Authors: Rafael
“Jesus,
is that you Major Bentley? Did you have to do that?”
From
beneath green camouflage paint, eye-white and teeth shone. “Welcome to Camp
Maldives, Agent Lon.”
“Jesus,
it is you. I’d recognize that drawl anywhere. Give me some water, will you. Bad
enough you scared me half to death, I’m burning up out here.” A Cheshire cat
grin accompanied the passed canteen.
“Where’d
I see you last, Agent Lon, Tajikistan? Damn. Another five years down a hole.”
The commando stuck a half-smoked cheroot in his mouth and scrapped a match against
his utility belt. “I have to start getting my papers ready. Turn it over to
these young guns.”
“Meanwhile
I got another job for you, Major. This is Janesh McKenzie. We’re trying to
convince him you can provide all the security he needs for a project he’s
running inside India.”
“Is
that so? Well, come along young man. We’re set up a little farther in.” Janesh
fell in alongside Bentley as they moved deeper into the interior. “Don’t let
the paint and fatigues fool you, son. We’re equally at home in an urban or any
kind of setting.”
The
Major droned on about personnel and capabilities. Janesh’s ears pricked up.
Surrounded by insect chitter and buzz, some fell silent before resuming their
chirps. Silence, chirps. Silence, chirps. Janesh turned his head. The familiar
pattern denoted movement, speed, and direction.
“You
shouldn’t have any worries that we’d be able…” Janesh stopped.
“Someone’s
coming. Closing on our position.”
Everyone
froze. Bentley glanced at his team. They shrugged and shook their heads but
clicked their safeties off. Trained commandos watched in astonishment as Janesh
dove into the underbrush. From the channel, only he heard the whoosh of rockets
knifing through the air. A booming explosion shook leaves and limbs. Followed
by another, birds took to flight and insects quieted. Foliage and dust floated
to the ground.
Training
and reflexes recovered as the commandos dropped into defensive positions but
not before a red dot found Major Bentley’s head and splattered his brains all
over Tilka Lon. A ferocious return barrage erupted as metal shrieks pierced the
air searching for unseen targets. Empty clips dropped. While the team slammed
fresh ones home, one commando with a belted machine gun rose behind a tree.
Rotating across their front, short, steady burps laid down a withering cover
fire. Two by two, the commandos began to drop away from their vulnerable,
exposed position. One hoisted a near-headless Major onto a shoulder before
melting into the dense flora.
Janesh
turned his head and snaked away from the fire zone. The commando team had no
chance. They had landed on an empty, isolated island to sharpen their survival
skills. No one had thought to bring enough ammunition for a sustained fire
fight. The unknown attackers would continue their guerilla ambushes until the
CIA strike force ran out of bullets. The end would come quick.
Janesh’s
mind cycled through options. It selected, processed, and dismissed in
microseconds. On an island, unarmed and targeted, alternatives quickly ran out.
The explosions must have reduced the dhoni to splinters floating on the tide.
He prayed no crewmember had survived. They’d suffer a worse fate. He harbored
no illusion the attackers would tire and leave. Not before they accounted for
his body. Only the window between now and the commandos running out of
ammunition provided a chance.
Janesh
stopped. Hidden within the forest’s bosom, he closed his eyes and slowed his
breathing. Deeper and deeper he plunged. Instinct’s wellspring gurgled before
him. A gentle breeze cooled glistening sweat beads. Beneath him ants toiled and
tunneled. A bird’s wings flittered overhead. The
Mahān
Śikārī rose and turned his gaze toward the channel. Whatever
options an enemy removed one always remained
—a
ttack.
Like a silent wraith Janesh moved through the forest leaving no
sign of his passage. He circled wide of their landing point moving into the
wind where scent could enter his arsenal. All the while keen eyes scanned the
coconut saplings growing amid the plants and bushes until he spotted one about
his height. Coconut tree roots grew along the surface not into the earth,
needing only a sharp tug to pull it out. Snapping of the top and root stem left
him with a four-foot flexible rod. Whipped through the air, the blow could
leave a man senseless
—or
dead.
Behind him a distant
pop, pop, pop
swelled to a crescendo.
He had no doubt the CIA team would sell their lives dearly but sell they would.
He had to hurry. His nostrils flared as the air thickened with salt. He slowed
then crouched. Still as a stone he peered between two fern leaves. A hundred
yards to the right, amid the flotsam of its dead cousin, prow pointed toward
him, another dhoni sat anchored in the channel.
Janesh had not dared hope but the attackers, needing every man for
the assault, had left only two guards to make sure the crew did not wander. For
sure they had not left their best. More might be posted inside but if he waited
there would be far more. He eased back to become a shadow among the shadows. As
Janesh stripped off clothing, deep, continuous breaths aerated his body.
Moments later he slid crocodile-like into the channel. Leafy overhang along the
bank hid his movement until fifty yards later he submerged. Clear, crystalline
water guided him toward the anchor chain where he surfaced beneath the prow.
Nothing indicated discovery but the island’s gunfire had subsided.
He grabbed a chain link and pulled up to his waist preventing body runoff from
splashing. Two more pulls and his free hand reached the top. He waited until
the forward guard’s footsteps receded before pulling himself over. No alarm
sounded. It confirmed one more sentry had to be inside keeping the crew
confined. He stood erect and calmly walked toward the patrolling guard. The
sentinel turned to find a nude man five feet away walking as if on a Sunday
stroll in the park. Startled hesitation killed him.
Janesh watched as the man’s machine pistol rose to fire. To the
tiger hunter he moved as if in slow motion. His arm flashed. The guard tried to
fire and block and accomplished neither. The blow smashed through his rifle arm
and into his face. The weapon and body crashed against the pilothouse wall.
From the stern, footsteps rushed to investigate. Janesh ducked
around the corner and climbed atop the pilothouse. Bent over to examine his
fallen comrade, he froze at the thump landing behind him and never saw the blow
that crushed his skull.
Janesh hurried to the doorway that muffled the footsteps rushing
nearer. The door burst open. In one motion the guard found his weapon ripped
away and a hand clamped like a steel vise around his neck. He struggled to pull
it off but a kill punch to his solar plexus emptied his lungs and paralyzed his
body. Janesh dragged him inside and down the short companionway.
Ahead he kicked in the door and stood in the entrance. The crew
stared at the wild-eyed man before them. They watched as the man stretched out
alongside and gripped by the neck weakened. His death rattle gurgled and the
tremors ceased. Janesh gave him a last shake before dropping him to the deck.
Fear widened their eyes. “You have one chance to live. Raise the anchor and
maneuver out the channel. Choose your fate.”
The crew cast hopeful glances at the Captain then followed him out
the door. In the pilothouse the anchor had yet to breach when he ordered half
ahead. As he watched the left bank, Janesh’s hopes rose. Black-clad figures emerged
carrying wounded, dead, and dying. The CIA strike team had not journeyed into
the afterworld alone. The killers’ expressions morphed from confusion to rage.
Bullets thudded into the dhoni’s wooden structure. A crewman at
the prow fell and reddened the water he’d just secured the anchor from. The
pilothouse windows spider-webbed then shattered from a machine pistol
stuttering across their front. His face turned into bloody meat, the helmsman
screamed once then fell dead from a bullet that entered his chest and did not
exit. The Captain picked himself up, dashed out the door, and leaped overboard.
Cut across his body, Janesh lunged for the throttle, thrust it to full. The
engines churned and strained, fought to bite. Around him bullets whizzed and
wood splintered. Janesh pleaded with Vishnu. “Not yet, my Lord. Please. Not
yet.”
The propellers grabbed, the prow surged. Janesh stood at the
wheel, naked and bleeding. Down the channel he steamed, headed for open water.
Their ammo stores embedded in a dead CIA strike team, the firing dimmed. Pure
exultation flushed through Janesh’s veins. “Great art thou, Lord Vishnu.” he
shouted. “Great art thou.”
A surviving crewman rushed to the door, yelled in a language he
didn’t understand. Janesh followed his pointing finger to where waves crashed
over the outer reef. Grinning ear-to-ear, he shouted over the now clanking
engines. “Yes, I know.” He laughed with gusto. “If you can’t swim jump now.”
From belowdecks a putrid, black-gray smoke engulfed the ship. The
engines gasped and labored to maintain speed. Janesh would not feel safe until
he reached the open water. Doubly so if he left the attackers marooned behind
him. Sixty yards ahead the ocean swelled and crashed over the reef. Body
language and prayer urged the dhoni forward. It reached the point of no return
and hurtled toward its death. Janesh braced for impact.
The sound of crunching, cracking, grinding wood echoed across the
lagoon. A shuddering jolt rolled through the boat, buckling seams and joints as
it passed. The crash snapped off the reef top and the sharp remnant sheared
through the dhoni’s bottom. Even before the boat passed over the reef, it began
to sink by the bow. He stepped out from the pilothouse and a quick glance
showed a distant line of bobbing heads where the surviving crew had abandoned
ship. Feet already submerged, he dove into the aqua-blue, bath-water warm sea.
When he surfaced, the dhoni had disappeared.
Janesh grit his teeth and let out a low moan. Water burned the
myriad cuts he had suffered but unless a shark prowled the immediate area, the
salt would soon shrivel them closed. When the stinging subsided he made for a
wood panel floating nearby. Buoyant enough to serve as a crude raft he took
stock until startled by a head surfacing next to him. The crewman who had tried
to warn him away from the reef let out a blubbery gasp.
Fury blazed from his eyes as gibberish spewed from his mouth. The
tone left a bemused Janesh with no doubt the Maldivian had cursed every member
of his ancestral line. “Well my friend, India is four hundred miles north. With
twelve hundred islands to choose from we’re best off using the tide to reach
one with tourists.” He smiled and pointed to himself. “Janesh.” No response. He
pointed again. “Janesh.” The man’s tone softened but the glare continued.
“Keimi.”
“Believe it, sir. Although to be sure, we Indians also find it
incredible.”
Josh Timson struggled to remain calm. Despite the modern world’s
vast technology, nothing replaced old-fashioned, gumshoe police work. Buried
deep in McKenzie’s dossier, a newspaper article’s byline had brought him before
the author.
“It’s hard to believe in this day and age someone hunts tigers
with a spear.”
“He shuns publicity and avoids the limelight. The irony is the
tactic has moved him beyond celebrity and into myth. A legend, if you will.
Sighting him is considered good luck. There are rumors however it masks illicit
activity. Nonetheless, the public’s perception of a hero remains ingrained.”
“And the man who carried him out of the forest. Is he still
alive?”
“Oh yes. And they remain very close friends.”
“Well, Mr. Raju, I’m sure you would agree it is an incredible
story to stumble upon. I would love nothing better than to bring it before an
American audience. But it would be incomplete without interviewing the two
principals. Do you know how I can get in touch with the man who saved Janesh
McKenzie’s life?”
“Yes, of course.”
He paused for some quick taps on the computer screen. “Here it
is. He lives right here in Raipur. His name is
Ekani Jayaraman.
Give me your number. I’ll transmit his address to your mobile.”
* * *
Ekani’s fascination for watching humans in coordinated action
never lessened. It went far toward explaining why they sat atop nature’s
pyramid. The crew’s careful, methodical, vertical assembly of three crates
trucked aboard a flatbed awaited their final trip.
The foreman stood off flashing hand signals to the helicopter
lowering a tethered hook. He held the aircraft steady while a crewman made the
hook fast and seven others walked about the truck pulling straps and checking
connectors. When they stepped away the foreman performed a visual walk around
before letting the helicopter rise a foot. Again he held it steady while
fourteen pairs of eyes scanned for any indication the load might fail. Under
fluffed clouds floating across a blue sky, he cleared the pilot.
Turbine-powered rotors throttled up. Eyes hand-visored against the bright
sunshine watched a $2 million solar generator and a reassembled science project
sail away.
Quiet pride at having served the Mahān Śikārī
swelled through Ekani. He’d stockpiled Camp G for a three-day layover and
loaded Camp J with supplies and equipment to last the entire four-month lease
period. Before sunrise tomorrow he would greet the science and security teams
at the garage housing four all-terrain vehicles and lead them into the Tadoba
Reserve’s interior. He signed the foreman’s delivery receipt recalling Chatur’s
response at his concern over the mounting expenses. “The only ones who hold
onto money are those who can’t make it.”
Ekani turned toward the parking lot where the patient Narsimha
waited. “If this keeps up much longer you’ll have enough money to retire right
after graduating.” Narsimha laughed and steered away from Chandrapur’s small
airport. “When do you find time to study?” He held up a text book titled
‘Structural Mechanics’.
“While waiting for you. This job has plenty of down time. But
you’re right. After a few years learning the business I hope to open my own
engineering firm. But don’t think I’m so disciplined.” He picked up a booklet.
“When it gets really boring this passes the time. I’m addicted to crossword
puzzles. Where are we going?” Ekani paused to think if he had forgotten
anything. No. Except for the few clothes in his rented flat, he had attended to
everything. He could pack in the morning.
“That’s it for today, Narsimha. A cool shower, an early dinner,
perhaps a movie and I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long one.”
He stepped from the car’s cool interior and into the noonday sun’s
blazing heat. Somehow the busy street seemed busier. Inside the four-story
residential, the heated shade provided no relief. He hadn’t thought to leave
the air-conditioner running and with the windows closed the small apartment had
to be an oven. One flight up, Ekani entered the flat to the sound of screeching
brakes, honking horns, shouts, cries and general chatter streaming through the
open windows. Neck hairs rose. Primal instinct turned him around to see an emaciated
Asian with a healthy gun pushing the door closed. Another Asian emerged from
the small kitchen.
“You’re quite a busy man, Mr.
Jayaraman. Hard to keep up with.” His
Chinese accent gave no life to his pitiless eyes. Ekani dismissed the thieves’
theory. Though they had rummaged through the apartment, neither carried
anything. He played it anyway.
“Take
whatever you want. There’s cash in my bag.”
“We
don’t want what’s in your wallet, Mr. Jayaraman. We want what’s in your mind.”
The silent one motioned him to the couch. The skinny one stepped closer. Ekani
had no illusions about withstanding sustained punishment. And once they learned
what they wanted he would never leave.
From
the floor above a gaggle of laughing, jabbering children thumped their way down
the stairs. Ekani raised his hands. “I’m unarmed. We can talk this out.”
“No,
Mr. Jayaraman.” the skinny one said. “You will do all the talking.” The
chattering children reached the bottom. Ekani grabbed the thin man, whirled and
shoved him toward the other. He broke for the door. In one motion he flung it
open and burst out. The children froze with wide-eyed expressions. Surely they
wouldn’t shoot with children in the firing line. They did.
The
first bullet burrowed into his side, the second into his shoulder. Ekani felt
nothing but the added momentum hurled him down the stairs. Every step slammed
some bone until he tumbled and rolled onto the ground floor. Then the pain
struck. He gasped as his body oven-roasted in the heat. The children began to
scream, shout, and wail. Doors flung open. Heads peered into the dank gloom.
Ekani willed himself to rise. His paralyzed shoulder threw him off balance and
he stumbled out the door.
He
turned and like a drunken zombie lurched down the street. People swerved to avoid
him. Men looked on with disgust. Women’s hands covered their mouths as they
sped up to pass him. Some noticed the sodden clothes now soaked red. A street
full of eyewitnesses prevented pursuit.
His
left hand stretched across his torso, tried to stanch the blood loss even as it
seeped between his fingers. The right hung useless. “Five blocks, five blocks.”
he chanted. Each excruciating step threatened collapse. He blocked all else
out. It became a race against time. Five blocks. “Hear me, Lord Vishnu. Just a
little more time. I must not fail.”
* * *
“Three days ago, Chatur, you told me not to worry because only
three days had passed.” Despite his stoic stance, Miranda saw the hurt. Her
shoulders slumped, a hand covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, Chatur. That wasn’t
fair.”
“Sorry? For what? For being human? For being concerned? That
boorish oaf should have called by now. His thoughtlessness has no limits. Come,
some hot tea will do us both good.”
“It’s none of that, Chatur. It’s me. I’m not happy with myself, with
whom I’ve become.”
De rigueur for any house Chatur rented, they stepped into a roomy,
well-appointed kitchen. He pulled out a chair from the table but before he bade
her sit fluffed an extra cushion against its back. At a double sink, he ran the
tap for a moment before filling a teapot a third full. The master chef then
stood before a cabinet to contemplate the chamomile varieties within before
some winnowing process unknown to her selected one.
“My self-confidence is broken. My sense of personal security is
shattered. I feel needy, vulnerable. I jump at noises and shadows startle me.”
Chatur nodded and glanced as he picked through tea leaves. Eyed some, dismissed
others. A nylon mesh basket began to fill.
“Only when Janesh is nearby do I have any sense of normalcy.
Without him I feel lost, unfocused, directionless. It’s not that I resent
wanting him close, but I want to be strong for him. I want to be his rock.”
The pot began to steam. Chatur removed it from the stove then
swirled the water well before discarding it. He placed the mesh basket within
the properly warmed pot so the leaves could begin to expand. From the oversized
refrigerator he removed a jug of filtered water and carefully refilled the pot.
“I live with a low-level dread that at any moment Kreetor might
appear. I awake at night and imagine its wings flap outside my window. I close
my eyes and it enters my dreams.” Chatur returned to sit opposite Miranda.
“My dear, sweet Miranda. Do you realize you are unlike anyone else
in the world? You are the only person in history who has stood face-to-face
with a sentient being from another world. You have been witness to its brutal,
savage slaughter of human beings. You’ve seen rape and murder committed before
your very eyes. You’ve been imprisoned and isolated in the most inhumane
conditions imaginable. I would be very, very worried if you had returned
indifferent to it all. Your reactions are not only normal, they’re healthy.”
The pot whistled for attention. Chatur rose to not let the
delicate leaves over boil. A minute later he placed a mug before her and retook
his seat. “I know you’re right, Chatur. I’ve said the same things myself. The
words just seem to bounce off.” She stared at the steam wisps. They recalled a
moment before dawn when she had crawled to the cave’s entrance to see the
morning fog rise above the jungle. She began to shake. Convulsions and tremors
wracked her body. Chatur rushed around the table to bend low and embrace her.
Sobs escaped tremulous lips. “Oh, Chatur. I just want to be me again.”
Miranda clung vampire-like, draining him of reassurance,
replenishing emptied calm. He straightened to hold her face between his hands.
Thumbs gently dried tear-moistened cheeks. “You are a rock, Miranda. We shudder
to imagine what you endured and marvel that you did.”
Nails clacked against the kitchen tiles. In trotted Duncan and
Ronan. They nuzzled heads and noses against her thighs, stomach, and sides. She
gave a short laugh and returned their love and devotion. Calm cocooned her.
Chatur returned to his seat, nudged her mug closer. “Sip, Miranda.
Let it sooth your fears.” Quiet descended upon the four. With their heads in
her lap, Miranda felt the tea’s warmth suffuse her soul and ease her pain.
Emotional locks and bolts latched into place. “Thank you, Chatur. Janesh is
better for having you as a friend.” She sprouted a smile. “Speaking of boorish
oafs, do you have any idea where he might be?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere in the Maldives.” A ruckus outside the
main entrance penetrated to the kitchen. The front door crashed open. Raised
voices and shouts sounded alarms. In one motion the two pushed their seats back
and raced for the foyer. Held on either side by security guards, Ekani
staggered in. Relief washed over his eyes when he spied Miranda. He sank to his
knees.
“Kumārī Logan, Kumārī Logan.” She rushed to
his side. Knelt to place his head in her lap. Blood oozed everywhere.
“Call the doctor.” she screamed.
“We did, Kumārī Logan.” A security guard answered. “An
ambulance is on the way.” Ekani gripped her arm. Swallowed hard.
“All praise and glory to the great Lord Vishnu. He has permitted
me my final journey. Listen to me, Kumārī Logan. There is not much
time. I am discovered. You must flee. The danger is great. You know where the
vehicles are. All is in readiness. Flee now before it is too late.” He stopped
to close his eyes. Swallowed and grimaced against the pain. “When you see my
brother, tell him I am grateful for the time he gave me.” Ekani’s eyes stopped
seeing, his mouth hung open. Miranda wailed.
Chatur gripped her arm and lifted. Blood rolled down pants now
streaked with red. He grasped her shoulders and gave a gentle shake. “Miranda.
Miranda. Look at me. You’re in charge now. You must lead the team into the
preserve. Hurry. Change clothes and take only what is essential. Time is of the
essence. I will remain here to cover your departure and wait for Janesh to make
contact. Go.”