The Sacred Vault (14 page)

‘But that’s a theme with practically every religion,’ said Nina. ‘The present is always the worst time there’s ever been, and things were invariably better in the past. It’s either rose-tinted nostalgia, or “proof” that things have descended into sin and decadence - and the only way out is through whatever flavour fundamentalism the preacher prefers.’

‘In the case of Hinduism, though, it actually is true. The world will sink deeper into the darkness, until Shiva ends the cycle.’

‘By destruction.’

‘So that a new cycle can begin. A new Satya Yuga, a time of enlightenment and bliss. And the Shiva-Vedas will make it happen.’

‘How?’

He ignored the question. ‘The Talonor Codex proved that the Shiva-Vedas were in existence at the same time as Atlantis, around nine thousand BC. Yes?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then they must come from an earlier yuga - at the latest, the Dvapara Yuga. The Hindu calendar is very old, and we know the exact date when the Kali Yuga began: 3102 BC. Specifically, January the twenty-third, in Gregorian dating. Because the words written in the Shiva-Vedas are from an earlier
yuga
, they are by definition more pure, more enlightened, than anything created in the corrupt Kali Yuga. They will form the cornerstone of the new era when it begins - when I
make
it begin.’

‘What, you think you’re Shiva now?’ said Nina, aghast.

‘No, I am just carrying out his will. But to end the cycle, I must have the Shiva-Vedas. They are the key to humanity’s salvation. Without the teachings of Shiva himself from a more enlightened time, the world will fall back into corruption, and everything I have achieved will be wasted. So to get the Shiva-Vedas I must find and enter the Vault of Shiva - and to do that, I need the Talonor Codex.’

‘But you’ve got the translations. Why do you need the Codex itself?’

‘For the key, Dr Wilde. The key the priests showed to Talonor - the key impressed on the cover of the Codex. From the impression, I will be able to make a duplicate. And I will use it to open the Vault.’

‘You need more than just the key, though,’ she pointed out. ‘The priests told Talonor that “only those who know the love of Shiva” can use it.’

‘But I do know the love of Shiva,’ said Khoil. ‘For all my life. Shiva does not care about castes. My wife and I are both Dalits - the “scheduled castes”, as the government calls them . . . or the “untouchables”, as you probably know them in the West. The lowest caste, oppressed and scorned for nothing more than an accident of birth and the professions of their ancestors centuries ago.’ Bitterness entered his voice. ‘Even now, Vanita and I still experience prejudice - from people whose businesses, whose
lives
, we could buy and sell on a whim.’

‘Ah, so everything you’re doing is to benefit the class struggle, is it?’ said Nina mockingly.

‘In a way,’ Khoil replied, her sarcasm once again failing to make it through his shield of literalism. ‘I believe in empowering the powerless, whether through free access to information - or by more direct means.’

She gestured at the trio of bodyguards. ‘Like paying them to do your dirty work?’

‘Some problems cannot be solved by discussion. Like Urbano Fernandez, who would have made a deal with Interpol if Madirakshi had not silenced him.’ The tongueless man gurgled something, Khoil replying in Hindi. ‘Poor Madirakshi. She was a loyal servant.’

‘Yeah, Eddie told me how loyal. She killed herself rather than be arrested.’

‘She was excellent at her work. Her eye was cut out by a drunk who took her for a prostitute. Vanita and I learned of her through our charitable foundation and paid for her facial reconstruction - and then we used Qexia to trace her attacker. He became the test subject for her . . . secret weapon, you might say.’

‘You’re a real humanitarian,’ said Nina. She regarded the three men. ‘So you’ve got Bollywood Bruce Lee here,’ she said of Tandon, who seemed amused rather than annoyed by the insult. ‘What are this pair’s stories?’

‘Dhiren Mahajan,’ said Khoil, indicating the bearded giant, then gesturing to the man with the filed-down teeth, ‘and Nahari Singh. Nahari used to compete in illegal street fights, but not through choice - he was bonded into it through debts his family owed. He was not the biggest fighter, so his owners gave him an advantage.’ Singh grinned spikily at her.

‘Your employee welcome package didn’t include dental, then?’

‘His choice. The mutilation can be useful. As you discovered.’ Nina rubbed irritably at her bandaged arm. ‘As for Dhiren, he was an enforcer for a gangster, until he became too friendly with the man’s girlfriend. An ancient punishment used by the Brahmins, the highest caste, was to put a red-hot nail in the mouth of transgressors. The gangster thought it would be amusing to resurrect the tradition.’

Nina looked at the bearded man in dismay. ‘Jesus. So the gangster, the “owners” - I’m guessing they’re not around any more.’

‘They have moved on to their next cycle of existence, yes. But Dhiren and Nahari and Chapal are not simply my servants - like myself and Vanita, we are all servants of Shiva. My faith in him has brought me to where I am today. And now, I am ready to repay him by bringing humanity into a new cycle.’ He stepped towards the front of the drone. ‘So, Dr Wilde. Now you know my intentions, I shall ask: will you help me find the Vault of Shiva?’

Nina folded her arms across her chest. ‘Because of you, my friend is dead - and so are a lot of other people. Do you seriously think I’d voluntarily do anything to help you?’

‘No, not really.’ A slight shrug. ‘Twelve per cent was only a small chance, after all. But I had to try.’

Vanita called to him. ‘I’m going down to the infirmary to watch the operation.’ She started for an exit, her two facially mutilated bodyguards following.

‘I will see you at the palace,’ Khoil said, shifting position as he turned to watch her leave . . .

Moving directly in front of the drone.

Nina lunged at the machine. She grabbed for the dart gun’s trigger, and pulled it. The weapon bucked in her hand with a thump of high-pressure gas, the steel dart exploding from the barrel—

And stopping an inch short of Khoil’s chest. As fast as a blink, Tandon snapped out his hand and caught it.

Khoil flinched away from the line of fire, eyes wide behind his glasses as Tandon dropped the dart at his feet. ‘That - was very foolish, Dr Wilde,’ he said, regaining his composure.

Vanita’s reaction was more nakedly emotional. She rushed towards Nina, screaming ‘Get her!’ to her companions. Nina tried to dodge away from them, but was quickly cornered. The huge bearded man grabbed her, twisting her arms up behind her back. She tried to hack at his shins with her heels, but he wrenched harder. Her shoulder joints crackled agonisingly, ending any further thoughts of resistance.

Vanita stepped closer, holding out one hand as she spoke in Hindi. The shark-toothed man came to her. For a moment Nina feared she had ordered him to bite her again, but instead he took something from a pocket and placed it in Vanita’s hand.

Click.
The object was a switchblade, a glinting steel knife four inches long springing out of the handle. Vanita savagely yanked at Nina’s hair, taking hold of her right ear and pressing the blade’s sharp edge against it. Nina froze.

‘The only reason you’re not dead already is that we need you as leverage over your husband,’ Vanita hissed. She slid the knife across Nina’s earlobe, just hard enough to cut the skin. Nina gasped in pain. ‘But if you do anything like that again . . .’

The knife jerked back sharply. Nina screamed as it sliced into her ear.

‘You’ll die in
pieces
,’ Vanita finished, stepping back. ‘Chapal, come with me.’ She returned the bloodied knife to its owner and, shooting a final look of loathing at Nina, strode imperiously away, Tandon following.

‘You crazy
bitch
!’ Nina yelled after her, feeling hot blood running down her neck.

Khoil regarded her wound almost curiously, as if examining a laboratory specimen. ‘Nahari, tend to that,’ he ordered. The smaller of the two bodyguards gave Nina a mocking flash of his jagged teeth as he went to get a first aid kit. ‘Dhiren, release her.’

The giant let go of Nina’s aching arms. She put a hand to her ear, grimacing at the sting when she touched it. The knife had gone deep enough to slash cartilage. ‘Jesus Christ!’ she cried. ‘Fucking psycho!’

‘I hope that will teach you not to underestimate us,’ said Khoil.

‘Do not make the mistake of thinking I am just a computer nerd.’ The word sounded strange in his affectless voice. ‘I grew up in the slums. I fought every centimetre of the way to be where I am today. And I did whatever was necessary to achieve my goals.’

Singh returned with a Band-Aid and prepared to apply it to Nina’s ear, but she snatched it from him. ‘I’ll do it,’ she snapped. As she fumbled with the dressing, she glowered at Khoil. ‘So what
are
your goals? What are you going to do once you get the Shiva-Vedas?’

He didn’t answer, instead gesturing for his bodyguards to take Nina away.

 

‘
S
o, that’s what we’re dealing with,’ said Eddie. ‘And we’ve got to do it by tomorrow night. Any ideas?’

The expressions of the other people in his apartment varied, but none was brimming with confidence. Mac was the first to speak. ‘We’ll do everything we can to help, obviously,’ he said, ‘but wouldn’t it be better to go after this Khoil fellow and get Nina back?’

Eddie shook his head. ‘He’s got Zec keeping tabs on me. I’d already be on a plane to India to punch the pudgy little bastard in the face if he hadn’t.’

‘Can’t we just clobber this Zec bloke the next time he turns up?’ asked Matt Trulli.

‘He checks in with Khoil’s people every so often. Miss a call, and . . .’

The faces were now all downcast. ‘Do you think you’ll even be able to get into the vault?’ asked Karima Farran, sitting with her fiancé on the couch.

Eddie indicated a six-foot length of steel ventilation ducting propped against one wall. ‘According the plans Lola got for me, that’s the same size as the air vents in the vault area. I should be able to fit.’

Karima looked dubiously between the duct and Eddie’s waist. ‘Are you sure?’

‘We’ll test it out in a minute. If I can’t, I’ll have to get some emergency liposuction.’

‘The vault’s really got ducts big enough to crawl through?’ Matt asked disbelievingly. ‘Sounds a bit
Mission: Impossible
, if you ask me. And I mean the proper original one, not the Tom Cruise malarky. The real Jim Phelps’d never turn traitor.’

Eddie smiled slightly. ‘You’ve been wanting to get that off your chest for years, haven’t you?’

‘Too bloody right, mate!’

Lola held up a structural blueprint. ‘They have to make them that big by law. When the UN was built, it was exempted from New York building codes because it’s legally on international territory. But the NYC Fire Department still has to respond if there’s an emergency, so when the building was refurbished a few years ago they made them bring the place up to code. One of those codes is that vaults have to have external ventilation in case someone gets locked inside . . . and another is that vents to underground floors have to be able to carry a minimum volume of air per minute.’

‘Which means,’ said Eddie, banging the duct with his hand, ‘they have to be this big. Nine inches by fourteen.’

‘Only,’ continued Lola, ‘they obviously knew that a vault having ducts big enough to fit a person isn’t a great idea. So the ones that go into the UN’s secure archives have metal plates welded inside them, so air can get through - but people can’t. And the actual air vents are on the sixth floor machine level. If you tried getting in that way, there’s a seventy foot drop, straight down.’

‘So the only way to get into the vault through the vents,’ said Radi Bashir, scratching his chin, ‘is to be in the room where the vault is in the first place?’

‘Pretty much,’ said Eddie.

‘And won’t the guards be a little suspicious of that?’

‘Well, that’s something else we need to work out, innit? On top of all the other stuff - avoiding the security cameras, disabling the alarms, taking the Codex from the vault, getting the bloody thing out of the building without anyone noticing . . .’

‘I can handle the security cameras,’ Rad said. ‘That is, if Matt can get his submarine to the junction box.’

‘Servo’ll get there just fine,’ said Matt, a little defensively.

‘Servo?’ Mac asked.

‘Segmented Robot Vehicle Operations. He’s like a snake - wriggling through narrow spaces underwater is what he’s designed for. But we’ll have to do it at high tide, which won’t give us much time. If anything holds us up, he’ll be left grounded when the water level drops.’

‘And we’ll be fucked,’ Eddie added. ‘Which is why we’ve got to work all this stuff out now. And fast.’

‘Putting all the pieces together’ll be a tall order,’ said Mac. ‘But if anyone can figure it out, you can.’

‘Thanks,’ Eddie said with a half-hearted grin. ‘But then, I’ve bloody got to if I want Nina back, haven’t I?’

‘Then we’d better come up with a plan.’ Mac stood, his prosthetic leg creaking as he put his weight on it. ‘First things first. If you can’t fit through this duct, it’s all over before it even begins.’

‘Why do you have to do it, Eddie?’ Karima asked. She stood, displaying her slim body. ‘I could fit a lot more easily.’

‘I’m doing it,’ Eddie said firmly. ‘If I get caught, then so be it, but I’m not having anyone else take the fall for me. Okay, let’s have a look.’

He and Mac laid the duct on the floor. Lola examined one end. ‘Gee, Eddie. Is that really nine inches tall? It doesn’t look very big.’

Eddie had the same thought, the opening appearing impossibly small. He pulled off his jumper. ‘Okay, Matt, Rad, hold it in place. Mac, give me a hand.’

As the two men gripped the duct, he lowered himself on to his stomach and extended his arms, shoulders tight beside his head as he edged forwards. Elbows in, biceps . . . The edges of the thin sheet metal pressed against him on both sides. Could he even fit?

‘You can do it,’ said Mac encouragingly, as if reading his mind. ‘Twist round a bit - left side down, right side up.’

The move gave him the extra fraction of an inch he needed. He wormed into the duct. Christ, it was tight! His shoulders were the widest part of his body, so theoretically he would fit all the way in - but he was already experiencing an unpleasant sense of claustrophobia.

‘Keep going,’ Mac told him.

Eddie grunted and kept advancing, little by little. The top of the duct rubbed against his head, forcing him to turn it sideways, adding to his discomfort. ‘Shit,’ he said, the sweat that had already formed on his fingertips causing them to slip on the smooth metal. ‘I can’t get a grip.’

‘Hang on,’ said Matt. ‘I brought some things that might help.’

Eddie looked ahead, his living room reduced to a rectangle surrounded by dull steel. Lola peered through the slot at him. ‘How you holding up, Eddie?’

‘Fucking champion,’ he said with an unconvincing grin. Lola moved away, her face replaced by Matt’s rounder features.

‘Here you go, mate,’ said the Australian, putting something in Eddie’s hand. ‘See if that works.’

He examined the heavy object: a thick disc of dark metal, topped by a plastic casing with a switch set into it. ‘What is it?’

‘Portable electromagnet, for underwater salvage. Self-contained; the battery’s in the case, and very powerful. Give it a try - just push the switch. Careful, though. Don’t get your fingers trapped under it - it’s strong enough to crush ’em.’

‘Thanks for the tip.’ Keeping his fingers clear of the metal disc, Eddie flicked the switch. The magnet instantly clamped itself to the steel with such force that the entire duct rattled. ‘Jesus!’

‘Not very stealthy,’ Mac remarked drily.

‘Baby steps, eh?’ said Matt. ‘Let’s see if it works first. Eddie, try pulling yourself along with it.’

Eddie switched off the magnet and stretched forward as far as he could before reactivating it. Even with the disc flat on the metal, there was still a clunk of contact. ‘That’s going to be a problem,’ he muttered, dragging himself forward, ‘and - shit!’ The magnet slipped along the steel panel with a piercing screech. ‘And that’s
definitely
going to be a problem.’

Matt reappeared at the opening. ‘Crap. I was afraid of that. It’s designed to support a perpendicular load, not parallel - it’s just going to slip all the time.’

Eddie switched off the magnet. ‘Bollocks. Thanks for trying, anyway.’

‘Oh, I’m not done yet, mate!’ Matt retrieved the magnet, replacing it with another device. ‘This might work better.’

‘A suction cup?’ said Eddie, turning it over in his hand. The flattened black rubber dome was about five inches in diameter, a

U-shaped hinged metal handle attached. ‘Now we really
are
getting all Jim Phelps.’

‘There’s a lever under the handle - you push the handle up, move the lever across and pull the handle back down to create the vacuum. When you want to release it, just shove the lever back the other way.’

Eddie tested it, air hissing from the cup as he drew back the handle. Pulling himself further into the duct, he was relieved to find that unlike the magnet, the suction device held firm. He released it with another hiss, moved it along, then clamped it down again. Pull—

‘Hrmm,’ said Mac, as Eddie’s backside wedged against the top of the duct. ‘You may need to lose a few pounds there.’

‘Eddie got back,’ sang Lola, giggling, then blushed. ‘Sorry. It’s not funny.’

Karima crouched for a closer look as Eddie wriggled in an attempt to clear the obstruction. ‘She has a point, though. It’s not so much the size of your bottom—’

‘You saying I’ve got a fat arse?’ came an echoing complaint.

‘—as what you’re wearing. Your clothes are catching on the edge. You won’t be able to do this in jeans; you’ll need something tighter.’

Mac put a palm on Eddie’s butt and pushed down. Eddie hauled himself further inside. ‘I hope that was Karima’s hand.’

‘Of course,’ said Mac, winking at her.

Now that he was fully inside, Eddie was able to advance. It was still horribly tight, but using the suction cup he reached the other end in fairly short order. Matt and Rad pulled him out. ‘Jesus. I’m not claustrophobic, but that might get me started.’ Just traversing the short distance had left him sweating. How would he manage in the vault’s much longer duct?

Mac had the same thought. ‘Eddie, you look knackered, and that was only six feet. And when you do it for real, you’ll have equipment with you. We’ve got to find a way to make it easier.’

Eddie wiped his brow. ‘Okay, Matt - you’ve got until tomorrow to invent a shrinking ray.’ The joke produced a little levity in the room - which instantly vanished at the rasp of the entry buzzer. ‘Shit, that’ll be Zec. Mac?’

Mac drew a revolver and took up position in the study as Eddie buzzed Zec into the building. ‘Okay,’ said Eddie to the others, ‘stay cool and I’ll handle this.’ He was about to go to the door when he noticed a cup from which Mac had been drinking, and hurriedly took it into the kitchen. The fewer people Zec knew were involved, the better.

A knock on the door. Eddie let the Bosnian in. Zec was carrying an impact-resistant plastic box the size of a briefcase, as well as a holdall. He took in the hostile faces with a dismissive eye before regarding the ducting. ‘This is the size of the vents in the UN?’

‘Yeah,’ said Eddie.

He put the box down at one end of the duct, pushing it into the opening. It fitted - just. ‘Lucky. You will need to take this with you.’

‘What is it?’

Zec pulled the box back out and opened it, revealing a piece of equipment that looked like the guts of a desktop scanner mounted above a transparent plastic tank some five inches deep. ‘Portable rapid prototyper. Fill with—’

‘I’ve used these,’ Matt cut in. ‘There are two lasers in the scan head, and where the beams cross they turn the medium in the tank solid. They build things up layer by layer, like a 3D fax machine. Once whatever you’re making’s set, you just lift it out of the tank.’

‘So what’s this one going to be making?’ asked Eddie.

Zec smiled sardonically. ‘Your wife’s hand. I will give you a memory card with her handprint tomorrow.’

Matt regarded the prototyper dubiously. ‘What’s its resolution? The ones I’ve used haven’t been accurate enough to copy fingerprints.’

Zec took a moment to remember the answer. ‘Sub-millimetre, whatever that means. It will be good enough.’

‘It’d better be,’ rumbled Eddie.

Matt had more technical questions. ‘What about the base medium - is it a photopolymer or a thermoplastic powder? How long will take to make the handprint?’

The mercenary frowned. ‘Ten minutes, and the liquid is in the bag - what it is does not matter!’ He faced Eddie. ‘All you need to know is that it will work. But once the handprint has been created, you must wait until it cools to the right heat before you use it.’ He opened the holdall and took out a digital thermometer. ‘The security scanner checks body temperature as well as handprints.’

Eddie kneaded his forehead. ‘Great, one more thing to worry about.’

Zec looked at the blueprint. ‘How is your plan coming?’

‘It’s getting there. But it’d be getting there faster if we could actually work on it. You’ve delivered your little toy, so fuck off and leave us to it.’

Unbothered by the insult, Zec headed for the hall. ‘You have until tomorrow night to bring me the Codex. I will be waiting.’

‘Yeah,’ Eddie said coldly. ‘So will I.’ He waited until Zec had departed, then locked the door.

Mac emerged from the study. ‘Bastard. I had a perfect shot at him the whole time, too - I would have put a bullet in his head if you’d given the word.’

‘Not just yet,’ said Eddie. ‘Can’t do anything to him until Nina’s safe.’

‘You know that he’s almost certainly been told to kill you the moment you hand over this book? And they probably intend to kill Nina too?’

Eddie smiled grimly. ‘Course I do. That’s where Plan B comes in.’