Passing over the Mother

Who lies amidst the forests green, reposing,

Holding within her bosom,

Hidden for Millennia

The Secret of the Nine.

'That's just great.' Colin's voice betrayed his exasperation. 'What does it mean?'

Shukla shrugged. 'This is the final clue. We know that from Beger's diary, from the texts he copied that spoke of the Nine and their puzzle. And this is the first time the secret of the Nine has been explicitly mentioned. But I haven't the slightest idea what it means.'

'All I can figure out is that the secret lies in a forest,' Colin remarked. 'But who is the Mother? If we can work that out, we'll find it.'

'There's a lot of forest area in India,' Vijay scratched his head. 'Why don't we drive back to Patna and see if we can work this out?'

The others agreed.

Bright sunshine greeted them outside. The sun was still high in the sky and the brightness outside the cave hurt their eyes after the dark interiors they had left behind.

Wordlessly, they walked back to the X Trail. Vijay climbed into the driver's seat and started the long drive back to Patna.

Dangerous Discoveries Imran shifted nervously in his seat, as the motorcade accompanying the Vice President of the United States of America made its way through the grand main gates of Bheem Singh's farmhouse. Yesterday's visit was fresh in his mind and he hoped that he wouldn't bump into the Maharaja. The commandant of the commandos, who formed the Indian section of the Vice President's security force, looked at Imran sourly. He hadn't been told why Imran was part of this team; only that one of his men had to be pulled out at the last minute to accommodate this special request from the Home Ministry. While he was unhappy about Imran's presence, he was curious about it. What was worse, he had been instructed to allow Imran to detach himself from the security team once they were in the farmhouse; to allow him to carry out his mission. What that mission was, of course, hadn't been disclosed.

The motorcade came to a halt. Three vehicles ahead, Imran saw Steve Buckworth alight from his limousine and greet the familiar figure of Bheem Singh. Both men disappeared inside the farmhouse, closely dogged by the US Secret Service agents.

'Ok, everyone out,' the commandant barked. They had orders to secure the farmhouse, but were not supposed to enter.

Imran took a deep breath and stepped out of the van. 'Thank you, sir,' he nodded to the commandant. 'This is where I leave your team.'

The commandant nodded back curtly and Imran headed off in the opposite direction. There was no way the US agents would allow him to follow Buckworth and Bheem Singh through the front door. He would have to scout around and find another way into the farmhouse.

This was easier said than done, he realised. The place was a virtual fortress, swarming with black clad guards, Bheem Singh's personal security force. Imran's blue camouflage uniform, the same as that of the commandos, identified him as part of the security team, so he wasn't stopped. But more than once, the security guards he passed flashed him questioning glances, though no one challenged him.

As he rounded the corner of the house, he noticed an open window with no grills. He looked around quickly. Unencumbered by an assault rifle, unlike the other commandos, he found it easy to vault over the low window sill and into an ornately furnished study. He adjusted the Glock in a holster at his waist, the only weapon he carried, and looked around.

It was the study; the same room where he had interviewed the Maharaja.

He glided to the door of the study and opened it a crack to look up and down the corridor. It was deserted. He stepped into the passage.

Which way should he go? He quickly made a choice and turned to his right. Where would Bheem Singh keep his secrets? Definitely not in the study or the rooms here; they were too accessible, too public. Large paintings by Indian and international artists hung on the walls of the passage and each doorway leading off the corridor was framed by antique-looking sculptures of stone and metal on ornate pedestals. The corridor ended in another passage perpendicular to it. Imran turned left and a short walk brought him to a stairway going downstairs.

A basement! Imran decided it was worth exploring.

Cautiously, he made his way down the stairs. As he descended, he realised that the stairway wasn't lit up. Neither was the basement. He cursed. The light from the corridor above barely reached this level, creating a murky gloom. He wished he had thought of bringing a torch with him.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised that the basement extended in one direction, to his right, as the stairway ended. To his left was a wall. He made his way slowly down the corridor, discerning three doorways. He tried the doors to his left and right but both were locked. That left only the door that was directly before him.

He turned the handle. The door opened silently. He realised he had been holding his breath, and exhaled with relief. For a few moments, he stood still and let his eyes adjust to the deeper gloom within the room.

It seemed to be some sort of conference room. A semi-circular table occupied the space before him, with a few chairs around it. Beyond the table seemed to be a wall.

But he didn't have time to wonder. Voices floated down the stairway and he realised, with a shock that they were heading straight for this room.

A quick look around the room showed him that there were few places to hide. His best bet seemed to be under a small desk that stood in one corner of the room, next to the doorway.

Just as he squeezed himself into his hiding place, the lights came on and he heard Bheem Singh say, 'And this is where we'll speak to him from.'

Buckworth whistled. 'A telepresence room. Great idea! But what about the possibility of someone tapping into the lines?'

'You don't suppose I own a software company for nothing?' Bheem Singh's supercilious voice came to Imran. 'We've developed software that scrambles the signals both ways. Even if someone was to tap into it, they'd never be able to figure out what we were saying.'

'Impressive. So he's waiting for us to call him?'

'Yes. Everything's ready, I just need to dial in. Make yourself comfortable.'

Imran heard the notes of a touchtone phone as a number was dialled. He heard the telephone on the other end of the line ring. It was picked up immediately.

'Good evening, gentlemen.' A crisp voice said with a decidedly European accent.

Imran cautiously peered over the rim of the desk. What had seemed to be a wall beyond the semi-circular conference table was actually a bank of screens, arranged to form a composite screen on which a mirror image of the conference room was displayed. In one of the chairs, gazing out from the screen, was a tall, distinguished man with a high forehead, aquiline nose and silver grey hair, his grey eyes framed by rimless spectacles.

Imran sucked in his breath.

Christian Van Klueck.

The Austrian businessman, who had been present at earlier meetings between Buckworth and Bheem Singh.

Imran quickly ducked back under the table. If Van Klueck could see into this room, chances were he may notice Imran peeping out from behind the desk.

'Hey Christian.' Only Buckworth responded.

'I'm not happy getting into a conference like this.' Van Klueck got straight to the point. 'We are taking a big chance.'

'I don't like it either,' Buckworth replied, pugnaciously, 'but I managed to find a good reason to be here. If you had better control over your partners, we wouldn't need to meet like this.'

'Calm down, both of you,' Bheem Singh broke in, seemingly trying to defuse what sounded like a tense situation.

But Imran's ears had pricked up at Buckworth's words. 'It's true,' Buckworth persisted, though his tone was noticeably less aggressive now. 'They had no business issuing that threat when we are so close to accomplishing the mission. It can screw everything up. Do you know how much work we had to put in for damage control? And your government too. And all the governments that got their blasted message.'

Imran broke out in a cold sweat. Was he hearing right? Was this even possible?

'It doesn't matter.' Van Klueck still seemed miffed. 'Our plans are not affected by the announcement. We are on course. Bheem Singh has everything under control.'

'Of course,' Bheem Singh affirmed immediately. 'I got a confirmation today that the last clue has been found. They would have returned to Patna by now. Farooq is already in Patna. I've given them the word to take Vijay and the woman hostage. Once they solve this final clue, we'll know exactly where the secret is located. I think we should be through with this phase of the plan in a week from now.'

'That's great,' Buckworth's voice was calmer now. 'But can you rely on LeT to deliver? We've all got a lot riding on this. Haojing, Deaubois and Martin also feel the same way. They've been in touch with me since the announcement of the threat. None of them are comfortable anymore with your partners.'

'We can't do this on our own.' Van Klueck asserted. 'Not without the publicity that none of us wants.'

Bheem Singh agreed. 'We can't reveal ourselves. Not yet. They are the perfect camouflage...high credibility as terrorists. A perfect red herring. And don't forget that the reason they partnered with us was the prospect of being able to issue threats like this one. There's also a benefit for us, from what they've just done, even if it wasn't planned. While everyone is occupied with the terror threat, we'll complete our own preparations. There's a lot of work to be done, Steve, if you want to be the next President of the United States of America without being elected. And once LeT completes their mission, we'll be in control. Exactly like we planned it.'

'I see your point,' Buckworth grunted. 'But I don't have to like it.'

There was silence for a moment. Then, Buckworth spoke again. 'Assuming they find the location in a week's time, are we in a position to deliver on the timelines?'

'Perhaps you should show him the prototype,' Van Klueck suggested.

Bheem Singh seemed to hesitate before replying. 'It's not fully operational,' he said after a moment. 'I'll show it to you anyway. It will give you an idea of how ready we are. Once we have the secret in our grasp, it won't take long to make the prototype fully functional and test it. And then, it's just a matter of replicating the technology. We'll be ready to go well before the summit. Okay, Christian, we're signing off.'

'Let's connect in a week's time.' After Van Klueck's final words, there was silence and Imran guessed the conference was over.

'Come, I'll show you the prototype,' he heard Bheem Singh say, and the lights in the room went off.

For a few moments, Imran sat huddled, frozen. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His hunch had paid off, big time, but in a most unexpected way. He extricated himself from his hiding place and stole to the door. He could hear voices coming from outside and peered into the corridor, which was now lit up.

There was no one there. The two men must have gone into one of the locked rooms. He knew he had to get close enough to hear what they were saying.

He ventured into the corridor. The door to his left, next to the staircase, was ajar. He sidled up to the door, and risked a glance inside the room. To his astonishment, there was no one there.

The voices had also fallen silent.

Imran slipped into the room and looked around. It was as if the men had vanished into thin air.

'Quite a collection you've got here.' Buckworth's voice suddenly broke the silence. It seemed to come from beneath the floor.

Imran realised that there must be a hidden level below the basement. Though, how the men had reached it, he couldn't fathom. There didn't seem to be any way out of the room, other than the door through which he had just entered. 'Yes,' Bheem Singh replied. 'The initial hoard that we found was very useful; helped us to make all this stuff.'

'What's this one? How does it work?' Buckworth had apparently found something interesting.

'Let me show you. I'll need to take my watch off for this. These are wrist bands which need to be worn together. They serve as armour and a weapon. I'll turn the intensity down and show you.'

Imran heard a crackle and a loud "pop" and guessed that Bheem Singh was demonstrating the weapon, whatever it was.

'That's cool. I haven't seen anything like this before, ever. Even DARPA doesn't have stuff like this.'

'They wouldn't. This technology doesn't exist. Outside the Order, that is.'

'So where's the prototype?' There was a trace of excitement in Buckworth's voice.

'Right here.'

'Where? I can't see it.'

'Step this way...that's right...a bit forward and to your left.' Bheem Singh seemed to be guiding Buckworth. 'Now wait while I...' There were a few moments of silence. Then, Bheem Singh spoke again. 'That's it.'

There was an exclamation from Buckworth. 'Well, I'll be damned!'

'Impressive isn't it? Even though it isn't complete yet. But once Farooq has found the secret, we'll be able to make it work perfectly. None of the G20 leaders have a chance.'

Buckworth's voice grew stern. 'Just make sure these guys don't screw up again. I haven't spent nine years waiting just to have a bunch of idiots flush my plans down the toilet.'

Imran heard footsteps, and realised they must be returning to this room. There was no place to hide here. He had to get out. The only place he could think of was the conference room. It wasn't likely they would go back there, and he could always hide under the desk again.

He hesitated, torn between the need to leave and the desire to know how the men had disappeared from the room. He also knew that he needed evidence if he was to nail Bheem Singh. No one was going to believe him if he returned to headquarters and related what he had just overheard. Bheem Singh had enough political influence to discredit his testimony. And the evidence he sought was in the hidden room.

As he backed up to the door, taking a last look around the room, the entire wall in front of him sank into the floor and disappeared. Beyond, where the wall had stood, was an opening in the floor and he could see the first few stairs of a stone stairway descending to a lower level which was dark, save for a dark blue, almost purplish glow emanating from it.

So that was the secret entrance to the lower level.

Tearing himself away from this discovery, he turned and slipped out of the door and back into the conference room, taking up his previous position under the desk. He heard Bheem Singh and Buckworth talking as they left the other room and shut the door behind them.

Their voices faded away and he realised that they were going back upstairs. He waited a while longer to ensure that they had gone, then ventured into the corridor again. The lights had been switched off and the basement was once more in darkness.

He tried the door of the room with the disappearing wall. To his surprise and relief, it was unlocked. As he entered the room and shut the door behind him, darkness enveloped him. For the second time, he wished he had brought a torch. Remembering that he had seen a light switch to the right of the door, he brought out his mobile phone and used the dim light from the screen and keypad to search for the light switch.

He finally found it after a minute or so and hoped the light wouldn't be detected from the corridor outside. There was no way he would find the mechanism to move the wall without illumination.

Advancing to the opposite wall, he began studying it closely, looking for anything that might indicate a switch or a lever to activate the mechanism.

But the wall was bare.

How had Bheem Singh lowered the wall to enter the hidden chamber?

He examined the other walls of the room, but drew a blank again. Apart from the light switch there was nothing else on the walls. Sighing in frustration, he realised that there was nothing more he could do here. He dialled Vaid's number and waited as the call was diverted to his assistant, who informed him that Vaid had been summoned by the Home Minister but was due back any time.