A few days passed since Barkley’s first and very memorable visit. There was a serious edge to it, even though Jack and I had laughed a lot at his reaction to seeing the real me. Jack was in a tough spot. He needed my help. He needed me to go to Bharat so that he could get the medical help from Barkley that he desperately needed to stay alive.
To be honest, it all actually coincided very well with my plans—I wanted to investigate the legends of the woman and her monster that Ca had told me were rife in all of Asia. India, or Bharat as it is now called, seemed like a good enough place to start. Maybe even more important—I needed to get out of here in a hurry. I had been in prison now for more than four weeks and that was stretching my Primal urges to the limit. Frankly I needed to kill someone to stay sane. My emotions were running on overdrive at the moment and it would take only a little spark to set me off. There was no telling what I would do once I started, once I let the rage out.
So we agreed that I would go to Bharat, and that I would kill this Emperor who was very effectively taking on the rest of the world.
Jack contacted Barkley and another meeting was set up for the next day.
The stage was different, but that was to be expected. Barkley had been terrified beyond belief, so now he wasn’t taking any chances. Or so he thought.
I was brought into a small cubicle. The walls were made of some kind of Plexiglas or something like that. It moved a bit when I touched it, there was some give there. The thickness was difficult to see from where I was, but it was definitely substantial. There was a chair in the cubicle, so I sat down. Opposite me, another chair was placed about a meter from the Plexiglas structure. A door opened and two heavily armed guards entered the room. A few paces behind them Barkley made his entrance. He had re-found some of his arrogance and haughtiness after the quite degrading experience of a few days ago. I guess he felt safe.
Making a point of looking relaxed, he sat down across from me, another folder on his lap.
‘Well’ he started the meeting. ‘Here we are again.’
I looked him in the eye and smiled. That riled him a bit. It was so much fun, so easy. And having been in here so long, I appreciated the entertainment value. But more was to come.
‘I’m here to discuss the details.’ I finally said.
‘Yes.’ He was enjoying his perceived security. Completely dependent on the Plexiglas that separated us. Once again, he underestimated me.
‘Well, this is where I tell you what to do. So there will be no discussion. I talk—you listen.’ Cocky. ‘Otherwise I will let you rot in this place. You and Jack.’ I remained silent and just stared at him.
‘You can stop the tough girl look’ he continued. ‘You can’t get at me now.’ Really gloating. ’This,’ he leaned forward and tapped the structure, ‘is state-of-the-art bulletproof glass. It’s a new version of Lexan. Three inches thick and flexible. It can stop a cannon.’ He smiled smugly.
I stood up and walked to the plate of Lexan that separated us. Pushed it a bit.
Despite his tough words, he flinched, but recovered quickly.
I looked him in the eye and placed both of my hands on the Lexan.
‘Once again you need bringing down a notch’ he strained to hear, my voice was almost in a whisper. ‘You keep underestimating me.’ Slowly I let the claws emerge at the end of my fingers. Inch by inch they dug into the Lexan.
‘You see’ I continued. ‘I’m not a bullet. I’m much worse than that. And there is probably nothing on this earth that is impenetrable for me and my claws.’ His eyes were once again glued to my claws. The colour drained from his face. The sweat re-appeared. He was close to panic again. The guards mirrored his terror. I drew the fully extended claws through the Lexan so that they penetrated the screens completely and came out the other side. Pulling them down, I made massive rents in the structure, causing Barkley to skid his chair back as far as it would go and the guards to aim their weapons on me. Silly really, as I was behind the bulletproof Lexan.
Smiling, I retracted my claws, turned and sat down again.
‘Luckily for you’ I said, ‘we have a deal.’ My change of character unnerved him almost as much as my claws had. Internally I was laughing my head off. But I needed to rein myself in a bit. I didn’t want to scare him away. He was my ticket out of here.
‘I’ll keep up my side of the deal’ He was listening intently. ‘And when it’s over, I’ll be back to see if you kept up yours.’
It stayed quiet for a few minutes.
’So’ I said amiably. ‘Let’s get down to the details, shall we?’
Slowly inching his chair forward until he was almost at the same place as earlier, Barkley kept his eyes trained on me. He was now acutely aware of his vulnerability, and didn’t trust me for a minute. That was understandable—I wouldn’t have.
‘Emperor Bharata, or Samrat Bharata as he likes to be called, resides in a palace that he built next to the Taj Mahal in Agra. From there he rules his empire that consists of the former India, Pakistan, Southern China, Nepal, Bhutan and Bangladesh.’ He explained. ‘He originates from Kolkata. He is the son of a wealthy merchant and a university professor. His mother taught History and Ancient Indian Culture at the Kolkata University. His father traded in oil, precious stones and clandestinely, in ivory and opium.’
‘Needless to say, Bharata, born Niraj, had a pampered and luxurious childhood. He went to the Kolkata University and obtained a Master degree in Political Science. From there he entered Oxford and later Harvard. Not so much due to his intellectual skills, more the generous donations that his family bestowed upon the universities. Niraj was the third child and first son of the family. Later as more sisters followed, he remained the only male offspring. As such, he was cherished beyond compare by his parents. They instilled the pride and arrogance that portrays the man now. His mother made sure that he was infused with the rich pre-colonial history of both India and the surrounding countries. I expect that is where he gets his inspiration from.’
The information was very detailed but I decided to let him continue, observing the way he spoke as much as the content. I detected some admiration. He was in awe of the target.
‘Anyway’ he seemed to have noticed and hurried on. ‘He inherited his father’s imperium and extended it exponentially, resulting in his far-reach and notoriety in the region. About fourteen years ago he started his expansion into politics and three years later he became the President of India. Re-elected five years after that, he slowly but surely increased the power of the presidency in India. Initially it was more of ceremonial office, but he passed sufficient changes to the constitution to give him extensive influence on the military, social and political powers in the country. Three years ago, he was so strong that he actually manipulated the voters to cancel the presidency as well as the parliament and democracy, basically instating himself as supreme ruler. The Raj of old. He was quick to expand the country’s borders by attacking Bangladesh and Nepal. It turned out that he had been secretly amassing a large army and they made small measure of the military in the neighbouring countries.’
He stopped to take a breath and open the folder. Extracting a number of photos, he continued.
‘These are photos of the other way he’s waging war.’ He held the photos up so that I could see them. They portrayed massacres. It was unnerving, even for me, and I’ve seen a lot. Caused my share too.
‘This is what Shiva does’ he explained, holding up more gory pictures. The violence portrayed was excessive. Blood and body parts everywhere. ‘Shiva causes the user to go maniacal, homicidal.’ Even he was silent for a moment while he reviewed the photos himself. ‘This was a family. Mother, father and two sons, after their daughter slaughtered them, high on Shiva.’ He added: ‘it was her first time. She had never used it before.’
I was familiar with the effects of Shiva. Had seen them in Easy. Had actually used them against the Maniacs there.
‘Bharata uses the drug that he produces in Nepal to undermine any country that he wants to annex. It’s the front line. After that he invades them. In that manner, he has already managed to occupy five countries so far, including the southern part of China. No one dares to counter him, many of his military are subjected to Shiva before they go to battle. They are initially exposed to a heavily diluted version of the drug for a period of time and are somewhat manageable. Once they get the real stuff and are pointed in the direction of the enemy, there’s no stopping them. They don’t feel pain and the adrenaline keeps them going long after they have been fatally shot or stabbed.’
Taking more photos from the folder, now portraying Bharata, he moved the meeting to the current time.
‘He has now targeted the west. Great Britain in particular, because of the colonial past and the atrocities that were committed in the previous centuries. He has a point there. We were not good rulers. But the payback is out of any proportion. He has openly vowed to conquer Great Britain and any other country that gets in the way. His minions have flooded countries like France, Britain, Russia and the Americas with Shiva and it wreaks havoc there. He continues his physical expansion as we speak. He is now preparing to invade Myanmar. The western countries are hesitant to intervene, because he has nuclear weapons and we expect him to use them if he is cornered. This is where you come in.’
‘Why me?’ I asked
‘Because any previous attempts to kill him have ended in the demise of the agents. Many have tried, but the maniacal bodyguards have proven to be too much.’
I waited.
‘You are immortal, as far as we know. That makes you the natural choice.’
‘Because it’s a suicide mission, right?’
‘Frankly yes.’ Well, at least he was honest about it.
‘Your powers should help you.’
‘That’s all the help I have, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’ He added, ‘if you’re caught we will deny any connection to you.’
Fair enough, that was to be expected.
‘We will get you there, make contact with our man on the inside but after that—you’re on your own.’ The classical famous last words.