Vieux Carré Voodoo (28 page)

“No.” He bit his lip. “Because it was on a need-to-know
basis, and you didn’t need to know.”

“We’re listening.” This was Frank. I shot him a glance. That
muscle was twitching in his jaw, and a couple of veins were pulsing in his
forehead. This wasn’t a good sign.

“Okay.” Colin sat down on the couch. “I’m going to tell you
the whole story.” He started talking.

In the early 1960s, a British anthropologist named Valerie
Stratton had gone to Pleshiwar to study their unique culture for her doctoral
dissertation. At first, the Pleshiwarians were resistant to her, but her
knowledge of Kali and their religion—and her familiarity with their dialect—won
their begrudging respect. She was there for three years, studying. But when she
wrote her dissertation, a section about their sacred mountain triggered some
interest at MI6. She was recruited by them, and she returned to Pleshiwar with
two men—one an agent, the other a geologist. The three of them disappeared, but
not before the geologist had sent a cable back to the home office in London:
Sacred mountain suspicions correct
.

“The suspicion, of course, was that the sacred mountain was
a source of uranium,” Colin went on. “As you can imagine, that created quite a
stir among the Western nations. At that time, India had not become a nuclear
power—nor had China, and right here on their borders was a tiny country that had
a source of uranium. And no one was sure what had happened to Stratton and her
team.”

It was determined that control of Pleshiwar and its uranium
source was of vital interest to the Western nations. The United States, however,
was currently involved militarily in Vietnam; and any other Western venture into
south Asia was a card that could easily be played by the Communist powers. It
was determined that deniability was crucial.

“So, they came to Blackledge, and hired us,” Colin
continued. “We assembled a team. Five of our best young agents—one of them a
native Indian who spoke Pleshiwarian. We sent him into the country to prepare
the way. The other four—one a helicopter pilot, the other three trained
agents—were to wait for his signal. He infiltrated the cult of Kali and
determined that the current high priest was unfriendly to the Western powers. He
wasn’t exactly friendly to the Communists, but the American presence in Vietnam
wasn’t viewed with favor. The undercover agent determined that the best way to
bring about a regime change in Pleshiwar was to steal Kali’s Eye. Our undercover
operative inside the country would spread the word that the Eye was stolen
because Kali was displeased with Her high priest.”

“That’s disgusting,” I replied.

Colin shrugged. The three agents—Larry Moon, Marty Gretsch,
and Matt Hooper—went to Saigon to wait for the operative moment. When the
whispering campaign against the high priest had reached critical mass, they got
the signal to move. The undercover priest drugged the temple guards, the three
agents went in, stole the Eye, and got out. Once the alarm about the Eye went
out, there was a bloody uprising that resulted in the priest being killed, and
his replacement was someone more friendly to the West. But unfortunately,
something went wrong. We weren’t the only ones with agents operating in the
country. When Matt Hooper was murdered in Saigon—and the helicopter pilot
disappeared, we pulled Larry and Marty out and hid them inside the United
States. We gave them new identities.”

“What I don’t understand,” I interrupted, “is why you let
them
keep the Eye. Why wasn’t it put in a bank vault somewhere? I mean, seriously,
Colin. Blackledge certainly took a risk there.”

He shook his head. “I don’t make those decisions, nor do my
superiors tell me why they do things the way they do, Scotty.”

“It does seem kind of stupid,” Frank said. “In fact, this
whole thing sounds like a goddamned fairy tale.”

“I know, I know,” Colin replied. “When I was briefed on this
whole thing, I said the same things. Need to know, and I didn’t need to know.”
He took a deep breath. “Anyway, there’s a new movement in Pleshiwar, to try to
unseat the high priest who is friendly to the West and replace him with one who
isn’t. What better way to do so than to find the Eye? This is why we needed to
retrieve it, to return it and show that Kali favors the current leadership. The
Pleshiwarians here now, they are the enemy. They tracked down Marty Gretsch and
Ben Garrett, and killed them both. The Wolf was also working for them.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” I replied. “They took the Eye
from us, and it’s probably already on its way back to Pleshiwar now.”

Before Colin could respond, my cell phone beeped. I picked
it up and flipped it open. I had a new text message. I clicked it open and my
eyes widened in horror.

A picture of my parents, bound and gagged, filled the
window.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Meet me in the coffee shop downstairs, alone,” an accented
voice said. “Or your parents die.”

TEN OF SWORDS, REVERSED

Overthrow of evil forces

The phone dropped out of my hand.

“Scotty?”

I didn’t know which one of them said it, and didn’t really
care.

I got up and tossed my phone at Colin. “Thanks for keeping
an eye on my parents,” I snarled and ran down the hall to my bedroom. I tossed
the towel into the bathroom. I didn’t bother with underwear, pulling on a pair
of discarded jeans from the floor. I was pulling my Saints sweatshirt over my
head when I heard Frank say, “Scotty, what are you doing?”

I sat down on my bed and pulled on my sneakers. “Whoever has
my parents is waiting for me in the coffee shop downstairs.” I tied the laces,
but my hands were shaking so hard I messed up and had to start over.

“I’m coming with you.”

“He said to come alone,” I replied, finally getting the
laces tied. “It’s a public place, so I guess I’ll be okay.”

“What does he want?”

“I guess he’ll tell me when I get down there.” I got off the
bed, but Frank was blocking the doorway. “Get out of my way.”

“Scotty, think,” Frank pleaded. “You can’t go down there
without backup.”

“Get out of my way, Frank,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll go
through you if I have to.”

Frank bit his lip and moved. I ran out the back door and
took the stairs at a breakneck speed. There was a back door to the coffee shop
underneath the stairs, and I unlocked it with my key. I stepped inside and
walked past the bathrooms, the office, and the storeroom. The coffee shop was
empty, other than the girl working behind the counter and a man sitting in a
booth with his back to me. Obviously, he was expecting me to come in from the
front. I wished I’d brought a gun with me.

I don’t know what it says about me, but I wanted to put a
bullet through his head.

Since I was unarmed, I walked up behind him and said, “You
wanted to see me?”

He didn’t jump. Instead, he swiveled his head and looked up
at me. “Have a seat, Mr. Bradley.” He gestured to the other side. “Or would you
prefer a drink first?”

“I’m not thirsty,” I said, sliding into the booth across
from him.

He was tall and thin, with dark skin and hair. His brown
eyes were narrow, and in the center of his forehead was a small tattoo of a
third eye—a blue eye. He was wearing a three-piece brown suit. The jacket was
open, but the vest underneath was buttoned. He was wearing a white button-down
shirt with a red tie. His hands were long and spidery, free of jewelry. His
nails were long and manicured. His lips were narrow and thin. He held his right
hand across the table to me. “I am Rajneesh Abhwesar,” he said, pulling the thin
lips back into a smile, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “It is a pleasure to
finally make your acquaintance.”

I didn’t offer my hand, keeping them both flat on the table.
It was all I could do to not grab him by the throat and choke him. “I wish I
could say the same,” I replied after a short silence.

He didn’t stop smiling, but put his hand down. “So it is
going to be like that, is it? I was hoping we could negotiate like gentlemen.”

“Gentlemen?” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not exactly
gentlemanly
to hold my parents as hostages.”

He closed his eyes and inclined his head. “Touché.”

“If anything happens to my parents, I will hunt you down
like a dog,” I said pleasantly. “There’s no place on this planet you’ll be able
to go where I won’t find you.”

“Tut, tut, there’s no need for that.” He held up his hand.
“I understand your distress, of course. I assure you your parents are quite
well, and in good health. Nothing will happen to them. I will take very good
care of them.” He smiled. “Your mother is quite spirited, I must say.”

“You’re lucky she’s tied up,” I replied evenly. “And your
men better hope she doesn’t get loose—she’ll make them sorry they were born.
What do you want?”

“I need your assistance,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
“Just a few hours ago, you discovered this in the cemetery.” He held out
something wrapped in a handkerchief to me. I took it from him. “My men took it
from you. Go ahead, unwrap it.”

I carefully unfolded the handkerchief and found myself
looking at a beautiful blue stone in the shape of an eye. There was a fault in
the center that looked like a retina. I stared at it. “I don’t understand.”

“It was inside the small box you found,” he went on. “It
looks like Kali’s Eye, does it not?” He reached over and picked it up. He held
it up to the light for a moment, and then set it down on the table. He pulled
out a small pocketknife, flicked it open, and then ran it over the surface of
the stone, leaving a deep groove.

“What are you doing?” I stared at him.

“Sapphires are hard stones, Mr. Bradley.” His smile faded.
“A knife cannot cut a sapphire. Sapphires are as hard as diamonds. This stone is
a fake. A very good one—its resemblance to the real thing is extraordinary—but
it is a fake.” He closed the pocketknife and slid it back into his pocket. “The
real stone is hidden somewhere else.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and
removed a folded piece of paper, which he slid across the table to me. “This was
also inside the box.”

I opened it. It was in the same handwriting as the riddle.

To whom it may concern:

You have made it this far, but your quest still has
another step before you find what you truly desire. The stone in this box is but
a clever reproduction; it is not the holy stone that you seek. Consider this a
reward for a job well done.

But where is the real Eye, you are asking yourself.
Where, indeed, could it be? It was taken for a reason. It was not stolen to be
sold, or given as a gift. It was not stolen for power, it was not stolen for
riches. Rather, it was stolen in order that a people might be able to be free.

Freedom is something to be fought for, to spill blood
for. It is not something to be held in your hands, but something intangible to
always strive for. It is a state of mind, but even should the shackles be taken
away, it is not a guarantee that other shackles will not take their place.

The Eye should not be returned until there is more than
a promise of freedom. Promises can be empty words spoken.

The Eye will not return to Pleshiwar until the shackles
are gone for good.

Slowly, I looked up at him. “What does this mean?”

He shook his head. “It makes no sense to me.” He waved his
hand. “You knew this man. You know how his mind worked. Solve this, and return
the Eye to me, and I will let your parents go, unharmed.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“I swear to you on the sacred Eye of Kali.”

“Not good enough.”

His smile faded a bit. “You have no reason to trust me, and
you are wise not to trust a stranger. The Mother was right when She sent me to
you.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the back of the booth. “There
are those in Pleshiwar who would kill you rather than try to bargain with you.”
He waved his hand again.

“Like the assassins you sent to the cemetery?”

“They were not ordered to kill you.” His eyes flashed
angrily. “But as I said, there are Pleshiwarians who look at you and see
unbelievers who defile Kali. Their instructions were to simply liberate the Eye
from you and to leave you alive. The Great Mother can be bloodthirsty, but too
much blood has been shed already in Her name. Their deaths were regrettable, but
their companions knew what to do when they started shooting at you.”

“I don’t understand.” I looked at him. “Are you saying—”

“The two fools who disobeyed orders and shot at you were
exterminated by the others, who know better than to disobey me.”

If that’s true, Venus is going to swear a blue streak
when the ballistics reports come back,
I thought.

He went on. “I regret the inconvenience of having to take
possession of your parents, but I—and the Pleshiwarians like me—have had enough
of killing.” His lip curled. “We do not wish to move our back into medieval
times as those in power believe. We no longer see the Great Mother as a creature
of darkness who swims in rivers of blood and demands death. There are those who
think that any of the modern changes that have been brought to our country since
the Eye was taken are abominations, that our country must be returned to what it
has been for centuries—backward, isolated, and superstitious. But the modern
innovations—could they not be seen as gifts from the Great Mother, to ease our
lives and make them more comfortable? But I, and those who follow me, do not
believe that the Great Mother should be ignored, treated as a relic of our
superstitious past.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “With the Eye’s
return, the veneration of the Great Mother can begin again. There is room for
the modern world and for Kali both in our nation.”