“I should tell you that I took the liberty of talking, before all this evil erupted yesterday, with a few of my Ayurvedic friends—a council that represents the best traditional medical knowledge around here. Do not fear though, they are discreet to the point of being cabalistic. A great deal of excitement followed my little announcement, as you might imagine. I hope you don’t mind, but I gave a few of them permission to begin studying the shastram as soon as you are willing to provide me the notes. They are incredibly excited about the method you discovered for proportioning the plants; it will likely open up reviews of some the old recipes. A lot of volunteers will want to take part in this. It is still early, but it looks so hopeful.” He paused and tapped my chest. “But, it is up to you to decide if you want them to continue.”
I reached into my backpack. “I’m not sure if I am the sole person to make that decision, Satnam. But I know what the pundits would say, ‘precisely so, keep going forward.” I removed the memory stick from my pack and handed it to him.
“Excellent. Perhaps we can announce the medical news at the same time Devi’s releases his letters to the Sanskrit societies.” He looked at Uli and his dimples deepened. Laying his hand on my chest again, he said, “And as your physician in the partial healing of your heart, I proclaim you healed. Fully so.”
I nodded with gratitude and a small smile, then hoisted the manuscript and envelope; heavy in more ways than one. Sukshmi tapped the envelope with lacquered nails. “Do be careful with this one, Bhim. It is the key to my freedom.”
“I won’t ask what that means, Jatana.”
“You’ll understand soon enough. Read it when Father is done and you will see. By the way, my fiancée told me he thinks the name Sukshmi fits me better. I have decided to drop Jatana as my Nom d’Soir.”
“Good, You can tell that very fortunate man that I always thought Sukshmi fit you better, too. With long hair and a sari, but that is just my humble opinion. Is he Benarsi?”
“No, but he is quite the handsomest graduate student at the university in Delhi."
I asked an all-important question. “Brahmin?”
“Of course, political science major with a good brain, lots of wit, and beautiful eyes. He even likes to dance on occasion.” She slid an arm through Uli’s, and looking a bit conspiratorial, whispered, “Your Bhim is good man, Uliana, but you already know that, don’t you? ”
Uli kissed her cheek and replied, “Yes, I do, Sukshmi.” With a promise that we would safeguard the mysterious envelope, Uli and I stepped back onto the graveled paths of the University.
****
Living in Varanasi had been a flight from my former life, and in some ways, a husking of my accountabilities. I had taken shelter in the reclusiveness and taken on a smaller set of obligations. There were disciplines, studies, and exercise, of course, but few true commitments beyond that. Now, as the morning sun pressed down upon my shoulders, I felt the enormity of what I carried. It didn’t take long for that weight to increase.
As soon as we were on the path towards the library, Uli turned to me with an unusually serious expression. “You remember, I told you I studied a lot about boring old rocks?”
“Yes, that would be one of those beautiful secrets about you I will not forget twice.”
She tugged on my arm and stopped me cold. “There is something in the cave photograph that is more significant than you know.”
I thought she was referring to the script. “You mean more words?”
“No, the rock.”
“What rock? What do you mean?”
“I can’t be sure until I look closer and have a sample, but I’m pretty sure the floor of your cave may be covered with uraninite.”
***
The hairs on the back of my neck rose into an uneasy tingle. “I’m assuming from the first three syllables that its something I don’t want to hear, like uranium?”
She nodded. “Uranium oxide, raw ore before any refinement, und if it is high grade as I think this is, it is dangerous.”
As I pictured picking my way across the oily chunks with Devamukti, the tingling increased. “Do you mean like radioactive dangerous?”
“No, there is little radiation. The danger is what it can be made into, yellowcake.”
“Yellowcake? “ I resisted a small itch to be comic.
She turned onto the path again. “Ya, it’s the first step in nuclear fuel process. It looks like yellow cake crumbs. Well, it used to look that way, now it is made better and looks more like brown or black cake. I had two courses at university with a lot of reading about it. There were films and learned how much is mined, und how much is sold on the black markets. It is a lot more than you would think, und the more refined it becomes, the more valuable und more tempting it is to smuggle.”
My mind reeled. “Uranium. Yellowcake? Is it really that prevalent?”
Her eyes blazed. “The entire nuclear program of Pakistan came from smuggled materials. Abdul Khan, the head of the program, then sold his knowledge and the critical materials to Libya and Iran. So yes, it is prevalent. Everything from gas centrifuges to high-grade fuel moves to countries that can’t purchase it on the open market because of the non-proliferation treaties. Or sanctions. You remember what Haroon said about India’s need it? And Pakistan’s? Refined, it can be used in reactors, warheads, dirty bombs, und that, Mein Schatzki, is why it is so valuable und dangerous.”
That phrase kept coming back. Suddenly, I understood. “My God, that would explain the actions at the mine. And why nobody wanted us near it.”
The phone in my pocket bumped against the keys, reminding me that I was in possession of both. “I forgot about our car.”
“What car?”
“Adam gave us C.G.’s car and a phone to use.”
“That’s fortunate, because we need to take a drive.”
“A drive? Now? Where?”
She tugged sweetly on my sleeve to get us moving again. “Not now, tonight. We have to go out there and collect a sample.”
“What! You’re kidding, right? You want me to drive out there in the middle of the night and sneak around like a peeping . . . rock collector?” The hairs on my neck now felt like pins.
She kissed my cheek and whispered, “I’ll be right there to protect you.”
“I may need it.” The idea of driving to the cave at night was appalling, but another part of me knew that it was necessary. “Wasn’t it you who said I needed to do all this carefully? This morning, if I remember correctly.”
“It is the only way we can know, Lover.”
I shook my head and blew out a long breath. “Okay, but right now we need to go to a place I meant to visit yesterday, an internet café.”
Taking my hand and turning me back towards the cottage and the car, she said, “You’re our guide, Lover.”
Sixty-One
Sutradharak was quite pleased with himself again. In opposition to the harsh self-censure of earlier, he was now patting himself on the back. The outcome of the explosion at Manikarnika had been much better than planned. With the smallest amount of HBX-3, not enough to make a difference to his other design, he had set the city upon itself. Chaos, always his intention. In addition, his team had assembled at the location an hour after sunset. Two cars, under a moonless sky, and with exacting touch, had placed six charges. The HBX-3 was taped in carefully assessed locations and wired to cell phones with the vibration mode set to on. Those were the receivers. The transmitters were now in his possession. They had tested the signal three times and, just before they left, inserted the cap wires into the plastique.
The four men left in pairs in opposite directions, registered at mid-fare hotels, dined on rice and dal, and engaged in indifferent conversation. Then they showered, slept, and settled down for the wait.
Sutradharak was now standing in the central-city loft, staring absently at yet another funeral to the Ghats. Two days, no more, and the biggest event I have ever planned will take place.
A crowning achievement of diversion. A coup de gras before the disappearing act. Then I can be rid of this filthy place.
He looked across the roofline and admitted stingily that it wasn’t all bad. A few pleasant moments, a few good meals, some good distractions, and of course, the challenge of different personalities. Now? Perhaps Europe for a spell. Or back to the Americas. Suddenly, it all felt proper, and for a brief moment he allowed his ego to rise. Really, he decided. I am the master of this competition, the teacher. Success through the planning, leave no trail, and set no patterns. He twisted the owl ring on his finger and slowly closed the slats across the window.
Sixty-Two
“Under no circumstances are you allowed to make fun of my driving,” I pronounced as I lifted her up to the passenger seat. “This moster is more truck than car, and I haven’t sat behind a steering wheel for a few years now.”
“Would you like me to do it?”
“The first thing that we be dented if that happened would be my male ego. Besides, I think men have to drive their women in this town. Some sort of law.”
“You’re our guide. Lover. Besides, you know where we are going.” She slid in close and kissed my neck.
I shifted into first gear and rolled forward with the caution of teen taking a first license test. I knew of three Internet cafes on this side of town, all wisely placed close to the university. If the first didn’t suit our needs, the next one would.
Rolling through the university gates in a dawdling second gear, I asked, “So, if you put all of the pieces together in this puzzle, what do you come up with.” I had begun to form my own theory, but wanted to hear hers.
She thought for a moment and frowned. “Well, this Mejanand is in the center of everything, I am certain of that. He is vicious. Und somehow I think he has local police in his pocket.”
“Like Madru Ralki?”
Uli was heating up. “Ya, this Ralki you talked about. He tried to find out from Soma what you were doing in the cave. I think he was trying to scare you und Devi because it was so close to the mine. When that didn’t work and the guard came, they collapsed the entrance.”
“And you really think the mine has something that goes on the black market?”
“Ya, und I bet they are turning the ore into yellowcake there. It would be risky, but very smart because of the weight. The ore is heavy, but the yellowcake is light und worth much more. It would mean bringing in very special apparatus und chemicals, but it would be smarter.”
I thought about the machinery I had seen at the entrance--ordinary mining equipment to my unqualified eye. “But what would they do with it then? How would they move it?”
She slid her fingers to the side of my face to tuck strands of hair behind my ear, the motion triggering the painful memory of sitting on the bed in the foulness of the Riverview where she had done the same thing. It had all felt so raw then, new and uncertain. But now, still facing uncertainty, I felt sure of myself.
Uli was answering my question. “Probably shift it to another place where it can be sold to the best buyer. Und this is where it gets frightening. That could be anyone, a terrorist group, though they usually don’t have equipment to complete the refinement. But a rogue country? Iran, North Korea. They might even sell it back to India.”
That seemed preposterous. “You mean to smuggle it outside the country and then sell it back?”
“You would be surprised how often that happens. Remember what Haroon said? The biggest uraninite mines in India are in the next province. Smuggling und re-selling is common. Last year a shipment made its way to Nepal and was sold to Libya or Pakistan. The International Atomic Energy Agency has new cases every week, but think of getting four thousand dollars a kilogram or more on the black market und you see the motivation.”
“Almost four million dollars a ton?”
“Good money, ya?”
“And you remember all this from university?”
She smiled sweetly. “My mind is good for what I read, und I read a lot”
I maneuvered around a pack of unpredictable bicyclists and pulled up in front of Rayan’s Highspeed Internet Café. Some curious university types watched as it took me three minutes to figure out how to lock the doors and set the alarm.
Rayan was good to his word in regards to high speed. What weren’t so up to date were the computers themselves. A bank of machines on the left looked like Tandy 1000s with five and a quarter inch floppy drives. Green screens glowed below woven tapestries. I groaned and asked the bookish-looking associate if there was something a little closer to the current decade.
“By all means, Brother, we’ve got some Dells in the back corner,” He glanced at a crowd of young males huddled around them, a few now gawking at Uli. “But my guess is it’s forty minutes before they become available. They came in just before you.”
I was considering driving to another café, when Uli nudged my backpack. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Lover?” I looked at her. She pointed merrily at the Acer inside.
Three minutes later, with the help of Rayan’s helpful employee, the Acer was connected and open to the desktop. It wasn’t blazingly fast, but it would suit my purposes.
I started where everyone starts. Google. Imperial Holding International. I expected a few hits and got half a million, but none with the name in a single string. In an advanced search I connected them and also got nothing. I added Lucknow to the search. Nothing. Businesses, corporations, LLCs, and every financial entity in existence with the name Imperial Holding. Nothing that even remotely resembled it. After ten minutes of mega searches and Boolean selections, I admitted failure and came to the ugly conclusion that IHI of Lucknow didn’t exist. Or it existed only in the Uttar Pradesh, way the hell out in the middle of nowhere next to our cave. It was just as Haroon’s report had indicated. A ghost. Strike two.
Before leaving I read three articles on black market uranium and scared the hell out of myself. Uli was right, it was far too prevalent. After a small payment to Rayan’s, we left.
I started the engine and said, “I suppose I should have expected it.”
She didn’t comment, and after a deep, hesitant breath asked, “Bhim?”
I glanced at her for as long as the traffic would allow. Intense longing stared back. “Yes?”
“Do you think we could go to Devamukti’s, and then to the villa to make sure Jitka is alright, and then someplace . . . to be alone? Just for an hour? You and me? Would that be alright, just for an hour?” She was almost pleading.
I had obligations to consider, which I did for about a microsecond. The world could wait. Right now my pledge was to Uli and me, and I told her as much. “The universe has turned inside out in the last ten days, and in the middle of it, the only thing that really makes any sense is you. Being next to you. I want years of it, and right now an hour . . . would be paradise. I know a hotel, and if it stretches into a second hour, what the hell…the world can wait sixty more minutes.”
Her arms wrapped awkwardly around my shoulders and the headrest. Her mouth found the side of my mouth. In a throaty voice, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“By the way,” I whispered back. “I wrote . . . a little something for you.” I fumbled my way into a side pocket of my backpack and pulled out a single sheet folded twice.
She didn’t say anything, just unfolded the paper and read. She studied the Sanskrit first and then read the English twice. A tear slid slowly down her cheek to the corner of her mouth.
“Mein Gott, it’s beautiful.”
“Probably because it’s true.”
“Say it in the Sanskrit, out loud” I took a breath and recited the original. She folded the paper and closed her eyes to recite the lines of English she had just read.
“Like warming lips of spring kissing frozen mountain rains
Unfurling wetted leaves and drying wings of bees
Like shameless rays of moonlight pushing blackness from the night
>
And sighs of gentle breezes tossing chaff into the air
You release me
Like evening birds of love trilling nightly to the stars
And drops of silver dew moisten parched and sleepy seeds
Like eaglets winging upward at dawn into the sky
Your touch has freed my captive heart to let me live again
You release me.”
As she spoke the final line I realized it was true, she had an amazing memory for what she read.
Sixty-Three
Devamukti was perched in his rocker staring silently out the window at the gate. He peered in expectation, as if his old friend might shuffle through at any moment to take tea and enter into a cordial squabble. The rocker pitched rhythmically, mechanically, his thin frame rolling it barely enough to creak on the floorboards. Standing in the kitchen, I watched as he checked his timepiece and then begin to quietly weep. His friend of sixty-seven years would not be coming to visit this morning.
I lead Uli into the parlor and without a word touched my hands to Master’s feet and sat on the mat next to the rocker. Uli sat on a cushion. Seeing her for the first time, he wiped away a tear and whispered coarsely, “Would you like some tea, My Dear?”
I took his hand and offered the simplest of introductions, “Punditji, this is Uliana Hadersen. Uli, this is Sri Jatanaka Devamukti, the greatest pundit in the world, and my teacher.”
Uli, as always, knew what to say. “It is an honor to meet you, Master. Bhim has told me so many beautiful things about you, especially your skills in the great language.”
For three breaths Devamukti did not utter a word, he simply looked at her. Then the pain in his face seemed to ease a fraction and he reached for her hand. “You bless my home, Uliana Hadersen. Your light shines like the goddess Saraswati into the darkest corners. You are most welcome here.”
He looked at me, and the sadness settled about him again. “So, My Boy, C.G. has left us. Did I ever tell you that we knew each other since we were four and five years old? We met in the school in Bhelpur.”
The PuppetMaster Page 29