“You got a scholarship?” Allie repeated, trying unsuccessfully to quell the surprise in her voice.
“Yes, hard as that is to believe,” he said, his tone bitter. “Anyway, I rarely saw him once he became one of the devout, and then a week ago he appeared out of the blue, agitated, wearing street clothes instead of his usual robes, with the dagger. He cautioned me that it could be dangerous to handle it, but I ignored his warning – I owed him everything, and I think I’d read too many of my own advertising brochures. It sounded like an adventure, and who better to embark on one than Indiana Singh?” He laughed bitterly, the sound dry. “Little did I know that was the last time I’d ever see him alive.”
“And Carson? How did you meet him?” Drake asked.
“He answered an ad I placed the afternoon my brother gave me the dagger. It was dumb luck.”
“You advertised the dagger?”
“Not in so many words. I said I was a dealer in antiquities, specializing in relics. Carson probably was scouring every source he could find for information. I got that impression, anyway. We corresponded, and I sent him a photo of the dagger. He agreed to purchase it after stalling a few days, and the rest you know. He was dead within forty-eight hours.”
“Nobody else expressed interest?”
“Nobody I trusted, let me put it that way. One, I believe, was genuine, but the price stopped the discussion cold. The others I now believe were trying to track me down.”
“Sounds like we need to get into this ashram,” Drake said. “Can you help?”
“Absolutely not. My involvement ends here. I want no further part of this. I’ve already lost my brother. The risk is far too high.”
“If it’s a matter of money…” Allie began.
“No. A wise man knows his limitations, as well as when he has enough. I’m alive, and I plan to stay that way. More money won’t help me do so. You’re on your own.”
With that, Singh spun and hurried away, and was quickly enveloped by the swarm of shoppers, and his turban disappeared into a sea of ebony hair.
“Indiana Singh turns down money. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” Drake said.
“He lost his brother, you heartless beast.”
“Ninety percent chance that was all BS.”
Allie shook her head. “I believe him.”
They returned to the street, and Allie called Spencer to fill him in. “We’re headed back your way. Nothing more we can do here,” she explained. “Add this Swami Baba Raja to your research list. And anything you can learn about his ashram. That’s where this trail is leading.”
They caught a taxi, and Allie’s next call was to the professor’s office. An older woman answered the phone, and Allie asked for Divya.
“One moment, please.” The line clicked and buzzed, and Allie had the mental image of an old-fashioned switchboard with an operator making connections using cords and plugs, like in a film she’d seen from the forties.
“Professor Sharma’s office. This is Divya Kapoor.”
“Divya, it’s Allie, from this morning?”
“Oh, yes, Allie, I’m glad you called. I tried your number earlier, but it didn’t connect.”
“Yes, I had an accident with my phone. I have a new one.” Allie hesitated. “Why did you call?”
“I remembered where I’ve seen a mosaic like that, and a few things clicked into place. There’s a temple in Jaipur that I believe houses it. But that’s nowhere near Kashmir.”
“Maybe Kashmir is a red herring?”
“I don’t think so. The professor was so sure the script was from that region, and he was very learned about such things.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“Perhaps,” Divya allowed. “But I did some checking with a friend of mine in the archeology department and he told me something very interesting: that he believes the mosaic was transported from another temple, which was destroyed during the Indian Rebellion of 1857.”
“And that temple was in…?”
“Pathankot. Which is quite near the Kashmir border.”
Allie’s voice quickened. “So that’s our mosaic.”
“It’s possible. There are no photographs of it, though, in the new location, so we are relying on my memory, as well as my friend’s.”
“Why no pictures? Is that some sort of holy thing?”
Divya laughed. “Like stealing our souls with the camera? No. It’s because the mosaic was only recently relocated from the ruins of the destroyed temple, and the one in Jaipur is undergoing renovations, so the interior has been closed to the public for several years. I saw it before they shut the temple down.”
Allie thanked Divya and was preparing to hang up when a question occurred to her. “Divya, have you heard any rumors about relics in ashrams around here?”
“Rumors? There are always rumors, but nothing specific. No. Why?”
“Do you know of a holy man named Swami Baba Raja?”
“Oh, yes, of course. He’s famous. His ashram is called the Eternal Bliss. He is well known for materializing gold lingams from his mouth, as well as all manner of chains, rings, watches, and such.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There are many who wish to believe these conjuring tricks are real. It is sad, really, but these are odd times.”
“Not you, obviously.”
“No, I know sufficient science and physics to understand that such things are impossible, and I’ve seen magicians perform the same feats on the streets of Delhi. Are they also to be assumed to be living incarnations of God? Please. Having said that, he has done much good with his charities, so he is not a bad man. No different than your television holy men who ask for money all the time. It is simply business.”
“Yes, unfortunately, selling hope to the suffering and the frightened isn’t unique to any one culture.”
“It is the regrettable history of our species.”
“Let me give you my new number in case anything else occurs to you,” Allie said, and rattled off her digits.
“Very well. I hope I’ve been able to help.”
“You have. Any news on the professor’s passing?”
“No. It’s been quiet, other than many calling to express their condolences. He was well loved and quite respected. It is a tragedy.”
Allie ended the call and relayed her discussion to Drake.
“Sounds like we need to make a visit to the ashram and see if we can locate the other relic,” he said.
“My thoughts exactly. Maybe Spencer can go to Jaipur while we’re doing so and get a photo of the mosaic?”
“Fine, but how do we get into either place? She said the temple’s closed to the public, right?”
“Spencer will find a way.”
“And the ashram?”
Allie thought for several long beats before holding up her phone. “I think it’s time to make a call to our good friend Casey Reynolds. Maybe he can help.”
Chapter 35
Spencer was waiting on the sidewalk with Allie’s bag hanging from his shoulder when Drake and Allie arrived. They walked to a small two-story mall with twenty shops built around the world’s sorriest plaza and sat at an outdoor table and ordered cold drinks. Reynolds hadn’t answered the phone when Allie had called, so she’d left her new number and was waiting for him to call back.
“How am I supposed to get to Jaipur?” Spencer asked. “Most means of travel are going to require identification. Even the buses want to see a passport.”
“How do you know that?” Drake asked.
“Google.”
“Ah.”
“Maybe we can have the French guy drive you? He seemed like a fun fellow to do a road trip with. Little male bonding?” Allie suggested.
“Always thinking of me, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll get there on my own. I can always hire one of the incredibly comfortable taxis from around here and have it drive me.�
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Allie’s phone rang. Reynolds’s voice came on the line.
“Sorry. I have to be discreet about taking calls on the job,” he explained.
“We need some help. We’re making progress, but we need to get into an ashram and don’t have the faintest idea how to do so.”
“An ashram? I don’t understand. Why would I be able to help?” Reynolds asked.
“The guru who runs it is apparently a prominent figure. Lot of government functionaries are followers. We were hoping you might have some contacts in his organization?”
“I can check. Who is it?”
“Guy calls himself Swami Baba Raja.”
“I can do a search in our database. I don’t have anyone in my network who has anything to do with him. Where’s the ashram located?”
“Bhiwani.”
“West of Delhi, maybe seventy miles. Not a lot going on there,” Reynolds said. “I seriously doubt we’d have any reason to cultivate assets in an ashram in the middle of nowhere.”
“That wasn’t the response we were hoping for,” Allie said, shaking her head at Drake.
“I’ll check. Anything else?”
She told him about the professor and the disappearing Oliver Helms. Reynolds was quiet when she finished.
“I’ll run his name, too. But if his people have the juice to get him released after being found at a murder scene, that raises the stakes to a whole new level. I doubt that’s the case.”
“You’ve got the clout to get Spencer absolved of his crime.”
“That’s because he didn’t do it, and they’ve got nothing. You’re talking about the murder of a prominent academic, with the perpetrator’s prints all over the knife. Different story.”
“Let me know what you learn. In the meantime, we’ll be pursuing the leads we have.”
“Fair enough. Do you need Roland for anything?”
“Not just yet. We’re keeping a low profile. We’ll call if we need his help.”
“What about a place to stay?”
“That didn’t work out so well the last time, did it?” She hung up and eyed Spencer. “What were you able to learn about the ashram?”
“Pretty much what you know. Although there are some hysterical videos of the guy wrestling a tiger and supposedly materializing crap.”
“Tiger wrestling?” Drake asked.
“He claims he’s a reincarnation of a previous guru who did the same thing.”
“Really? That’s a thing? You can just say anything that pops into your head, and people believe it and give you money?”
“Apparently so.”
“I’m in the wrong business,” Drake muttered.
“I know. Sounds like being a politician, only you lie less,” Allie said.
“But as far as the ashram goes, I think you can just make a donation and join,” Spencer continued. “Pretend to be truth seekers or whatever on a spiritual quest, and they should be on you like white on rice. But you can’t take your bag with the dagger, Allie. Only what you have on your back and enough cash to make you interesting. Maybe a change of clothes. You’re pilgrims, and they’re usually pretty broke, but you can be spoiled rich kids seeking wisdom.” He frowned. “The temple is going to be a different matter. It’s closed and you can’t get in, according to the web. A few folks probably go there to take photos of the grounds and exterior, but nobody’s allowed in.”
“So how are you going to handle it?” Allie asked.
“Where there’s a will…”
Drake looked around the mall and then back to Allie. “Where can we stash the dagger and your stuff?”
“I took the liberty of looking up storage lockers,” Spencer said. “Short answer is there aren’t any, but you can leave the bag at the cloakroom at any railway station if you have a valid ticket – they’re apparently completely safe. So buy a ticket for Allie traveling three days from now, buy a hard suitcase and stuff everything in it, lock it, and we’re good to go.”
“You sure they’re safe?” Allie asked.
“Hey, it was on the Internet. It must be true!” Spencer’s expression grew thoughtful as he studied Allie and Drake. “You should say you’re brother and sister. That’s the most innocent way to approach it. They might have some restriction against admitting couples who are living in sin.”
Drake held his tongue, leaving the obvious retort that they were living in anything but sin unspoken, and Allie nodded.
“Good idea.”
They finished their drinks, paid the bill, and went in search of luggage, which took no time at all – there were three stores selling suitcases in just the little mall. Allie suggested a brushed aluminum number, haggled for several minutes as expected, overpaid for it, as well as two cheap backpacks for Drake and herself, and then they were ready to head to the train station and, from there, to the ashram.
“Bhiwami’s only an hour or so from Delhi,” Spencer said. “Easy cab ride.”
“How are you fixed for money?” Allie asked.
“I’ve got plenty of cash, but if you’re handing it out…”
“Hold on to mine, Spencer,” Drake said, sliding a folded wad of hundreds from the pocket of his cargo pants and handing it to Spencer. “I’ll live off Allie for now.”
Allie counted off ten hundred-dollar bills and folded them flat before giving Spencer the rest. She slipped the money into a compartment of her phone case and closed it, satisfied with the undetectable result.
They parted ways, and Drake and Allie headed for the Delhi Junction Railway Station, where she purchased a ticket and checked her bag with no drama, in the process confirming that the ticket person didn’t require identification to buy a ticket, but that she’d need a passport to board the train – which ruled out their riding the rails anywhere.
The prospect of an hour or more in a car on the Indian highway was daunting as the sun climbed in the sky, but they resolved to make the best of it and negotiated a deal with the newest taxi they could find.
“You are going to the ashram?” the driver asked, making conversation as he started the car.
“Yes.”
“It is a very serene place. I myself have been many times. Swami Baba Raja is a great man.”
“That’s what we’ve heard. We’re very excited,” Drake said, not a trace of irony in his voice.
“The swami has done wonderful things. He is a national treasure. It is an honor to be in his presence – you are very fortunate.”
“Yes, we’re hoping to be accepted into the ashram.”
“I believe they take everyone. We are all, after all, created from the same matter, and this incarnation is merely an illusion we must work to see beyond. It is a wonderful journey of discovery you are on, my young friends. Wonderful indeed.”
They picked the driver’s brain for the entire trip, and by the time they neared Bhiwani, felt like they’d taken a crash course on the swami’s philosophy, as well as his many miraculous deeds. Drake leaned toward Allie and whispered to her as they entered the town, “We could pass a written test on Baba Raja by now. Good call on the cab.”
“Every now and then I make one,” she said, and they sat back as they bounced the remaining distance to the ashram, unsure of what to expect but steeled for whatever the cosmos threw at them.
Chapter 36
Jaipur, Rajasthan, India
Spencer’s neck and back were throbbing from sitting in the cramped backseat of a taxi all the way to Jaipur, and by the time he arrived at the temple, he was more than ready to get out. He paid the driver a surprisingly small amount of money and eyed the towering building crawling with workers on scaffolds that ringed the temple’s exterior. Judging by the number of workers entering and leaving the holy place, work was underway in the interior as well.
He took his time studying the grounds. The complex was larger than he’d thought, but any ideas he’d had about sneaking in during work hours were quickly disabused
by the pair of uniformed guards by the entrance, who seemed reasonably alert and more than a little interested in him – one of the few people in sight who wasn’t construction personnel. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and left as quickly as he’d come, resigned to filling the rest of the afternoon with busywork while he waited for dusk.
Spencer walked down the road into town, the sun baking his skin through the makeup sufficiently that he wouldn’t need much of it in another day or two. He tanned quickly, he knew from his time in the tropics. Although he did feel considerably safer now that he was out of Delhi. Even though Reynolds had called off the dogs, millions of people had seen his photograph on TV, and he wasn’t delusional enough to bet that none of them would recognize him even a few days later – his scuffle at the hotel had more than proved that.
The hike took him an hour – the traffic was nothing compared to New Delhi, but the number of ox carts and bicycles was at least triple that of the city. He even sighted a horse, its ribs like washboards through its hide, dragging a cart filled with produce, driven by a ten-year-old boy sitting atop the precariously laden conveyance, holding the reins and a switch.
Spencer had lived in poor areas of the world, but nothing had prepared him for the poverty surrounding him, even the recent trip to Myanmar, which was as bad as he’d ever seen. But here, the unfairness of life was underscored all the more when the occasional luxury SUV or Mercedes roared past, no doubt carrying captains of industry or politicians, who lived in a different reality than the masses. He knew the average local lived on three hundred dollars a month, but that number was badly skewed by the millions working in technology positions and at call centers – plum jobs that paid considerably more. Laborers like those on the road were lucky if they took home half that, and the income inequality was obvious when he stopped at a public toilet and almost vomited from the stench, as well as the sight of a family of four sleeping on the filthy floor near the urinals, out of the heat, all of them so thin they might have blown away in a strong wind.
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