The Mahabharata Secret
Page 5
‘Yes,’ Bheem Singh joined in, as White sat down next to him. ‘Very unfortunate, indeed. I can’t claim to have known Vikram so well, but we were...well, we moved in the same circles, you see, and I had met him several times. He was a good man.’
Vijay stared hard at Greg White. There was something familiar about him. But they had never met before. Then it struck him.
‘You were on my flight from O’Hare to Delhi, three days ago. I was in 2B. American Airlines.’
White frowned, trying to remember. ‘Three days back. Yes, I was on that flight. 3H. Courtesy Bheem’s generosity. He’s funded my trip here. But I’m sorry I really don’t recall seeing you.’
Bheem Singh cleared his throat, visibly uninterested in whether Vijay and White had noticed each other during the flight to India. ‘I saw the car outside. What happened’? He glanced from Vijay to Colin, and back, taking in the tense, harrowed look on their faces, the cut on Vijay’s cheek and the gouges on the wrists of both the men.
Vijay shook his head. ‘Somebody rammed our car when I was bringing Colin home from the airport and then kidnapped us.’
The Maharaja’s face registered shock. He glanced at White, who looked horrified as well.
Vijay launched into a narrative of the events of the previous night, culminating in their escape, but left out the part about the key.
‘You were very, very lucky,’ the Maharaja mused. ‘These people sound like dangerous criminals. But, why kidnap you? What did they want from you?’
Before Vijay could answer his question, the butler appeared at the door of the sitting room, followed by a policeman.
‘Myself inspector Raunaq Singh,’ the policeman announced as he entered the room. He was a middle-aged man, with a thick moustache and teeth blackened by years of chewing tobacco and betel leaves. ‘I’ve come about the missing persons report. Who’s missing?’
Radha rose. ‘I had called the police station. They were missing all night.’ She indicated Vijay and Colin.
‘But they are back now. You should have informed us instead of wasting my time.’ The inspector frowned and made to leave.
‘Wait a minute.’ Bheem Singh rose and drew himself up to his full height. ‘I am Maharaja Bheem Singh of Rajvirgarh. These two men were kidnapped last night. Are you not going to do anything about that? They escaped with great difficulty and a lot of luck.’
Raunaq Singh stopped in his tracks. He had heard of Bheem Singh. He knew the Maharaja was a prominent politician and rumours of his power and influence had reached even the little police station in Jaungarh. He decided it was better not to rub the Maharaja the wrong way.
‘You were kidnapped?’ He addressed Vijay as he sat down on a vacant chair. ‘Give me some more details.’
Vijay repeated the account of their kidnapping. ‘Farooq and Imtiaz,’ Raunaq Singh said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, repeating the names that Vijay had given him. ‘And you were imprisoned in a house in Gurgaon?’
Vijay nodded.
‘Well, then, it is beyond my jurisdiction. This case belongs to the Gurgaon police.’ He rose to leave.
‘Aren’t you going to register an FIR?’ Bheem Singh enquired.
Raunaq Singh paused to choose his words carefully. ‘They were kidnapped and held captive in Gurgaon. It is a matter for the Gurgaon police to investigate and check out the building they have described. And even if I was to register an FIR, how are we going to look for two men with only their first names as a basis for a search? Do you know how many Farooqs and Imtiazs there are in India?’
Bheem Singh considered this. ‘I think you should still help out. Register an FIR so that the Gurgaon police take this case seriously. For God’s sake, they could have been killed. I will make sure that the Gurgaon police follow up.’ He nodded at Vijay. ‘Leave that bit to me.’
The inspector finally nodded. ‘Very well, sir. I will do as you say. But please don’t expect anything more from me.’
Bheem Singh waited until the policeman had left and then turned to Vijay. ‘You know, he’s right. I don’t think they have any chance of finding the two men purely on the basis of their first names. But it wouldn’t have done to agree with him. They’d never take the matter seriously then.’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell him what Farooq wanted,’ Vijay said sourly. Ever since White had walked in, he had been torn between disclosing what Farooq had said about the key, and keeping that information to himself. He had concluded that, if his uncle had wanted him to speak to White, he should tell the archaeologist about the key. Perhaps White might be able to give him some insight that would help him understand his uncle’s emails.
Bheem Singh raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Yes. He was going on about a key and a a disk with a verse. He said that uncle had given the key to me.’
Bheem Singh gave a visible start and exchanged a glance with White. ‘I think we should tell them,’ he said to the archaeologist.
White nodded. ‘I was thinking the same thing, but I wasn’t sure if you’d agree.’
Vijay looked at them quizzically, and was totally unprepared for White’s question.
‘Have you heard of the Nine Unknown Men?’
An Ambiguous Agenda of Terror
Imran Kidwai, Additional Director, Intelligence Bureau, strode down the corridor that led to the office of the Director. He had been urgently summoned by his boss. Imran was in his early 40s with a thick black moustache and piercing black eyes. He had kept himself fit despite the sedentary nature of his job at the Bureau.
He wondered what the urgency was about as he knocked on the door to the Director’s office and then peered inside. Arjun Vaid, the Director, impatiently gestured to him to enter. Seated opposite Vaid was a foreigner with a mop of red hair, a laptop in front of him.
Imran took the chair next to the stranger and studied him curiously. ‘This is Michael Blake,’ Vaid said, introducing the foreigner. ‘CIA. I think it’s best he briefs you.’
Blake fixed Imran with a serious gaze. ‘We’ve been alerted to a possible terror threat. We had a tap on the phone of a man who’s a prime suspect in a recent high-level assassination in the Middle East. His name is Terence Murphy. We don’t know who he works for and we hoped he’d lead us to them if we kept him under electronic surveillance. And this is what we got.’
He clicked on an audio file on his laptop. The playback of a recording began.
‘Murphy,’ a sharp voice instructed. ‘I have a job for you. It’s urgent.’ The voice paused.
‘We have a situation in India. Our partners operating there need help.’
‘India’! Murphy exclaimed.
‘Yes. I need you to fly to Delhi immediately. . You leave on tonight’s flight from O’Hare to New Delhi. American Airlines. And the usual terms.
‘The objective?’
The recording ended with:
‘All details will be given to you before you board your flight. Our partners operate under the leadership of a man named Farooq Siddiqui. That’s all you need to know for now. ‘
‘And I report back to you?’
‘Negative. You’ll report directly to a member of the Order. He is in India, personally supervising operations. You’ll work with him and follow his directions.’
And one last thing. Read up on archaeology and ancient Indian history. You’ll need it.’
The phone clicked as the caller hung up. Imran looked at Blake questioningly. ‘There’s more, isn’t there? This is pretty inconclusive; hardly what I would call a lead.’
Blake grinned. ‘I agree. We didn’t think much of it either when we first reviewed it. But you must have heard of Farooq Siddiqui?’
Imran shrugged. ‘Plenty of men with that name in India.’
Blake turned the laptop screen towards Imran. ‘Watch this. We came across this video clip on a CD recovered from Bin Laden’s hideout in Pakistan.’ He clicked on an mp4 file and the video clip began.
The image was grainy, an amate
ur recording, but there was no mistaking the face of Al Zawahiri, the new leader of Al Qaeda. He was speaking in Arabic but there was a voiceover translating his words into English.
‘The West will pay for the destruction of Islamic lives in Iraq and Afghanistan,’ Al Zawahiri shrieked, brandishing an AK47 assault rifle. ‘The infidels will die. They think they are superior, but now the Islamic world will have powerful weapons of a kind that mankind has never seen before; weapons that will help us achieve a victory for Islam!’
He turned and looked at another man, who stood by with a look of aloofness on his face, as if he had been compelled to be a part of the show.
‘Brothers,’ Al Zawahiri continued, ‘this is Farooq Siddiqui. He is one of the nuclear scientists who helped Pakistan develop its nuclear bomb. He will vouch for what I have just said.’
Farooq coughed awkwardly and looked into the camera. ‘We have a plan and funding from powerful sources. We have access to designs of weapons that people have never dreamt of. Our factories are being built to manufacture these weapons. We have the prototypes ready. And once the factories are ready, no one can stop Islam from asserting its rightful place in the world!’
The clip ended abruptly just as a group of hooded and armed men raised their automatic weapons to the sky and let loose a barrage of rounds.
Imran sat back, contemplating the last frame of the video which had zeroed onto Siddiqui’s face. He would never have connected the name Farooq Siddiqui with the Pakistani scientist who had worked on the Pakistani nuclear bomb and then disappeared suddenly in 2003. It had been widely presumed that Farooq had been kidnapped or murdered by Islamic terrorists during an attempt to steal Pakistan’s nuclear secrets. His body had never been found. Yet, here he was in an Al Qaeda video, with Al Zawahiri, no less.
‘I don’t get it,’ Imran came straight to the point. ‘What weapons is he talking about? And where are their factories? Our intelligence has not picked up any such build-up anywhere. Have you guys heard anything?’
Blake shook his head. ‘No idea. Farooq was careful not to describe the weapons and sounded deliberately ambiguous. This could be a recruitment video for attracting jihadis to Al Qaeda by promising them a technological superiority they haven’t experienced yet. With Qaeda in tatters, this may just be an attempt to revive the group.’
‘Farooq is the common factor between the phone tap and the video,’ Imran summarised. ‘And you think it is the same person?’
Blake shrugged. ‘Could be. It is difficult to be conclusive. We only realised that we might be on to something when someone in the agency made the connection between the Murphy tap, the video clip and some documents recovered from Pakistan in a raid on a Lashkar-e-Taiba hideout. According to those documents, there is an LeT leader based in Pakistan by the name of Farooq Siddiqui. And we all know that LeT has links with Al Qaeda, possibly even ambitions of supplanting Al Qaeda as the foremost Islamic terrorist organisation in the world.’ He paused to let his words sink in.
‘As you say, there could be any number of Farooq Siddiquis in India,’ Blake resumed after a few moments. He leaned forward to emphasise his words. ‘The documents that named Farooq also mentioned a grand LeT terror plan, though there were no details. What if it is the same guy? Farooq Siddiqui, the scientist, swapping his lab coat for an AK47 and becoming an LeT leader? What if the reference in the Murphy tap wasn’t to an Indian with this name, but to a Pakistani? And suppose the partner referred to in the call is LeT? Perhaps Murphy has been assigned to work with them on the project in India? It is plausible, since Murphy has connections in the Middle East as well.’
‘Worth considering.’ Imran looked at Vaid thoughtfully.
‘If there is a link, we need to find it.’ Vaid concurred. ‘Kidwai, this one’s your baby. Check on it and see if there is any substance to it. When you find Murphy, put a tap on his phone. We need to know who he speaks to. If our speculation is correct, there may be something really big underway and we need to stop it. I’ll brief the Home Minister personally.’
Imran nodded. He had already begun planning his course of action. But two questions nagged at him.
Why was a renegade Pakistani nuclear scientist part of LeT? And what was he doing in India?
8
Day 5
Jaungarh Fort
Vijay shook his head and frowned. The Nine Unknown Men... now, why did that sound familiar?
‘Who are they’? He asked.
‘The Brotherhood of the Nine Unknown Men is an ancient secret society, perhaps the oldest in the world, going back 2,300 years.’ White stopped, as Vijay sat bolt upright, his eyes widening with surprise.
‘You have heard of them, then’. White remarked.
‘No, I haven’t,’ Vijay replied slowly. ‘But that number—9— was in an email my uncle sent to me on the day he was murdered. I didn’t understand what it meant, but when you just spoke about the Nine, it suddenly struck me. I wonder if uncle was referring to this secret society.’
‘Your uncle certainly believed in the existence of the Nine,’ White said. ‘He told me so on several occasions. You say he sent you an email about the Nine?’
‘Go on,’ Vijay said impatiently, ‘please tell me more about this secret society.’
For a moment, White looked as if he wanted to find out more about the email Vijay had mentioned. Then, he glanced around the room. ‘You have all heard of Emperor Asoka the Great.’
It was a statement more than a question, but Radha nodded. ‘He was the legendary Indian king who lived in the third century bc. A fierce warrior who is said to have killed his brothers to ascend the throne, he fought bloody wars to expand his kingdom to cover almost the whole of present day India—except a bit of the south—and present-day Pakistan and Afghanistan. His last conquest was Kalinga, present-day Orissa. Thousands of soldiers on both sides were killed in the battle for Kalinga. Asoka is believed to have been overcome by remorse at the death and destruction he had caused, which led him to renounce violence and convert to Buddhism. History records that he was a great king, devoted to the welfare of his subjects. He spread Buddhism beyond India. His son Mahindra went to Sri Lanka. He put up edicts in stone all over the kingdom, propagating the law of Dhamma.’
White smiled. ‘Very good. You certainly know your ancient Indian history. Asoka ruled from 260 bc to 223 bc. And you are right to call him legendary. The story of Asoka would have remained a legend if his edicts hadn’t been first discovered and translated by James Prinsep in 1837. The discovery of another edict in 1915, mentioning Asoka by name, confirmed the historical authenticity of a king who, until the 19th century, had been considered a myth.’
‘But there is another legend about Asoka, one less known and not established by historians.’ Bheem Singh took up the narrative. ‘It is said that he founded a secret society—The Brotherhood of the Nine Unknown Men. During Asoka’s reign, it is a historical fact that while religion and peace flourished, science was cloaked in a veil of secrecy. It is believed that Asoka, having renounced violence, wanted to ensure that the scientific advances made by mankind were not put to military use or to cause destruction and death.
‘According to the legend, the Nine were given the task of documenting all the scientific advancements made in history, by studying ancient texts and documents, to preclude the possibility of any known means of destruction falling into the wrong hands.
‘Apparently, as members of the Nine died, new members were recruited, over the centuries, from the leading scientific minds of India, in order to preserve the continuity of knowledge. People even say that great Indian scientists like Jagdish Chandra Bose knew of and believed in the existence of the Nine; and perhaps even received help from them in their experiments. Why, it has even been speculated that Bose himself was one of the Nine.’
‘But that isn’t true,’ White interjected. ‘The Nine died out centuries ago. Legend has it that there hasn’t been a member of the brotherhood alive for 1,500 years.’
‘I’ve heard the legend of the Nine,’ Shukla murmured. ‘They wrote books on different subjects.’
Bheem Singh nodded. ‘Nine books, according to legend.’ He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Psychology or propaganda and psychological warfare, physiology, microbiology, alchemy or chemistry, communication, gravity, cosmology, light and sociology.’
White nodded in agreement. The others simply stared at the Maharaja. This sounded unbelievable, yet it was coming from Bheem Singh whose persona seemed to lend this tale some sort of credibility.
‘I’m sorry if I sound rude,’ Colin found his voice, ‘but I find it hard to believe that someone of your stature, a member of Indian royalty, would place his faith in a tale like this.’ Colin didn’t share the inhibitions of the other Indians in the room, who had a natural deference to a figure of authority like Bheem Singh. ‘Books on chemistry, microbiology and gravity written over 2,000 years ago…I know India has a great history and science was pretty advanced in ancient times in India, but this is a bit far-fetched isn’t it? We all know that Newton discovered the law of gravity. And microbiology…why, microscopes weren’t even around at that time.’
‘Oh, I’m not saying that I believe in this,’ Bheem Singh smiled at their confusion. ‘I’m simply telling you what the legend says. That doesn’t mean the legend is true.’
‘Yet uncle believed in this.’
White shook his head. ‘I never said that. Vikram believed in the existence of the Nine, but not in the legend of the nine books written by them or any of the other fantastic stories about them. Somehow, he had stumbled upon the truth about the Nine.’ He looked at Bheem Singh.
‘You see,’ Bheem Singh took the cue, ‘Asoka the Great created the brotherhood to guard a great secret; one that had its roots in antiquity. The Nine were tasked to protect that secret which Asoka decided was too dangerous to be revealed to the world. All the other myths and stories about the Nine were fabricated to conceal this great secret from inquisitive minds and prying eyes.’