The Eye of Shiva

CHAPTER 30

Morning sun streamed through the windows of Ashok Rao's office. Rao sat at his desk, reading the morning briefs. The military had gone to high alert. Troop buildups had begun along the border. It looked more and more as if war was coming. His plan was working.

The NSA memo had been a godsend. Rao had leaked it to the Indian press with predictable results. The Prime Minister had been forced to make a public statement blaming Pakistan for the bombing of the embassy in Manila. Islamabad denied involvement with ISOK or any other terrorist group and accused India of trying to provoke a war. Since everyone knew Pakistan's intelligence services backed the Islamic State of Kashmir, every denial reinforced the idea that they were responsible.

Rao pulled open a desk drawer, took out two of Krivi's tablets and swallowed them dry. He rubbed his hand across the top of his head. The headaches were happening more often but the pills helped. Krivi had called yesterday and asked for a meeting today in the park near the temple.

Rao had gathered information about Krivi. He'd come up with a reclusive, self-made billionaire, a successful business man from Mumbai who controlled a global pharmaceutical empire based in Switzerland. That explained the pills and it explained the money. Rao always felt better if he had an explanation.

On the other hand, he'd found no information about a society called the Eye of Shiva. That was odd. Right wing groups and secret societies were popular in India and watched as a matter of policy. No group could remain hidden from the kind of scrutiny Rao could bring to bear. Yet he'd found nothing.

Rao had hoped to meet others in the group. When he'd asked about it, Krivi had reminded him of the need for secrecy. It was like the old Communist model, Krivi had said, each cell isolated so no one person could betray more than a few members of the movement. Rao was too important, Krivi had said. It was better if he remained in the shadows.

Rao had stopped looking. There were bigger things to occupy his attention. Until war started, chance and circumstance could derail the plan. No matter how well an operation had been thought out or executed there were always unknown factors that caused problems.

Like the Project, for one thing. Most people had never heard of Elizabeth Harker's unit but Rao was a high-ranking intelligence officer. It was his job to know about things like that. He had no reason to think they suspected what he was doing. All the same, he wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating them.

He had to keep an eye on them. Harker's people had almost screwed everything up at the embassy. One of her men had been badly wounded and Rao's sources said he was going to die. His comrades would look for vengeance. Rao understood vengeance. If Harker learned of his involvement it would create a complication he didn't need.

Then there were those gold coins found during that raid in the Philippines.

I don't know enough about the coins, he thought.

He called Prakash Khanna in Manila on his encrypted satellite phone.

"I want to talk about the gold recovered from the Abu Sayyaf camp," Rao said.

"Everyone has been curious about that."

"Tell me about the coins."

"They're unusual," Khanna said.

"You've seen them?".

"Not the coins themselves. I have a contact inside Philippines special operations. He obtained pictures for me."

"What can you tell me about them?"

"They're from the Mughal Empire, minted during the sixteenth century," Khanna said. "I'm told they're quite rare and in excellent condition. Uncirculated."

"How could they be that old and be uncirculated?"

"If they'd been minted and immediately set aside, it's possible."

Rao felt a surge of adrenaline. There was only one place where an emperor's coinage could be set aside.

The treasury.

Rao kept his voice calm. Inside, he was shaking.

"It's certain they are authentic?"

"Yes. Why are you asking?"

"ISOK had to get them from somewhere. I want to follow the money trail."

Rao wasn't going to tell Khanna he suspected the coins might have come from the Mughal hoard, or that they might lead him to the Eye. He changed the subject.

"What is Manila doing about the attack?"

"President Navarro is demanding more American aid to fight the Muslim insurgency in Mindanao," Khanna said. "The Americans are unhappy with him. They've given him millions of dollars to fight Abu Sayyaf and all they've got to show for it is the ruins of their embassy. Rice is playing hardball. If Navarro wants more money, he's going to have to make concessions about American bases here."

"That's about what I'd expected," Rao said.

"Is there anything else?" Khanna asked.

Khanna had initiative and intelligence and he knew how to follow orders. Rao decided that he'd be more useful here in India.

"You've done well, Prakash. Come home. I'll send your replacement."

"I won't be sorry to leave," Khanna said. "It's become an uncomfortable country for foreigners."

Rao ended the call. His pulse pounded as he thought about the coins and what it might mean.

History recorded that the treasure had been loaded on the backs of elephants and other beasts for transport back to Persia. Most of the treasure had reached its destination. The key word was most. No record existed of the throne ever reaching Persia. Some famous gems from the treasury had never resurfaced, among them the Eye of Shiva. Somewhere between India and Persia, the throne and the gems had disappeared. There was a discredited account from the time that claimed the throne and several chests of gold and jewels had been lost in the mountains between Afghanistan and what was now Pakistan.

What if the account is true? Rao thought. If Afridi found some of the coins lost when the trail collapsed he might have found the jewel as well.

Only Afridi knew where he'd gotten the coins. The only way to find out where they were was to interrogate him. It would be difficult to capture Afridi but not impossible. An opportunity would arise.

A sudden headache and wave of nausea sent Rao scurrying to the washroom. He leaned over the bowl and threw up his breakfast. It was a reminder that whatever he decided to do about Afridi, it would have to be soon.

He told his assistant he'd be gone the rest of the day. He hailed a cab on Lodhi Road and not long after was walking toward the bench where Krivi waited for him.

"You seem pale, my friend," Krivi said, concern written on his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. A little nausea earlier. I'm fine now."

"I have something to help with that," Krivi said. He took a bottle of white pills from his jacket pocket. "These will keep the nausea down and give you an energy boost."

Rao took the bottle. "Thank you. Is that why you wanted to meet? To give me these?"

"Partly. I wanted to give you this as well."

Krivi withdrew a clear plastic envelope containing a blue card from his jacket pocket. The card had a magnetic stripe on it, like a credit card, only this card was bigger. Rao recognized the crossed swords and three headed lion of the Indian Army printed on the corner.

"Do you know what this is?" Krivi asked.

Rao felt a chill of recognition. "It looks like a code card, one that could be used to launch one of our missiles."

Krivi nodded. "That is exactly what it is."

"How did you get that?" Rao asked. In spite of himself he was shocked.

"It doesn't matter. This card contains guidance data for an Agni III missile. The target is Islamabad."

Krivi handed the envelope and card to Rao.

"What do you want me to do with it?" Rao said. He already knew the answer.

"I want you to use it. It will only work with the Agni III. A shorter range missile might have been better, but this was the best I could do."

Agni III had a range of up to 5000 kilometers, overkill for a nearby target like Islamabad. It carried a nuclear warhead. Rao's mind was a jumble of thoughts.

"When? How? I hadn't planned on this."

"You'll know the right time to do it," Krivi said. "When the war starts, we can't risk a first strike from Pakistan. You know that Lanka will never launch first. By the time he realizes Pakistan's missiles are in the air, it will be too late. We must not let that happen."

India had an avowed policy of no first strike. Rao thought it a foolish policy that encouraged a potential enemy to deliver a first, fatal blow. Pakistan had enough missiles to destroy India. If India used her nuclear arsenal, Pakistan would cease to exist except as a radioactive wasteland. The threat of mutual assured destruction had so far kept the two countries from each other's throats.

Rao's mind was already thinking of how it might be done. A vision of a mushroom cloud rising over Islamabad filled his mind's eye.

Revenge.

"The codes change on a regular basis," Rao said. "How long is this good for?"

"Until the end of this month," Krivi said.