The Hunt for Shambhala

34

Decker flew Selena and Charlie, plus Johar, Banerjee and his 2IC Gurung, and a small team in the West Bengal counter-terror force from Kolkata down to the coast near the Odisha border. After landing in a small natural cove they were met by two black SUVs and minutes later they were on the road.

As they approached the space center, the first thing they saw was the enormous Svarga rocket sitting on the launch pad. The Svarga was Madan’s obsession — the first truly re-usable rocket in the world. He had beaten SpaceX and the ISRO’s Avatar projects, and the evidence was the one hundred and fifty feet-high rocket now waiting for its final countdown.

“That’s an amazing sight,” Selena said. “I’ve never seen a rocket up close before.”

Decker smile and turned his attention to the rocket. Gas was starting to escape from the cryogenic boosters as the liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen inside them were warming up.

“Is that normal?” Selena said.

Decker nodded. “The gas is being vented through bleeder valves on purpose to reduce pressure, but most of what we’re looking at is just water vapor which is condensing around the liquid gases. It means she’s almost ready to fly.” His eyes crawled up the side of the red and white rocket and then continued up into the dark blue Indian sky. He felt a surge of jealousy in his heart as he realized the rocket might be about to take off, but he was as Earthbound as a wingless bird.

“It’s beautiful,” Selena said.

“It’s ugly as hell,” Decker said.

Selena turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s got some kind of insane neutron bombs on board — a super-EMP device. They’re going to detonate in the atmosphere and take out every piece of circuitry and silicon chip over three continents.”

“He’s right,” Charlie said, glancing at his watch. “And according the launch schedule we’ve got less than an hour to stop it going into space.”

Closer now, the rocket loomed above them despite its distant location over in the secure launch area. Directly ahead of them was the main entrance to the center, which Banerjee studied with pride.

“Very recently,” he explained, “India beat the Russian record when we sent one hundred and four satellites into space. We launched them into orbit on the Polar Satellite Launch Vehicle from the Satish Shawan Space Center in Andhra Pradesh. The previous Russian record was thirty-seven, and…”

Before he could finish, his phone rang, and he swept it up to his ear to take the call. He nodded a couple of times and then turned to the others. “That was Sergeant Jha. She says they have landed in Varanasi and are preparing to engage Kuan and his men at the temple.”

“I’m going to bet fifty bucks Kuan’s about to have the worst day of his life,” Decker said as the driver pulled the Tata LSV over and parked up behind some trees on the perimeter.

“Certainly sounds like it if this Sergeant Jha is half as good as you say she is,” Selena said.

“I meant meeting Riley Carr,” Decker said with a sarcastic grin.

They were parked a few hundred yards short of the main entrance and Banerjee checked his weapon as he spoke to them. “We can’t risk the guards on the security gate radioing our presence through to the mission control building. If Madan gets the slightest sniff of what we’re doing he might bring the launch forward.”

“And once that bird’s flown it’s game over,” Decker said. “US missile defense systems are good but not that good. There’s no guarantee with BMD systems that you can stop a ballistic missile.”

“Exactly,” Johar said. “If it takes off, then civilization as we know it is over. It is as simple as that, friends.”

Decker nodded grimly and checked his own weapon. He’d left the marines many years ago but loading and checking a gun was second nature to him. He checked the magazine, slipped it back in the grip and clicked it into place, all in one calm, fluid motion.

Selena raised her eyebrows in respect. “You’ve done that once or twice before, Mr Decker.”

“Guess you could say that,” he said neutrally. He didn’t like speaking about his military career. He preferred to talk about the Avalon and his grand ideas for a cargo fleet that would one day rule the airways.

Decker turned to Banerjee. “We all ready?”

Banerjee and Johar spoke for a few seconds in rapid Hindi with the driver and then after a short word to the other men he clapped his hand down on the American’s shoulder. “We are ready, my friend. The question is — are you?”

Decker looked at Selena. She looked nervous. “Are you ready, Selena?”

She looked shocked at his use of her first name. “Yes,” she said, but her voice was thin with fear. “I’m not much of a fighter though.”

Decker gave her a comforting smile and nod of encouragement. “Just stick with me and you’ll be…”

“Dead within the hour?” she said, cutting him off.

“No,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I was going to say just fine.”

“I was joking,” she said, and then lowered her voice. “Americans…”

“Huh?”

“Okay,” Banerjee said, interrupting them. “We’re go.”

They clambered out the back of the vehicle and made their final preparations. Banerjee raised his arm and studied his watch for a few seconds. “According to this we’re an hour from the scheduled launch time. So any mistakes and all of this was for nothing.”

As he spoke, Decker surveyed the enormous plain of windswept grass and reeds that surrounded the space center. For reasons of both security and public safety, the perimeter was several kilometres out, and from back here the center looked like a tiny jumble of toy buildings, shimmering in a mirage caused by the intense Indian heat, even now as dusk fell over the land.

“All right everyone,” Banerjee said. “We’re going in so say your prayers.”