The Khufu Equation (31 page)

Tana looked at Kreis. He was completely calm despite the pain, and somehow it gave her assurance. She believed everything would be fine.

Ven Jhun closed the case and followed them.

A wall of rain poured onto Kreis and Tana, soaking them from head to toe. With the captain's revolver at their backs, they turned into a small lane.

"Stand there!" A wild cry made them turn around. Tana saw a young man next to the captain; the same one that Kreis had tied and bound in Campong Thom.

"You haven't shot anyone in the back before? said Kreis with a grin. "I'm surprised."

The captain raised his arm. "As soon as I kill them the pain will end," he thought. He clenched his teeth . . . .

Ven felt no stress. There was neither a contradiction in logic nor an inner struggle. There was no question whether to kill or not to kill. First, he'd send the lovely Tana to the great beyond, and later--once Kreis had suffered over her dead body--he'd do the same to him.

Tana stepped in front of Kreis to shield him. This unexpected deed embarrassed Ven, and his trigger finger froze in place. There was no longer fear in her eyes, even though she stared right toward the twin barrels of the Terrible revolver. Sparks of anger jumped forth from her steady gaze, and her lips revealed a pearlescent smile.

"The stone is nearly within your grasp, but it's some miles from here. You can go and take it. With its help you will be able to change the history of the universe, but the stone will never change you. It won't bring you happiness, because it will only increase and reflect your emotions many times over. The sun is not reflected in a dirty mirror."

"I have no time to chat with you, darling," said Ven. "You'd better say your goodbyes."

Ven returned to the sight on the gun, but in it there was something new. It was the face of Chen, his only son.

"Father! Come to your senses! You're making a fatal mistake!"

Chen shouted covering Tana.

– Go away, puppet! Or I'll shoot you. Don't make me repeat the order."

"Dad! I'm staying put, right here!"

The muscles in Jhun's face began to twitch, but no one thought he was bluffing. Chen knew he was serious, but he didn't step to the side.

The captain fired. The dry, abrupt sound blended with that of the pummeling rain, and indicated that the expected result hadn't occurred. Again he cocked the trigger and, beside himself with rage, fired directly at his son's face. He did it again and again, till finally he understood: All was useless.

He then realized, quite shockingly, that he had been twisted round someone's finger. He remembered the kettle, the tea strainer and that little slyness. Cartridges can become useless within the span of just several minutes.

His own son had betrayed him.

"Father! How could you!?" Bitter tears streamed from Chen's eyes and mixed with the rain.

Ven Jhun lowered his arm and retreated. Moving backwards step by step, his shadow dissolved in the puddles of rainwater.

Chen turned to Kreis. He rushed forward through the wall of rain, latched onto the man's shoulder, and began to sob. He cried there in the lane, without other witnesses. He had shown great bravery, but no one should see his tears.

"Tana." Kreis pulled the woman toward him and hugged her tenderly. "All this was planned while we were in Phnom Penh. You see, I had to understand something. Maybe you consider me a rascal, but I hope you'll forgive me. I'll take you to Europe, right now."

"You don't need the stone?" she said in amazement. Kreis smiled and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I found it . . . twenty-five years ago, but it was only today that I realized that. You're my philosopher's stone. You're the center of the universe, for me. You are worth everything in this world to me, and I'll put this world at your feet." He wrapped his arms tightly around her back.

Tana didn't notice his tears. Rain was Kreis' confidant, and reliably it concealed this weakness. The rain was witness when two shadows, arm in arm, walked away from the hotel in the direction of the local airport, on the way to a new life.

Hotel Angkor.

The ambulance stopped in front of the hotel. It was one of just a few cars to be seen on the road. Coal-black clouds hung over the city. Lightning flashed constantly, and the rain, drawn up from the ocean, threatened a deluge.

Jeanette gave little Jeff a hug and then exited the car. She felt as if the rain was an expression of salvation, as if her soul would be washed and her being infused with life.

The Essence, now in the form of a broad-bottomed clerk, closed the door of the cabin and signaled them to follow. It wasn't easy for Jeanette, but she would carry the boy. The Beast would no longer cause him suffering. As they entered the hotel, Jeanette noticed that the boy was in great pain. Still, his spirit was so strong, tempered and noble that she could only guess at the extent of it. A bystander might have thought he was asleep.

She had thought over dozens of possible escapes, but the Essence never left her alone. Only chance could play "Rock, Scissor, Paper." The hallway was crowded, but she wouldn't cry for help or the boy would suffer a terrible fate. The idea of a direct escape was unrealistic. The Essence would catch them in two steps. She simply had to wait for the right opportunity.

Jeanette followed the Essence into the elevator. If she had a capability of inner sight she could have seen how the information from the administrator's computer terminal was being fed into the Beast over unseen channels. Numbers, floors, names. The registered name of Ven Jhun was highlighted in number 225, located on the second story.

The lift door opened two floors above. Passing along the corridor, the Essence unlocked the door to room 425 and motioned for Jeanette to enter. She lowered the boy onto the bed, as gently as she could. The sound of the closed door made her look back. For the first time they were in private. She knelt and, touching the cold forehead with her lips, she quietly said, "My boy, it's time to escape."

Alcohol can switch off the groaning of the soul and immerse the mind in euphoria is not the only one. It also unmasks one's ordinarily sublimated characteristic of dominance, so that the real personality is revealed. Looking at the captain's face, one could see he was quite himself. He didn't wear the mask of sociability, because life and survival were for him alone. As for evil, he seemed to ladle it from a well that was perpetually brimming.

The man had thus emptied the bottle of rice whiskey before, and his sullen mood deepened.

"The little prick! How could he even dare to go against his father!? I'll flay your skin. When I get the stone, I'll grind this fucking world to dust!"

His body, despite the fatigue, was ready to run for the stone immediately. However, his mind warned that everything must take place At the necessary time, in the necessary way.

He listened to the torrent through the open balcony door, and occasionally he could feel the mist of it on his face, as if it was raining inside. His countenance was absent any sign of life; only the rings of cigarette smoke echoing from the mouth indicated that he was breathing.

A rustling sound led Ven to open his eyes, whereupon the sudden realization of who was standing there in the room sent his jaw slack, and the cigarette fell. The Essence sat down in a chair opposite the thug, and with legs comfortably crossed, a cigarette was immediately drawn down to its filter. The smoke thus emitted from within grew thick, taking the form of a skull amid the dampness.

Gazing into the shadow of a broad-backed man, Ven Jhun wondered whether it was merely his own reflection.

"At the necessary time, in the necessary way . . . ." The captain heard the phrase exactly as he had said it.

"I know who you are," said Ven, as soberly as he could.

"And I know what you need," replied the Essence. "You need a healthy new body, and I will help you get it."

"What's the exchange?"

"You'll finish your job. And for that, you are the only one whom I will offer the preservation of life."

"Why just me?"

"You are part of me. You are the embodiment of all I represent. You are utterly devoid of any moral concern or weakness. You are cold as steel, through and through. You are the very reason for Hell and its emergence from the void."

The captain then felt the curious sensation that this weightless shadow was pulling him forth, out of his body. A subtle, dry clap reported that the thin thread, as the connection between spirit and matter, had been severed. Then, almost magnetically, he was pulled into the body of the big-bottomed clerk. Scarcely able to believe all this, he instructed the left leg to move and it did so. Then he looked at crippled body he had for so long inhabited. The latter got up and limped over to the captain. The deep-set eyes of the Essence gave their green glow, and the mouth, distorted with contempt for all that was good, issued the first command: "Now," it said, "listen to me very carefully."

It is as easy for a light-boned female shoulder to break through a heavy door as it is to thread a rope through a needle. Accordingly, a woman will usually first try a hairpin in the lock. If that doesn't work, she can call the locksmith. If there is no response, she might feel frustrated and distressed. Rarely would a woman, much less a man, attempt to descend from the balcony.

Jeanette was different, because she had to be. Curtains, sheets, towels--in short-every piece of cloth she could find--had been tossed onto the floor. Over a period of seven minutes they were bound into a long rope. She also adapted one of the bath towels into a rucksack, like a cradle, and secured Jeff within it.

"You won't take us with bare hands," she thought. Neither would the heavy rain stop her. She tied one end of the lifeline around a newel in the railing and let the rest trail over. The ground was four stories below.

"Hold still, child," she said to Jeff, giving a slight smile for encouragement. "Freedom is worth all the fight we have."

Jeanette climbed over the railing and began to haul herself down. She was somewhat comforted by the idea that the fabric and knots would become stronger as they soaked up the rain. She remembered that ancient warriors used the phenomena of contraction to pull out capsized ships with linen ropes.

Jeanette practically was outside the third floor when the welded joint on the railing broke, whereupon the nearest knot slipped and hooked the joint. Foreseeing the event, Jeanette seized the cornice of that balcony. A second later, the lifeline plummeted past.

Her bloody fingers had hooked onto the cornice, but her grip was weakening. She had two choices: make her way onto the balcony or fall. She looked down briefly and saw asphalt directly below. Her head began to spin, and she felt dizzy.

Jeanette simply couldn't bear it any longer. There was no more strength in her hands, and all she had was in her heart. She said goodbye to the moment, and then she released. But the result was not what she had expected. Instead, a supernatural wave lifted her onto the balcony. Mindful that she carried Jeff, as well as her unborn child, she managed to gather her body and fall upon her forearms. There on the concrete, she sensed the presence of another. The feeling, similar to pain, was unmistakable. Emerald-green eyes flashed in the darkness, and someone limped toward her from behind the sliding screen door.

"If you want to kill us, do it now," cried Jeanette as she struggled to her feet. A man with a wide forehead appeared in the doorway. His voice had a devastating resonance, like the rumble of an atomic bomb, below the sound of rain.

The ground, having absorbed a great quantity of moisture, let free its bloom of must, and streams of unabsorbed water rushed toward their drainage points. Meanwhile the sun, as if to compensate for the loss of time, appeared at full power. The streets of Siamreal broke into smiles, oblivious to the presence of great evil. Here, just a few kilometers from the city, in a southern part of the temple complex at Angkor Wat, the Royal Ballet was preparing for a performance.

The great sculptor Auguste Rodin, who saw the Khmer ballet on the Paris scene in 1906, wrote: "For three days we had been living three thousand years past. It is impossible to imagine an ordinary mortal be a bearer of such skill; only these dancers and ancient Greeks have been capable of doing it."

Legend holds that the dancers of Apsar are not ordinary mortals. With the first sounds of the National Orchestra, the heavenly prima ballerina of Apsar appears on the stage. Every gesture and position of the hand, every expression on the face, and even the movements of eyelashes, follows a very specific choreography of synchronization. Khmer dance is unique for its ability to express definite feelings. Amid the flourishing of the Angkor Empire, girl dancers numerously served the royal court and various monasteries, but eventually just a few of the original thousand dancers remained. Those girls passed the art of Apsar on to succeeding generations.