Goddesses Never Die

by George B Mair

  Grant saw the muscles in Harmony’s cheeks relax a shade. ‘Then how about the new faith, Sam? Sing a little more and you might even live.’

  ‘Live!’

  ‘Live,’ said Harmony bluntly. ‘Or at least until tomorrow. And maybe a lot could happen before tomorrow! Just sing about the new faith. Were you to contact the Living Goddess? Was that the racket which was to be fixed up between you and your contact?’

  Coia stared at her unbelievingly. After all that happened he believed that the best thing he could win would be a swift death.

  ‘Truth could buy time,’ said Harmony slowly. ‘And there’s lots of ways of dying as well as lots o’ ways of living. Think it over, Sam.’

  The man drew a deep breath. ‘Then take these goddam things out my eyes.’

  The girl nodded. ‘Okay.’ And when she turned to Charlie her voice was very soft. ‘See to it, boy.’

  Coia blinked as the second splint was eased out and then a sob wrecked his body. ‘For crissake get me outa this cold water.’

  Harmony looked at him with a speculative glint in her eyes which Grant again graded as the behaviour pattern of a highly trained professional, and he listened with increasing interest as she set about building up the man’s hopes. ‘A few more small points, Sammy boy, and then Charlie’ll give you a rub down. Bed should feel good after this. And Charlie’s got a first-aid box in David Grant’s room. Between the two of them they should fix you up real well. But first just fill in a few blanks. Does the contact you’ve to meet at the Park know you by sight? Or was he to ask for you by name?’

  Coia shivered with reaction. ‘By name.’

  ‘And has he ever seen your photograph?’

  The man shook his head. ‘But I was to flash my passport.’

  Harmony was thoughtful. ‘Then he was to take you to the Living Goddess. Right?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And you were to do a deal: fix a price for LSD and pot: arrange for her to collect supplies and get her people to ferry it to a landing strip?’

  The man nodded. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Then you were to go back to the States and arrange the delivery end?’

  Coia looked at her with a glint of his old defiance. ‘You know too much.’

  Harmony’s voice hardened. ‘Right or wrong?’

  The man hesitated, ‘Right.’

  Harmony patted him gently on the shoulder. ‘One last thing. Who is your boss man back home?’

  Coia’s lips suddenly tightened and Harmony lifted the nail file. ‘Give, Sam. Boss man back home?’

  He looked at her desperately. ‘A guy called Marcio in 51st Street. Got the number in my wallet.’

  Harmony glanced at Grant. ‘Tired, David?’

  He shook his head, surprised by the change in tone of her voice.

  ‘Your arm must be stiff,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll get rid of this thing.’

  He handed over the gun almost automatically as she stretched out her hand. And then she turned to Coia. ‘No wonder you never got further than small-time stuff, Sam. Imagine falling for that line of guff! You know, and I know, that there can be only one end for you. But thanks for talking just the same. And I’m just doing what you would have done in my place. See you!’

  The man stared at her with blatant disbelief, and then his face twisted with fear and blank surprise as she pulled the trigger. The shots ripped his chest and he slumped into the bath while Harmony Dove tucked the sub-machine-gun under her arm and nodded briefly to Charlie. ‘Mr. Lu said get rid of him. And fix the place up.’ She glanced curiously at Grant. ‘You take everything pretty cool, David. But now we’ll move. Lu’s got something to tell us.’

  Grant looked at her with reluctant respect. It was the most cold-blooded killing he had ever seen. But he could understand how she ticked. ‘After you, Harmony,’ he said quietly. ‘Though after this anything that Lu has to say can only be small-time stuff. You rate tops in ruthless, unscrupulous grilling, not to mention your happy knack with guns.’

  She looked at Coia with impersonal disinterest. ‘He was a bad man, David. Tell you more later. But right now it’s time to move.’

  Chapter Four – ‘Honeymoon without the honey’

  Grant followed her along a corridor, through the entrance hall and across a dusty courtyard towards a lane which separated the house from a rambling white mansion set in formal gardens glowing with flowers. The bearer had lain silent while they passed his house—a tiny hut which was part home and part ‘look-out’—and Grant guessed that the organising hand of Lu controlled more than he expected.

  Harmony was unusually silent, but she made no attempt to conceal her gun, and its metal glinted like silver in the moonlight. The gardens were being watered with an automatic hose and the grounds reeked of money. ‘Lu’s place?’ asked Grant softly.

  The girl beside him turned her head. ‘Sure. Nice set-up. And better inside, but I could use some chow, so let’s hope he remembered to fix the curry.’

  They walked up five steps and the door opened as they approached. Lu was smiling affably. though his eyes were guarded as he held out a welcoming hand. ‘Sooner than I expected, Dr. Grant, but come in and be welcome.’

  He ushered them towards a large cool sitting room spread with Tibetan rugs, and Grant noted that window shutters had been firmly closed, that heavy curtains had been drawn in front of them and that each chair was set so low that a man would have difficulty in rising quickly out of any of them. The door was of thick teak, and as it closed softly behind him Grant also suspected that the place was as near soundproof as ingenuity could make it.

  Lu poured some thin Chinese tea and drew up a low tiled table beside each of three chairs before he spoke. ‘I heard two bursts, Miss Dove. What were they?’

  The girl flushed slightly. ‘I was showing David how to shoot a cockroach through the left eye. Just a gag.’

  ‘And the second?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘As planned. Sam sang and Charlie’s clearing up the mess.’

  Lu nodded towards Grant. ‘Was the doctor disturbed?’

  ‘Didn’t twitch,’ said Harmony. ‘He’s even more off-beat than we thought. Rumour, for once, has been fairly accurate.’

  ‘Rumour about what?’ said Grant quietly.

  Lu lifted a hand and gently stroked his chin. ‘After your meeting in London Miss Dove got interested in your background, Doctor. Her people managed to pick up a few facts and they sounded interesting. Quite flattering, in fact. So we decided to use you.’

  ‘You knew I was coming here?’

  ‘Of course.’ Harmony sounded surprised. ‘You booked openly and a gossip flash said you were off for a vacation in Nepal.’

  ‘So what have you in mind?’ Grant was genuinely surprised.

  A glance flashed between Lu and Harmony Dove as the man took up the conversation. ‘You seem to be a sort of super strong man for some kind of international spy ring and I suspect that it ties up with N.A.T.O., though that doesn’t greatly matter right now. The main thing is that you’re a specialist in the unconventional. And so,’ he added quietly, ‘are we.’

  Grant smiled slightly. It was the understatement of the year. ‘May I ask for whom you work?’

  Lu nodded without surprise. ‘Miss Dove and I work for an agency in Amer-Asia which is trying to improve international stability.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘David.’ Harmony was using her parade-ground voice. ‘You talk while I eat. Then we can see where it all gets us. But we should all show at least some of our cards if we’re going to generate any sort of mutual trust at all. Okay?’

  Grant slowly selected a cigarette, fitted it into an aquafilter holder and flashed his Ronson gas lighter. The flame burned steady as a rock, and he noted subconsciously that there wasn’t even a hint of air movement. The place was draughtproof and he calculated that he had nothing to lose by saying a good deal. At least several hundred people in a dozen or more countries must know his dossier bac
kwards: SATAN’s surviving members knew of his work in detail: several top people in China knew most of his secrets, while Russia’s politbureau chiefs and other Soviet officials almost certainly kept his file up to date.

  His own organisation was also virtually world wide, and his name at least must be familiar to so many members that secrecy had really become a thing of the past. ‘I work for a branch of N.A.T.O.,’ he said at last. ‘They’ve given me a grade which allows me, when necessary, to kill or operate outside the law, and I daresay they rate me as an expert in both espionage and counter-espionage. My H.Q. is in Western Europe, but work can take me anywhere. I was chiefly responsible for breaking up SATAN, of whom you must have heard if you’re as professional as you suggest, and later I smashed several survivors.[4] France has made me a Chevalier of the Legion d’Honneur and I’ve got flats in both Paris and London.’

  Lu stared at him with mild respect. ‘You also know when to talk. But you don’t mention personal things. Or am I being impertinent?’

  ‘Not under the circumstances,’ said Grant. ‘I’m not married but I’m fortunate enough to have two very entertaining girl friends: one is Maya Koren, the ballerina, whose name you must know, though I doubt if you have heard of the other who calls herself a fifty-seven variety multi-caste and answers to either Christine de Courcelle or Krystelle. She works in Paris with her brother, and in her own way is an expert as any of us in the room.’

  ‘Her speciality?’ Harmony sounded vaguely interested.

  ‘Voodoo and white magic.’

  ‘And where is she now?’ This time Harmony seemed rather more interested.

  Grant shook his head. ‘Somewhere in South America, but she left no address, though I could contact her through her brother if I wanted her badly enough.’

  ‘And one last point, Doctor.’ Lu was now mildly apologetic. ‘Gentlemen like ourselves don’t usually talk money, but how are you fixed?’

  ‘Not rolling, but independent and comfortable.’

  ‘So you work for kicks.’ Harmony stated it as a fact rather than as a question.

  Grant hesitated. He had never thought much about it. His salary was highish and his expense account had no ceiling so long as he was under orders, but it was a comfortable feeling to know that his patrimony was being carefully expanded by shrewd stockbrokers during a period of inflation. ‘I wasn’t all that well off when I joined the department,’ he said at last, ‘but I inherited quite a bit when my parents died.’

  ‘And you didn’t retire. So since then you must have been in it for kicks.’

  Grant smiled thinly towards the girl who was now cleaning her curry bowl. ‘Maybe,’ he said at last. ‘But honestly I’ve never given it a thought.’

  Lu poured more tea. ‘And it isn’t really important. But men can be bought if they are poor, and they can be bought if their sex life isn’t normal. Money and women are two familiar weaknesses and we were just checking up. So now, I imagine, you want us to put you into our picture.’

  Grant blew a thin line of smoke. ‘Without prejudice, yes. But don’t forget that I’m on leave.’

  ‘Then maybe another time, Doctor,’ said Lu quietly. ‘Because I feel that what we have to say might interest you. Shall I continue?’

  ‘Do,’ said Grant softly. ‘Please do.’

  Harmony carefully dabbed her lips, put down an empty tray and interrupted. ‘My turn, Lu.’

  The man nodded and seemed, somehow, to fade into the background as Harmony took over. ‘That stuff you heard back there was all true. But I had to wait for over a year before I struck oil and met the hippie girl who talked. And sure it was luck that she had had a mafiosa boy friend, and even better luck that he had turned to dope. But these two little bits of luck came only after nearly two years of hard labour. That prince I was engaged to was up to the neck in the Mafia, though I never proved for sure whether he was capo[5] or consigliere.[6] But I became engaged to him only for what I could get out of it professionally. My people knew him to be Mafia, so after the engagement it was up to me to see how he ticked. And it was through him that I discovered how both Capo Nostra and Mafia were looking for fresh fields. Hippies have a fantastic appetite for dope. But mostly they don’t have enough money to make the Mafia interested. They do, however, have potential, because thousands of other people have dabbled with dope simply after getting hooked at a hippie party. So Mafia technique boiled down to supplying hippies at prices they could afford, keeping tabs on phoney hippies with cash but doing it for kicks, and then blackmailing them into buying at what the Mafia felt to be economic rates.’

  She paused and sipped a fresh cup of tea. ‘All of which is pretty routine. But then religion took its bow. Hippies detest orthodox Christianity, whether Catholic or Protestant, since they find it impossible to make sense out of a faith which allows its followers to make war on one another. But religions of the Orient do make sense. A lot of sense to them. Most cults, of course, use incense. And incense can be a kind of dope. Some Oriental religious music is also pretty close to Beatle stuff, so hippies got dead interested to see the magical Orient at close quarters. Which was how their pilgrimages to Benares and the like began. Then they got high on the glamour, colour and mystery of the so-called romantic East, and especially they got hooked on Hindu or Hindu Buddhist temples with all their invitations to free love and kinda legitimised perversions. Elefanta ‘sent’ a lot of them, while others preferred Nepal. Still more found Benares the bestest. But in each case it was because some religious cult or other promoted free love, erotic art and fixes with one kind of drug or another. And at that point the Mafia stepped in.

  ‘Because if the Mafia could lay on a religion which offered everything the hippies or flower people wanted, and if it could attract enough “straight” youngish people who were browned off with a sick society, then they could promote their own interests and cash in big. All clear, David?’ She had been studying his every reaction and saw that he was now taut with interest.

  He nodded briefly. ‘Makes sense.’

  She changed the subject slightly. ‘You know the Temple of Kumari Devi with its living goddess? You passed it tonight.’

  Grant raised his eyebrows politely. ‘You were keeping tabs?’

  She smiled. ‘It pays to keep tabs, David. And we wondered why you asked the trishaw man to take you past it. Care to tell us?’

  ‘Nothing to tell,’ said Grant slowly. ‘Narain mentioned it and the idea of seeing a living goddess interested me. I just wanted to pin-point the place and return at leisure.’

  Harmony looked towards Lu. ‘Exactly what I told you. So why are you always suspicious? Anyhow, David, you wouldn’t see her. But maybe another time. She is chosen at five and stays in the temple until she’s sixteen, when she’s replaced by another five-year-old, and vanishes into history. The present one is fifteen and with a year to run, but she’s a charmer, with a delightful figure and real personality. Though her eyes are her strong point. Deep brown and kinda wise somehow. Then she dresses well, smiles a lot and enjoys being stared at by visitors who can stand beneath her balcony and gape. But she’s only got one more year to run, and then, as I said, she passes into history.’

  ‘Meaning?’ asked Grant.

  Harmony became suddenly serious. ‘What can one do with a living goddess? She can’t be let loose to marry, or something, so I can’t tell you, because I don’t know for sure. But I can tell you something which really does matter. Long time ago one goddess decided to play things her way and set up an establishment just out of Nepal, across the border in a valley which some say is Tibet and others say is India. She finally rated as just another religious nut, but the Mafia heard about her and figured a way to use her.

  ‘It took time to establish contact, but the Mafia can be persistent and it didn’t really take all that long to get moving. She was a living goddess almost fifty years ago but now she looks like an aged Egyptian mummy with skin like parchment and hair like tow. I’ve seen her photograph and she could
pass for a hundred. They soon got her addicted to heroin, and after that she became their puppet on a string. She began to collect followers: hippies came from the West just to see—and to get hooked on dope if they weren’t hooked before—a few small-time politicians also believed she was a buddha and tried to plan how they could use her politically. In fact the Mafia made her a real hot property.’ Harmony suddenly changed the subject. ‘How are you on hippie slang, David?’

  Grant shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not so hot.’

  ‘Well, hippies call priests Boo-hoos in the so-called neo-American Church. And that set-up uses LSD for the sacraments. So the Mafia figures on tying their living goddess with the hippie church back home and called her “Mother Boo-hoo”. And this was a gag which worked, because it made sense to visitors from ’Frisco.’

  ‘And the political end,’ said Grant abruptly. ‘Where does it lead?’

  Harmony smiled thinly. ‘Complicated. But also makes sense. Lu here is from the Mongolian People’s Republic—which is more or less a Soviet state and is certainly a buffer state between China and the U.S.S.R. But it has a yen to join with China’s Inner Mongolia to form one independent nation. All clear? Then China may or may not have an eye on Nepal like it has on Sikkim and Buthan, not forgetting India and Vietnam, Macau and Hong Kong. So a good many people are apt to get the screaming willies when they think of China with a bomb plus nine or ten hundred millions of people, but in a mood to shed half of them in war if it came to the crunch. So the Mafia figures to put the Living Goddess, the Mother Boo-hoo, across as the spiritual successor to the Dalai Lama who is all washed up since Peking occupied Tibet.

  ‘Religion has always been a strong force in Asia, and people are getting fed up with left wing utopias and no spiritual faith. People want and need a god: or a goddess: so the Mafia’s giving them a Mother Boo-hoo who can meet the bill. They then aim to unite a lot of Asia and America in a religion which will put a pot president into the White House, pack the Capitol with acid-hooked senators and then pull the U.S. out of Asia, force a solution of the colour problem on the right wing factions within the States and start a religious revival throughout Asia in order to bring down Mao and change government in Hanoi. In fact they aim for a pendulum swing which will see right-wing elements in power everywhere, with no colour bar and at the cost of maybe only one short snappy war.