Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) (11 page)

Bullets spray the bar.

We hit the floor.

“Who’s shooting?” I bark, reaching
for my new .45.

“That hooded son of a bitch at the
door,” Tony shouts. “Rudy. My piece.”

With Anjali pressed against me, her
little automatic in hand, I catch sight of the front door. There’s a man
standing in front of it. He’s big, dressed in a black shin-length tunic, and a
matching black hood. Only his dark eyes are exposed. He has a banana-clipped
AK-47 gripped in both hands. Raising the weapon to his shoulder, he’s striking
a bead on our position on the dirty, wood plank floor. We’re fucking turkeys
inside a very shallow barrel.

I tip over the closest stool to
create a barrier and fire off a burst which sends Black Hoody down to his knees.

Rudy stands. His own Kalashnikov gripped
in his hands, he fires a short burst in the direction of the door, nailing Black
Hoody in the chest. He then transfers a revolver down across the bar to Tony. The
excavator grips the revolver and shoots at Black Hoody, hitting him in the
thigh.

“That’ll make sure he stays down,”
he says.

The picture window explodes and two
more hooded gunmen jump through, Kalashnikovs blazing on full automatic.

“Other side of the bar!” Tony
shouts.

We crawl as fast as possible around
the wooden bar, bullets barely missing our heads and torsos, burying themselves
into the thick wood panels. When all three of us are safely on the other side,
I catch Tony’s eyes.

“Did you bring these sons o’
bitches with you?” he barks. “Thank Christ they can’t shoot for shit.”

More firing, directly into the bar,
the bullets penetrating and nailing the bottles of booze stacked on the wall
behind us.

“Chase, I’m not leaving this life
without taking some of them with me,” Anjali barks.

The woman’s got spirit, I’ll say
that for her. Even if she is a devout believer in Jesus Christ.

“Look what they’re doing to our
bar, Anthony,” Rudy laments.

“
My
fucking bar,” Tony
barks.

“I didn’t invite them,” I say. “But
looks like they’re crashing anyway.”

That’s when the grenade drops on
the floor between myself and Tony. For a split second, we just stare down at
the smoking grenade, like it’s not real. Like what we’re experiencing is a
dream and we’re about to wake up a split nano-second before this grenade explodes
and tears our skins to shreds.

Instinct takes over.

Reaching for the grenade, I grab
hold of it, toss it back over the bar in the direction of the front door. When
it explodes, the bar shudders.

I stand, .45 poised before me,
combat position. The hooded gunmen are down on the floor, bleeding out from
mortal wounds. At the same time, the logs that were burning in the fireplace
have rolled onto the alcohol-soaked floor. Several trails of flames are spidering
their way along the rough wooden planks, up the wooden walls, and along the
ceiling.

“Stay here,” I say to Anjali, while
going around the bar.

“Make sure those bastards are
down,” Tony insists.

The closer I come to them, I can
see they’re down all right. Down for good, as in, rest in peace.

The fire is quickly spreading
throughout the old, dry wood structure.

“Time to abandon ship, Tony. This
place is gonna flash.”

He stands.

“Thanks,” he says. “I haven’t even
finished paying off Rudy for the joint yet.”

We all head for the front door
which is wide open. We’re not outside more than a minute when the entire place
flashes over in a red hot plume of red-orange flame.

“Where are the police?” Anjali
points out. “And no fire department?”

“Oh, they’ll be here all right,”
Tony says. “In about an hour, as soon as they can manage to break through the
traffic.”

“Welcome to Kathmandu,” Rudy
smiles. “I hope you brought some cash with you, Mr. Baker.”

“Who were those men exactly, Chase?”
Tony says, his face masked with both disappointment and anger. “And why were
they barking about Kali when they busted into the bar trying to poke holes in
my head?”

“Your garden variety follower of
the evil Thuggee satanic cult.”

“And why exactly are they trying to
kill you and what does all this have to do with Elizabeth?” he says, as the
burning timbers that support the roof of Rudy’s cave in, sending shards of
sparks out onto the street. Then, holding up his big hands in surrender. “Wait.
Don’t tell me yet. Put it all on hold while we find another place to talk before
the friends of those satanic, militant whatchamacallits come looking for the
roasted remains of their friends.” Turning to Rudy. “Rudy, the truck please.”

“Right away,” insists the
bartender, as he heads for the front door of Casale Excavating.

When he comes back around with a
white Ford Expedition, the words Casale Excavating printed on the side, the L
in Casale shaped like a backhoe bucket, we all pile in.

By the time we leave the scene, the
Casale Excavating office has also caught fire.

We head back to the hotel as quickly as humanly possible
through the congested streets. Upstairs, inside my room, we clean up. Then,
with both Rudy and Tony seated on the bed, I explain our mission. I start with
the abduction of Rajesh by the militant Islamist Pakistani, Kashmiri, and continue
with his plan to resurrect the Thuggee cult. I explain about the lost diamond
deposit and how Kashmiri will need it not only to fund his new evil army, but
also to tap into its powers. That is, the legend about the diamond mine turns
out to be true.

“That’s where Elizabeth comes in,”
I say, standing by the front door. “I believe she’s finally located the Golden
Kali Statue. That would explain why she mailed the key to me along with the
letter last month.”

“So you think this Kashmiri jerkoff
has been holding her in captivity for at least a month?” Tony says. “And that
she’s still alive?” He reaches into his back jeans pocket, pulls out a round
green can of chewing tobacco. Opening the lid, he pinches some of the sticky
black tobacco and presses it between his cheek and gum.

“That’s what I’m banking on. And if
we find her, we find the boy and Kashmiri. What have you heard amongst the
other diggers in Kathmandu, Tone?”

“Diamonds,” Rudy interrupts, his
round face beaming. “Did you say diamonds?”

“Last I checked, Rudy, I don’t
stutter.”

Tony interjects, “Rumors mostly.
That Elizabeth Flynn willingly entered into Nepal to dig for the Kali Statue. But
that was some years ago. To my knowledge, she hasn’t been heard of since. But, obviously.
this Kashmiri character found out about her and set off after her.”

“Five years ago?” I say, seeing her
standing on the concrete train platform in Varanasi.

“Sounds about right,” Tony
confirms. “She went into the jungle five years ago. Not long after your old man
kicked off.”

“Ummmm precisely how many
diamonds?” Rudy presses.

“More than the world has ever seen
before in one single deposit,” I say. “Or so legend has it.”

“The Golden Kali Statue and the map
it supposedly contains,” Tony says. “That’s just a myth. You know how many
people have died searching for it? It’s a fool errand. You of all people should
know that, Chase. My guess is that Elizabeth has already died looking for it. Problem
is, Kashmiri’s found her. If she sent you that key, she must have been
desperate enough to know he was going to end her life.” Then, pointing to his
tobacco-distended cheek. “Got something I can spit into?”

Looking over both shoulders, I head
into the bathroom, grab the toothbrush glass, head back out and hand it to him.
He spits a big wad of black goo into it.

“You should have quit that filthy
habit by now, Tone,” I say.

“Hey, some habits are tough to
break,” he insists like we’re talking about heroin.

Anjali breaks in, “Dr. Singh
believes the statue exists and that after years of digging, Elizabeth Flynn has
indeed finally found it, and that she is alive. If his sources on the inside
are correct, that is.”

“So, if he has sources on the
inside,” Tony adds, “it’s conceivable that some of the Thuggees are acting as
double spies.”

“The statue was her life’s
obsession,” I say to no one in particular.

I pull Elizabeth’s letter from my pocket,
open it, hand it to Tony. He looks at the letter, reads it, studies the drawings
for a moment.

“But once she was abducted by
Kashmiri,” he says, “she wouldn’t be allowed to contact anyone on the outside.
Least of all you. Somehow she managed it. But I guess he would want to keep her
alive long enough not only to find the statue but, as the expert
anthropologist, to have her reveal its secrets. And who knows how many secrets
there remain to be revealed. I would not doubt she’s very much alive if there’s
more mine yet to be discovered. She’s too damned valuable as an expert on the statue,
its secrets, and the mine it is attached to.”

Locking eyes on Anjali. She doesn’t
have to speak a word for me to see the relief on her face. If Elizabeth lives
because of her value, then there’s an almost one hundred percent assurance that
the God Boy would also be alive. After all, as the go-between for himself and
Kali, the six-armed child is even more important than Elizabeth is to Kashmiri.

“Then you have an idea of
Elizabeth’s whereabouts?” I say.

“I think I know where to find her
general location,” Tony says. “She left Kathmandu with a group of archeologists
who, at first, appeared to be legit. Sponsored by one of those Stan countries,
I’m not sure which.”

“Pakistan, more than likely. When
was this exactly, Tone?”

“Back in 2010.”

I recall my receipt of the letter
and the bronze key a month ago.

“That would make sense,” I say. “I’m
going to go with the theory that she’s being held against her will. Naturally,
she assumed they would kill her once they located the Golden Kali Statue so she
sent me the key. But maybe she’s been finding excuses to stall Kashmiri all
along.”

“If she’s smart,” Tony says. “And
if she values her life.”

“If the map on the statue is there,”
I say, “it will lead them to the diamond deposit. That happens, there will be
no stopping Kashmiri’s new Thuggee army.”

“It also means they will sacrifice
Rajesh,” Anjali says, clearly disturbed. She raises her right hand, looks up at
the ceiling as though facing heaven and makes the sign of the cross. Then, “Can
you lead us to Elizabeth, Mr. Casale? If we can get to her, she will reveal
everything to us. She will know precisely where Rajesh is being held and how we
can get to him.”

Tony spits more tobacco juice into
the cup, stands. The ever loyal Rudy also stands.

“I can try,” Tony says. His eyes
shifting mine “But it’ll cost you, Baker. You of all people know I don’t come
cheap. Plus, there’s the little issue of my burned up bar and my equally
destroyed business.”

I remember the wads of cash in my
pocket. I reach in, pull out the stack of Nepalese rupees. I cut the stack in
half, hand it to him.

“Down payment,” I say. “I can get
you the rest after I’ve located Elizabeth and the kid.”

Rudy goes wide-eyed at the sight of
the cash.

“In US dollars,” Tony says,
smoothing out his thick mustache with his thumb and index finger.

“Deal,” I say. Then, “Now, show me
what you know.”

All four of us gather around my
computer while, once more, I bring up Google Maps. I type in Chitwan National
Forest and the entire one thousand square miles, rabbit-shaped wilderness
appears. Tony takes a knee, stares at the map.

“You mind?” he says, setting his
fingers on the keys.

“I don’t recall you being fond of
computers, Tone.”

“People change, kid. When your old
man died and my job was buried along with him, I was forced to learn a lot of
new tricks.”