The Rozabal Line (2 page)

Chapter Two

Ladakh, India, 1887

Dmitriy Novikov was tired.6 His expedition from Srinagar through the 3,500-metre-high Zoji-la Pass into Ladakh had been exhausting in spite of several men taking on the burden of luggage and equipment. The onward trek to Leh, the capital of Ladakh, and thereon to Hemis had sapped all his energy. To make matters worse, he had injured his right leg as a result of a fall from the mule that was carrying him.

Hemis was one of the most respected Buddhist monasteries in Ladakh, and their visitor was welcomed as an honoured guest. The monks quickly carried him into their simple quarters and began tending to his injury. While he was being fed a meal of apricots and walnuts washed down by hot butter tea, he met the chief Lama of the 6

monastery.

'I know why you are here, my son,' said the Lama. 'We too honour the Christian Son of God.'

Dmitriy was dumbfounded. He had not expected such a forthright approach.

'Would it be possible for me to see the writings that talk of Issa?' he began cautiously.

The wise Lama smiled quizzically at Dmitriy and then quietly continued, 'The soul of Buddha certainly was incarnate in the great Issa who, without resorting to war, was able to spread the wisdom of our beautiful religion through many parts of the world.

Issa is an honoured prophet, who took birth after twenty-two earlier Buddhas. His name, his life and his deeds are noted in the texts that you refer to. But first you must rest and allow yourself to heal.'

Dmitriy's leg was throbbing with pain. The Buddhist monks applied a wide assortment of herbal remedies and packs, but they were of little help. He attempted to ignore the pain and continue his animated conversation with the Lama.

The Lama was turning his prayer-wheel when he stopped and said, 'The Muslims and Buddhists do not share common-alities. The Muslims used violence and battles to convert Buddhists to Islam. This was never the case with the Christians. They could be considered honorary Buddhists! It's truly sad to seethat Christians decided to forget their roots and wander further and further away from Buddhism!'

Dmitriy was sweating profusely. The Lama's words seemed to be questioning years of conventional wisdom. He realised how momentous his discovery was, but he also knew the danger of exposing his knowledge to the Western world. He would be branded a traitor and a liar. His words would be considered blasphemous. He would need to proceed carefully.

Dmitriy quickly asked again whether he would be able to see the sacred writings that the Lama was referring to. The Lama looked at him and smiled. 'Patience is a Buddhist virtue, my son,' he said. 'Patience.'

Dmitriy was as patient as could be. He waited for several days to see the writings that the Lama had spoken of, the ones about Issa. It was difficult to conceal his anticipation and he had been sorely tempted to ask for the manuscripts without further delay. Today his patience had finally paid dividend. The Lama brought him a number of ancient scrolls written in Tibetan by Buddhist historians.

An interpreter was called for and began to translate the scrolls while Dmitriy attempted to make copies of them.

The scrolls told the story of a boy called Issa, born in Judea. The story went on to explain that sometime during the fourteenth year of his life, the boy arrived in India to study the teachings of the Buddhists. His travels through the country took him through Sindh, the Punjab and eventually to Maghada, the ancient kingdom of Ashoka, where he studied the Vedas, the Hindu texts of knowledge. However, Issa was forced to leave when he began to teach those whom the Hindu Brahmins considered

'untouchables' under the rigid caste system of Hinduism.

Issa then took refuge in Buddhist monasteries and began learning the Buddhist scriptures in Pali, the language of the Buddha. Thereafter he headed home to Judea via 7

Persia. In Persia he made himself unpopular with the Zoroastrian priests. They expelled him into the jungles, hoping he would be eaten alive by wild animals.

He finally reached Judea at the age of twenty-nine. Because he had been away for so long,no one seemed to know him. They asked, 'Who art thou, and from what country hast thou come into our own? We have never heard of thee, and do not even know thy name.'

And Issa said, 'I am an Israelite and on the very day of my birth, I saw the walls of Jerusalem, and I heard the weeping of my brothers reduced to slavery, and the moans of my sisters carried away by pagans into captivity. While yet a child, I left my father's house to go among other nations. But hearing that my brothers were enduring still greater tortures, I have returned to the land in which my parents dwelt, that I might recall to my brothers the faith of their ancestors.'

The learned men asked Issa, 'It is claimed that you deny the laws of Moses and teach the people to desert the temple of God.'

And Issa replied, 'We cannot demolish what has been given to us by God. As for Moses's laws, I have striven to re-establish them in the hearts of men, and I say to you that you are in ignorance of their true meaning, for it is not vengeance, but forgiveness, that they teach.' 7

Dmitriy was excited. Then petrified. He knew there was no going back on his discovery. He now knew that he held in his hands one of the most stunning revelations in two millennia.

A revelation about Issa, the Arabic form of the Hebrew name Yeshua, also known as Jesus.

Chapter Three

Srinagar, Kashmir, India, 1975

The house of Rashid-bin-Isar was overflowing with joy. His wife, Nasira, had just delivered a baby boy. The proud father had announced that he would feed all the poor and homeless in the city for a week. Large vats filled with lamb biryani, a spicy and aromatic rice pilaf, overflowed into the streets as beggars and street children flocked to Rashid's home to feast.

Rashid cradled his firstborn in his arms as he recited the Islamic prayers, Adhan in the right ear and Iqaamah in the left ear of the child, as he awaited the Khittaan, the ritual circumcision.

Father and son appeared on the balcony a few moments later as cheers erupted from the throngs in the street. 'I want all of you to bless my son. By the will and grace of Allah, he will be great. His name shall be Ghalib, the Victorious One!'

Gulmarg, Kashmir, India, 1985

Ten years later, the members of the Indian Army who burst into the weekend home of Rashid-bin-Isar were convinced that he had financed the activities of those responsible for the bomb blast in the market the previous day.

He pleaded his innocence, but his cries and protestations were to no avail. His 8

terror-stricken family watched as their beloved abba was arrested on the spot.

He was quickly handcuffed and dragged away to prison, where he was punched and kicked till he could barely see, hear, talk, or walk. The next day he was found hanging in his cell; he had used his own clothes to fashion the noose around his neck.

The family had been allowed to take away his body to give him a burial. As per Islamic custom, in preparation for burial, the family was expected to wash and shroud the body.8 However, this step was to be omitted if the deceased had died a martyr; martyrs were to be buried in the very clothes they had died in. Rashid-bin-Isar was going to be buried in the clothes he had died in. He was no less than a martyr.

The mourners carried his body to the burial ground where the Imam began reciting the funeral prayers, the Salat-i-Janazah. Prayers over, the men carried the body to the gravesite. Rashid's body was laid in the grave without a coffin, as per custom, on his right side, facing Mecca.

Standing by the grave was little ten-year-old Ghalib, tears streaming down his cheeks. The Imam placed his hands on Ghalib's shoulders and said, 'Son, you should not cry. You are the son of a hero. Your father's death was not in vain. You will avenge his death. Henceforth, you shall not shed tears. You shall shed blood!'

Little Ghalib was confused. How could he possibly take revenge? He was merely a ten-year-old boy.

'Come with me, my son,' said the Imam, and taking Ghalib by the hand he led him to the mosque. The next day, the Imam journeyed across the Line of Control to get to Muzaffarabad on the Pakistani side of Kashmir. Here the boy was enrolled into the Jamaat-ud-Dawa Madrasah, an Islamic school of learning.

The lanky, olive-skinned Imam wearing a simple white turban bid him goodbye.

'See me after you have completed your studies,' he said simply.

Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, 1986

During the next few years in Pakistan, Ghalib would go through two separate courses of study. In the Hifz course, he would memorise the holy Qur'an. In the 'Aalim course he would study the Arabic language, Qur'anic interpretation, Islamic law, the sayings and deeds of the Prophet Muhammad, logic and Islamic history. At the end of his study, he would be awarded the title of 'Aalim, meaning scholar.

One day, when he was in his Islamic history class, his teacher told them about the Islamic conquests of India.

'The first was the invasion by Mohammed-bin-Qasim from Syria in the seventh century. This was followed by the eleventh-century incursions of Muhammad of Ghazni.

Ghazni was followed by Mohammed Ghori, who left India to be ruled by his Turkish generals. Then came the attacks by the Mongol hordes of Chenghiz Khan. Then, in A.D.

1398, came one of the most successful attacks of all, under the Mongol Taimur,'

continued the teacher. 9

Little Ghalib argued, 'But none of these people stayed in India. They were mostly interested in looting rather than ruling.'

Whack! The cane was swift on his palm.

'You must never say that again. Babar, Taimur's descendant, invaded India in 9

1526 and established Mughal rule over India for the next 300years. In fact, it was God's will that India be ruled by Muslims. Till then, Hindus had continued to indulge in idolatry. The Muslim invasions made them realise the greatness of Islam!'

'So why do Muslims not rule over Kashmir today?' asked Ghalib.

'This is the reason that you must fight,' explained the teacher. 'It is your duty to do so. Fight a jihad to restore Islamic rule over Kashmir and then over the whole of India! Allah-o-Akbar!' he shouted.

'Allah-o-Akbar!' shouted the children in unison, including little Ghalib.

Waziristan, Pakistan-Afghanistan border, 2010

The lanky, olive-skinned Imam wearing the simple white turban who had escorted the ten-year-old was now Ghalib's controller. Everyone simply called him

'Sheikh'.

He was sitting on an intricately woven rug inside his cave in Waziristan, located on the Pakistan-Afghanistan border.

On his right sat Ghalib-bin-Isar, the thirty-five-year-old leader of the Lashkar-e-Talatashar. He was here with his army of the dirty dozen.

The host first looked at Ghalib. He then swept a glance over Ghalib's men--Boutros, Kader, Yahya, Yaqub, Faris, Fadan, Ataullah, Tau'am, Adil, Shamoon, Yehuda and Fouad. Each of these veterans had crossed the Khyber Pass from different parts of the world and had enrolled in the Khalden Camp run by Al-Qaeda as fresh recruits, who were now toughened and battle-ready.

Khalden was a mishmash of tents and rough stone buildings. It used to take in about a hundred recruits at a time. Each group consisted of Muslims from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Yemen, Algeria, France, Germany, Sweden, Chechnya and Kashmir. Ironically, the Al-Qaeda Khalden Camp was using teaching and training methods originally adopted by the American CIA in training the Mujahideen guerrillas to fight the Soviets.10 Even text books--in Arabic, French and English--on terror techniques had been made available to the recruits, courtesy of the CIA.

Each morning at Khalden, the group would be called to parade and then asked to pray. After the morning meal, they would go through endurance training followed by strength training. They would also be taught hand-to-hand combat using a variety of knives, alternative forms of garrottes and other weapons. They would learn to use small firearms, deadly assault rifles and even grenade-launchers. The science of explosives and landmines was also part of their study. Representatives of Islamic terror groups, such as Hamas, Hezbollah and Islamic Jihad would regularly visit the camp in order to teach the recruits more about the practical applications of their knowledge.

The final result of the efforts at the Khalden Camp had been this elite Army of Thirteen, the Lashkar-e-Talatashar. The Sheikh was happy with the output.

These men would help the Sheikh's Master teach the whole world of infidels a lesson that they would not forget. The 9/11 attack on America in 2001would seem like a tea party in comparison. The Sheikh's Master was convinced that it was time to re-establish the supremacy of the Islamic Caliphate.

The Sheikh wondered how it would affect the Crux Decussata Permuta.

10

Chapter Four

Osaka, Japan, 1972

Pink Floyd performed live at the Festival Hall in Osaka on 9 March. Among those in the audience was a pretty young woman, Aki Herai. She had a job in the large Daimaru store in the Shinsaibashi district of the city but was now on leave because she was eight months pregnant. The concert tickets were a present from her friends at the store. The delicate subject of the child's father was never discussed.

Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon was a big hit with the Japanese youth attending the concert. The show was reaching its finale when Aki felt her water break.

Her friends rushed her to Osaka National Hospital, where the doctors performed an emergency caesarean section.

Her daughter, Swakilki, arrived six weeks short of a normal forty-week pregnancy. Luckily she weighed five pounds, was 12.6 inches tall, and had fairly well-developed lungs, enabling her to survive.

On Swakilki's sixth birthday, her mother threw a party. Aki entertained the guests inside the cramped shoebox home while one of her friends took little Swakilki to the garden for some fresh air. As the womancuddled the little girl in her arms, she felt the shock from the hot blast that ripped through Aki Herai's home.

The cause of the explosion would later be diagnosed as an accident--a gas leak.

It was a gas leak; an accident, it was not.

Yes, Swakilki was indeed a survivor--born without a father, and alive without a mother.

Tokyo, Japan, 1987

Orphaned at the age of six, Swakilki had been transferred to the Holy Family Home, an Osaka orphanage run by kind, gentle and caring nuns. She would spend the next six years here.

During these six years she would eagerly await the monthly arrival of one of the jovial and rotund Fathers from Rome. His name was Alberto Valerio, and he would always bring her candy. For Swakilki, he was her Santa Claus.

She was one of the 'lucky' ones to get adopted at the age of twelve by a fairly well-off couple in Tokyo. What she could not have known was that the adoption would come at a price. Little Swakilki was abused and raped by her adoptive father at the age of fourteen; he told her it was their 'special little secret'.

Scared and confused, she ran away a year later to take up a job in an oppaipabu, one of the sleazy establishments on the outskirts of Tokyo where customers were allowed to fondle the female staff to their hearts' content. It was at the oppaipabu that she met an older man, Takuya.

She shared his bed on the first night they met, and he shared with her his knowledge of anandamides.

Anandamides are naturally occurring neurotransmitters in the brain whose chemical make-up is very similar to cannabis. The word 'anandamide' is derived from 11

the Sanskrit word ananda, which means bliss.

Swakilki learnt how to enjoy the rush of anandamides within her brain when she killed. She then learnt how to make men experience the same rush when she had sex with them.

Takuya trained her well over the next few years. First came the techniques of killing--suffocation, strangulation, drowning, garrotting, poisoning, explosion, shooting, stabbing, castration and ritual disembowelment.

Next were the techniques of seduction. Tantric sex and the Kama Sutra became her daily study rituals. Self-grooming, dressing, conversation, cuisine and wine selection were next on the menu.

The friendship between Takuya and Swakilki was one of mutual dependence.

Takuya was closely linked to Aum Shinrikyo, a lethal religious cult. He was member of a small group that carried out assassinations of important and influential people who were considered enemies of Aum Shinrikyo. Swakilki was an ideal recruit. She was gorgeous, ruthless and, most importantly, emotionally barren. The final product was sexy, seductive, sultry, silent, and sharp. Razor-sharp.

Her first assignment would be Murakami-san, one of the most outspoken critics of Aum Shinrikyo.

Tokyo, Japan, 1990

Swakilki and Murakami-san had dined at a very expensive Kaiseki restaurant.

Kaiseki cuisine was historically vegetarian owing to its Zen origin, though not anymore.

Only the freshest seasonal ingredients were utilised, and these were cooked in a delicate style aimed at enhancing their original flavours. Each dish was exquisitely prepared and carefully presented along with elaborate garnishes of leaves and flowers.

They were now in his penthouse on the top floor of a skyscraper in the neon-filled district of Shunjuku in northwest Tokyo. They lay entirely naked on the king-sized bed; she had worn him out completely. Swakilki knew some of the finest techniques in the art of pleasuring a man. Her petite frame, perfectly rounded breasts and delicate features only accentuated her oozing sex appeal.

She had taken Murakami through several waves of near orgasm using different styles of stroking and stimulation. She knew that after coming close to orgasm a few times, without releasing themselves,most men experienced very strong and sometimes very lengthy orgasms.

The art of Tantra had taught her that it was possible for a man to experience the feeling of orgasm without actually ejaculating. She had made Murakami experience several of these 'dry' orgasms in a row. When she allowed him a final release, the actual orgasm was so intense that it was a full body tremor lasting over a minute.

It was thus no surprise to Swakilki that the ancient Indian sex treatise, the Kama Sutra, was still a bestseller even though its author, Vatsyayana, had written it way back in A.D. 600.

She looked at Murakami-san, who was gently snoring, and sleeping like a contented baby. Quietly, she lifted her pillow and brought it down on his face. It was time for Murakami-san to sleep deeper.

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Tokyo, Japan, 1993

Seishu Takemasa was sound asleep.

Swakilki had just given Seishu a hot, sensual mineral bath in the luxurious sunken marble tub of the Imperial Suite.

The legendary grande dame of Tokyo, the Imperial Hotel, had 1,057 rooms, including 64 suites, which were mostly reserved for statesmen, royalty and celebrities.

Seishu Takemasa was all of the above. His proximity to His Imperial Majesty Akihito, the 125th Emperor of Japan, was well known. He was also close to the political establishment, including three successive prime ministers--Tsutomu Hata, Tomiichi Murayama and Ryutaro Hashimoto. His photographs with Madonna, Oprah, Prince Charles, Bill Gates, Tom Cruise and Bill Clinton appeared regularly in the society pages.

The media empire he owned was second only to that of Rupert Murdoch and he had used it to launch a frontal attack on Aum Shinrikyo.

Over the years, Swakilki had grown even more attractive. She was built like a beautiful and graceful Japanese doll. Her pale ivory skin was flawless. Her dark black hair had just a hint of auburn and cascaded down all the way to the curve of her hips.

Her face was exquisite, with deep pools for eyes, an aquiline nose and delicate but full lips. She looked every inch a princess.

After giving Seishu hisbath, she began to massage him. Her intention was to tune him inward while deepening his awareness. Her knowledge of Tantra allowed her to focus on all the seven chakras, the nerve centres, starting from the base of his spine, to his genitals, onward to his belly, upward to his heart, further on to his throat, northward to his forehead--the mystical third eye--and finally to the top of his head.

Her pampering ministrations had turned him into soft clay that she could mould in any way she wanted.

Her present focus was on his prostate gland. This was purportedly one of the access points for Kundalini energy, which was supposed to lead to enlightenment.

As she massaged him, he began to experience a deep emotional release. Tears ran down his cheeks. He was laughing. Then crying. It was wave after wave of immense pleasure. He looked up at her gentle smiling face to express his gratitude for her incredible skills.

He barely noticed the flash of the extremely sharp razor as it swiftly slit his throat.

Osaka, Japan, 1995

On 20 March 1995, during the morning rush hour, ten members belonging to the Aum Shinrikyo cult boarded five trains at different stations. At a predetermined time, they punctured bags of sarin gas. Twelve people died and thousands were incapacitated. The Japanese police thought that the attack had been perpetrated by ten members of the gang. It had actually been twelve.

Osaka, Japan's third largest city, with a population of 2.5 million, was the economic powerhouse of the Kansai region. Higashi-Osaka, or East Osaka, was a residential suburb and its industrial district produced electric appliances, machinery, clothing fibre and paper. It had also produced Swakilki and Takuya.

13

Takuya had been born in 1955, the same year as Asahara Shoko, the notorious founder of the Aum Shinrikyo sect. Like Asahara, he had failed the entrance exam at Tokyo University and had turned to studying acupuncture. Both Asahara and Takuya had joined Agonshu, a new religion that stressed liberation from 'bad karma' via meditation. Asahara had visited India in 1986 and upon his return to Japan had claimed to have attained enlightenment in the Himalayas. He had named his new group Aum Shinrikyo.11

In Aum, a believer could eliminate bad karma by enduring various sufferings. As a result, members of the cult were free to justify the abuse of other members.

As Asahara's cult grew, so did his power and wealth. All new entrants had to sever ties with their families and contribute their wealth to the cult. Aum Shinrikyo became infamous for bloody initiations, involuntary donations, threats and extortion.

Takuya was the brains and muscle behind many of these activities, although purely for commercial motivations.

As Asahara became crazier, he felt the need to convince the world that an apocalypse was about to happen and that he was the world's only salvation. In 1994 he ordered clouds of sarin gas to be released in the Kita-Fukashi district of Matsumoto.

This was soon followed by the horrible train attack.

Asahara was eventually found hiding in a secret room in the village of Kamikuishiki. He had in his possession a huge amount of cash and gold bars. Many of his followers were also found--comatose, under the influence of pentobarbital, an anaesthetic. Asahara and 104 followers were indicted. Two were not.

Unlike the others, Swakilki and Takuya had been with Asahara for commercial reasons alone. They had no emotional or spiritual ties to Asahara or to Aum Shinrikyo, and they were now free to do as they pleased.

Tel-Aviv, Israel, 1995

On 4 November, Yitzhak Rabin, the prime minister of Israel, was assassinated by Yigal Amir, a right-wing activist. The popularly accepted version of the killing was that the assassin had felt betrayed by Rabin's signing of the Oslo Accord, which prompted him to take Rabin's life.12

No one knew of the two other international conspirators who had taken the Thai Airways flight 643 from Tokyo to Bangkok and the connecting El Al flight 84 from Bangkok to Tel Aviv.

Madrid, Spain, 1998

Lopez Tomas, president of the Spanish Constitutional Court, was in his office at Madrid Autonomous University when a gunman rushed into his office and shot him at point-blank range.

The commonly accepted view was that the Basque separatist group, ETA, was behind his murder.

The camera-slung Asian couple that had arrived in Frankfurt on Lufthansa's flight 711 from Tokyo had not bothered to shoot any photographs in Germany. Instead, they had taken the connecting Spanair flight 2582 to Madrid the very same day.

There had been much more to shoot in Madrid.

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Dushanbe, Tajikistan, 2001

On 27 October, Otakhon Khairollayev, a journalist of repute from Tajikistan, was shot dead at point-blank range. The same day a Japanese woman had entered the capital, Dushanbe, wearing an Afghan burqa.

Asuncion, Paraguay, 2002

On 27 June, Luis Santa Cruz, the finance minister of Paraguay, was gunned down in his car. He had been a likely candidate for President. A Japanese woman had been visiting all the tourist spots, including Asuncion, for a week around the same time.

Athens, Greece, 2005

On 16 June, David Roberts, a British military attache in Athens, was shot dead by gunmen on motorcycles who belonged to N17, the Marxist revolutionary organisation. A honeymooning couple from Japan had been on a cruise of the Greek islands at that time.

Manila, Philippines, 2007

On 26 February, Filemon Montinola, an upcoming left-leaning politician in the Philippines, was assassinated.

A young Japanese woman visited the Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, more commonly known as the Manila Cathedral, in order to light a candle the next day.

Belgrade, Serbia, 2010

On 9 May, Draginja Djindjic, the foreign minister of Serbia, was shot twice in the chest at 11:28 am inside a government building. His assassin, Vojislav Jovanoviae, had fired the bullets from another building in the area. The same building had been visited by a Japanese woman that morning.

Yes, business was good for Swakilki and Takuya. They could now work entirely for themselves, given the fact that Asahara and Aum Shinrikyo were history. It also seemed that no one was really looking for them. Actually, someone was. Swakilki's Santa Claus. His name was Alberto Valerio.

Vatican City, 2012

Alberto Valerio was busy reading a dissertation by the renowned scholar Professor Terry Acton, head of the Department for the Study of Religions at the University of London. The good doctor had built up a cogent case to prove that Jesus Christ had not died on the cross at all. Alberto Cardinal Valerio took a sip of his Valpolicella, and continued reading:

If the vested interests of the temple Jews had wanted to kill Jesus, they had the power to do so by stoning him to death without taking any permission from Rome. Why did this not happen? Instead, Jesus was punished by the Romans under Roman law and then crucified--a punishment meted out to enemies of the Roman Empire. Why punish a man under Roman law if he had no political agenda, only a religious one? Under Roman law, he would have first been flogged, causing a significant loss of blood. In this weakened state, his arms would have been fastened by thongs or nails to a solid wooden beam placed across his shoulders and neck. He would then have been made to walk to the final place of crucifixion while continuing to bear the weight of this beam. At 15