Authors: Rafael
Janesh
shook himself. More than ever he had to merge with the Earth. Head lowered,
eyes closed, his breathing slowed. A thumping heart steadied. His mind blocked
thought and opened senses. He touched the whirls and eddies of passing breezes,
heard the ground’s subtle shifts and slides. If an attack came he would
know
.
He
opened his eyes, surveyed the rocks above. A hand reached out and gripped one.
Muscles flexed and pulled. It held. He gripped another then another. Where the
ground fell away, he scraped deeper until steel fingers closed around dense,
packed earth. He climbed. The mountain’s height pulled him. Twenty minutes
later, the
Mahān Śikārī’s hand
closed around a nylon rope.
Janesh shimmied up the 400ft length and continued past the
entrance. Above the opening he pulled out the other SWAT line before swinging
into the cave. Pressed to the side, away from his silhouette, he waited for
eyes to adjust. Nostrils flared. Rot and decay wafted from within.
His eyes could not pierce a gloom from which no sound emerged.
Every nerve tensed. He wished for his spear, tailor-made for the confined space.
A ricocheting bullet could hit anything including Miranda. Janesh prayed she
lived, steeled himself if not. He clicked on the flashlight, held it alongside
the cocked machine pistol on full automatic. Scattered bones marked the path
ahead. He stepped out. One careful step followed another. Ears strained to pick
up any sound.
He rounded a bend. Against a wall lay a skeleton. Straw-dry blond
patches fell from its head. He recalled the photo showing a vivacious woman
filled with life. Janesh shuddered. Around another bend his heart stopped. Ten
yards away, back against the wall, face buried against her hands, sat Miranda.
Encircled by the light’s halo, he searched for any sign of injury or blood. He
strained to push air through a constricted throat. “Miranda?” Face still
buried, her voice whispered.
“Janesh? Is it you Janesh?”
“Yes, my darling. It’s me.” She raised her face away from her
hands, blinked at the glare. Her voice rose.
“Janesh? Is it really you, Janesh?” He moved the light aside,
tried to sooth her.
“Yes, Miranda, it’s really me. Come. We’re leaving together.”
She
sprang from the wall and threw herself against him. Arms wrapped around his
neck, she squeezed hard, tried to speak between sobs. “I didn’t want to hope,
Janesh. I didn’t want to believe. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to
hope it was you.”
“Sshh,
sshh. It’s okay, Miranda. But we’re not safe yet. We have to go.” She pulled
her head back, wiped the tears away. A radiant smile broke through, words
rushed out.
“We
are safe. For the moment anyway. Until the Seer figures out I lied. Kreetor
wanted to know if the dogs were like the Unwinged. I told her they were the
Gatekeepers. That it doesn’t work without them. She’s lost track of it because
it hasn’t been on. She has to kill the dogs but isn’t sure how since they can
see her and won’t attack until they lead her back to the Gate.”
Janesh
searched her face, convinced hysteria or the emotional aftermath of a hideous
ordeal had overtaken her. He gave her hand a gentle press. “We still have to
get out of here. C’mon.” She jerked him back.
“You
don’t believe me, do you?” He hesitated, unsure how to respond. She leaped back
up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her voice became a whisper.
“It’s
okay. You will. Just promise me you’ll never leave me again.” She shook him
with surprising strength. “Promise me, Janesh McKenzie.”
“I
promise, Miranda Logan. I’ll never leave you again.” A deep kiss sealed his
oath.
At
the entrance he cinched one end of the spare line into a harness knot around her.
“I’m going to lower you down to a point where you’ll find toe and footholds you
can cling to. When you have a firm grip I’ll climb down to where you are than
lower you again. Don’t look down or to the sides. Keep your eyes glued to the
mountain.” He saw the fear and doubt in her eyes, hugged her close. His grin
calmed her. “I not only won’t leave you, I won’t drop you either.” She nodded
and smiled weakly.
For
the next hour sheer strength and stamina lowered her to the tree line where
Kawaikini’s slope finally left the vertical. Miranda laid cheek to ground,
letting it soak up the fear and powerlessness that had become her daily
existence. She felt drained, emotionally spent and yet curiously exhilarated.
With each passing second Mother Earth swelled and restored her confidence.
Dirt
from above slid past. She smiled, content and happy. If she lifted her head
she’d see Janesh. Strong Janesh, powerful Janesh. She would not fear again. His
hand came into view, waited for her grasp. Miranda kissed it, pressed it
against her face. Her eyes closed. No. She would not fear again.
The
two emerged from the forest to a dispirited, diminished group. The two uniforms
had returned. Janesh gave them a nod of deep respect and admiration. It
acknowledged their bravery. The men had brought back Charlie. Though
dismembered, his family would have a gravesite to visit. Thirteen men had come
to Kawaikini. Only five would walk away.
Janesh
returned the weapon and flashlight. He gathered spear and backpack and turned
toward the detectives. Miranda stood alongside, both arms wrapped around his.
“I’m leaving. You’re not safe in my presence. Will you stop me?” Both shook
their heads. Andy spoke up.
“Thanks
for the dogs.” Janesh smiled at him.
“I
have no suggestions for your report. You’re on your own.”
He
turned around, headed back to the Alakai Preserve, to the wilderness that
welcomed its son. “Come.” Duncan and Ronan trotted up to scout ahead.
Nicholas
Koh hated these moments. A venom-like hatred. But he wouldn’t articulate why.
His lawyers sat on either side and at the conference table’s other end two
detectives from Singapore Homicide had taken seats. “Let the record show Mr.
Koh has voluntarily agreed to answer your questions though he is under no legal
obligation to do so. Mr. Koh is a pillar of the Singapore community. He is
President and CEO of a headquarters that employs over 1,400 and more than
24,000 worldwide. He generously contributes to Singaporean charities and is a
more than generous patron of the arts. With the exception of two youthful
indiscretions, he has not had so much as a parking ticket in almost thirty
years.”
His
lawyer could not have better described his self-image. Singapore’s elite kept
him at the top of their invitation lists and his presence at any gathering
elevated the host and hostess’ status. Politicians courted his favor and
counsel. He spoke at churches, corporate auditoriums, and commencement
ceremonies. And too, the policemen at the other end confirmed him a thug and a
hoodlum. One snorted.
“Mind
if I smoke?”
“Mr.
Koh is allergic to tar and nicotine.” He lit up anyway.
Perhaps
the island’s confined space caused it. Perhaps long memories of colonial
subjugation. Maybe success. Wealth, ease, and comfort endured all manner of
insults. Singaporeans had long decided civil liberties and individual
prerogatives took a back seat to law and order. Its face sat at the table.
Arrogant, impervious, insufferable.
He
puffed deep then opened his mouth. Blue-gray smoke crawled out, swirled and
floated, snaked along his face before drifting away. “You were the last person
seen with Jasline Wong. Want to tell us about it?”
“We’re
business associates. We met for lunch. We discussed the weather.”
“That
means they had no specific agenda.” the lawyer interjected. “Their
conversations were general and simply intended to foster good business
relations.” The other lawyer joined in.
“Your
question implies Ms. Wong has met an untimely end. Do you have proof of that?
I’m sure you’re aware restaurant witnesses stated Mr. Koh and Ms. Wong left
separately and in different directions.”
The
detective puffed again and once more let a cloud ooze from his mouth and curl
away. He sat forward, forearms on the table. “You’re right. There’s no body.
Funny thing however, all her personal effects are still in her
apartment—mobile, keys, credit cards, cash, ID. Her suitcases are stacked and
unopened. Even her makeup bag is there and there’s no sign of forced entry.
Maybe she’s on a no-frills vacation.” His partner spoke up.
“What
about the physicists, Koh?” Singapore University confirms they approved their
temporary assignment to your headquarters. One moment they report to work, the
next no one sees them again. Maybe they’re on vacation with Ms. Wong.”
“How’d
you make detective? Someone take the test for you?”
“My
client is upset by your unprofessional and unfounded insinuations. He of course
has the highest regard and respect for the law enforcement community.”
The
detectives stared at the lawyer. Like attorneys everywhere, once they completed
the dull and unimaginative work of memorizing statutes and case law, their only
skill lay in making you believe you hadn’t heard what you heard or seen what
you seen. As one they rose from the table. The smoker looked at Nicholas.
“You
and I both know you killed these people. You’re going to slip up, Koh. When you
do I’ll be there to put the cuffs on you. Oh, and all those guards you fired.
We’re watching them too. If one slips up, it’s amazing what they’ll reveal when
facing prison.”
“I
object.”
“Save
your objections, counselor. This is not a courtroom.” He dropped the cigarette
on the floor and stubbed it with his shoe. “Don’t bother. We’ll let ourselves
out.”
When
the door clicked the two turned to stare at Nicholas. “I swear to you. I had
nothing to do with the physicists.” They remained silent. The admission hung in
the air.
“Why
do you do it, Nicholas? You have everything any human could wish for. Nothing
in this world is denied you. Why risk it all?”
Nicholas
rose and sauntered to a small convenience station. From a lower cabinet a
half-filled vodka bottle emerged. He poured two fingers and drank one. He
strolled back halfway down the table before he stopped and faced the lawyers.
“I
could say loyalty.” He gave the hand holding the drink an expansive wave.
“Loyalty to a business that made all this possible. Your children attend
university in America. You have apartments in London, New York, and Miami. That
business made your salaries possible. But I have another reason.
That
world is a pure, clean one. The rules are simple, straightforward, and everyone
knows what they are. Beforehand. However paradoxical or ironic, that world is
an honest one because it provides clarity. It has to because decisions are life
and death. And if decisions do not have life, your life, as a consequence, then
they are not important and your life is of little note.
This
world has no clarity. Truth is an ever-shifting vagary. Enemies appear in the
guise of friends. Pitfalls are presented as opportunities. Whims become hopes
and hopes become laws. What is true today is false tomorrow and today’s falsity
is tomorrow’s standard. And because decisions do not have life as a
consequence, no one takes responsibility. In both our worlds death is
inescapable. You spend your lives avoiding it. I spend mine disdaining it.”
Nicholas
drained his glass. “And now, gentlemen, I have an appointment I don’t want to
miss.” He stepped into the hallway where passing workers moved aside to permit
his determined passage. At its end he entered an anteroom to find a seated man
with a patient expression.
“Mr.
Timson?” He smiled, rose, and extended a hand.
“At
your service.” Nicholas turned to his assistant.
“Any
messages?”
“Just
an electronic one.” She handed him a slip.
“Miranda
is safe and so is the equipment. I’ll be in touch. Cheers.”
Nicholas
crumpled the paper. What a coincidence, he thought. Josh Timson could never
have reached this floor without including two words in his meeting request:
Janesh McKenzie. He opened the office door. “Come in, Mr. Timson.” He guided
him to a lounging area. “Please make yourself comfortable. Something to drink?”
“A
glass of water is perfect.” Nicholas poured himself another two-finger vodka
and handed Timson water.
“What
brings you to Singapore, Mr. Timson?”
“I
understand you’re interested in acquiring some scientific equipment currently
in the possession of a Mr. Janesh McKenzie.” Nicholas’ eyebrow rose.
“And
how do you know of my interest?” Josh displayed his ID.
“I’m
an investigator for the National Science Foundation. They sponsored a research
project under the auspices of the CIA that went missing. I have access to the
CIA’s after-action reports. The Agency found two men, traced back to your
company, dead inside a warehouse where Dr. Joshua Ang’s science project had
been taken. That project was then transferred to Tacoma, Washington by movers
subcontracted by your people. Two CIA agents died there. The CIA is a
bureaucracy. They work a little slower than I do but very soon they’ll begin sniffing
around your operations. They’re determined to find the project. So are you. So
am I. A person in my position can be very valuable.”
Nicholas
sipped his vodka. “And what exactly is your position, Mr. Timson?”
“Information
is a valuable commodity, Mr. Koh. The information I have access to is very
valuable. I’m sure you’d be appreciative if I shared it with you.”
Fortune
had just smiled, Nicholas thought. This man gave him an opportunity to play
McKenzie against the CIA and at an opportune moment swoop in and snatch the
prize. Could he trust him? He might himself be CIA, or worse, a police plant.
“How much will my appreciation cost, Mr. Timson?”
“$5
million dollars. Everything I learn you’ll learn.”
“That’s
a lot of appreciation.”
“It’s
a very valuable project.”
Nicholas
reached for a pad on the table, wrote a number on it, and passed it to Josh.
“Here’s the deal, Mr. Timson. You and I will never meet again. Ever. When you
have some information you think I should have, call that number and deliver it.
If the information pans out you’ll receive $5 million. I will expect the
information flow to continue until I have possession of the project. Otherwise
someone is going to come looking for a refund. That’s the deal, Mr. Timson.
Take it or leave it.”
Josh
gave the paper a careful fold and placed it in a pocket. “You have a deal, Mr.
Koh. It’s a pleasure dealing with a professional. I’ll be on my way.” Nicholas
raised a finger to hold him.
“You
play a dangerous game, Mr. Timson. Why do you do it?”
“The
rules are clear and the rewards high. I like the clarity.”