“There's this guy, name of Jason Miller. He used to work for us. Now he's freelance. He's after the same thing we are. They say he was behind that rocket attack in Syria. He may have been the one to arrange our escape in Kamdesh.”
“Jesus. So he's been onto us from the start. Who is he working for?”
“Aubrey says they don't know, only that we have to make sure he doesn't succeed. Not knowing is worse than knowing in this business.”
“Okay. So what's the plan?”
“We know Miller has been as far as Ladakh. We intercepted some email messages sent by one of his contacts and that got us on the right trail. Miller's pretty cautious when it comes to leaving a trail—he has an operational background—but some of his network is composed of contract hires and they're not always professional. Anyway, there's an observatory on a mountaintop that's run by the Indian government, and we have reason to believe he was there. Some astronomers reported that someone who said they were from our government visited the site about eight hours ago. No one from our side went there, and the visitor matches the physical description of Miller.”
“How does an observatory have anything to do with us?”
“I'll get to that in a minute. I don't know much, only what they tell me. And they told me he is heading to Khembalung. It's in the Himalayas, some distance from Kathmandu.”
“What's that all about?”
“Beats the shit outta me. All I know is that Miller is headed there as well as some other people Aubrey has been keeping an eye on. A real convention of book lovers, I guess.”
“Okay. Let me get this straight. An observatory in India, and Khembalung in Nepal. This is all a far cry from some Arab cultists in Iraq.” Angell sipped some of his coffee, made a face, and added more sugar. “We are all way out of our depth here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know I'm a scholar of religion, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, that's one of the reasons I'm here, right?”
“Okay.” Adnan didn't know where this was going.
“You tell me Khembalung, and to most people that's just a bunch of sounds strung together. But it has some significance. And what you're telling me is making me nervous, as if I wasn't freaked out to begin with.”
Angell swallowed a long draught of the coffee, and put his cup down. They were still all alone in the mess hall.
Adnan was silent, just watching him.
Finally, Angell started to explain the reason why he thought they were going to Khembalung, a place Adnan had never heard of before that day.
“Khembalung is one of seven beyul. A beyul is a ‘hidden country.’ You've heard of Shangri-la, right?”
“Sure. A mysterious kingdom in the Himalayas. No one knows where it is.”
“Right. They made a movie about it. Lost Horizon. Anyway, there are seven of those places, according to Tibetan tradition. Except we know where Khembalung is. It's not invisible. You can get there. But it's tricky. It's a cave complex beneath the Himalayas. And it's sacred to the Tibetan Buddhists.”
“So, then, that's cool, right? It's all Dalai Lama stuff. No guns. No terror plots.”
“Yes, and no. There are different kinds of Tibetan Buddhists. Some, like the Dalai Lama and his crowd, are pretty much how we think of them. All sweetness and light. Except for some really strange rituals associated with Tantra, it's Buddhism. But there are two other main groups, the Red Hats and the Black Hats.”
“Uh oh.”
“Well, the Red Hats are more esoteric than the Dalai Lama's Yellow Hat sect. And the Black Hats are closer to the indigenous religion of Tibet, the one from before Buddhism came to the region. More shamanistic, you might say. And then there is the real Bön tradition, which is whatever the Tibetans were before Buddhism. Now all of these groups have some practices that would be considered a little weird by many people, such as using skeletal remains as sacred instruments. Cups made of human skulls, drums made of human skulls, leg bones used for trumpets, and the like.”
“You're shitting me.”
“I shit you not. This is pretty much SOP among the Tibetan Buddhists. And they also have a strong shamanic tradition. The State Oracle of Tibet is a guy who becomes possessed by a god and who utters prophecies in a strange language. It's an official position, to this day. And he works for the Dalai Lama. Imagine the shamans who work with some of the other sects.”
Adnan sat back in his chair and just shook his head.
“I thought my people, the Ahl-e-Haqq, were strange. But this takes the cake.”
“What worries me is the fact that with Khembalung, there is even a more apocalyptic tone to this whole mission; putting a beyul into the mix only emphasizes that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shangri-la, right? It's called Shambhala in the Tibetan texts and according to Tibetan tradition the Kalki Avatar—a kind of warrior god—will come riding out of Shambhala at the Last Battle, destroying the unbelievers with fire and sword. It's the Tibetan version of the Apocalypse. Shambhala is a ‘hidden country,’ a beyul. I think these guys—maybe this Miller, or the other ones we've been following all over the place—are going to Khembalung to awaken this force, by whatever name you want to call it.”
“You don't really believe all this stuff, do you?”
“No. I don't believe a word of it. But they do. I don't believe in this secret Book or anything connected with it. But they do. So not believing in it is a luxury we can't afford right now. A consolidation of the worst elements of all the world's religions in one spot could have disastrous consequences. The kind of thing our Aubrey is most worried about. This sacred site, Khembalung, conjoined with the secret Book, along with a few dozen psychotic cult leaders ... there's only one thing missing.”
“What's that?”
“A schedule. This stuff usually needs a sacred calendar of some sort. The Muslims have their own calendar, the Buddhists theirs, the other cults all have different systems for measuring time. What schedule would they all agree upon?”
Adnan swallowed heavily and took a deep breath before responding.
“Well, see, I just might have the answer to that one.”
“According to the astronomers at Ladakh, Miller—or the guy we think is Miller—was asking them about supernovas. In particular, one that exploded in the year 1006 and then another that exploded in 2011. He seemed very interested in them and kept mumbling something about the word Therion and Lupus and the Bear. He thought there was some kind of connection between the supernovas and other events or effects on Earth.
“This might be your schedule, right?”
“You said Therion, Lupus ...?”
“Yeah, because the astronomers told him that the first one he asked about, the one in 1006, took place in the constellation that used to be known as Therion but which is known today as Lupus. I have it right here.” He took a tablet from his backpack and turned it so that Angell could see the screen. It was the data transmission from Aubrey.
Angell studied the contents quickly but carefully. It was as if the file was written specifically for him.
“It came in while you were ... resting,” Adnan added. “Aubrey mentioned it to you, I think.”
“Right, I remember. This is ... interesting. If your guy Miller has any kind of background in this stuff at all he would have been bouncing off walls when he saw this.”
“Can you explain? Because, man, I am totally at sea here ...”
“It's like this. It's all symbol systems and icons and mysteries within mysteries. It's a kind of language all its own. Therion is the Greek word for ‘Beast.’ Any kind of animal, really, but it has resonance for some modern cultists because one of their heroes, a man called Aleister Crowley, called himself ‘The Great Beast’ or in Greek To Mega Therion. It's from the Bible, the Apocalypse: the Book of Revelation. Now the Beast in the Apocalypse is depicted being ridden by a woman, the Whore of Babylon. Now, I was just in Babylon—or what's l
eft of it—a few days ago, back in Iraq. Babylon was the center of a religious system that was based on the earlier, Sumerian, one.”
“You're making me dizzy.”
“It's like this. What Miller saw at the observatory was confirmation of a number of things that he probably suspected all along. The connection between that supernova—when did it take place?”
“Uh ... in 1006.”
“That's CE, right?”
“Pardon?”
“AD. Same thing.”
“Right. 1006 AD.”
Angell thought for a moment.
“Yeah. That fits. It's the same year that one of the greatest Indian civilizations was wiped out. In fact, look at this,” he pointed to a field on the tablet. “You see that date? It's incredible, really. But there it is. April 30, 1006. That was the date the supernova was seen. It's also the date Mount Merapi exploded on the island of Java. The two explosions happened simultaneously. One in the heavens, and one on Earth. The one on Earth destroyed an Indian, Tantric civilization and buried Borobudur beneath a mountain of volcanic ash. It stayed that way for almost another thousand years.”
“Okay, that's pretty interesting, but ...”
“April 30 is a day that is sacred to European paganism. It's called Beltane. But in some parts of Europe it's known as Walpurgisnacht. It's the day the witches gather for a major sabbat on top of Mount Brocken. It's like Halloween for us. Oh, Christ ...” Angell's voice trailed off, as it often did when he was on a mental journey, connecting dots in a puzzle that was practically invisible to form an image that most sane people would reject.
“The other constellation ...”
“Lupus?”
“No, that's just another name for Therion. The last one, the Great Bear?”
“Right.”
“The Great Bear has tremendous significance throughout the world. It was often referred to as The Chariot. The Arabs referred to it as a Bier or a Coffin. To the ancient Egyptians, it was the Thigh of Set. In any case, it's a symbol of immortality, of journeying to the stars to achieve eternal life. It's also a symbol of rebirth, resuscitation, the reanimation of dead matter. As in mummifying the Pharaoh.”
“Okay, but where does that take us?”
“The Great Bear points to the Pole Star. The stars of the Big Dipper, part of the Bear constellation, can be used to find True North. Sailors and navigators used it in ancient times and still use it that way. But it has another purpose, too.
“It's also a clock. A cosmic clock. It can be used to tell time. In other words, it can be used to create a schedule.”
“When was the next supernova Miller asked about?”
“Uh ... here. SN 2011 Fe. That was in August of 2011. Why?”
“What constellation did it appear in?”
“Oh. Uh ... ha. It appeared in the Big Dipper. The Great Bear. That one.”
“What happened in August of 2011?”
Adnan shook his head and flipped through the tablet's pages, looking for data.
“There would have to be a connection somehow. Something Miller was looking for.”
“Oh, shit. Here it is. You're not gonna believe this.”
“What?”
“It's when they shot down our helicopter in Nuristan. Same place we were just ... That was with SEAL Team Six aboard. It was the heaviest day of casualties for American servicemen in Afghanistan to that point.”
“SEAL Team Six? Wasn't that ...”
“Yeah. It was. It was the same unit that got bin Laden.”
“What was the official name of the operation?”
“Neptune Spear.”
“That's spooky just by itself. Neptune's Spear caused hurricanes and earthquakes, according to Roman mythology.” Angell was thinking of Neptune, God of the Sea, and the strange drawings he had seen, in Mosul and then at the Towers of Silence. Sea monsters. Dagon.
“And the raid took place earlier that same year.”
“Bin Laden was killed on May 2.”
“Close enough to April 30.”
“Close enough for government work.”
Both men were silent, afraid to give voice to their thoughts. Were they seeing things? Ghosts in the data? A Ghost in the Machine?
It was Adnan who broke the silence.
“Wasn't April 30 the day Hitler committed suicide?”
Angell nodded.
“And sixty-six years later SEAL Team Six kills bin Laden. On almost the same day.”
“Sixty-six and six. The number of the Great Beast. Therion.”
“Both bin Laden and Hitler were anti-Semites.”
“And no one's seen the corpse of either one.”
“April 30, 1975 was the day Saigon fell to the Communists.”
“But April 30 has already passed. We're in May now.”
“And Bin Laden was killed in May. The calendar has shifted. They're using the Big Dipper as a kind of clock or pointer for their rituals. Maybe something to do with the precession of equinoxes or something.”
“What?”
“I don't know. I'm not an astronomer. But I bet Miller heard something that made him realize the right time is approaching. And along with the right time you need the right place.”
“And the right Book.”
“We've got to get to Khembalung, and we've got to go now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Tulku
The shaman stands out by the fact that he has succeeded in integrating into consciousness a considerable number of experiences that, for the profane world, are reserved for dreams, madness, or post-mortem states.
—Mircea Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation
Permission was granted by the Nepalese government to have a US helicopter fly into their airspace. The excuse given had something to do with a meteorological survey in the mountains.
Adnan, Angell and six of their new best friends were onboard and would be inserted as close to the cave entrance of Khembalung as possible using a helo in the Himalayas. They had pretty good coordinates based on an expedition that took place there a decade earlier, and a set of photos of the entrance to make it easier to locate. Everyone was heavily armed and wearing Kevlar body armor. They would do a flyover first in order to see if there was a welcoming committee. If there was, orders were to drop Angell and two men off at a suitable LZ while the others would go on ahead to neutralize any opposition.
They got as close as they could get in the MI 17, which was a very versatile craft in that part of the world. Made by the Russians, it seemed everyone had one. The Pakistanis, the Afghans, the Indians all had MI 17s and had more on order. Although the Americans favored their own Black Hawks and Chinooks, the sheer prevalence of the MI 17 in the region made it imperative that US helo pilots were checked out on them as well.
It also enabled this particular team to travel relatively incognito. A fully-armed Black Hawk with all the trimmings would have been much more conspicuous.
They found a relatively flat space that was not crowded out by tree branches or low hanging rock. It was still at least two miles to the Khembalung entrance as the crow flies, probably twice as long considering the route they would have to take. The helo crew reported no sign of human life in the immediate vicinity; infra-red and thermal all came up negative as well. At least, outside the mountain. Inside, they were on their own.
Angell was getting tired of commuting in helicopters. But he was tired of commuting in jingle trucks and Japanese pickups, too. He got a change of clothes at Shahbaz before they left, and a shower and shave for the first time in days for which he was eternally grateful. There was no longer any need to have him pass for a local. He was in the company of well-trained, well-armed men of his own country's military. They were JSOC, and this fact alone made Angell relax. Had he thought about it, though, he would have realized that the White House didn't send JSOC teams on routine missions.
He was dressed warmly, in a fur-lined parka and hat with ear flaps. This was over body armor t
hat covered him from the neck to the groin. He was already too warm, but was grateful for the added protection. It would get cold soon enough, once the sun went down which was in about an hour.
The team trudged up the mountain and along a small stream. The sound of the running water was like bells tinkling. It was a peaceful scene, but the JSOC men were on their guard. Adnan was up front with the team leader, and Angell was in the middle of the file. The countryside was shrouded in a fine grey mist that seemed to come from nowhere, and which reminded Angell of the weird fog that appeared suddenly at Tell Ibrahim during the ritual to Kutulu. They were walking along the west side of a river called Chhoyang. It was a popular trail for trekkers and tourists from abroad; it was also used extensively by local villagers, none of whom had become visible as yet.
Their intel had told them to avoid the main cave entrance as it was a destination for tourists and pilgrims and did not lead to the deepest part of the interior where, it was believed, Miller and a group of unknown individuals called the Keepers of the Book were headed. Angell and his team had the benefit of military transport and official approval for their mission; it was entirely possible, even likely, that they had beat Miller to the site and could set up and wait for him to appear. As for the mysterious Keepers of the Book, no one knew when they arrived or if they would arrive at all.
A digital map on a small tablet attached with Velcro to the team leader's arm revealed another point of access that was downriver from the more popular one, and hidden by a stand of trees. Above them at twenty thousand feet was another UAV, a drone, that was tracking their every move as well as transmitting valuable data on weather, physical obstacles, movements of people and vehicles, etc. In addition, video was being uploaded from cameras attached to the body armor of the JSOC men. The whole thing made Angell feel as if he was a character in a video game.
As they walked, he thought back to the man shot to death by a single bullet fired from the rifle of an Indian sniper. He was a local Pakistani villager, a man who probably never went further than a few miles from his home in his life. Yet, he spoke to Angell in his father's voice. In English. And told him to go back. He couldn't get his head around that. His father had been dead for years. Cirrhosis of the liver was the official cause, but it was really a slow suicide. Angell didn't like to think about any of that. There was no point, really. He never knew his father, not in any kind of normal father-son relationship. He didn't feel he had missed anything when his father died. Yet, here he was, hearing his father's voice warning him out of the mouth of a man on the other side of the world. One day he would have to figure out what that meant. Obviously, it hadn't really happened that way. He must have imagined it.
The Lovecraft Code Page 37