The Hunt for Shambhala

19

Diana could hardly believe what Madan had just told her. As a doctor of ancient languages and a specialist in palaeography she had heard of Shambhala, but she knew it as a mythical kingdom — not a real place in the physical world. It was described by the Hindu and Buddhist traditions in a similar way to how Christians talked about heaven. The fact that Rakesh Madan believed he could discover it made her question his mind.

“What makes you think I am able to translate these for you?”

“Professor Moore seemed to have a great deal of confidence in your abilities, and I must say that after researching your academic past I must agree with her. If anyone can translate these symbols, then that person is you, Dr Silva.”

“Perhaps, but what makes you think I would even consider translating them? After all, you violently kidnapped me and tried to murder my friends.”

Madan tapped his fingertips on the upturned bowl. “I think you could be persuaded to work for me, one way or another.”

Diana felt her flesh crawl as she heard the little red scorpion clattering about beneath the silver bowl, striking its sides with its stinger in a vain attempt to free itself. She wondered how far a man like Madan would go to get what he wanted. “What do you expect to find in Shambhala — treasure?”

“I am worth over ten billion dollars, Dr Silva. Do you want to ask another question?”

“Then why are you doing this? Is this some kind of religious calling?”

“I am a devout Hindu and perhaps there is something to that. The wonders of Shambhala are beyond our imagination, and I take the prophecy very seriously.”

“What prophecy?”

“The Destroyer of Filth will cleanse our world in the end times.”

“The Destroyer of Filth?”

“Kalki, the tenth avatar of Vishnu. Only he can bring in a new age of enlightenment, and it is written that he will appear in Shambhala when it is time for this to happen. This is why it is imperative that I find this sacred place, and those symbols will lead me to it.”

Diana had returned to the journal to escape Madan’s increasingly unnerving stare. Many of the pages were water-damaged as he had said, but plenty were left unharmed and she flicked through them casually as her captor continued to talk about prophecy and the end times. When she returned to the page with the symbols, something else caught her eye. “What’s this here — this mention of strange and magical glowing water? Did the water glow in your mythical kingdom?”

“Shambhala is also known as the Land of the White Waters, so this is another piece of evidence that makes me think the symbols are authentic.”

“But there is no such thing as magic.”

Madan smiled broadly. “You are an accomplished woman, Dr Silva. I am compelled to tell you that it is my intention to destroy your European civilization.”

Diana was shocked. “I’m sorry?”

“Not just yours — but also American, Chinese and Japanese culture as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These are the places that have concentrated power over the last few decades and turned the world into the corrupt, degraded hole we now witness every day on the global news networks. I intend to be the destroyer of filth, and annihilate it all from the face of the Earth.”

Diana frowned and pushed the hair from her eyes. “You are mad. You cannot destroy global civilization — not even with your Shambhala magic.”

“That is where you are quite wrong, Dr Silva — and you disappoint me with your failure to put the dots together. The power of Shambhala will enable me to become the Destroyer of Filth himself, and with that power I will wipe the planet clean of these vile cultures and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for all.”

“For all the survivors, you mean. What you’re talking about would kill millions of people!”

“Billions actually — by my estimation nearly three billion.”

“I can’t believe you can mean these things.”

“Of course I mean them,” he said without emotion. “If I am in fact the tenth avatar of Vishnu then I must appear in Shambhala before I can destroy the filth of the world. That is why I must find it, and it is why you will help me.”

Diana snapped the journal shut. “I will not translate it,” she said defiantly, and then she rolled up her shirtsleeve and put her arm on the table. “You can kill me with your little creature if you want, but I will not help you in your plans to destroy these civilizations with whatever power you think you’re going to find in Shambhala.”

Madan was silent for a moment as he stared at the metal bowl, then he pushed his seat back and got to his feet. It was nearly dark now, and he gestured for Diana to follow him inside. “Won’t you join me?”

“I thought you wanted to kill me with that thing,” she said, glancing at the bowl. She could still hear the clattering inside the bowl.

“You are an intelligent and educated woman, Dr Silva. You have calculated — correctly — that I will not harm you so long as I need the symbols translated.”

She followed him into the apartment and held her breath as she once again beheld the tremendous opulence. It was a picture of Persian rugs, antique mahogany chests and the occasional potted palm. High on the ceiling three fans dotted along the length of the room whirred gently to keep the thick, humid air circulating in the enclosed space. The sound of their wooden blades swooping in the air was all she could hear as she stepped into the corridor behind Madan and began making her way toward another room.

Entering it, her attention was drawn to Kaleka who was standing beside an enormous plasma screen on the far wall. “What is this, Madan?”

“When I intercepted Professor Moore’s telephone call to you yesterday and realized you were the essential part of the puzzle, I decided to buy myself a little insurance.” He snapped his fingers and Kaleka switched on the screen.

Diana gasped. The terrible reality of her situation was brought into sharp focus by the sight of her elderly parents on the screen before her. They were tied to chairs with gags in their mouths and looks of terror on their faces. Standing beside them was a man in black, holding a small box in his hands.

Kaleka’s phone rang and after a few moments he snapped it shut. “We have company.”

“I was expecting it,” Madan said. “Bring them to me.”

Kaleka quickly left the cabin and Madan returned his attention to the sobbing Portuguese woman. “Your parents look so vulnerable…”

“Please!” They were sitting in their front room back in Porto, and she recognized the picture on the wall behind them. In her mind that house was the safest place in the world but now Madan had violated it and made it a place of terror and fear.

“I hardly need tell you what is in the box,” Madan said.

“Cabrão!” she yelled. “Let them go!”

“And I also hardly need to say that my man forgot to pack any antivenom to counteract against the toxins when they sink into your mother’s neck — or your father’s perhaps. You can choose who is first.”

“Please, don’t do this…” she broke down and sobbed in front of Madan, the thought of her parents dying in such agony because of something she could stop was almost unbearable.

“So, perhaps you will now reconsider my little business proposal?”

She nodded slowly, and pushed the tears from her eyes. “Yes… yes, I will translate the symbols, but please let my parents go.”

Madan smiled widely. “I thought you might be more helpful after seeing this. Now get to work on the translation. Your parents’ lives depend on your ability to give me what I want, and you have one hour.”

Diana swallowed hard and turned her tear-streaked face from the terrible image of her parents and back toward the battered, tatty old journal on Madan’s table.