Shadow Tyrants

THIRTY-THREE

It took less than forty hours for the Oregon to make the dash across the Arabian Sea to the Mandeb Strait, the narrow body of water between the countries of Yemen and Djibouti. The precise coordinates Lyla Dhawan had given to Juan were in a group of islets near the southern end of the Red Sea. While he waited for Max to call to say that they’d arrived at the location, he met in his cabin with Eric Stone, who had been struggling to identify the strange symbol with the swastika embedded in it.

“I’ve looked all over the place for this,” Eric said as they sat at Juan’s dining table while they were served coffee from a silver tray by Maurice, the Oregon’s chief steward. A veteran of Britain’s Royal Navy under numerous admirals, the distinguished septuagenarian was the oldest person on the ship. He preferred to wear a black tie and elegant white jacket protected by a gleaming linen napkin folded over his arm.

“This is not the Nazi swastika?” Juan asked.

“No. It’s not on any military insignia from that era. This swastika is a backward version of Hitler’s. So unless Lyla Dhawan was looking at a mirror image, it is probably South Asian in origin.”

“The swastika was originally a religious symbol, right?”

Eric nodded. “For thousands of years before it was perverted by the Nazis. It’s commonly found on Hindu and Buddhist statues and temples. In Asia, it symbolizes well-being and prosperity, not the bigotry and hatred of the Nazis’ twisted emblem.”

“What about the other part of Lyla’s symbol?”

“The wheel and nine spokes? I have no idea.”

As he poured Juan’s coffee, Maurice cleared his throat.

Juan looked up in surprise. Usually, Maurice prided himself on coming and going without being noticed. “Do you know something about this, Maurice?”

“I don’t mean to intrude, Captain, but I believe I may be of service in helping you solve your conundrum.” Maurice was the only person in the crew who insisted on maintaining naval tradition and calling Juan Captain instead of Chairman.

“Please. Have you seen this before?”

“I have,” he said, setting down the pot. “Thirty-five years ago when I was serving with an admiral who had once been based in India. He was a collector of rare artifacts from the subcontinent, and this symbol was on one of the pieces in his cabin, a strange medal that he kept in a case. I cleaned it every week for two years.”

“Do you know what it means?” Eric asked.

“The admiral told me it represented the Nine Unknown Men. He was fascinated with Indian military history, so I heard quite a lot about them from him.”

“Who are they?” Juan asked.

“I believe who were they would be the more appropriate question,” Maurice said. “They haven’t existed for two thousand years, if they ever existed at all.”

“It’s a myth?” Juan would have motioned for Maurice to sit with them, but he knew the steward would never accept the offer.

Maurice nodded. “From the time of Ashoka. Circa 261 B.C.E., if I’m not mistaken. He was an emperor who conquered most of India. But to do so meant waging the deadliest war in history at that time. Over two hundred thousand casualties. The bloodshed was so terrible that Ashoka abandoned his warlike ways and converted the entire country to Buddhism. He left pillars across India defining his laws, and many of them can still be seen to this day. In fact, his influence continues to be so great that his chakra symbol is on the Indian flag.”

Eric typed on his computer and showed them an image of the chakra, which was a wheel with twenty-four spokes.

“That’s not the symbol Lyla saw,” Juan said. “There’s no swastika, and her wheel only had nine spokes, I’m assuming to represent the Nine Unknown Men.” He looked at Maurice. “How were they connected to Ashoka?”

“According to legend, the Emperor was aghast at the decimation he had wrought and was afraid that the knowledge of the world at that time was too powerful to be held by a single man. So he ordered his brother to find nine common men, unknown to royalty or positions of power, and gifted each of them with a scroll confined to one aspect of knowledge in the sciences. They were to protect that knowledge with their lives, so that no human would use that power to conquer the world.”

Juan sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. Maurice’s description of the responsibility held by the Nine Unknown Men was the exact opposite of what Lyla had said was the purpose of Project C. An artificial intelligence — a font of knowledge — that could let someone rule the world.

“Could this group of men have passed down their knowledge over the centuries?” he mused.

“There are certainly conspiracy theories that suspect this cabal could still exist,” Maurice said. “But my admiral did not. He simply thought it made a wonderful story.”

He picked up the tray. “If there’s nothing else, Captain, I shall return to my duties.”

“Thank you, Maurice. You’ve been most helpful.”

“My pleasure.” Maurice exited the cabin with barely a whisper.

“Do you think the descendants of Nine Unknown Men are really still around and built this advanced AI?” Eric asked.

Juan shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible, but they would have abandoned Ashoka’s original intent in separating the Scrolls of Knowledge. From what we’ve seen, whoever built the Jhootha Island facility, launched a stolen cruise missile, and hijacked an airliner had to have a massive amount of funds at their disposal. If the Nine Unknown Men passed down their knowledge through the centuries, their descendants could now be billionaires working together.”

“For example, people like Xavier Carlton, whose plane was found on Jhootha Island, and Romir Mallik, who’s palling around with Rasul Torkan’s brother?”

“If those two are involved in all this, they’ll have infinite resources to fight us. And I doubt reporting them to governments that are in their back pockets will do any good. We’ll have to handle this ourselves.”

They spent ten more minutes looking up information on the legend of the Nine Unknown Men, including the alleged contents of the scrolls. But they couldn’t find any trace of the symbol or the identities of the Nine Unknown. Their research was interrupted when Max called Juan’s cabin.

“We’ve reached Lyla’s coordinates.” He said it as if he were telling them that his dog died.

Juan frowned at Eric and said, “What’s the matter?”

“If there’s a sunken ship here, we’ll have problems exploring it.”

“Why?”

“Turn on your external monitor and then head on up to the op center so we can figure out what to do.” Max hung up.

Juan picked up his remote and clicked on the camera feed from outside.

Clouds of steam billowed up from the sea in four different places.

Eric snapped his fingers in recognition at what they were seeing. “We must be over the Red Sea Rift. It’s where the Arabian and African plates are spreading apart.”

Juan pointed at the surging masses of rising white clouds. “Then that’s what I think it is?”

Eric nodded. “The ship we’re looking for sank right on top of an underwater volcano.”