The Eye of Shiva Read online

  "Sorry I'm late," he said.

  Ronnie was Navajo, born and raised on the reservation. He'd lied about his age, joined the Corps when he was seventeen and retired twenty years later with a Gunnery Sergeant's stripes. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and stood about two inches below Nick's six feet. His eyes were a sleepy dark brown. He and Nick had been in the same Marine Recon unit.

  "Glad you could join us," Elizabeth said.

  Ronnie didn't seem embarrassed about being late. He sat down on the couch. "What did I miss?"

  "Selena was telling us about the Mughals," Nick said.

  "Mughals? Sounds like the title of a movie. You know, like Meet the Mughals."

  Nick sighed. "They ruled India a long time ago. Selena thinks that gold coin I brought back from the raid in the Philippines comes from the Mughal Empire."

  "Those coins could explain the sudden flow of money for weapons," Elizabeth said.

  "Where would they get the coins?" Selena asked. "They're very rare."

  "I'm hoping Abu Khan's phone will tell us more. The memory chip is encrypted. Stephanie's been working on it."

  Stephanie Willits was Elizabeth's deputy and the Project's computer guru. Elizabeth had recruited her from the NSA. Steph had never met a computer or a chip she couldn't hack into. Sometimes it just took a little longer.

  "When is she going to be done?"

  "Let's ask her," Elizabeth said. She punched a button on her intercom. "Steph, could you come in here, please?"

  In a moment Stephanie came through the door.

  Selena thought Stephanie looked radiant these days. She was in love with Lucas Monroe, a long time agent with the CIA. He was on track to become Director of National Clandestine Services, one of the four major directorates at Langley.

  Steph had the kind of average face you wouldn't pay much attention to if you passed her on the street. Her hair was full-bodied, a gleaming dark brown. Her eyes were the same color as her hair. She liked dangly earrings. Today they were large, gold hoops.

  "Nick was asking if you'd gotten anything from Khan's phone," Elizabeth said.

  "That's a heck of a phone," Steph said. "As good as what we use. It was a real challenge to get through the encryption. There were three calls in the log. Two went to a throwaway cell somewhere in the Quiapo District in Manila. That's right in the center of the city where most of the Muslim population lives. It doesn't help. "

  "And the third call?"

  "It came from a number assigned to the American Embassy in Manila."

  "Who would call a terrorist from one of our embassies?" Ronnie said.

  Elizabeth said, "Whoever it was, I don't think they were talking about getting a visa."

  "They must have a plant working inside," Nick said. "Someone local. Part of Abu Sayyaf."

  "We don't know that," Elizabeth said.

  "What else could it be?"

  "It would help if we knew what was said. Can you pull the calls out of the data banks, Steph? NSA tracks everything overseas. They have it somewhere."

  "I've been looking but I haven't found them yet. Do you know how many calls there are in that database?"

  "Why would Abu Sayyaf get involved with ISOK?" Selena asked. "The Philippines have nothing to do with Kashmir."

  Harker's pen beat a rapid tattoo on the desktop. She looked at it and set it down.

  "ISOK is led by a jihadist named Abdul Afridi. He's Indian, but he doesn't do anything without permission from Pakistan's intelligence service. Whatever he's doing with Abu Sayyaf, ISI is behind it. It means trouble for sure."

  "What are you going to do?" Nick asked.

  "All we have is a phone call and speculation," Harker said. "I'll pass the info to Langley and let them follow up. Steph, after you check out those calls in the NSA data banks, see what you can find out about this coin."

  She handed it to Stephanie. "Anybody have anything else?"

  "When is Lamont coming back?" Steph asked.

  Lamont Cameron was the fourth part of Nick's team. A few months before he'd gone down with an infection, the result of a wound he'd taken in Jordan. It had almost killed him. Lately he'd seemed depressed. Nick was worried about him.

  "I'm not sure," Elizabeth said. "I'm letting him have as much time as he needs to heal. I shouldn't have sent him on that last mission, it was too soon."

  "It wasn't your fault, Elizabeth," Selena said. "He's the one who wanted to get out of the hospital."

  "I know," Harker said. "But even so..."

  "He'll be okay," Ronnie said. "Lamont is one tough cookie."

  CHAPTER 5

  Ashok Rao was in his office at RAW headquarters, reading a report from the Philippines and trying not to think about his limited future. He felt a sudden, sharp pain, as though a spike had punched into his skull. He got up from his desk and steadied himself. He walked to the private washroom he rated as Secretary of Special Operations, took the bottle of pills Krivi had given him from the medicine cabinet and shook four tablets into his palm. He filled a glass with bottled water and gulped them down. He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. He patted the skin dry with a towel and combed back his receding hair.

  The image looking back from the mirror showed a balding man with a moon shaped face. Deep pockets of shadow sat like bruises under liquid brown eyes. His skin was a medium brown color with a yellowish cast to it. He was clean-shaven. Rao was sixty-one years old, but today he felt ten years older.

  His office was on the top floor of the agency's new headquarters building on Lodhi Road. He had a fine wooden desk and bookcase, a couch and upholstered chairs of good quality. The walls were painted yellow, with off-white, enameled trim. The floor was covered with thick, blue carpet. A row of windows looked out over the busy road below and across the rooftops of New Delhi.

  One wall bore a mandatory picture of the current Prime Minister, a man for whom Rao felt only contempt. Below it was a picture of Lakhan Gupta, the current Secretary of RAW and Rao's boss. On another wall was a picture of the founder of the first Hindu nationalist party. Next to it hung a painting of an eighth century Hindu philosopher called the Great Revivalist. A gold frame with a picture of Rao's murdered wife and son sat on his desk, next to a computer monitor.

  He picked up the picture and gently touched the glass over his wife's face.

  The marriage had been arranged by their parents, as was customary. Before the wedding, Rao had little contact with his bride-to-be. That, too, was customary. Marriage was a contract, a necessary part of the social agreement. Love was secondary, of little importance. What mattered was the alliance between the families. At best, he'd hoped Lakshmi would bear him sons and not argue with him too much.

  It hadn't taken long for Rao to see that Lord Krishna had blessed him. Lakshmi had made him feel like a poet, like a prince. Within months, he was hopelessly in love with her. The feeling was mutual.

  When their son Arjuna was born, it seemed as though the gods had filled Rao's life with joy. If there was any one thing that interfered with his happiness, it was his work. It was dangerous and unpleasant, taking him away from Lakshmi for weeks and months at a time. But it offered advancement and the kind of security that came from being an instrument of state power.

  One day Lakshmi and Arjuna had been waiting for a train on a packed station platform in Srinagar when a terrorist from Abdul Afridi's group opened fire on the crowd. Twenty-seven had died, his wife and son among them. Whatever part of Rao was drawn to poetry and love died with them that day. The attack had been planned by Pakistan's intelligence agency. Rao filled the empty space in his heart with hatred for ISOK, for Pakistan, and especially for Abdul Afridi.

  Rao set the picture down and leaned back in his chair.

  Since the meeting with Krivi, Rao had thought of little else except revenge. At night his dreams filled with half remembered images of black skies filled with fire. Now, it seemed, vengeance was within reach. He wasn't sure how Krivi would make it possible, but
it didn't matter. Rao knew what needed to be done. He had to create a provocation, an incident to start India on the road to war. Krivi and his organization would fan the flames. But how was it to be accomplished?

  The search for an answer kept Rao awake at night. Meanwhile there was work to be done, the daily oversight of his network of spies. He had to maintain an illusion of loyalty.

  He picked up the report he'd been reading. It detailed a Filipino raid on an Abu Sayyaf camp and the death of Abu Khan. The report of Khan's death cheered Rao, but it raised questions. What was Khan doing in the Philippines? Had ISOK formed an alliance with Abu Sayyaf? If so, why? A second report speculated about a phone call from the American Embassy in Manila to Abu Khan. In the world of counter terrorism, a call like that was a red flag.

  Rao's agent in Manila was Prakash Khanna. Khanna thought Abu Sayyaf was planning a major attack on the Americans, with the American Embassy the likely target. The phone call was a piece of intelligence he pointed to in support of his theory.

  Rao didn't like Americans. He thought them arrogant and rude, little better than the British oppressors that had ruled India in the past. Washington claimed to be India's friend but played a double game by aiding Pakistan. America needed to understand that Pakistan was their enemy.

  Rao decided against warning Washington. If Abu Sayyaf attacked the Americans there might be a way to turn their anger against Pakistan, by making Washington think Islamabad was behind it.

  There can be no peace and rebirth without destruction, Rao thought. The concept of death and destruction as the seed of renewal and peace was deeply rooted in Indian culture. So was the concept of sacrifice. Sometimes sacrifices were necessary for the greater good and the glory of God.

  Sacrifice.

  Krivi's pills were taking effect. Rao's headache was gone. He felt good. The seed of a plan began to grow in his mind. He picked up his phone.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Indian Embassy to the Philippines was located in Dasmarinas Village in the Makati district, a peaceful, tree shaded island of calm in the restless chaos of the city. The saffron, white and green flag of India hung limp in the humid air over the entrance to the embassy.

  Prakash Khanna's official title was Second Counselor Attaché, attached to the trade ministry. He'd been an agent with the Research and Analysis Wing for twelve years.

  Khanna's last name was derived from a Sanskrit word for sword. It marked him as a guardian who would defend the values of Mother India. True to his name, he belonged to the Kshatriya caste, warriors in the tradition of the great Prince Arjuna. The caste system was still legal, still a universal part of Indian social and cultural life. Caste was hereditary and unchangeable. Many of the best RAW agents were Kshatriya.

  Khanna thought of himself as a warrior, though his slight frame and thinning hair didn't match the virile image people saw in the Bollywood spectacles. Times had changed. In the modern era, a computer was of more use than a sword and analytic skills could be more deadly than the bow and arrow of the ancient epics.

  Khanna's encrypted phone signaled a call from Ashok Rao. Rao was Khanna's superior but the two men were friends and shared many things in common. Like Rao, Khanna was a fundamentalist who saw all Muslims as the enemy.

  Rao got right to the point. "I read your reports. Give me your thoughts."

  "The meeting with Abu Khan is significant," Khanna said. "As far as I know, it's the first time there's been any involvement with the so-called Islamic State of Kashmir over here."

  "Your report said gold was found during the raid."

  "The Filipinos are concerned. Everyone's wondering where it came from. A dozen gold coins were recovered. Converted to cash, they'd buy some serious weapons."

  "Abu Sayyaf could be getting money from ISOK. It would explain why Khan met with them."

  Khanna thought about it. "Pakistan gives ISOK money but why would they use it here? Their focus is on Kashmir."

  "I have good intelligence on the money trail from Pakistan to ISOK and nothing they get from Islamabad explains the gold. We tracked a shipment of weapons to their source. I sent in one of my best men to talk with the dealer. ISOK paid him in gold. The money didn't come from Pakistan."

  "What happened to the dealer?" Khanna asked.

  "He won't be selling more weapons to them or anyone else."

  "Where are they getting the funds, if not from Islamabad?"

  "I don't know, yet." Rao paused. "Your report puts a lot of emphasis on the call to Abu Sayyaf from the American Embassy."

  "I'm convinced they plan to attack the Americans," Khanna said. "There are rumors on the street. They're seldom wrong."

  "And you believe it's the embassy?"

  "Yes. It's the logical choice."

  "Why would Abu Sayyaf pick such a high profile target? It would be like poking a hornet's nest," Rao said.

  "Washington wants to reestablish a military presence in the islands. Manila is demanding help with a new offensive against Abu Sayyaf in exchange. That could be reason enough."

  "Let me pose a question to you," Rao said. "Suppose ISOK attacked our Embassy? What would the Americans do?"

  "They wouldn't do anything," Khanna said. "They don't care about us. There would be expressions of outrage and official condolences, nothing more."

  "And if they attacked the American Embassy?"

  "That would be a different story. But ISOK doesn't have any reason to target Americans here."

  "What if there was proof ISOK organized an attack against the Americans with Pakistan's backing, using Abu Sayyaf as surrogates?"

  Khanna paused for a moment. He was beginning to see where Rao was going. "It would make ISOK a priority terrorist group for direct action. The Americans would be very angry at Pakistan."

  "I have an idea," Rao said.

  "What idea?"

  "I'm sending a message that will explain. It should be on your computer a few minutes after we're done talking. I'll use the cipher."

  The cipher was only used for the most sensitive communications. Anyone who managed to intercept a transmission would mistake it for a more commonly used code. It would appear to be a normal message sensitive enough to encode. The real message lay within the outer one. The cipher's beauty lay in its transparent simplicity.

  "Read it and you'll understand," Rao said. He ended the call.

  Curious, Khanna put his encrypted phone away and went to his computer and waited for the transmission. He printed it out, deleted it and started to decode it. As the message within a message emerged, Khanna shook his head in admiration. Rao was a cold son of a bitch. If his plan worked, it would mean serious trouble for ISOK and for Islamabad. It meant the sacrifice of a few of his countrymen but sometimes sacrifices were necessary.

  Khanna finished the message and smiled.

  CHAPTER 7

  Selena's surprise showed in her voice. "I thought we were going to have lunch."

  She stood with Nick in front of a jewelry store on 20th Street in Washington. It was just past noon. Smog had settled over the city in a noxious haze. The air smelled of exhaust fumes from the endless traffic.

  "We are," Nick said, "but I thought we might stop in here first."

  They stood in front of a jewelry store window. Selena started to speak, then stopped.

  "Lots of shiny things in the window," Nick said. "See anything you like?"

  "I see lots of things I like," she said. "I know the store. People from the White House shop here, whenever they need a bauble or two."

  "Let's go inside."

  The store was a testament to chic modernity. Circular stools on elegant chrome stands were strategically placed for customers to sit on while they examined the goods. The goods were mostly diamonds, though Nick saw a lot of gold and a variety of gemstones in brilliant colors. Round, open front cabinets at eye level displayed special pieces under discreet lighting. An elderly woman and a younger man sat at one of the counters, looking at a man's wristwatch with a diamond s
tudded band. Nick and Selena were the only other customers in the store.

  A thirtyish man in a tailored suit approached them. "May I help you?" he said. His tie was perfectly knotted dark blue silk. It rested over a light blue shirt that would have cost Nick a week's pay.

  "We're looking for an engagement ring," Nick said. He looked at Selena and suppressed a laugh.

  "What?" she said.

  "The look on your face. You thought I'd never get around to it, didn't you?"

  "The idea had occurred to me," she said.

  The clerk watched them, a small smile on his face. It wasn't a new situation for him.

  "This way, sir." He led them to a row of display cases filled with diamonds and gold and silver and platinum rings that gleamed under the lighting.

  "Let's get that one," Nick said. He pointed at an elaborate ring with a central diamond and a pattern of leaves worked in tiny stones all around a platinum band.

  "Are you sure you want to do this now?" Selena said. There was an edge to her voice.

  "Why not? You want a ring, don't you?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "But?"

  "But this feels rushed. It's not just another ring. I have to think about it, look in catalogs, visit stores, things like that."

  Nick felt a headache start. "This is a store. There must be a hundred rings to look at here."

  "That's not the point."

  "What is the point? I thought you'd be pleased if we got something today."

  The smile on the clerk's face was starting to look strained.

  "The point is that I want to take more time to think about it," Selena said.

  "Think about what? The ring or whether you want to get married?"

  "Both," she said. She turned and walked out of the store.

  Nick stood for a moment. He looked at the clerk and the man took a step backward.

  "Don't say a word," Nick said.

  He stormed out of the shop in time to see Selena get into a cab and pull away from the curb. He began walking toward Dupont Circle and then cut over to 19th Street, where there was an Irish bar he knew about. An Irish whiskey would be about right for his mood, maybe two or three of them. What the hell was it with Selena, anyway?