Journey Into the Flame (41 page)

“Me, too,” Logan added. “I’m going to the Vault.”

Burke didn’t respond. He gave Valerie a long, hard look.

“We’ll just be observing,” she pressed. “If we get to the Vault and nothing happens, that’s great news for everyone. On the other hand, if something happens . . . Are you going to let Director Ramplet steal this from you the way he stole the top job at WSA ten years ago?”

“Cheap shot,” Burke said.

“It’s all I’ve got left, sir.”

Burke looked around the conference room, where only a handful of WSA personnel remained, then turned back to Valerie. “Better safe than sorry. Take who you need; I’ll get it cleared.”

“Thanks, boss,” Valerie said. “We won’t let you down.”

“Burke,” a voice called out. Everyone turned to see Ramplet walking over to them. “I’d like to meet your team.”

Burke obliged and introduced everyone. As Ramplet shook people’s hands, Logan couldn’t help but notice the large black diamond embedded in the thick gold ring he was wearing.

“On behalf of the WSA, I would like to thank each of you for your efforts,” Ramplet said. “Especially you.” He turned to Logan. “It is heartening to see a citizen get so passionately involved. I’m sure your parents would be happy to see that you’ve followed in their footsteps.”

“Thank you, Director,” Logan said hesitantly. He still didn’t trust him.

“Please,” Ramplet said, waving a hand, and flashing that black diamond ring once more. “You can call me Victor.” He smiled. “The WSA has arrived, and we’ll take it from here. Once again, I thank you for your work on this case.” Before the director turned to leave, he addressed Valerie, “And Agent Perrot, make sure you get that frequency device to us.”

50

A scientist endeavors to explain the hows of reality.

A theologian endeavors to explain the whys of reality.

A master teacher endeavors to live reality.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

BANARAS, INDIA, 4:30 A.M. LOCAL TIME,

24 HOURS UNTIL LIBERTY MOMENT

“What a sight!” Mr. Perrot was looking at a tall domed temple building illuminated against the night sky. Two other structures stood to its left, and many roaring fires cast an eerie glow over the grounds below. Mr. Perrot and Jogi had hired a boat to take them along the river to Manikarnika Ghat. Their earlier attempts to enter the ghat had been thwarted by the massive crowds gathered there for the almost two-day-long puja and prayer. Now, though, the crowds had dwindled, and the waters of the Ganges were calm. From the boat, Mr. Perrot could see the steep stairs that led up to the three haggard old buildings, which seemed to teeter on the banks of the river. Jogi had told him that these ornately decorated stone structures had once been the jewel of the river.

“I had no idea of the atmosphere of this place,” Mr. Perrot mused. “I feel as if I’ve traveled back in time to a world long forgotten.”

The light hum of the boat’s motor could be heard as they glided across the still waters of the river. It was early morning, and the sun was about to rise. The dark of night was giving way to the dawn.

“Deya described the river to me many times,” Mr. Perrot said. “I wish she was here to share my pleasure in seeing it for the first time.”

Jogi nodded. “It has been this way since anyone can remember,” he said. “The pyres of Manikarnika Ghat burn relentlessly day after day, night after night.”

“Do they ever stop?”

“No. This is an endless place,” Jogi said. “The fires have liberated countless souls over the centuries. Look at the ash that accumulates; look how it covers everything around here. Look at the boats, stacked high with wood. They deliver the fuel to keep the pyres going. Behind the temple, a long line of bodies waits to be cremated at this auspicious site.”

“Amazing continuity of effort over such a long period of time,” Mr. Perrot remarked.

Jogi pointed to the middle structure of the three haggard buildings near the riverbank. “See that clock high up in the tower?”

Mr. Perrot looked where Jogi pointed. It was difficult to see through all the smoke and ash that rose into the sky. “I fear the clock is incorrect,” he said. “It says six o’clock.”

“It is always six o’clock at Manikarnika,” Jogi said. “It is said that time stands still at the moment of death.”

Their boat was getting closer to the riverbank, and the smell of the burning wood was becoming stronger. Mr. Perrot sat silently and reflected on the many sights up and down the mystical river. It was as if the Great Disruption had not touched this place.

“There are more than eighty ghats on the Ganges, most with their own temples and touchstones,” Jogi said. “But Manikarnika is considered the holiest of them all. At least, it used to be.”

“What is the purpose of the clock tower building?” Mr. Perrot asked.

“It and the structure to its left are the two pilgrim houses.” Jogi paused a moment. He was clearly moved by the sight of those three buildings. “It is a great honor to die at Manikarnika Ghat. Those who
are terminally ill stay in the pilgrim houses until they pass. My father took me into one of the houses once. I don’t have the words to describe how I felt. It is not a place for the faint of heart. After the Great Disruption, a very large pyre pit was built in front of the pilgrim house with the clock tower. It is called Shiva Pyre. You can see the large glow it casts over the ghat.”

“I understand what Deya spoke about now,” Mr. Perrot said. “She told us that on the day she found the
Chronicles
, she was going to the pilgrim house. Her miracle in the river spared her that fate. Deya never forgot that gift. She told us she would go into those buildings from time to time and read passages from the
Chronicles
to the people there. She said the words brought hope and comfort to those who waited for the passing of their lives.”

“She sounds like an incredible woman,” Jogi said.

Mr. Perrot simply nodded.

The boatman, meanwhile, maneuvered the craft to a small landing in front of a set of stone stairs. Bodies were being cremated on either side, and mourners watched in traditional silence as the wrapped corpses of their loved ones evaporated into fine dust and ash.

“It is strange that we do not smell the burning of flesh,” Mr. Perrot said. “Even the burning of hair should emit an unbearable odor.”

“It is the banyan tree logs,” Jogi said. He paid the boatman as he and Mr. Perrot disembarked. “There is something about them and the sandalwood logs that negates the smell. My father used to tell me it was the blessing of the gods. See how brightly some of the fires burn? It is because of the small bags of sandalwood that are poured upon them.”

Mr. Perrot was mesmerized by the sights and sounds around him and by Jogi’s explanations of their significance. They climbed the many steps and soon stood in front of the domed temple.

“This temple is now abandoned,” Jogi explained. “It was built in the eighteenth century by Queen Ahalya Bai Holkar of Indore.”

Mr. Perrot took a moment to look across the river at the sun, which was about to break over the horizon. “How beautiful . . .”

Jogi nodded. He joined Mr. Perrot in admiring the dawn of a new day on the Ganges. The sun had now completely risen over the eastern horizon. “So what are we looking for now that we have arrived?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Mr. Perrot answered. He took a note from his pocket and once again read Deya’s message:

In the once Great House

Where fire is and ashes rise

Where the ear stone fell

Will hold your prize

“So let us assume now that we have solved the first two lines of the riddle,” Mr. Perrot said, thinking aloud. “We certainly are where ‘fire is and ashes rise.’ But what is an ‘ear stone’?”

He and Jogi walked around the ghat grounds, looking for something, anything, that might help them decipher the riddle. As they wandered past the pilgrim houses, they came upon a tour group standing in front of the domed temple. The group had arrived to take in the sunrise and observe a cremation ceremony.

“There are many stories concerning how this particular ghat was created,” the guide explained to his group. “So I will tell you the one that I like best. Legend has it that before the Ganges River was even a river and before man walked the earth, Lord Vishnu dug a water well—or a kund—with his own discus. The well lies fifty meters away, just up the river.” The guide pointed north. “It is said that the kund was initially filled by Lord Vishnu’s own perspiration as he ardently performed his mystical disciplines. Lord Vishnu was so focused that he did not see that Lord Shiva had arrived or that Lord Shiva was so pleased with Lord Vishnu’s deeds that he started to dance. While doing so, Lord Shiva’s earring, known as the Manikarnika, fell into the well, blessing it for eternity. And that is how the ghat received its name. It is named after Lord Shiva’s fallen earring.”

Mr. Perrot and Jogi looked at each other. “ ‘Where the ear stone fell,’ ” Jogi said.

“It means where the
earring
fell,” Mr. Perrot added. “We need to find that well.”

Jogi led Mr. Perrot north along the river. Within a short distance, as the guide described, they came upon the Manikarnika Kund. The well was rectangular in shape, and all four sides had about fifteen steep symmetrical steps that sloped inward and down to a smaller rectangular basin. There was only a small amount of water left in the dried pool bed.

“Do you think she hid the books under the water?” Mr. Perrot asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jogi said. “My father told me that this pool fills with mud during the rainy season. Each time it does so, they have to clean it out. Which means the books would have been found or, more likely, lost forever.”

Mr. Perrot nodded, surveying the kund. He pointed to the north side of the pool, where a statue of Vishnu stood. “What are those large gaps on the side of the well, there near the statue?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jogi said. He started down the steps toward the openings. Mr. Perrot followed close behind. One of the gaps was large enough for a person to fit through. Jogi entered what appeared to be a tunnel. He used his PCD to illuminate the dark, narrow passageway, which didn’t lead very far, only about four meters.

Mr. Perrot had made his way in and began moving his hands over the walls. He noticed that some stones seemed smoother than others. “Could you shine some light over here, please?” he asked. “There’s something about this section of the wall.”

Jogi came over and shone his light where Mr. Perrot directed. “These stone blocks look newer than the ones around them,” he said. “Please stay here. I will return promptly.” Jogi left his PCD with Mr. Perrot and hurried from the tunnel.

Mr. Perrot continued to inspect the newer-looking stones. He took a seat in the tunnel on a broken slab in front of the wall he was studying, waiting and wondering what Jogi had in mind. His thoughts turned to his daughter. He wondered how Valerie and Logan were making out.
I will call them later today
, he thought hopefully. It wasn’t long before he heard clinking sounds outside the tunnel entrance, and Jogi returned with a couple of hammers and small iron picks.

“I purchased them from the wood cutters outside,” Jogi said. Mr. Perrot smiled. Then the two of them used the tools to loosen the stones from the wall. Soon enough, the blocks began to shift. Jogi used the pick to slide one forward and directed the light from his PCD behind the dislodged stone. He could see that there was some kind of empty space behind the wall. “Looks like there is a room back there!” he announced.

Mr. Perrot helped Jogi remove all four stone blocks from the wall, and soon a half-meter-square opening was revealed.

“I’ll go first,” Jogi said. He drew his gun and cautiously entered the room.

Mr. Perrot immediately followed. They were inside a small three-by-three-meter-square room whose ceiling was barely high enough for them to stand upright. The air smelled musty from the dampness of the ground under their feet.

“Well, this is most unexpected,” Mr. Perrot said.

Jogi squatted down and grabbed some dirt near his feet. “It must get flooded during the rainy season. Do you think Deya built this?”

“If she did, it looks like she had some help,” Mr. Perrot said. A hammer and a few other tools lay in a corner. “Maybe these are the missing tools Babu referred to. Though I don’t see any books or possible hiding places. Perhaps they’re buried in the dirt.”

“I don’t think we are going to find the books here,” Jogi said. He was looking at the wall opposite the opening.

Mr. Perrot walked over and joined him. “Yet another riddle.” Then he began to read the message chiseled into the stone.

It will be yours

For those who follow these understandings

Cross the great river, to the fort of old

Turn and seek the canopy protecting the jewel

Along the river to Shiva’s last stand

This is the path for you

If you seek what I possess

“And I thought the first riddle was difficult,” Jogi said. “The only part I have an answer to is ‘Shiva’s last stand.’ I think that is referring to Assi Ghat. The southernmost ghat along the river, where the—”

A sound coming from the opening interrupted Jogi’s explanation. He and Mr. Perrot turned around. A bright light was shining into their eyes, blinding them.

“Hello, Robert!” a voice called out as the light suddenly disappeared.

Two men had entered. It took only a moment for Mr. Perrot to recognize the dark eyes and arrogant bearing of one of them. “Simon!”

Jogi drew his weapon, and two shots rang out.