degree angle which means our descent is rather rapid, and just to prove it, the air becomes cooler, moister with each step we take.
After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, the newly constructed tunnel empties out into a large, ancient space that appears to have been carved out of stone centuries ago. We’re made to stand shoulder to shoulder and not make a move. Before us is a kind of Hindu temple that’s been sculpted into the opposing rock face. It must be one hundred feet high by at least that wide in length. Carved into the center of the façade, above the door, is an eight-armed Kali, its eyes wide open gazing down upon us, its tongue protruding from its mouth mocking us, a sword in one hand and a severed head in another, beating hearts in the others. Old fashion fire-lit torches hang from the walls beside the thick stone doors. This must be the temple that was constructed to honor Kali. A temple built far underground and nearly impossible to find. Until Elizabeth finally discovered it.
“What the hell is this?” Rudy says. “The temple of doom?”
Black Beard turns, peers at Rudy with his black eyes. “You are alive, only because Kashmiri wants it that way. Do you understand?”
Eyes wide, Rudy swallows, his Adams apple bobbing up and down in his neck like a frightened turkey facing a sharpened axe. Just then, the big doors to the temple begin to tremble as they slowly open.
“Easy everyone,” I say. “Keep cool.”
A man emerges from the opening. He’s tall, slim, and bearing a beard that’s just as black and thick as Black Beard’s. He’s also wearing a green military-issue jacket, and aviator sunglasses, even inside this dimly lit, Hollywood-like setup.
Kashmiri…The son of a bitch who cut out Elizabeth’s heart…
“My guests hav
e arrived,” he says, working up a smile.
He approaches us. First he eyes me, then moving down the line, Tony, and after him, Rudy. When he comes to Anjali, he raises his hand. My pulse begins to pound in my temples because I’m convinced he is about to wrap his fingers around her neck. But he does no such thing. Instead, he gently places his hand to her face, leans in, kisses her gently on the mouth.
“Anjali,” he says, “you should never have come here. I forbade it.” Setting his hands on her shoulder. “But oh, how I’ve missed you so.”
“Kashmiri,” she says. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
28
I’m not sure why I’m so surprised that Kashmiri and Anjali have a past. Or should I say, surprised they share a past, present, and future. What should also come as no surprise is that she used me to lead her here. Maybe she should have simply texted Kashmiri and he could have flown her out here on his own. Or perhaps that would have been the wrong approach. Judging by what Kashmiri said, Anjali was forbidden to come here. Makes sense if he’s kidnaped her son. But then, maybe Kashmiri is the real father. Maybe that’s what this little kidnaping of the God Boy is all about. Maybe using him as a conduit to summon up Kali is simply the family biz. Or maybe my imagination is going whacky.
“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t send you away, Anjali,” Kashmiri says as he leads us to the far end of the large room where he keeps a desk, “and kill all of your friends while I’m at it.”
“Mr. Kashmiri,” Rudy says, taking a step forward. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rudy Valenty, and I am at your service. From the looks of it, you have quite the diamond drilling operation going on here, and I just happen to be an expert diamond sales executive from—”
Black Beard reaches out, backhands Rudy across the face. The slap is so powerful it nearly knocks him on his back.
“Get back,” Black Beard insists. “No talking.”
Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) Page 13
