The Eye of Shiva

CHAPTER 27

The private terminal at Geneva International Airport was reserved for the kinds of people who could afford private jets and who demanded discretion and privacy. Switzerland had a high regard for those who required such services. Entry into the country was made as painless as possible for men like Krivi. Formalities like passport control were cursory and courteous. A customs officer met Krivi at the foot of the steps as he descended from his Gulfstream. He saluted and stamped Krivi's passport. The blacktop pavement under the plane glistened from an afternoon shower that had left shallow puddles of water reflecting the pure blue of the Swiss sky.

A liveried chauffeur and a black Mercedes limousine waited nearby. The chauffeur took Krivi's bag and held the door open. Johannes Gutenberg greeted Krivi from the back seat.

"My friend, welcome."

"Hello, Johannes."

The limo pulled away. Gutenberg pressed a button and a smoked partition of thick glass slid up behind the driver. The interior of the car smelled of leather and a hint of Gutenberg's expensive cologne. Krivi settled back in the comfortable seat. He was tired after the flight. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to feel his age.

Gutenberg said, "Things seem to be going well."

"In general, yes. The Americans are incensed. It won't be long before they find convincing evidence that Pakistan was behind the attack. Rao has done a good job of misdirection. There is an unexpected complication, however."

"Oh?"

"There is always an unexpected complication," Krivi said. "There were members of the American Project at the embassy. They almost succeeded in stopping the attack."

In the past, the Project had created real trouble for the organization. The fact that there were now seven board members instead of nine was a direct result of their interference.

"They can't know anything," Gutenberg said.

"No. Even so, it would be unwise to ignore them."

"What action do you suggest?"

"Nothing at the moment. If we go after them now, it will only draw attention. Besides, it may not be necessary. If it becomes necessary we'll eliminate them."

"Perhaps Secretary Rao may prove useful in that respect," Gutenberg said.

For a few moments the men were quiet, watching the streets of Geneva pass by. They took the road along the Rhone. The city began to give way to the countryside. Gutenberg's chalet was several miles outside of the city limits.

Gutenberg broke the silence. "Rao still thinks you represent some Hindu society?"

Krivi nodded. "The Eye of Shiva," he said. "In Hindu mythology, Shiva's third eye has the power to shatter the unrighteous with divine fire. Rao is obsessed with the concept. He hopes for the return of a jewel stolen centuries ago that formed the eye of an idol. It fits his longing for revenge."

"Speaking of divine fire, have you approached him yet?"

"About the missiles? Not yet, but I am sure there won't be a problem. His hatred of Pakistan runs deep. He sees me as his benefactor. The drugs I've given him make him grateful to me. They also make him susceptible to ideas that fulfill his need for revenge."

"When do you plan to approach him?"

"I'm flying back to India tomorrow, after our meeting. One of Kamarov's subsidiaries in Mumbai makes the control systems and guidance modules for the Agni III missiles. He's bringing a card to the meeting programmed with the launch and targeting codes. It will be a simple matter for Rao to insert the card on site and launch. He'll think the missile is going to hit Islamabad."

"But it won't, will it?"

"No," Krivi said. "The target is Chengdu. The Bank of China has located the majority of their servers there, as well as their gold reserves. Destruction of the city will cripple China's financial system."

The car slowed for an ornate iron gate set in a high, stone wall. The gate swung open as they approached and they turned onto a curved drive paved with gray flagstones. The drive ended at a circular courtyard in front of an elegant 18th century chalet. The mansion sat on a spit of land jutting out into the River Rhone. A fountain in the courtyard rained a constant spray of water on laughing nymphs frolicking with Pan.

A crest carved in stone marked the wall above the entrance to the chalet. It showed a central, radiant eye against the background of a nine-pointed star. A Latin inscription encircled the eye in raised letters.

For an observer who understood Latin, the meaning was clear.

Both Krivi and Gutenberg wore identical gold rings that repeated the motif. A tall, blond woman waved at them from the open door of the chalet as they got out of the limousine.

"Marta is looking forward to your visit," Gutenberg said. "She had the chef prepare a special meal for us tonight."

"Are the others here yet?"

"Hugh de Guillame flew in this afternoon from Paris. Thorvaldson and Halifax arrived this morning. Mitchell's flight from Washington was delayed but he should get here later tonight. I'm afraid he'll miss dinner."

"Kamarov?"

"Delayed in Moscow. He should get here after dessert."

"It's been quite a while since we all met face to face," Krivi said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"I thought it best," Gutenberg said. "We're entering a critical phase of our plans. Being together in the same room brings out thinking you can't get in a teleconference."

"That's true," Krivi said. "I confess I'm not looking forward to Kamarov's bad digestion."

"That man releases enough gas to float the Hindenburg," Gutenberg said.

Krivi laughed. The two men went into the chateau.