by Fritz Galt
Nobody objected and no one seemed to glean his real purpose: to find Shangri-la.
“We are told in the tantra that the world will one day submit to greed. Mankind will become more warlike and pursue power for its own sake, and materialism will dominate the world. On that day, the kalika will leave Shambhala, bringing with him an enormous army that will vanquish the degenerate leaders and bring peace to the world. A Golden Age.”
He paused for effect.
“Sounds like that might happen any day soon,” he drawled.
That elicited a hearty, sarcastic laugh. He had connected.
He smiled inwardly. To his mind, using Shangri-la to undermine world leaders and thereby conquer the world was precisely his plan.
Chapter 17
“Do you know what Champs-Elysées means?” Earl asked his friend Brad as they strolled along the tree-lined boulevard that reflected the former glory of the French empire.
Ahead of Earl sat the Arc de Triomphe, through which victorious troops had marched having conquered foreign lands.
“Sure,” Brad said. “Champs-Elysées translates into the Elysian Fields. That’s ‘heaven’ in Greek mythology.”
“Right,” Earl said, impressed with his friend, who didn’t speak a word of French. “But have you made the connection?”
“Between…?”
“Every culture has its version of heaven.” Now Earl was getting to the heart of his studies in cultural anthropology. “The French have borrowed the concept from the Greeks, principally to honor their war dead. But the great cultures that sprang up around the Himalayas have created their own version of a place for the righteous and blessed.”
“Why sure,” Brad said. “Shangri-la.”
“Ergo, it exists.” Earl was proud of how his buddy had made the connection.
“Unfortunately,” Brad said at last, “that’s the problem with you cultural anthropologists. You don’t live in the concrete world. Your propositions are based on analogy, not hard evidence. Now, if you would follow Dr. Yu and my reasoning, there has never been any evidence of such a place. Whether it’s a Greek version of heaven or an Indian version.”
“Aw, get your head out of the substrata. You can’t find the answers there,” Earl said. “Study the cultures, and all will become clear.”
“Rocks,” Brad said. “That’s where I live. And that’s what I’m going to buy for May right now.” He veered off the sidewalk and straight into the most exclusive jewelry store Earl had ever seen.
In fact it was so exclusive, the heavy brass door didn’t open no matter how hard Brad tugged at it.
Behind the glass, a young woman sat and stared at him.
“What snobs.” Brad gave up on the door. “They just lost a customer.”
“Ah, Braddo. How about you let me try the next store. You need a little more savoir-faire.”
Two doors down was another jewelry shop with plenty of diamonds that looked like they met Brad’s budget. Earl stepped up to the door and avoided Brad’s first mistake. He did not yank on it. In fact, he didn’t even touch the handle. Rather, he waited to be invited in.
The door clicked, and a shop girl held it open for him to enter.
Brad followed lamely.
Easing his considerable bulk into the air-conditioned emporium, Earl looked around with as much savoir-faire as he could muster. “I would like to buy a ring,” he announced in his most refined French.
“Certainement,” the girl said, her Parisian accent a glint more polished than his. Then, having sized him up sufficiently, she switched to a sweetly accented English. “For whom are you buying zis ring?”
Earl turned broadly to his friend. “For him.”
“Pédé!” she muttered and glared at him from head to foot. “Get out of my store!”
A moment later, he and Brad stumbled out of the place.
“Was it something I said?” he stammered, finally regaining his balance.
“I don’t know,” Brad said. “Do you suppose she thought we were partners?”
Earl brushed off his low-rise jeans. He had never been treated so rudely in his life.
“Okay, Skeeter. That failed. Do you suppose they just don’t like us?”
Earl looked at his friend. Brad had chosen a University of Arizona football jersey for the occasion. Personally, that seemed a bit provincial. He had opted for the comfort of a tank top. “We do look somewhat American.”
“That’s it,” Brad said snapping his fingers. “It’s our clothes. We need something fancier.”
“Maybe. But neither of us can afford new clothes. You don’t speak French, and I’m not the one getting married.”
“Skeeter, it’s all up to you. You’re the man. You speak French. You’re the only one who can buy a ring.”
Earl sighed. He hadn’t counted on dressing up that day. He would have put on deodorant. Brad was already heading toward a department store. In the mens department, the staff was only slightly less snooty. They found a loose white business shirt and black slacks for Earl. Pirouetting before the mirror, he could easily be mistaken for a well-off bohemian.
In full gentlemen’s garb, he was graciously admitted by a doorman into the next shop on the boulevard. It was a cool, elegant boutique with Italian furniture. He felt instantly out of place.
And he hadn’t discussed prices with Brad beforehand. He shot a look out the window.
Nonchalant, Brad leaned against a metal bin that looked like a mailbox. A woman stopped by with her dog and threw a plastic bag into it. Recycling?
Earl turned his back on the saleswoman and flashed several fingers at Brad, mouthing the words, “How much?”
At first, Brad didn’t understand and had to step aside for another pedestrian to throw a plastic bag into the bin. For a moment, Brad got tangled up in the dog leash.
Earl flashed him a one, representing one thousand dollars. Then he flashed two fingers.
Brad didn’t seem to understand.
Earl rubbed a thumb and first two fingers together to indicate money. Then Brad got it. He signaled a subtle two.
Earl swiveled back to the saleswoman and examined the ring that she had laid on a velvet cushion. He flicked the price tag over. It was a nice ring with a gold band and simple brilliant cut diamond that didn’t have the words “steal me” written all over it. But the price was another story. The small gold ring with the .9-carat gem cost 4,000.
“I am sorry, madam.” He pursed his lips. “This is very beautiful, but I don’t believe that I will be purchasing it today.”
He turned to leave. The doorman was already holding the door open for him.
“I thank you,” he told the man, and left.
Brad straightened up and took his arm off the bin. Another woman, this one carrying a Lhasa Apso, dropped in a small plastic bag.
“I think we struck out,” Earl informed him. “There are plenty of diamonds in this city, but not within our price range.”
Brad steered them down a side street. “I bet the prices drop a thousand dollars for every block off the Champs-Elysées.”
“You said ‘dollars?’” Earl said. “Okay, I’m officially dumb.”
“I could have told you that.”
“No. I thought I was looking at the prices in dollars. They were euros.”
Brad stared at him. “You are seriously stupid.”
They stopped at a currency exchange, a small shop no larger than a telephone booth. Earl stared at the exchange rate. “A buck twenty-five to a euro. My god, I was looking at a five-thousand-dollar ring.”
The two walked along in stunned silence. Brad seemed especially depressed. His dream of proposing to May was quickly vanishing. And they had already sunken money on Earl’s duds.
“There, look.” Earl pointed at a small shop that advertised body piercing. “Now that’s what we’re looking for.”
They peered in the window at the rocks on display.
“Do you suppose they’re real?” Brad said.
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“Who cares? That’s our price range.”
“I care. I insist on a real diamond. I don’t want cubic zirconia. I want the real thing.”
“Just yesterday you were talking turquoise.”
Brad turned away from the body piercing palace, his pride evident in his posture.
“Okay, listen up,” Earl said. “I’ve studied rocks. Don’t think physical anthropology classes were lost on me. I can tell a real diamond from a fake. I’ll buy you a ring for May in no time.” He hauled Brad back to the store.
But Brad shrugged him off. “There’s something else we’re missing here. How do we know May’s finger size?”
Earl grimaced. “Cripes. Why should that matter? We’ll just get her finger adjusted.”
Brad leaned back against the window, his arms folded. “This probably explains why we’re still single.”
“Wait. We’ll bring Jade in to test the rings.” He reached for his cell phone.
Brad examined the jewelry in the window while Earl conversed with his sweetheart in Mandarin.
Apparently, Jade had planned on taking the day off to examine Liang’s crash site, but finally allowed herself to go on a shopping expedition instead. As it turned out, she was only a fifteen-minute taxi ride away.
By the time Jade pulled up, Brad and Earl had picked out a few nice looking settings through the front window.
“Hi, guys,” she said as if she had just stumbled upon them. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Earl tugged at his collar. “Jade, this is important. I like the small cluster of diamonds, and Brad fancies the simple setting.”
“What in the world are you two talking about? You don’t know diamonds. These have yellowed in the sun.”
“Oh.” Earl drew back.
“Now, if you want real gems…” She headed back up the street to the Champs-Elysées.
“No. Too expensive,” Brad started to protest.
But Earl hushed him up. “I’ve seen her at work. She can talk down any price.”
She turned the corner and entered the chic shop with the Italian chairs. This time, Earl hauled his buddy into the store with him.
The saleswoman snapped to attention when she saw Jade walk in. She eyed Earl with newfound respect. Apparently, Asians were serious customers.
“Besides, I would go for something along this line.” Jade lifted out a pair of diamond earrings set in silver filigree.
“Ah, that’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Earl tried to inform her.
“Or this.” She draped a diamond-encrusted bracelet around her slender wrist.
“No,” Earl said slowly. “Not that either.”
“Oh, this is so much fun,” she said, and pressed her nose against the top of the counter.
“I was thinking of a ring,” Earl said. “A diamond ring.” He handed her the ring that he had admired earlier. She slipped it over her ring finger. It was a perfect fit.
She staggered as if being hit by a ton of bricks. Her eyes were glued to the ring, waiting for more explanation, or perhaps a more direct declaration of his love.
“Ah, this isn’t exactly for you,” Earl finally stammered.
She drew back, a look of bewilderment on her face.
“This is for May,” Earl explained.
“You’re marrying May?”
“No. Brad.”
“You’re marrying Brad?”
Suddenly, the truth seemed too pathetic. He convulsed with laughter. “No. Brad wants to marry May.”
He glanced up and saw the questioning look in her eyes. “So why am I here?”
“And…I want to marry you,” he found himself saying.
The look changed from concern to relief. “You’re proposing to me?”
“Er, that’s right. Ah, will you marry me?”
Jade lunged forward. It was a move he had learned to counter on the karate mat. But this time, it was different. Rather than meeting her halfway with a foot in her face, he just stood there and let her attack him.
“Hey watch it,” he said. “Let me breathe.”
All he could do was hug her back.
Across the store, he saw Brad gagging, upset by what was happening, but unable to prevent it.
Earl turned to the saleswoman. “I’ll buy two of these, please.”
Several enchanted minutes later, after discussing dizzying sums of money that Jade managed to bring down to an affordable level, they emerged from the store. Brad had a ring and an appraisal tucked in his pocket, and Earl was steadying Jade, who held her hand out in front of her to admire her ring.
She turned to Brad. “How are you going to ask May?”
He breathed deeply and gave a mysterious smile. “I’ve been thinking about that.” But he said no more.
A moment later, Brad was flat on his back. He had slipped on a pile of dog doodoo.
“Pardon,” a gentleman said. He reached down with a plastic bag and picked the poop off Brad’s forehead. Then he dropped the bag into the metal bin.
“Suave.” Earl turned to Jade and explained, “I taught him that.”
Chapter 18
By the end of Buford’s opening remarks at the symposium, he still hadn’t spotted the German. What a shame if all his efforts to bring experts together didn’t yield the one man he wanted.
Not that he intended to share the professor’s knowledge. To the contrary, he would have Liang intercept and interview the man in private.
“I want to personally thank each and every one of you for bringing your special expertise to this conference,” he concluded in his drawl. “I hope this’ll be the first of many such get-togethers.” He shoved the microphone back in its stand.
The applause lasted a full minute, not because he had revealed remarkable new truths, but because he had put up the money for the event. It wasn’t hard to scrape up enough money to impress a group of social misfits and scholarly oddballs.
A swami with a turban and sunglasses sat in the front row taking notes. A young man with wet armpits and a wrinkled shirt must have been camping out in Paris to attend the meeting. There were monks, for God’s sake. Dr. Yu, the controversial, yet successful, anthropologist was the only person with an international reputation. Yet despite his penetrating eyes and determined expression, he looked every bit his age. In the back of the room, Liang sat ready to pounce on his prey.
But the quarry had yet to appear.
The next speaker was a young woman from Hungary, a mathematician by training. “The Kalachakra states that the last Kalika King will be the twenty-fifth…” She began to explore mathematical clues in the Kalachakra text.
Beau Buford had better things to do with his time.
“I now begin to correlate these figures with actual historical events…”
He turned to leave and wheeled into the shins of a newcomer who had just entered the room.
“Ach du Lieber.”
Several people, including Liang and the swami in sunglasses, turned to look at the stooped figure in the threadbare suit.
The man recovered enough to address him. “Herr Buford?”
Buford gave him a broad smile and all his attention.
The man leaned down to whisper in his ear. “May I have a word with you in private?”
“Certainly.” Buford waved off his bodyguards. “Follow me.”
He left the room with the mathematician saying, “I estimate that the Golden Age will begin in the year 2424.”
Ha. He knew otherwise. The Golden Age was now.
The old apartment was comprised of a series of rooms, one leading to another until it reached a dead end. They didn’t design buildings for easy evacuation in those days. He didn’t stop until he had passed through several bedrooms, a dark dining room adorned by Chinese plates on the walls, and finally reached the kitchen, which was the size of a large closet.
“We may speak here,” Buford told the man. “Nobody will hear.”
The German leaned against the sink and
tried to catch his breath. “I must apologize,” he said. “I am no longer in good health, and I must perform one last act before I die.”
“Come now,” Buford cajoled him. “Don’t be so negative.”
“I have brought vital information concerning the subject of your conference.”
Buford pulled out a notepad and leaned forward, prepared to jot down the coordinates of Shangri-la. But the German had something else in mind.
“I need to find the most trusted authority at your conference. I’m sure there are many fine scientists, but who is most knowledgeable and will keep this information confidential?”
It pained Buford that the man didn’t trust him, but he didn’t want the man to suddenly clam up. He reviewed who was at the conference. Few were well known, and fewer still were respected. He had to admit that his old nemesis Dr. Yu was the clear choice.
“His name is Yu, Dr. Yu Zhaoguo. He will deliver the keynote address tomorrow.”
“How will I recognize him?”
“He is attending the conference with his daughter, a young Chinese knockout.”
As the German bowed, Buford made a snap decision to let the man go. Given the man’s age and poor health, he might not survive harsh interrogation.
The halting footsteps treaded away and Buford called for a bodyguard. Seconds later, one poked his head into the kitchen.
“Get me Liang, quick,” Buford ordered.
A minute later, Liang took off his sunglasses and entered the kitchen. “Was that him?”
“You bet.” Buford dropped his twang and beamed in triumph.
“Why did you let him get away?”
“This matter will require some subtlety.” He explained that the old guy wanted to speak with an authority on Shangri-la. He had given Yu as a contact. “Once the two men meet, I want you to snatch Dr. Yu and have him lead you to Shangri-la.”
“And how about the German?”
Buford pondered for a moment. “He’s old and dying and will be of no more use to us. He’s expendable.”
“Expendable?” A far-off gleam appeared in Liang’s eyes. “I have a way of eliminating him that will solve several problems at once.”
