Age of Shiva (The Pantheon Series) (30 page)

¹
Not the name he was born with, surprisingly enough, although you can’t fault cartoonist Scott Richardson for choosing a pen name that stated so nakedly what he wanted out of life. Then again, who am I to judge another’s pseudonym?

34. BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS

T
HE
G
ARUDA
ARCED
high, heading south-east.

“‘A disused mine of some sort,’” said Vamana. “That’s it? That’s all we have to go on? I hate to state the obvious, but Australia’s a bloody big place. Must be hundreds of disused mines there. Thousands, probably. How the hell are we supposed to find the right one? Needle in a stack of needles, if you ask me.”

“You must not dismiss what Hanuman has contributed,” said Rama. “Before, we had nothing, no hint where the Trinity are.”

“It’s okay, Rama,” I said. “You don’t need to defend me. Vamana, I know you make it your business to be a prick to everyone.”

“Not everyone,” said Vamana. “Just people I don’t like. Which – newsflash – includes you, faeces flinger.”

“But I’m on the squad now,” I went on, somehow managing to refrain from smashing his stupid face in. “Like it or lump it. Also, I have siddhis myself. If I want to, I’m perfectly capable of twisting your bumpy little head off.”

“You could try.”

“Don’t tempt me. I doubt anyone would stop me if I went over there and kicked seven shades of shrinky-dink shit out of you. They’d probably cheer me on, thinking you had it coming. The fact is, the way you keep trying to prove you’re bigger than everyone else is becoming pretty tiresome. We get it. You’ve felt belittled all your life. You have something to prove. But right now there’s more important stuff going on than your self-esteem. Two countries are on the brink of nuclear conflict, which the Trinity may have engineered, God knows why, and which is liable to spread across the world. So just get your priorities straight, huh? Snark at me all you like but
some other fucking time
, yeah?”

Vamana looked as though he could go one of two ways: either completely lose his rag with me, or concede graciously. I could see the inner debate raging. Which option, he was wondering, would do less harm to his standing with the other Avatars?

In the end he chose a middle path. He grated out a laugh, then said, “Point taken, Hanuman.” His voice was syrup but his eyes were venom. “I do have a tendency to, well, overcompensate. I’m glad you’ve brought it to my attention that I can be a bit acerbic sometimes. I will strive in future to be a better person.”

Which, translated from nicey-nicey language, meant: “Fuck you, matey. First chance I get, I’m going to screw you over so hard, you’ll be limping for the rest of your life.”

No one in the
Garuda
’s cabin was under any illusion that Vamana’s contrition was sincere, least of all me. However, for the time being, it did seem he was going to be a good boy and behave. That was enough.

Parashurama said, “Turns out Aanandi’s been a darn sight more helpful than even she thinks. The big clue is ‘Lombard’s old stomping ground.’ We know the guy was born and raised in Queensland. His parents ran a cattle station outside a town called Cloncurry, which isn’t far from the border with the Northern Territory. All this comes courtesy of his Wikipedia entry, which is so long and detailed you have to wonder if he didn’t write most of it himself. It stops just short of worshipping the ground he walks on. Anyway, around about Cloncurry there’s all sorts of mineral deposits – silver, lead, zinc, copper, phosphate rock, oil shale, uranium, you name it. Place is riddled with mine workings, some dating back to the mid-eighteen-hundreds. It’s also about the hottest spot temperature-wise in all Australia, which is saying something. Of the mines, approximately half are still in use, the rest tapped out and shut down.”

“Doesn’t narrow it down much,” said Kalkin.

“I grant you that. But it might be worth our while to focus on the immediate vicinity of the cattle station, and here’s why. Lombard sold the farm off when he was just starting out in the media biz. Then a decade ago he bought it back, along with several thousand acres of adjoining land. Paid top whack for it, and some would say that was sentimental affection for the old homestead. Which is fine, and plausible, but what if he had an ulterior motive?”

“To build this ‘second site’ there?” said Kurma. “This ‘other Meru’?”

“Precisely my thinking.” Parashurama waved a printout of a map of the area. “Again the internet comes to our rescue. Because it just so happens that on one patch of land adjoining the cattle station, one of the extra bits Lombard bought, there is a disused copper mine. It wasn’t a massive reserve, couple of million tonnes of chalcopyrite, copper sulphide ore. A local firm dug the lot out, then closed the pit back in the nineteen-eighties. Now I’d say, on balance, that this mine, the Golden Rocks Mine, is looking like a strong contender. Wouldn’t you all agree?”

“It meets the criteria,” said Matsya. “Is there any evidence of recent construction work?”

“None externally. I zoomed in as far as I could on Google Maps. Some derelict outbuildings, old unpaved road, the rest just scrub and sand. But that isn’t to say there’s nothing there. Could all be underground, a secret installation. You might also like to know that Cloncurry has an airport. Runway’s easily long enough to land a Cessna Citation on.”

“Hanuman,” said Kalkin, “isn’t it just a little bit fortuitous that Aanandi left this message for you? One that provides just the right amount of information we need to locate the Trinity. Doesn’t it seem somewhat of a breadcrumb trail? Like we’re
supposed
to be following them?”

“You mean is this a trap?” I said. “That did occur to me. All I can tell you is my instinct says it isn’t.”

“Your instinct,” said Vamana, “or your gonads?”

I shot him a look.

The Dwarf held up his hands, palms out, mimicking surrender. “All right, all right. Sorry. It’s nice-guy Vamana from now on. Promise.”

“Yes, I fancy Aanandi,” I said. “I don’t deny it. I like her a lot. But I’m not completely blinkered. She could be leading us on. This could all be a bluff, a cunning Trinity plot. Maybe there’s no second site at all. Maybe we’re being led a dance. Maybe they want us chasing after phantoms while they get up to something else, somewhere else.”

“If what they want is us to get lost running round in circles in the middle of nowhere,” said Buddha, “there are few better places for that than the Australian Outback.”

“But,” I said, “I don’t believe Aanandi would be a party to that. Certainly not willingly. She’s not like Lombard or Krieger or Bhatnagar, or even Korolev. She still has a soul.”

But did she? Did I really know Aanandi Sengupta that well? Or did I just like to think I knew her? Was I fooling myself? Was she using me? The book, the note, was it all an elaborate setup?

I hadn’t had a great track record with women up to that point. I tended to fall in love hard, then soon start taking the object of my infatuation for granted, assuming my dazzling worship of her would blind her to my many personal shortcomings. I didn’t have any great insight into the female mind or emotions. My
own
mind and emotions were still something of a mystery to me, for that matter.

I wanted to be right about Aanandi.

Trouble was, I couldn’t be sure.

Captain Corday’s voice over the intercom broke in on the discussion.

“Uh, gentlemen, quick heads-up. War situation bulletin. Pakistani President’s just held a press conference. Foreign Secretary, bunch of military brass with him. He’s delivered what he calls a final ultimatum to India. Says India should capitulate immediately. Claims it’s used biological weapons against Pakistan. I’m guessing that’s a coded reference to you guys, since there’ve been no reports of gas attacks or anything like. Says Pakistan’s spatial, military, economic and, uh, what’s the fourth one? Political. Its spatial, military, economic and political thresholds have all been breached. Red line time. Unless India surrenders, he’s reaching for the button. This is all second-hand, you understand. I’m getting updates in dribs and drabs. Cross-chatter from air traffic controllers in Colombo, Singapore, Jakarta and Perth. But shit, it’s not looking good, fellas. Just thought you should know.”

“Holy Mother of Christ,” said Parashurama. “They’re taking it right to the brink.”

“I thought Pakistan was winning,” said Vamana. “Don’t you go nuclear only as a last resort? When your back’s against the wall?”

“They
are
winning,” said Rama. “That’s why. They’re pressing home the advantage. They’re hoping to blackmail India into giving in. Preying on fears of mutually assured destruction.”

“Must be a bluff,” said Krishna.

“Even if it is, my homeland is not going to take a threat like that lying down,” said Buddha. “It’s more likely to launch a pre-emptive strike. Get its retaliation in first.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” said Kalkin. “Pakistan may just have miscalculated badly.”

“And it’s on us,” I said. “We made it worse by being there. We’ve given them the excuse they need to ratchet things up a notch. Bugger, bugger, bugger.”

“The Trinity,” said Matsya. “They must be the key to preventing Armageddon. Aanandi’s note seemed to imply that.”

“Then it’s all the more imperative that we get to them,” said Parashurama with steel in his voice. “And most ricky-tick.”

35. THE GOLDEN ROCKS MINE

W
E BYPASSED
C
LONCURRY
airport altogether, landing on a flattish area of desert equidistant between the town and the Golden Rocks Mine.

Matsya stayed aboard the
Garuda
. Arid, baking-hot air did not agree with him. He dehydrated easily, and his amphibian skin was better suited to moist, cold environments. Exposure to the Outback at the sun’s zenith would have cooked him like a kipper.

The rest of us set forth in Krishna’s chariot. It sped low over rugged red earth, hugging the contours of the terrain and whisking past stands of ghost gum and bottletree. A mob of kangaroos went hopping away in fright. As we crossed above a creek, a scarily large crocodile basking on the bank thrashed down into the shallows, taking refuge in the cloudy green water.

“Jesus, that croc looked like Matsya’s second cousin,” Vamana commented.

“You’re only saying that because he’s not here,” said Kalkin.

“I’d say it even if he was. We have a love-hate thing going, the Fish-man and me. Plus, he’s almost impossible to get a rise out of. I take it as a challenge.”

“So much for ‘nice-guy Vamana,’” I said. “How long did that last? A couple of hours?”

The Dwarf forked two fingers at his eyeballs, then at me.

I forked two fingers at my own eyeballs, then turned them into a V-sign.

Vamana smirked. “You watch your back, Tarzan of the Apes.”

“Backs of my knees, maybe.”

We circled the Lombard cattle station, which consisted of parched fields, broken-down fences, and a mean little tin-roofed shack surrounded by dilapidated barns and sheds. A rusted tractor stood beside the driveway, tyres long since perished to nothing. Weeds twined up through its axles and engine block.