The Hunt for Shambhala

18

Mitch Decker had seen a lot of things in his time but even he was shocked when he stared up at Jambudvipa. He was standing in the marina surrounded by other boats and yachts, all white sails flashing in the late sun and clanging halyards. A seagull screeched and turned into the sunset as the American looked up at the largest super yacht in the world. It towered into the hot, twilight sky and reflected the fading Indian sunshine on its glass and steel infrastructure.

The studies they had made of the yacht while flying to Mumbai on the Avalon had been of little use without more detailed floor plans and the notoriously reclusive Madan had made sure they were not online. Thankfully, the international press had covered the construction of the world’s most expensive toy in great detail, and Selena, Riley and Charlie had been able to study various articles on the yacht while Decker piloted the Avalon along the coast.

Most of the articles contained useful cutaway images showing the internal design of the massive boat, but only in vague detail. The most detailed one they found was an extensive article in The Times of India, the country’s largest English language newspaper. This contained a lengthy written piece on the yacht but also a handy graphic cutaway of the enormous vessel.

Thanks to this article they were able to see that the lower decks were for the staff and engine room. Above those were dozens of guest apartments and two swimming pools. The upper decks were mostly the private residence of Rakesh Madan himself, including an aviary, a private rooftop garden and even his own private helipad. The article was basic but enough for what they needed and they ignored the many rooms and spaces that were simply left without explanation.

Down at sea level, sailors meandered past them along the walkways and streamed in and out of boats up and down the marina, but the entrance to Madan’s personal Nirvana was guarded by two men standing like sentinels either side of the gangway.

“You’re certain this Madan guy owns this thing?” Decker said.

“Yes, and not just this one,” Charlie said. “He also owns other yachts in marinas in Shanghai, Tokyo, New York and London — not to mention all around India, of course.”

“But this is the main attraction, right?”

“I believe so. This is his private home. The others are rented out to various corporations, mostly in the comms sector.”

“I think it’s dreadful,” Selena said, leaning back and trying to count the floors all the way to the top. “It’s obviously some sort of Freudian scream for help.”

“Like a dick thing?” Riley said.

Selena sighed. “I’m not sure Freud would put it quite like that, Riley, but yes. I can’t help notice that it’s only men who are always making statements like this sort of thing.”

Decker, Riley and Charlie were all quiet for a moment before the former Marine finally broke the awkward silence. “Anyway… maybe we’d better get going. Somewhere in that monster is your friend.”

“But how do we get in?” Selena said.

Decker scanned the lower levels of the enormous boat but the only way in was the gangway. He sighed and shook his head deep in thought, and then he saw a catering truck delivering a box of limes to another boat and had an idea.

“And you’re positive this is going to work?” Selena said.

“Absolutely,” Decker said as he glanced at Riley. “Ready?”

Riley watched as the men unloading the truck disappeared into another yacht. “All clear, mate!”

Decker hefted a box of lemons out the back of the catering truck and looked at Selena. “Your turn.”

She looked at the boxes and sighed. “They look awfully heavy.”

“Your Turn,” he said with less patience.

“Oh, very well.” She picked up a smaller box of limes. “Happy now?”

“You can’t deliver a box limes without the limes, Professor Moore.”

“Don’t italicise ‘professor’ like that.”

“Huh?”

“You said it funny, like you don’t mean it.”

“Oh, God. Can we just get on with this?”

Riley and Charlie jogged over. “They’re on their way back.”

“So let’s get going,” Decker said firmly. “Some of us have a life to get back to.”

Riley and Charlie each selected boxes and the four of them walked along the marina and up the Jambudvipa’s gangway, with Decker in the lead.

One of the guards stepped forward to block the gangway entrance and raised his hands. He spoke in Hindi and then switched to English when he saw their confused faces. “Stop right there.”

“But we have lemons!” Selena said, nodding her head proudly.

“Who are you?” the other man said.

“We come from the… er,” Decker looked into the sky and then back to the two men. “The Maharaja Catering Company. We’re here to deliver this fruit to the yacht.”

The two men exchanged a suspicious glance and returned to Decker. “Four Americans are delivering fruit in Mumbai?”

“Actually it’s one American, one Aussie and two English,” Riley said.

“We specialize in fusion cuisine,” Charlie added, but shut up when Selena nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“We are expecting no delivery today. Go away.”

“Decker turned around with the box, and for half a second everyone thought he was going to pad back down the gangway, but then they all saw a sparkle in his eye and the beginnings of a crooked smile on his lips.

In a heartbeat, he turned around and hurled the box of fruit at one of the men while powering a hefty haymaker into the jaw of the other. The punch propelled the man clear over the rail and he crashed down into the water with a terrific splash but the sound was lost in the general bustle of the marina.

The other man rushed forward, but tripped on the limes now rolling all over the deck. He flailed wildly for a few seconds and looked like he was competing in a log-running competition, but then Riley Carr smashed him in the chops with the bottom of his fruit box. He went down on the deck in a shower of mandarins and satsumas and was out for the count.

Riley turned to Selena and clapped his hand on her shoulder. “Orange you glad you brought me along for the ride?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Decker said.

“That was funny mate!” he said. “Americans!”

“If it was funny,” Decker said slowly. “I would be laughing.”

Riley squared up to him. “You wouldn’t know funny if it crawled up your pants and grabbed you by the —”

“Riley!”

Decker stepped forward to meet the Australian. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Your face is pretty funny right now. I’ll give you that.”

“Boys!” Selena said. “We have someone to rescue — can you save the bicep measuring for later?”

“Don’t think they were measuring their biceps, Lena,” Charlie said.

“Urghh.”

“Sorry, just saying.”

Selena turned to Riley. “Why are you always taking the pith?”

“Weh-hey, that’s my girl!” he said.

“Enough of this crap,” Decker snapped. “The good professor here is right — your friend is on this boat…”

“And the journal!” Selena said.

Decker sighed and rolled his sleeves up. “Your good friend, and the journal, are on this damned boat. So let’s go get ’em!”