Sanskrit Cipher: A Marina Alexander Adventure

by C. M. Gleason

  “With plenty of collateral damage,” she replied. Still. “Since we’re never going to agree on that, let’s get back to the matter at hand—what’s the deal with the bee?”

  “Surely by now you’ve realized it’s special,” he replied.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure what’s special about it. Even Eli isn’t certain. But…” She hesitated, hating that she wanted to tell him about her journey with Lev, but if she was ever going to find answers, it was probably through Varden. “I met Lev in a journey to the Lower World,” she said in a rush, still uncomfortable with the idea of putting the experience into words. “And when he was there—actually, when he left—there was a bee. It looks very much like the one the priest was after. A bee that seems to be from India. I’m sure that’s no coincidence. They’re the same bee.”

  Varden was watching her so steadily that Marina felt as if she were under a microscope. After a moment, he nodded. “The bee, like Lev, is special. Sacred, if you’ll excuse the term. I’m not surprised he showed it to you.” He drew in his breath as if to speak, then fell silent.

  “What is it?” she asked when he remained quiet.

  He gave a short laugh and shook his head, then took a sip of wine, looking off contemplatively. It was the first time she’d ever seen Varden seem so introspective. She waited, reaching over to pat the top of Adele’s head.

  At last Varden looked at her, still with that pensive expression. “I’ve only journeyed with Lev once. It was to the Lower World, and it was…exquisite. Everything was incredibly beautiful and vibrant.”

  “It was,” she replied, surprised by the emotion in his voice. She suddenly wanted to tell him about what happened in Turncoat Don when Gaia released Bruce’s foot, but held back. That was far too personal, and Varden was not someone with whom she could get personal.

  “And so there is a sacred bee,” she said. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”

  And then suddenly she remembered what Lev had said to her. His words reverberated in her mind as if he were speaking them to her once again: You can help protect all of us—everyone—even those who threaten the sacred beings. They threaten me as well.

  “The bee is in danger,” she said, suddenly understanding. “And because the bee is in danger, so is Lev.” She frowned. “I don’t understand that.”

  Just then, her mobile phone vibrated in her pocket.

  Varden glanced meaningfully at her when she didn’t move to answer it. “They’ve run out of patience. Best answer that.”

  Since she agreed with his assessment, Marina dug out her phone and saw that she had several unread texts from Gabe and now a missed call from him.

  “Tell them you’re going to India,” Varden said.

  “I am going to India,” she replied, pausing from the response she’d been texting. “How did you—”

  “I know you are,” he said grimly, “because you’re going with me.”

  Thirty-Seven

  While Marina was taking her dogs for a walk, Eli told Helen what they’d learned about Nicolas Notovitch’s book and the shocking assertions that Jesus had lived in India after his resurrection. The only thing he didn’t tell them was what happened when he put some of the honey on his dart wound. He was keeping that to himself for a while because…major implications.

  “You’re saying a priest broke in here?” said Gabe. “Are you sure it was a priest?”

  Eli was certain, and he explained why, but as he finished, he noticed Helen’s expression.

  “There was a priest who showed up at Pete’s All-Niter,” she said. “Apparently after you’d left—rather sneakily, Dr. Sanchez, before the authorities could interview you about Ms. Fetzer.”

  “I knew I was going to see you the next day,” he said, giving her an affable smile. But his smile faded. “A priest showed up at the diner? Jill Fetzer was already dead—”

  “Apparently he gave her last rites,” said Helen. “And the waitress noticed a tattoo on his wrist—so it must be the same man. And no, he didn’t kill her. But someone did. Fetzer was injected with a lethal dose of sufentanil in the ladies’ room. Whoever it was took her purse and coat.”

  “That only strengthens your belief that there are two different parties at work here,” Colin said, speaking for the first time since arriving. He’d been sipping coffee from a metal travel cup and nibbling on a piece of pizza.

  “The priest confirmed that too, when he was here. He expressed regret that he hadn’t gotten to the diner in time,” Eli said. “Whether he meant in time to save Jill’s life or to obtain the box—which he stole from us—I’m not certain.”

  “So you think this bee—and the honey—is somehow related to Jesus, and that’s why there’s a priest trying to shut it down,” Gabe mused, nodding. “I can actually see it. It’s not like The Da Vinci Code was that far off with its portrayal of the Catholic Church and what it will do to keep its secrets. Think about what would happen if the church and even the Christian religion as a whole was upended by this sort of historical information—and proof.”

  Colin was nodding. “International implications on a societal as well as economic basis. I’m not exaggerating,” he said when Helen scoffed. “Not only is the Holy See extremely powerful in Vatican City and has wide-ranging resources we can only guess at, but think about how many governments and businesses are built on the Christian belief system.”

  Eli agreed with everything Colin was saying. He turned to Helen. “Did the waitress have a description of whoever killed Jill? I could tell she was the kind of person to always have a hawk’s eye on everyone who comes in and out of the place.”

  “Medium brown hair, medium brown skin, not very tall, but bulky with muscle. We’ve got her working with a sketch artist, and I will do you the courtesy of sending the image once we have one.”

  “Thanks,” Eli said with only a modicum of sarcasm. “It’ll be nice to be able to keep an eye out for a guy who’s trying to kill me.”

  “More importantly, we’re hoping you can tell us if he was the man who tried to break into your hotel room,” she replied.

  “It’s got to be the same person, otherwise we’ve got three entities trying to squash this poor little Apis bee,” he said. He felt a very strong pang that the long-dead specimen was now out of his hands and in the possession of someone who might not care about her. “But more concerningly, I still have no idea how Father Dart Gun managed to find me here, and so quickly.”

  “He’s tracking you somehow,” Helen said dismissively. “Most likely via your phone.”

  “Marina’s been gone on an awfully long walk,” Gabe said suddenly. “It’s been over an hour.” He’d been looking at his phone, and now he pushed a button to make a call, lifting it to his ear. “I’ve sent her a few messages and no answer.”

  Helen muttered something and looked at Gabe. “What’s she going to do? Run or help?”

  He frowned at her. “I trust her. I know you don’t, but—”

  “She’s obviously been in touch with them,” Helen snapped. “It was patently obvious.”

  “Then she’s probably trying to get as much information as possible,” Gabe replied steadily. “She’s not answering her phone.”

  “Dammit,” Helen said, rising abruptly. She turned to Eli. “What do you know about this?”

  “Not a thing,” he replied pleasantly, just as he felt his phone vibrate gently. “We’ve only talked about the bee, not the Skalas.”

  She gave him a shrewd look but turned away and began to type on the computer tablet she always carried. “We need to find out what this demonstration is—and we need to stop it from happening. If Dr. Alexander isn’t going to meet us halfway—”

  “Agent Darrow,” said Colin. “We are all on the same page here about finding out what the next phase is going to be. It’s urgent, and while we have a resource in Marina Alexander, we can’t rely only on her—for a number of reasons. But at the same time, she has helped us in the past, and so there’s no reason t
o think she won’t in this case.”

  Helen’s lips firmed, but she nodded. “I know. But there is something else going on with her, and I don’t know whether this is a priority.”

  “It’s a priority, Helen. Saving lives is always a priority with Marina,” said Gabe gently. “She just may not go about it in the same way you or I would want her to.”

  Eli felt his phone vibrate again, and he had a feeling he knew who it was. But how to check it without all of these people breathing down his neck…

  He stood, and they all swiveled to look at him. “Uh…bio break okay?” he said with more than a little irony.

  He didn’t wait for replies; he simply walked out of the room. As soon as he shut the door to the bathroom behind him, he looked at his phone.

  Meet me in Ladakh.

  Holy crap.

  Thirty-Eight

  New Delhi, India

  July 13

  When a man tried to kill you, his face was forever imprinted in your mind. Even though years had passed and appearances had changed, you still recognized the man.

  Which was why when Eli saw him in the crowded airport in New Delhi, he knew that, random and coincidental as it was, the Skaladeska named Hedron was here.

  Although maybe it wasn’t quite as coincidental as one might think, considering that there had to be some connection between the Skaladeskas and his gorgeous, elegant Apis patricia…otherwise, why had Marina been shown the bee in her journey with Lev?

  Another shocking thing about seeing Hedron was that the man was with—of all people—the passenger Eli had sat next to on the flight from Paris to New Delhi. But if Eli hadn’t been looking for the man—whose name was Allen Schlueter—to see if he wanted to share a cab, he might not have even noticed Hedron among the scads of people.

  Eli considered it one of those blessed life-saving instants that he’d seen Hedron before walking up to Allen, who was managing his own bags to the door outside the terminal.

  Keeping a comfortable distance between himself and the two men, Eli took a moment to buy a hat from one of the wallahs—which he’d learned was a general term that meant any sort of worker—inside the airport. With his brown skin and dark hair, he could easily blend in with the Indians, and a hat and sunglasses would help disguise him. He didn’t want either of the men to see him.

  The moment he stepped outside of the airport, Eli was assaulted by noise, smell, and oppressive heat. And people. So many people.

  Beggars pushed toward him, holding out their hands and calling, shouting, babbling for attention. Hustlers shoved in closer too, trying to sell him whatever they had—sunglasses, bottles of water, scarves, wallets, bracelets, flowers, and more, with a constant patter of “wanna buy, wanna buy, wanna buy?” There were others going about their business, walking past the beggars and hustlers—travelers coming or going from the airport, greeters, drivers, and more.

  People were everywhere, moving about, standing there shouting, pushing through the crowds. The men were usually dressed in chinos or khakis with short-sleeved shirts, while the women all wore loose, colorful saris that Eli immediately envied, for he was in his cargo pants, tee, open button-down shirt, and Birkenstocks. At least his feet could breathe.

  The air was clogged with exhaust from waiting buses and cabs, and he felt as if he were walking through fog, it was so thick and heavy. And smelly. Body odor, the smells of human waste, cigarette smoke, and more filled the air.

  As he watched Allen and Hedron push past the aggressive beggars and shouting sellers, making their way toward a battered car that might have been a cab but didn’t have a sign on it, Eli decided he had to follow them. There was no way he was going to let them slip away without finding out something about why a murderous Skaladeska was with a man whose business was selling bottled water.

  The fact that he’d sat next to the man from Paris to New Delhi—nearly nine hours—who ran a company that conducted a business that, in Eli’s opinion, was one of the worst insults to the environment and climate was ironic. What was even more ironic was that Eli would have to partake of that product the entire time he was here. He’d been warned not to drink any water in India that wasn’t bottled and sealed by a reputable source, and therefore he would have avail himself of a product he usually avoided at all costs.

  Eli battled his way through the throngs of people, confident that neither Allen nor Hedron would recognize him even if they looked back. He hated to ignore the beggars, because they looked so pathetic and worn, but he knew from experience that once you showed kindness to any one of them, the others would swarm, knowing you were an easy mark. Not only could it be dangerous to be jostled and surrounded by desperate people, but Eli knew he would lose his chance to follow Allen and Hedron.

  So he steeled himself and ignored the beggars and sellers, pushing past them as he searched for a ride that was near enough to Allen’s that the driver could follow him. That meant ignoring the hundreds (or so it seemed) of other drivers who called at him, reached for him, waved, shouted and coaxed, as he marched past with his duffel and backpack. Eli was almost afraid to breathe the gray, disgusting air.

  It was monsoon season, so everything was wet and humid along with being sweltering. Eli wasn’t certain whether he should be grateful it wasn’t raining at the moment, since the downpour could last for hours at a time, yet offer some relief from the oppressive heat.

  He maneuvered his way near Allen and Hedron’s vehicle and then picked a car that looked relatively safe and kind of reminded him of Juanita. Only one bumper was sagging, and rust hadn’t yet eaten away the entire door. Without waiting for the driver to help load his bags, he dove inside. “I need you to follow that blue Opel,” he said to the driver, pointing at the other car.

  Eli had no idea how impossible a task he’d given the man until the car tried to inch out into the never-ending, nose-to-butt line of vehicles trying to leave the airport. He consoled himself with the fact that Allen’s ride couldn’t go any faster than his own.

  Inch by inch, they made their way into the river of vehicles, and Eli stripped off his outer shirt then dug out his mobile. He’d traveled to out-of-the-way places often enough that he had a satellite sleeve for his phone, although he didn’t think he’d need it here in New Delhi.

  He wanted to send Marina a message that he was in India and, more importantly, that he’d seen Hedron. He was also hoping she would have contacted him, but so far no other messages other than her original “Meet me in Ladakh.” Which was a pretty tall order, considering how big the region of Ladakh was—and how difficult it would be to get around. The area was all mountains and curving, rocky roads. At least it would be a lot cooler up there in the north.

  As they inched their way closer to Old Delhi, Eli found himself overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything: vehicles, people, noise, smells. The sharp, pungent smell of petroleum had not abated in the least, and now the stench was accompanied by that of a variety of organic waste. There was a cacophony of noise—mostly car horns, honking incessantly.

  It seemed as if every driver of every single car was constantly toot-tooting, including his own. There was no escaping any of it, as all the windows were down on the car, of course, because air conditioning was rarer than the Apis patricia. Eli wasn’t certain whether it would actually be more comfortable with the windows rolled up—hotter, yes, but perhaps quieter and less smelly.

  There were not only cars, buses, and trucks on the streets, but they mingled with every other kind of vehicle one could imagine: scooters, motorized jitneys, man-pulled jitneys, bicycles, and wagons pulled by goats.

  The actual navigation and driving was worse than anything he’d experienced, even in Rome. They’d gone less than a meter and Eli had seen his life flash before his eyes at least five times already. His fingers were aching from gripping the granny stick, and he considered whether he should just close his eyes.

  But he couldn’t; there was just too much to see and experience.

  There seemed
to be nothing resembling lanes in the five-lane road, and definitely nothing like turn signals or driver courtesy. Traffic lights hardly existed, and when they did, they were blatantly ignored. Cars, buses, bikes, and carts simply went wherever they wanted with no regard to any other vehicle or direction. Lots of horn honking, though. All the time. Eli’s ears were ringing because his driver not only kept toot-tooting, but he had jaunty Indian music playing at a high volume, and people were shouting and whistling out on the streets as well.

  Eli gaped in astonishment when he saw a man riding a bicycle down the street among the cars with two large wooden planks protruding from each side. It made the bicycle look like a biplane, but even more shocking was that there were people—presumably the man’s family—sitting on the “wings.” Eli counted eight people of various ages perched on that bicycle, not counting the rider.

  He couldn’t take his eyes from the sight—hoping and praying none of the little children or the elderly woman would fall off and into the street…that was, until he saw an actual elephant ahead, joining the flow of traffic—if one could call it a flow. More like countless bottlenecks on steroids.

  The elephant, which was being used as transportation for three people who rode atop it, plodded along on its wrinkly gray-brown legs, looming over the cars and other vehicles around it. And, Eli realized, probably dropping a healthy load of waste at any given moment.

  Aside from the elephant, there were also cows everywhere. Simply wandering around, also dropping their dung wherever they pleased. In the ratty, grassy, treeless barrier between the two sides of what would be called a boulevard in any other city, Eli saw people camping, cooking, and squatting. No one sat on the ground, he noticed. Everyone squatted all the time, which he guessed he understood, since the ground was filthy. Even from the car, he could see the trash and waste that was everywhere.

  “You want out here?” said the driver, pointing with a jerky hand motion as he swerved into a sort of parking place near one of the hotels. The front nose of the car narrowly missed a jitney, which was being pulled by a skinny Indian man and carried a woman and her child.