Read The Messiah Secret Online
Authors: James Becker
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Crime, #Mystery, #Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Spies & Politics, #Conspiracies, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Crime Fiction, #Thrillers
‘This is beginning to sound expensive,’ Masters remarked.
‘It will be, my friend, but never fear. I’m sure your boss – whoever he is – can afford it.’ A smile spread slowly across Rodini’s face.
‘Now, the final matter is the recovery operation. I know you won’t tell me what the object itself is, or where you’re hoping to find it, so I’ve had to make some assumptions myself. Presumably it’s buried in the ground or hidden in a cave?’
Masters nodded.
‘And I presume your plan is to recover it and load it into the back of one of your vehicles?’
‘If it will fit, yes. Ideally, we’d like to recover it, move it only as far as a safe helo landing site, and then air-lift it back to Islamabad and put it straight on to a transport bird heading for the States. We can organize the last part of the journey easily enough, but can you lay on a big helo – something like a Sikorsky or a CH-53? It’ll need to be a
troop-carrier, big enough to carry the recovered object inside. I definitely don’t want the object swinging around on the end of a winch cable. And the chopper needs to be at Alert Sixty or better. We won’t have time to wait around for it.’
Rodini considered the request for a few moments, then nodded. In fact, he’d already earmarked a troop helicopter for the operation. He even knew which pilot he’d instruct to fly the mission, and had made sure he’d be in the chopper himself, once it was en route to the pick-up point.
He wanted to see the relic with his own eyes, because he didn’t believe for a second Masters’ claim that the object was of no value. No collector, no matter how wealthy, would mount an operation of the sort Masters was running to grab something that was worthless.
‘You were right. This is getting more expensive by the minute,’ Rodini said.
‘Ballpark?’ Masters asked.
Rodini checked his notes again, then gave Masters the figure he’d had in mind from the first. ‘One hundred thousand American,’ he said. ‘That includes the vehicles – you can keep them or dump them, as you wish – and the chopper on standby and at Alert Thirty with effect from nine tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s totally bloody extortionate, and you know it,’ Masters snapped. ‘I figured fifty grand, tops. It’s two jeeps, a couple of flights in a chopper, two sat-phones and a bit
of forgery. How the hell did you come up with that figure?’
‘You know how. Because I can supply everything that you need and because I won’t ask you questions that you don’t want to answer. You’re very welcome to try to find somebody else if you think that’s too expensive. And it’s half now, as in right now.’
‘Meaning what, precisely?’
‘Meaning a transfer to my Swiss bank today, or the price goes up ten thousand. I’ll want the second half on completion of the operation.’
Masters knew Rodini had him over a barrel. He didn’t know any other high-ranking military officers in that part of Pakistan, and if he tried to use one of his other possible contacts Rodini might well hear about it and block him. And a junior officer couldn’t just snap his fingers and a helicopter would appear – yet Rodini could, and frequently did. And, Masters reflected, it wasn’t as if it was his money anyway.
‘OK, you blood-sucking bastard, it’s a deal,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell my principal to wire you the money. I can guarantee the instruction will be given within the hour, but I can’t be certain when the funds will arrive in Switzerland. That’s completely out of our hands.’
‘Your credit’s good with me,’ Rodini said. ‘As soon as the first fifty thousand gets to my account I’ll keep my side of the deal. But if it doesn’t arrive, you and your men will have a really long wait for the helicopter.’
A Dhruv – the utility helicopter built in India by the HAL company – came to a hover and then settled on to a concrete hardstanding at a small Indian Army base just outside Karu, on the east bank of the Indus and about thirty miles south of Leh.
The howl of the jet engines diminished as the pilot closed the throttles and lowered the collective, the parallel steel skids spreading slightly apart as the weight of the aircraft settled on to them. Safely on the ground, the pilot initiated the shut-down procedure, the engine noise dying away even further. The four-bladed main rotor slowed visibly, and eventually came to a stop, the blades dipping and weaving slightly in the wind blowing across the army base. Only then did the doors of the Dhruv open.
Two men emerged, one climbing out with the ease that came from long familiarity with the aircraft, the other man – a shorter and stockier figure in a set of faded green flying
overalls – clearly having some difficulty. The pilot walked round the nose of the helicopter to assist him, then both men walked away towards an adjacent single-storey building, the shorter man carrying a bulky leather carry-on bag.
Just under an hour later, Father Michael Killian sat in a hard wooden chair in the briefing room and wondered yet again why the place wasn’t air conditioned. It wasn’t the clinging, muggy heat that had assaulted him when he’d stepped out of the aircraft at Delhi, but it was still hot enough inside the room to be uncomfortable, even in the relative cool of the early evening.
He had drunk two bottles of ice-cold water and pecked impatiently at a tray of snacks he’d found on the self-service bar on one side of the room while he waited to speak to the officer in charge.
The door finally opened and a smartly dressed Indian Army officer stepped inside. Killian was unfamiliar with American military ranks, and knew virtually nothing about the insignia of foreign armed forces, but simply from the man’s bearing it was clear he was a senior officer.
‘You’re Father Killian?’ the man asked, his English fluent.
Killian nodded.
‘Colonel Mani Tembla,’ the officer said, extending his hand. ‘I’ve been instructed to assist you in any way that I can. But first, I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.’
‘Actually, I
do
mind, Colonel,’ Killian said. ‘Time is of
the essence here, and it’s essential that we find these two people before they begin their search.’
Tembla looked mildly amused by Killian’s tone.
‘We already know where they are, and exactly what they’re doing,’ he said calmly. ‘What happened to your ear?’ he added.
‘I had an accident,’ Killian snapped, reaching up to check the dressing on the left side of his head. His fingers strayed across his cheek, feeling the scratches inflicted by Angela Lewis. They, at least, were healing well. ‘So where are they?’
‘They’re in Leh, in a guest house.’
Killian stood up in frustration. ‘What?’
‘I gave orders earlier today that Bronson and Lewis were to be identified as soon as they arrived in Leh. That wasn’t difficult – there aren’t that many flights up here, and my men spotted the English couple almost immediately. I’d already advised the local police, and they quickly discovered where they were staying and identified the vehicle they’d hired. All perfectly routine stuff, I can assure you. But it did raise one important question.’
‘And what is that?’ Killian demanded.
‘All in good time. Now sit down. Calm yourself,’ Tembla instructed. ‘My orders have been both specific and vague, which is somewhat unusual. I’m aware that tracking these two people has a very high priority for somebody in my government – the fact that you, an American citizen, are sitting here in this base is sufficient proof of that – but
what nobody has bothered to tell me is why. The wording of the orders I was given suggested that they might be terrorists, and this is a very sensitive area, because of the borders with Pakistan and China.
‘But this does not explain why you are tracking them. We are perfectly capable of following and intercepting terrorists without any assistance. If we do work with entities based outside India, it’s invariably with the military or intelligence agencies of other countries. You, as I understand it, have no official standing or authority. As far as I can tell, you’re just an American priest. So what, exactly, are they doing here?’
Killian looked appraisingly at Tembla. ‘Are you a Christian, Colonel?’ he asked.
Tembla shook his head. ‘I’m a Hindu, like about eighty per cent of the population of this country.’
‘But there is a Christian community here in India, isn’t there?’
‘Yes, of course. Sikhs and Christians form about five per cent of the population, and the Syrian Church here in India is the second oldest Christian Church in the world, after Palestine. One of the earliest of all the saints – St Thomas – is believed to have landed at Kerala, down in the south-western tip of the country in
AD
fifty-four. So Christianity is a very old religion here, and a very important one, at least for a small part of our population. What’s your point?’
‘My point is very simple, Colonel. The man who signed
your orders is a major-general, but he’s also a Christian. He issued those orders after he received a telephone call from a man sitting in an office in the world’s smallest state.’
‘You work for the Vatican?’ Tembla demanded.
Killian shook his head. ‘Who I work for is irrelevant. All you need to know is that a short time ago some information came into my possession that had the potential to cause irreparable damage to the Catholic Church, and I brought it to the attention of a senior Vatican official.’
‘What information?’
‘I was forbidden to reveal that to anyone.’
Tembla looked at him levelly. ‘If you’re expecting to use the equipment and personnel of this base, which I command, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that. I need to know exactly what you’re looking for, so I can commit the appropriate resources to the task.’
‘You have your orders, Colonel,’ Killian said. He was still standing and was conscious that he had the upper hand. ‘Very clear orders, I believe. Why can’t you obey them?’
‘Without knowing exactly what you’re looking for, I’m not prepared to commit any of my troops or equipment,’ Tembla said harshly. ‘And that’s what my report to my superior in Delhi will say when I file it.’
Killian looked at him for a few moments, then shook his head. ‘Very well. What I’m about to tell you must not leave this room, Colonel. Do I have your word on that?’
Tembla inclined his head. ‘Of course.’
Killian leaned forward and began to speak in a low voice.
Two minutes later, he sat down in his seat and waited for Tembla’s response.
Tembla nodded a couple of times as if he couldn’t quite take in the implications of what he’d just been told, and sat down heavily. ‘I see your problem,’ he said at last. ‘And I do appreciate the crisis your religion will face if this relic is recovered.’ He sighed. ‘You’ve got what you need.’
‘Thank you. You said you had another question for me?’
‘Yes. I ordered one of my men to conceal a tracker on the jeep Bronson has rented. But when he attempted to position the device, he found that there was already one fitted, lashed securely to one of the chassis members. Somebody else is following this man as well. Do you know who that is?’
Killian nodded. ‘A man named Donovan. I know something about him, and he’s even more dangerous than Bronson. So what did your man do? Remove the other tracking device?’
Tembla shook his head. ‘I told him to leave it in place, to use a hand-held scanner to identify the frequency the device was using. This will allow us to track the vehicle from a helicopter. And I also ordered him to use a tin of red spray paint to mark a small circle on the roof of the jeep. That will make it even easier to follow from the air.’
Tembla got to his feet. ‘I’ll be told the moment Bronson or Lewis leave the guest house. I have a team of men watching the property. Now I suggest you get some sleep. Tomorrow could be a very long day.’
Bronson and Angela woke early the next morning and got on the road that led north-east out of the town, and which started climbing almost immediately.
Behind them a dusty grey Land Rover appeared from a side street, and turned in the same north-easterly direction.
Two men were sitting in the driving compartment of the Land Rover, and the equipment stored in the back of the vehicle almost exactly mirrored what Bronson and Angela had obtained in Leh, except that there was a lot more of it. The rear compartment held four tents, not one, and far more food and water than they’d bought, and also a number of planks of wood and a small carpenter’s toolkit.