by J. F. Penn
But she was meant for bigger things. The goddess had far more in store for her.
"Come," the doctor said, looking around at the room full of young mothers. "We can't talk in here."
They walked into an adjoining examination room and the doctor pushed the door shut. She handed Asha the bag. There was a jar inside filled with an opaque liquid and something meaty that touched the sides with its bulk.
"Miscarriage," the doctor said. "A child of incest, as you requested."
There was a hint of disgust in her voice, perhaps at her own betrayal of those she served.
Asha pulled a thick wad of rupees from her bag and gave it to the doctor. "There's more when you need it. Make sure you notify me of any new specimens like this."
The doctor folded the money into the pocket of her coat and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Asha didn't mind the doctor's moral concern. The tissue would be used for a greater good.
She headed back to Kapoor Towers, the specimen jar hidden in her bag.
With her Masters degree in Biochemistry, she had taken her interest in genetics even further in the last few years and, with company funding, she had expanded the lab, driven by her own history. Her mother had died of a rare tropical disease that she had caught on one of Vishal's business trips. She'd had some kind of genetic inability to recover from it and had been dead within a day of getting sick. That discovery had fueled Asha's own passion for genetics, in the hope that somehow she could go back in time and save her mother, or at least those who suffered in the same way.
Even as Mahesh had taken responsibility for the mining side of the company, Asha had developed Kapoor Labs, focusing on gene editing. There were several floors dedicated to science, and she oversaw most of them, with each department reporting in weekly on progress. But she had a side project going, something at the intersection of faith and science. She grabbed her white coat and tied back her hair into a neat bun as she entered the lab area.
She pushed open the glass door to the inner labs, where a small team reported directly to her. Nico had his back to her as she entered, bent over a microscope to look at the finer detail of a slide. The door whooshed closed behind her and he turned at the sound.
"I wasn't expecting you until later, Miss Kapoor," he said. "I haven't quite finished the assessment of the latest round."
"I have a new sample with possible mutation to add to the mix," Asha said. She put the paper bag in one of the medical fridges.
"I'll get to it next," Nico said.
He was tall, his dark hair cut close to his skull. His lanky frame was evidence that he cared more for the experiments in the lab than he did for his own health. He had studied molecular biology and genetic engineering at Harvard, before a stint in China working on CRISPR technology, altering the genetic makeup of crops. He had been part of the team that worked on the first editing of human genomes, although he had avoided the ethical debate that sprang up after the release of their findings.
Asha had found him then and offered him so much money that he had agreed to come back to India for her special project. This lab was not listed as part of the official company assets and much of what they did here was off-books. But along with her search for the weapon, this was Asha's passion.
"Another new specimen arrived today," Nico said. "I haven't even opened the box yet, but it's marked for the Naga project."
He gestured at a polystyrene specimen box sitting on the lab benchtop, marked as bio-hazardous genetic material. Asha grinned.
"I love presents."
She walked over and grabbed a scalpel. She cut the string and pulled open the top of the box. A small snake lay inside, some kind of cobra by the look of it. It had three heads and a lump where a fourth had been growing, but it was a juvenile and couldn't have lived very long.
"That's fantastic," Asha said. She looked at the label and checked the laboratory that sent it. "Is this from the same group that sent the fetus with the extra arm buds?"
Nico nodded. "They're doing good work. Not sure where they're getting the specimens from, though."
Asha held up a hand. "It doesn't matter, as long as they send them to us."
She had long desired to create a living version of one of the many-armed deities of Hindu mythology. Nico had wanted to try Ganesha because of his popularity and the fact that he only had four arms, although he also had an elephant head. But Asha doubted that they would be able to graft such an animal onto a human body as well as grow the extra arms.
Her own fixation was the goddess Kali, one of the aspects of Durga. Depicted with four arms, Kali would be an eminently more practical choice for a hybrid. They were also progressing well with the naga, the seven-headed king cobra. The snake represented eternity, eating its own tail in the ouroboros, creation into destruction, an echo of the Shiva Nataraja.
While Mahesh focused on earthly power and the wealth they could dig up from the ground, Asha understood the power of inspiration and how the people would follow miracles and wonders. The faithful would rise up at the signs she would bring forth and this would bring even more to pilgrimage on that great day. The more who came to worship, the greater the sacrifice and the more powerful the weapon. It didn't matter that these signs and wonders were built in the lab rather than occurring naturally.
India was on the forefront of technology in the finest scientific tradition, but it was also still mired in myth and daily ritual. Asha wanted to fire a revival of devotion to Kali, for the people to flock back to the gods. That would make the sacrifice so much sweeter.
"Show me where we are on the Kali project," she asked.
Nico walked to the back of the lab and entered a code on a panel. A door slid open.
It was dark inside and as they entered the lights flickered on, revealing a row of tanks. Each one held a specimen, a human fetus at various stages of growth, all attached to tubes, simulating artificial wombs. Some had two arms and extra buds where other limbs had begun to grow. Others had multiple fully-formed limbs and one even had two heads.
Asha smiled at what they had achieved and walked over to one of the tanks to gaze down at their creation. Nico came to stand next to her.
"You know they will never breathe," he whispered. "They will never grow up into the mature deities that people could actually worship."
"It doesn't matter," Asha said. "A dead child with the aspect of a goddess will still inspire millions to pilgrimage. We're so close now."
Chapter 7
Marietti couldn't open his eyes but he knew where he was by the antiseptic smell, a vain attempt to banish the stench of the sick and the dying. There was a heaviness in his limbs and the pain of his injuries throbbed in time with his heartbeat even as the sedatives kept him in a semi-aware state.
Dark shadows hovered around the edge of his consciousness and he sensed the beating of black leathery wings about him. There were many who would relish his end, but Marietti was not ready to give up yet. Not with so much at stake.
A sound outside the door drew his attention.
But it was only the voices of the nursing staff as they passed, chattering about the latest episode of some TV program.
He was safe, for now at least, and Marietti found himself slipping into the past, back when he was still a priest – to the time before they had even found the statue, .
***
Vatican City, Rome. March 16, 1981
Elias Marietti stepped out of his tiny flat in the back streets of Vatican City. He walked to the corner shop for his daily espresso and knocked it back with enthusiasm, a welcome wakeup jolt of energy to start the day.
The sounds of the city wound about him as he walked along the street: the distinctive exhaust from a Vespa motorbike, the shout from an angry driver trying to navigate the crowded streets, the call of a street vendor selling fresh vegetables brought in from the countryside this morning. Marietti loved Rome – not just the sense of power and history that lay under the streets, but also for how close real lif
e was here. The Church was the beating heart of Rome, whereas in other places, it was only peripheral. When he was here he understood his purpose and his place in the world, but the further he traveled from it, the more the ties loosened and doubts crept in.
Now his step was jaunty and a smile played about his lips as he walked. Today could be momentous because late last night, he had found a hint of something buried in the archives, something that had been covered up as part of a larger purpose. It might be the key to what he sought.
Marietti worked within the Vatican Secret Archives, or the Archivum Secretum Apostolicum Vaticanum in the proper Latin. It officially contained the historical records of great world events spanning twelve centuries. Of course, there were famous documents held there that all knew about: Pope Leo X's 1521 decree excommunicating Martin Luther that sparked the Protestant Reformation; the 1493 papal bull that split the New World between Spain and Portugal after Columbus landed in North America. Even the transcripts of Vatican trials against the Knights Templar and later, Galileo.
That official part of the archives had been opened up to scholars in 1881 and were hardly secret. No doubt there were still treasures to be found in the eighty-five kilometers of shelving and over 35,000 volumes, but those public documents were not what excited Marietti today. He worked in the part that still remained behind closed doors in a section that few knew about, let alone were allowed access to.
He smoked a Nazionali cigarette as he walked, enjoying the warm sun on his face and the smoky taste in his mouth. He could just about live without women and possessions as his vows dictated, but he would struggle to give up his twin addictions of cigarettes and coffee. Thankfully, Vatican City ran on both substances so it was unlikely that he would ever have to choose. He reflected on the document that he had found last night as he walked through the streets towards the Archives. Officially, no materials dated after 1939 were available to scholars because the Vatican still protected Pope Pius XII's involvement with the Nazis in the Second World War. There were many who did not want the truth of that time to be made known. But Marietti was part of a task force dedicated to delving into the occult layer beneath that history.
He had led an expedition to Antarctica in 1979 in the expectation of finding a treasure trove of artifacts, but instead they had only found more papers. These had been taken back to the Vatican and they were still going through the millions of pages. At least his German had improved and he had become adept at understanding the doublespeak of the Reich.
It had been hard at first to ignore the casual comments about the Final Solution and racist rhetoric, but he had learned to skim over much of it. That part was not his focus. The Nazis had taken art and treasures from the people they murdered, and Heinrich Himmler in particular had been obsessed with discovering items of ancient power that would help them win against the Allies.
Marietti had been going through a diary of Himmler's last night and he had found a comment that intrigued him. But it had been late, and his eyes had been tired.
Today he would look anew at the document and his heart beat a little faster at what he might find.
Marietti walked along the Via di Porta Angelica through the Porta di Santa Anna to the entrance of the Archives, adjacent to the Vatican Library. He showed his pass to the guard on the gate and the man nodded him through.
The courtyard beyond was busy as scholars arrived for their designated entry times. Swiss Guards in their colorful uniforms manned the security post at the gate from the Cortile del Belvedere. The blue and mustard striped uniform with Renaissance-style puffed sleeves did nothing to disguise the swift professionalism of the Swiss Guard, highly trained soldiers responsible for the security of the Pope and the Holy See.
Marietti showed his credentials again. One of the soldiers took it and looked more closely at him, matching his features to the photo. Despite his daily entry, security was on high alert as there had been threats against Pope John Paul II and every care was being taken to minimize risk.
After a minute, Marietti was waved through. The high ceilinged corridors smelled of an antique store overlaid with lavender furniture polish, as the cleaning of the Vatican never stopped. It echoed with the footsteps of those hurrying to the various parts of the archive and he strode along with them, a grin on his face as he considered what he might find today.
After navigating the twisted corridors, Marietti finally entered the room that his small team were using to examine the Nazi papers. There was a huge wooden desk of dark wood in the middle, surrounded by towering shelves of old books behind glass.
One of the task force's research assistants, Joseph Manfredi, was there already. The younger man leaned over the desk, examining the document that Marietti had left open late last night. Manfredi turned as the door creaked and his cheeks flushed a little under the light down of his blond facial hair.
"You're here early," Joseph stammered. "I didn't expect you so soon. You were still here when I left last night." He pointed at the document on the desk. "Is this what it looks like?"
Marietti pulled on a pair of thin white gloves used to handle fragile documents. He pointed at the document.
"Look at the notes on the edge of the page." There were doodles and scribbled phrases, streams of consciousness documenting the author's train of thought. "These match Himmler's handwriting." Marietti turned the page. "But this is what I'm really interested in."
It was a hand-drawn map of the Indian sub-continent, rough lines representing the world as it was back in the early 1940s. There were marks on the map and a large black swastika drawn with thick lines in the corner. The swastika had been corrupted by the Reich, although it originally came from ancient India and was used by many world civilizations. It represented the principle of creation, the four swirling arms representing the four directions or the four faces of Brahman, God. Hindus drew swastika symbols on doorposts to welcome the goddess Lakshmi to bring good luck and it was associated with the sun, a positive symbol that had been perverted by the Nazis for their dark purposes.
"The Nazis believed in a pure Aryan race," Marietti said. "This ancient tribe supposedly invaded India thousands of years ago and started the hierarchy of castes, where some individuals were worth more than others. As a young man in the SS, Himmler considered the Kshatriya warrior caste as a model for the Nazi forces. He even carried a copy of the Bhagavad Gita and referred to Krishna's instructions that one should satisfy duty on the battlefield. He required his men to have a pure conscience around killing for a higher purpose."
"Of course, I've heard these rumors of Himmler's obsession with India," Joseph said.
"But this is the first time we've found a map, albeit a rough one." Marietti grinned. "This is what we've been looking for." He pointed at one of Himmler's comments in the margin of the document. "It sounds as if they found the potential location of a fabled treasure, buried in an Indian cave system."
"Could it be one of the books of the Nine Unknown Men?" Joseph's eyes glittered at the possibility. The Nine Unknown had sworn to protect the most dangerous knowledge of ancient India and many sought their hidden books of power.
"Perhaps," Marietti said. "We just have to figure out what these dots represent." He pulled an old atlas from the shelf. As he turned the pages to a map of India, the smell of spices drifted out.
"The largest mark is here, and I think I know where that is."
Chapter 8
As she paced the office in front of the glass window, Asha stopped at every turn to look out over the city. She could just about make out the tiffin-wallahs delivering hot lunches to the downtown offices. Time ticked past and she wasn't any closer to getting the other pieces of the sculpture. Everything had to be ready in time and she could not fail the Aghori. But where were the other pieces?
Her father had looked at this view every day, and yet she didn't know his mind well enough to decipher where he might have hidden them. She thought back over her father's life. The key to their hiding place would
be to understand what had meant the most to him.
She turned and looked around the office.
There were pictures on the wall: Vishal with the Prime Minister after the last election and with a Bollywood star at a glitzy launch, another of him wearing a hard hat in front of the ship-breaking yard, and still another in front of one of the mine entrances. She stopped for a moment in front of a picture of the three of them, Mahesh on his lap and Asha herself leaning against her father's knee, looking up with a smile. It had been soon after their mother's death, yet he had made sure they were cared for and never felt alone. She touched her father's face through the glass with a gentle fingertip.
He had certainly doted on his children when he had time to spend with them, which hadn't been often, but Asha knew that he had been proud of both her and Mahesh. Despite that pride, she guessed that Vishal had really seen his legacy as the company and the hundreds of thousands of lives he was responsible for. Perhaps that meant the sculpture fragment was somewhere in this building, within the pinnacle of what he had created, as a representative piece of his empire?
But no, she thought.
The flower garden on the rooftop was a better representation of what he truly valued. When Vishal had found out he was dying, all he had wanted was the sun on his face and the refreshment of a simple glass of water in the heat of the day. He had shed all worldly desires. In the evenings, when his pain was at its worst, he would muse on mortality. He even laughed about it, because all his wealth and power could not prevent the end coming when the gods decided it was time.
He died well, Asha thought. She intended to go with such dignity when it was her time and face her goddess with open eyes.
