The Hunt for Shambhala

39

Hundreds of miles to the east, John “Mitch” Decker and Professor Selena Moore ran across the flat grass airfield of the Svarga Space Center and closed in on Rakesh Madan.

The Indian billionaire ordered Kaleka to stay on the airfield and keep them at bay while he sailed away into the night, but his loyal servant had other ideas and started to climb into the trike.

“You’re too heavy!” Madan said.

“I’m coming with you!”

“No, you’ll slow me down.”

Madan fired his gun into Kaleka’s heart and propelled him off the trike. His second-in-command collapsed in a screaming heap on the runway as his boss rammed the throttle forward and sped off along the tarmac.

Decker and Selena wasted no time worrying about the mortally wounded Kaleka, and climbed into a two-seater trike parked up beside the one Madan had taken.

“You do know how to fly one of these things, I take it?” Selena said.

“I could fly a diamond safe, lady,” Decker said as he placed his hand on the throttle and released the brake. “Hold on.”

“Hold on to what?”

“To anything you can find.”

He pushed the throttle to full-power and placed his hands on the control bar in front of his face. They gained airspeed surprisingly fast and Decker pushed the bar forward to raise the aircraft into the air. Selena gasped as they raced away from the ground and the American responded by pulling the bar back a little to maintain an even airspeed. She had flown too many times to count, but never in anything as small as the trike, and it felt more like a fairground ride than an aircraft.

“Pretty choppy up here,” Selena said.

“This is nothing,” Decker said. “Wait till we go through that thermal column over there.”

“How do you know there’s a thermal column over there?”

“Because Madan just flew through it — look.”

She looked ahead and saw the Indian’s trike bouncing around violently a few hundred yards ahead of them. “He’s being thrown all over the place!”

“Thermal column,” Decker repeated, slower this time.

“And we’re going into that thing on purpose?”

“You want to catch this guy or not?”

Selena was quiet for a few seconds. “Carry on, Mr Decker.”

“Thought you might say that.”

When Decker throttled up the trike and turned it into the thermal column, Selena felt the difference immediately. What had been a smooth flight was now choppy and violent, and she felt her stomach turning as the tiny microlight bobbed up and down like a cork on the ocean.

The Rotax engine just a few inches behind her head whined louder as Decker increased power and fiddled with the trimmer control. Because they’d had no time to find helmets, the wind rushed over her face and whipped her hair around. Looking below she gulped as she realized there was only one safety belt between her and a six hundred foot drop all the way down to the airfield far beneath them. She didn’t exactly feel safe, and Decker’s love of flying seemed even crazier at this precise moment in time.

Decker’s greater experience as a pilot meant he was able to manipulate the thermals to gain a speed advantage over Madan, and now he shot towards the Indian’s trike with only one thing on his mind.

Ahead of them, Madan turned in his seat and saw they were gaining. His response was to draw a handgun and fire it at them indiscriminately.

“Holy shit!” Decker yelled, and pushed the control bar hard to the left. Their trike responded instantly and pulled over to port as the bullets traced past them with inches to spare.

“I’ve had just about enough of this arsehole,” Selena said.

Decker raised his eyebrows. “And I thought you were a lady.”

“Even a lady can be pushed too far,” she said. “And that just happened. Now, which of these is the safety catch and which is the trigger?”

Decker narrowed his eyes and turned his head to see the Englishwoman pulling the gun from his holster. “Woah!”

“What? You wanted me to be more assertive, didn’t you?”

“Sure but…”

“But nothing. As you Americans say, Madan’s arse is grass.”

Decker winced. “That’s not exactly how we say it.”

Selena’s reply was a very loud and inaccurate shot from the handgun.

Decker scowled and pulled his head away from the deafening gunshot, and then he realized Madan was going into a dive. “Dammit!”

“What’s the silly bugger doing now?”

“He’s trying to gain some speed by putting the thing into a dive.”

“Are you sure he’s not just trying to kill himself?”

“Pretty sure — he’s pulling up. Look!”

Far ahead of them now, and well below, she saw Madan’s trike pull up at a sharp angle just a few hundred feet from the ground and level off as he steered it over the top of the airfield.

“Where’s he going?” Selena said.

“Looks like he’s heading toward the launch pad.”

“But why?”

“No wait — it’s not the launch pad. It’s the sea. There’s a boat out there. It must be another one of his damned yachts!”

“We can’t let him get away, Mr Decker! He’s killed too many.”

Decker put the trike into a dive and steered toward the ocean. “We won’t, and for pity’s sake will you stop calling me that. I already told you — it makes me feel old.”

“And as I already said, you are old.”

“I’m not a day over forty.”

“Your point?”

“Not old.”

He levelled the trike off. They were flying at less than a hundred feet now — low enough for Selena to be able to read the licence plates on the service vehicles scattered around the far reaches of the airfield.

Madan made another desperate attempt to shake them off his tail with a second burst of gunfire from the Micro-Uzi. Bullets sprayed all over the place but Decker evaded them with lighting reactions, and then Selena returned the compliment by firing another two rounds from the sidearm.

“Damn it, I missed again!”

Decker wondered what was going on in the seat behind him and shook his head. “Are you holding the grip and pointing the barrel at him, or holding the barrel and pointing the grip at him?”

“Very amusing,” she said. “Not all of us were trained by the US Marines, you realize. If Mr Madan and I were engaged in a debate about ancient history I would annihilate him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s very grateful he’s up here instead,” Decker said sarcastically, and pushed the trike even faster. They raced up behind Madan now and Selena raised the gun and fired.

The bullet hit the engine block and after a puff of smoke and a loud squealing noise Madan’s trike rapidly began losing altitude.

“You got him!” Decker yelled. “Bastard’s going down!”

Selena had shot Madan down over the swampland along the coast several hundred yards short of his yacht and now Decker pointed at the boat out at sea. “He has men on the deck — look.”

“Are they armed?”

“Yes, but we’re well out of the firing range.”

Madan was now smashing into the swamp and desperately trying to control the tiny trike. His efforts were in vain and after a few tough moments the small aircraft flipped over and crashed upside down in the thick, brown swampland.

“Can you get us down safely, Mr Decker?”

“Of course I can,” he said, and reduced power once again on the trike. Selena felt the difference in revs as the engine slowed and they started to lose altitude quite rapidly. Up ahead, Rakesh Madan was now crawling through the swamp on his way to the yacht, calling out for his men to help, but none could hear his pleas.

Decker brought the trike down safely, and they came to a stop a few yards from a bedraggled and desperate Rakesh Madan.

“Hey, Madan!” Decker called out, ripping his belt off and heaving himself out of the trike. “Got somewhere you have to be?”

Madan tried to back away from Decker and Selena as they drew closer to him, but he tripped once again in the tangled reeds and fell back into the rotting slime with a splash. Staggering up to his knees, he was now covered in rotten reeds and swamp slime.

Decker struck out and landed a hefty right jab on the billionaire’s jaw, spinning his head around in an almost comical way and sending him crashing back down into the swamp. “Not so damned great now, are you?”

“I… please!” He held out a hand to implore the American to leave him alone.

“What’s the matter, Madan?” Decker yelled. “Can’t think of a way for your billions to help you get out of this situation?”

“Any amount!” Madan cried out. “Any amount — just name it and it’s yours! Do you want the yacht?”

Selena hung back while Decker waded forward in the swamp. He was slowing up now, exhausted after the struggles of the last few days, but he still had enough energy to do what needed to be done.

He grabbed Madan by the collar and the Indian flinched. “How many times…” Decker said, punching Madan again and knocking him back down. He hauled him up again. “Have I got to say…” He punched him a third time hard in the nose and splattered it open, but kept him out of the water by holding onto his collars. “That I…” a fourth punch, “Hate…” a fifth punch. “Boats!?”

Selena winced as the sixth and final strike knocked Madan clean out. The broken billionaire collapsed in a spineless heap into the swamp and bobbed about on the tide as Selena walked over to the American.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“No. I split my damned knuckles on his nose bone.”