The Coming of Kalki

by Poulomi Sanyal

  When they were seated, Alejandro finally came to his senses and started behaving like his normal self.

  “God, I forgot to ask you if you wanted anything to eat or drink. Where are my manners, today?”

  Nirmala giggled. “That’s okay. I am not hungry. Can we talk here?”

  Alejandro looked around. Their nook at the restaurant seemed quiet enough.

  “I think so. As long as we choose our words carefully.”

  “Got it.”

  “So, tell me. How did you manage this miracle? I am so happy to see you! Still can’t believe it!”

  “Long story.”

  “Let’s keep it short for now then. Don’t want to be overheard. Just tell me how you found me.”

  “Well, I escaped near Dwarka and took shelter with a priestess. She took me in and nursed me. When I felt better, I did not know how to reach you. I had lost my phone and your number, and then late last night, I suddenly remembered that I knew Dr. Sinha’s number by heart. So, this morning I tried my luck and called him from the priestess’s home. You had just left for the airport. Dr. Sinha told me that you insisted on staying in India ‘til I was found so they are getting you on a flight to Delhi this afternoon.” At this point, she stopped and smiled gratefully. Then she continued.

  “I told my hostess that I needed to get to Rajkot undiscovered, as soon as I could. Fortunately, she runs a volunteer ambulance service and was able to get me here in one of their vehicles.”

  “Oh! Now it makes sense! The ambulance. I saw it outside. So that was you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Brilliant! What happened to your bandages?”

  “I took them off in the bathroom. No one would let me on a flight dressed like that.” Nirmala grinned.

  “True. Speaking of flight. We need to get you a ticket. My flight is at five. We still have about an hour and a half. If nothing, they would have a first-class seat available. Let’s go,” said Alejandro looking at his watch.

  “But I don’t have any money other than what I had in my robe pockets. Not more than a hundred more rupees,” said Nirmala fumbling through the wallet that Astha had given her.

  “That’s okay. I have plenty.”

  “And my luggage—”

  “I have that too.”

  “You are a darling,” Nirmala gushed.

  “Let’s go,” said Alejandro, blushing profusely. Alejandro had already checked in Nirmala’s backpack when he got his boarding pass. Now he just had to get her a ticket. They walked hurriedly towards the Jet Airways ticket counter.

  “By the way, where is the sensor I gave you to wear?” Alejandro asked as they were walking.

  “Oh, that! It saved my life. I have to tell you… wait, where is it?” said Nirmala as she searched her hair for the clip-like device. “Shit. I must have lost it when I jumped out of the car.”

  “Jumped out of the car? No way! You have to tell me all about that on our way. You are much more than you appear, it seems.” Alejandro winked.

  That would explain why I lost the signal from the sensor, he thought to himself.

  “You flatter me,” said Nirmala, truly embarrassed. “I also lost my satchel in the fray,” she added to steer the conversation away from the topic of her bravery.

  “Oh? What was in it?”

  “My phone.”

  “We can replace that and it was encrypted, so they won’t learn anything from it.”

  “Also, my pocket knife.”

  “No biggie.”

  “And my diary.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “My diary. The one I write my journals in every night.”

  “You are kidding, right?” Alejandro froze on the spot.

  “No,” said Nirmala meekly.

  “What did you write in it? Anything about us? Our group?” Alejandro asked in a state of panic.

  “Well…I…maybe…I mean just what I knew.”

  “You knew enough. We are in big trouble. I have to call Wolfgang,” he said as he pulled out his phone. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his heavy brows. He was about to dial the number when the phone rang.

  “Yes, Dr. Sinha. She just found me.”

  “You tried calling me all day? Weird. I guess I didn’t have signal.”

  “No, no we haven’t bought her ticket yet.”

  “Yes, I have a minute or two.”

  “What? The poem? You did?”

  “An acrostic? What is that?”

  “Oh, I see. I see. You are sure it is a prophecy then?”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate this. We will call you from New Delhi.”

  Alejandro then turned to Nirmala and said, “Let’s go!”

  “What about Dr. Müller?” she nervously asked.

  “We don’t have time. Let’s buy your ticket. We’ll call him after security.”

  CHAPTER twenty-five

  Chris arrived at Reykjavik airport late in the night and realized that the handgun he had checked in from London had not arrived. The airline informed him that it was being held up at the UK customs due to some inconsistencies with the export permit. This seemed like something Dr. Müller could fix. So, Chris gave him a call and explained the entire situation. Nevertheless, it would take Wolfgang at least a few hours to sort this out. There was nothing for Chris to do in the interim but head to his hotel and plan out his trajectory while he waited for an update on the luggage situation.

  Chris had never been to Iceland before and due to the suddenness of this mission, he didn’t have much time to research the country either. Had it not been for Zoya’s help, he would not have been able to find a ticket to get him here this fast. She also found him a really strategic hotel in the city. Too bad Dr. Müller did not allow him to share any further details of his mission with her for security reasons. Otherwise she could have been a real help with the planning and organization. Given the little time they had for planning, some distribution of effort would have been great. Not that he didn’t trust Dr. Müller’s impeccable, single-handed execution of these mission-critical projects, but this was potentially the den of Aifra that was in question. Some extra planning couldn’t have hurt.

  Wolfgang’s eagerness to keep the details of the projects as confidential as possible, even within the group did make a lot of sense from the personal safety angle. Nevertheless, Chris felt a little uneasy this time. He could not tell why. Perhaps it was the unknown country or the lack of preparatory-time or the dreadful prospect of finally coming face-to-face with legions of ruthless murderers. Or perhaps a combination of all of these. He braced himself and stepped out into the frigid, wintry night, making straight for the rental car pick-up

  It was March and winter was still in full swing. To drive into the hinterland where they suspected Dr. Weilhammer was hiding, Chris would at least need a four-wheel drive, if not a super jeep. He decided to take a chance on a Jeep Wrangler. By the time he pulled in to his apartment-styled hotel, it was nearly midnight and he had a weird feeling that he was being followed. He locked the car and looked around. Nobody was there other than a taxi-cab that was driving off into the darkness at the bend of the road in front of him. Chris collected the keys to his room and decided to turn in for the night.

  * * *

  The morning was ushered in by a tumultuous blizzard the likes of which Chris had never seen before. He put on his clothes and rushed to the reception area. As he had feared, his jeep had turned into a little white hillock at the corner of the parking lot. He hurried to his car and proceeded to dig it out with the shovel the rental-car company had left for him in the boot. After about half an hour’s worth of labour, he was starving and disoriented. Sheets of snow and sleet were furiously smashing against his body, smiting the exposed skin on his face and numbing the tips of his fingers. He got inside the vehicle for warmth and then rubbing his hands together, he decided to find himself some breakfast before the battery froze over.

  Dr. Müller called as he was about to sip his coffee.
/>   “I am at ze Heathrow airport with ze new paperwork,” he said gruffly, slipping into his occasional accent.

  “Thanks. Does it look like they will send it today?”

  “Yes. In the evening perhaps. Be ready. You got ze car?”

  “I did, I got a jeep. I can the take the F-roads.”

  “No. You did not see ze news?”

  “Mmm…no, not yet. Why?”

  “The F-roads are closed. Because of the storm. At least for a week, they say.”

  “What?! No way! I cannot get to where the map had last recorded Weilhammer’s signal without taking the mountain roads.”

  “Correct. You can of course, take them anyway. Time is running against us.”

  “What are the consequence of doing that? Fines? Prison? Mortal threat?”

  “All of the above. Don’t get caught. That will prevent the first part. And for mortal threats, you are seeking the den of the enemy, so the dangers on the road are the least of your worries. But it is up to you. Otherwise, we will have to wait one week at least.”

  “No. There is no time for that. I will take the mountain road. I will leave as soon as you send me the luggage.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Positive. These roads are not heavily patrolled. I researched them on the plane.”

  “Alright, if you are confident. Use this time to map out your track well. Have low beams or fog lights on. Don’t be conspicuous.”

  “I will try.”

  That night Chris was able to park his jeep at a spot in the hotel’s little underground garage. His handgun had finally arrived. He took the case and the cartridges from the boot and went back to his room to load up the beauty. He was not a frequent shooter. He never supported the idea of hunting. Ever since he had found out he was a Hekameses, Wolfgang had made him train at a local shooting range in the Bay Area. Now he was pretty damn good at it. But it was not something he liked to brag about. It was a skill he had mastered out of necessity. What he did like to brag about, however, was his prowess at fire poi and his gymnastic abilities. But these wouldn’t serve him very well against the Aifra this week. Chris sighed and checked his camping gear.

  “Tent, check. Sleeping bag, check. Heater, check. Jerky, check. Flashlight, where is the flashlight? Ah, there we go,” he muttered as he packed.

  By ten he was ready to tuck-in. He would set off before five to avoid being detected. He knew he wouldn’t sleep much that night.

  * * *

  The storm showed no signs of abatement. The viscous winds groaned and howled through the night as the blowing snow continued to shroud the trees and rooftops in white, giving them an ominous ghostly appearance. Chris got out of bed and rubbed his eyes. It was four thirty in the morning. Well before the sun would rise in these parts of the world. Bracing himself for what could potentially be his deadliest mission to date, he started getting dressed for the journey. To save time, he had already left his luggage in the car the night before. He picked up the case with his gun and rounds, dropped his room key off in the lockbox at reception and went straight to his jeep. If he could do a hundred miles on the mountain road before daybreak then the coast would be clear. By then he would be well into the wilderness for the police patrol to pull him off the road for trespassing.

  In about an hour Chris made it out of the city, and at the mouth of the first F-road, he finally encountered a road closure. Visibility was incredibly poor and the wind was still howling furiously outside. The jeep was rocking side to side with every gust. Despite the near white-out condition, the road-closure sign ahead was large and visible, written in black and yellow over a bright orange background. It warned of heavy costs being involved if a rescue was required beyond this point along the path. Chris was expecting this and just wanted to get quietly past the signage without being noticed and pulled over. Very few could rescue him at all from where he was headed today, so; the costs didn’t worry him. He was ready to pay with the ultimate cost should his mission fail. The cost of his life.

  After stopping briefly at the sign, Chris looked around to make sure that no police cars were lurking and then he drove straight into the snow-covered ground around the trail to circumvent the barricade. It was a good engine and he had made sure to get winter tires so he was able to manage the manoeuvre with relative ease. Soon he was on the other side of the picket and heading due West in the direction of the fjords.

  Chris had hardly driven a mile past the blockade when, through the sleet and snow, he could make out the outline of a car parked diagonally across the road in front of him.

  Crap! It’s a police car, he thought.

  Surely enough he heard a gruff voice over a microphone order something in what sounded like gibberish. Guessing he was being asked to pull over, he parked the car in the curb of what was mostly, a rocky unpaved mountain road and stayed inside the vehicle, waiting for further instructions. In the distance he could see a burly looking officer with a microphone in hand issuing instructions, but he was speaking Icelandic, apparently. Chris had no idea what he should be doing and he dared not get out of the car. He remained seated, hands-raised and tried to make eye contact with the officer, but the storm was still pressing ahead and it was impossible to see any further than about ten metres in front of him. There were a few minutes of silence after the repeated instructions, and then the policeman started walking towards his car. He walked up to the driver side window and looked at Chris as if he had just landed from outer space.

  “You speak English?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Chris, trying to be as respectful as possible.

  “Driver’s license, please.”

  Chris promptly pulled it out from his wallet and handed it over. The officer inspected the document and looked up with a curious expression.

  “British?” he asked with an air of disbelief.

  “No, sir. I am American, but I live in the UK.”

  “I need to see your passport.”

  “Yes, definitely,” Chris obliged. The officer studied his passport for a couple of minutes flipping through all the pages and then he finally looked up.

  “First visit to Iceland?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you see the sign that this road is closed?”

  “I did.”

  “And you still decided to come this way? Where are you going?”

  “I am an adventurer, sir. I am looking for a memorable trek into the rugged Icelandic wilderness. I apologize for taking the closed road. I just thought it would be more thrilling that way. If you wish that I should turn back—” The policeman raised his hand to interrupt him.

  “What kind of adventure? Camping?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In this weather?” The cop sounded incredulous.

  “We…ll…and…ice-fishing,” Chris stammered.

  “Ice-fishing?” The policeman’s eyes grew wide. “You have a permit? And the gear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chris lied but his heart was racing fast. He had talked himself into a real pickle here. He should never have brought up the ice-fishing. Lying to the cops is a dangerous thing even when you’re in your home country and this was a strange, new land.

  “Please, get out of your vehicle and open your trunk.”

  Ah Oh! thought Chris as he swallowed hard. He got out of the car with his hands in the air and keys in his hand and remotely opened the trunk.

  He wondered if he should run for it. No, that wouldn’t be wise. He wouldn’t get far. He could tell him that he forgot to pack his fishing gear at the last minute. Yeah, that sounded reasonable. It could happen to anyone.

  The policeman pointed his flashlight in Chris’s direction to make sure he wasn’t armed and then he walked towards the trunk still eyeing Chris through the corner of his eye. Right about then, as the officer leaned forward to inspect the trunk, a hooded figure, clad in black, sprung out of it like a bullet and pounced on him, knocking the flashlight out of his hand with a smashing sound
and pinning the cop firmly onto the ground, face-down, arms folded backwards. There was the sound of a hustle followed by a shriek and then silence. Chris started and reflexively jumped back a couple of steps. Thinking quickly, he dived for his passenger door and briskly pulled his revolver out of it’s case.

  “Do not move or I will shoot!” he growled, his gun pointed in the direction of the assailant. There was no sound. About ten feet away, he could see the outline of the officer lying prone on the snow-covered ground with his attacker crouched over him. Neither were moving, as if frozen in time like a painting. Chris inched forward with caution. With the gun in his right hand, still pointed at the duo, he reached for the policeman’s flashlight with his left. It was lying on the ground about a foot away from him where it had landed earlier. Picking up the light, he shone it quickly on the face of the attacker. He froze on the spot.

  “Zoya!” he exclaimed, utterly astounded. “How? Where? When?”

  “I’ll explain, but first we have to figure out what to do with the cop before he wakes up,” said Zoya in an anxious voice.

  “Oh right, yes, priorities. I can warp his memory and then we can put him back in his car if we can manage to drag him to it.”

  “Warp his memory? Why didn’t you think of this before when he was interrogating you? That would have saved me the trouble of knocking him out.”

  “I did think about it, but it’s not so easy to warp someone’s memory convincingly while he’s still awake and generating new memories every second while you are simultaneously trying to change his old ones. It can be done, but it’s tough and risky. Now that he is out though, it’ll be mush easier. Nice job with the karate by the way. How did you get him to pass out?” asked Chris as he walked over to the officer. He turned him over on his back so he could look at his face while he tampered with his thoughts.

  “Oh thanks! It’s not that hard. A kick below the head in the right spot would do it. I had the advantage of jumping on him suddenly.”

  “Like I said, nicely done! Now give me a couple of minutes. I need to focus so that I can connect with his thoughts and change them.” Chris fell silent as he started to concentrate. He knelt beside the officer’s prone frame and gently lifted his head off the ground and then he stared deeply into his face, focussing hard.