The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 10

Posted by Captain Sabrina Drake

Juanita plainly did not think that she was being followed as she made her way through the business district of Mumbai, with no attempt to double back or even look behind her. She boarded a trolley, forcing me to run to keep up. Luckily, the trolley was moving slowly through the ever denser crowds of commuters. Juanita got off near the old sewage works around the Mithi. Around here, the buildings were falling down - architecture that would have made Mumbai unique two centuries ago was lying in dusty ruins. Waste management in India, just like everywhere else, had been transformed, and this place was no longer needed. In contrast to the space-port district, where I spend most of my time in cities, which is rough and ready but teeming with life and enterprise, no-one lives here but squatters and rats. I loosened my .44 in its holster.

Juanita - young, beautiful Juanita - looked so out of place here it was almost comical. She looked around. I stayed in the shadows, cursing myself that I had gotten complacent, but she didn't make me. She put her phone to her ear. "Starchaser's still on the job," she said. There was a pause. "Yes, I know about his sister. I just spoke to her."
Another pause.
"I'm aware that she's a threat."
A longer pause.
"Are you mad?"
I almost heard the crackle of the voice on the other line.
"You're the boss. Where and when?"
The shortest pause yet.
"Got it," said Juanita, and hung up.

I followed Juanita to a bar about two miles away. I was starting to get frustrated. I hadn't learned anything we could use, only that she was rotten - which we knew anyway. Juanita went straight through the bar and out into the rear garden. I watched through the dirty window as she opened a cellar door and disappeared from view.

Maybe I was not thinking clearly at that moment, blinded perhaps by frustration and fear for my friend's safety, but I followed her down into the cellar. I had no specific plan, just the wish to confront this woman. The cellar was, of course, dark, and my eyes took a long moment to adapt.

"Captain Drake, your weapon please," said Juanita. She was pointing an automatic at my head. I was, I realised, partly illuminated by the light coming in from the chink in the doorway. I tried to stay calm.
"You can't blame me for wanting to check up on Al, Miss Junipo," I said.
"I don't appreciate being followed," she said. I squinted. Was that a covert glance at her watch?
"If you have a pressing appointment to attend, don't let me keep you," I said.
She shifted her grip on the automatic. "Your weapon, please, Captain Drake," she insisted.
I am a pretty competent gunfighter, but no-one outside of a movie attempts to draw on an opponent with a gun aimed directly at your head from a distance of less than a foot. I took out my .44 and offered it to her. The weight of it took her slightly by surprise, but not enough to give me an edge. The .32 Beretta in my left boot was not nearly close enough to hand. I had to keep her off balance, somehow.
"This way," she said, gesturing with the gun.
I obeyed. There didn't seem to be much choice. I walked through an archway in the cellar, to another chamber. This one was lit by a cheap electric lantern swinging from the ceiling, and felt damp. A fusty smell dominated the room, along with an air of rotting cloves. At the far end, a wooden door. I could hear the sounds of water lapping on the far side. This room backed onto the Mithi, or possibly onto a dock. This is where she was going to dispose of my body, I realised.
"Open it," she said.
I tried the handle of the door. It seemed loose enough, but I managed to make a play of struggling with the latch.
"I haven't got all day," said Juanita threateningly.
"That's okay, I have the rest of my life," I said lightly. I glanced up at Juanita. She was reloading the automatic!

I swung the door wide open, plunging Juanita into late afternoon sunlight, and dived straight into the welcoming arms of the river.

The Serpent of Mumbai - Part 9

Posted by Al Starchaser

Tracking down an elderly widow is hardly my idea of job satisfaction, but Mrs Rhegin clearly had information about the case. At least, Verity thought she did and she is usually right about these things, even if her characterization of me as a 'cold-hearted bastard' was completely unfair.

When I got to the hotel Verity had given me, the old lady had already checked out of her room. The next hour or so I was on the phone to my contacts at the local ports and spacehubs. No-one had seen the woman, so I decided she was probably still in Mumbai. But it was evening by then. She had to have found somewhere else to sleep. Perhaps she was running from the Clan. Perhaps I was wrong - and she had left Mumbai some other way - on the train, in a land car, in a rickshaw - anything, to avoid notice. I retraced the steps I had taken whilst tracking down the Clan. Nothing.

It was a dead end. Exhausted, I stumbled into a bar and ordered a pint. As soon as I took the first sip I felt guilty. Verity was probably working hard on her lead. She had probably already broken him. What a trooper she is. I picked up my phone.
"LYRA, what is Verity up to?" I asked.
A second later, an error message popped up. LYRA is offline. Please try again later. That was strange. I took another draught of beer, and considered calling Drake, but thought better of it. Firstly, she was supposed to be tailing Juanita, and secondly, I just don't like her.

I was about half way through my pint when my phone beeped. The message said: "I hear you are looking for me. I have news. Come to the Viceroy Hotel immediately. Make sure you are not followed." I ran a quick search on the phone number, but the web turned up nothing. I went to the bathroom and rechecked the shotgun.

Mumbai was now bathed in brick-red light from a setting sun, and the evening rush hour was well underway. The trolleys were packed, the roads were full of street vendors selling pomegranate juice, scooters darted this way and that, and the sky above was full of air cars blaring their horns and filling the air with hot vapour. It was very easy to get lost in the crowds, to double back, to be impossible to tail. When I arrived at the Viceroy Hotel, I was sure that no-one could have followed me.

The place was now clean. Apart from the bullet holes in the sofa and the walls, there was no sign that two men had died here only hours before. The dust on the ridiculous King Cobra in a fez was beginning to settle again. Everything else was the same. I took out my shotgun and chambered a round.
"Anyone there?" I asked.
"Over here, Mr Starchaser," said a quiet woman's voice.
"Mrs Rhegin?" I asked.
The old woman Verity had shown me a photo of emerged from the shadows. "It's Ms Hart again now, Mr Starchaser. Or Jane, if you are really daring."
"Fair enough. And you can call me Al."
"How droll." She walked up to me, and stood about half an inch inside my personal space. She was vaping, or possibly smoking.
"You are a hard woman to find," I said.
"And you are absurdly easy to. I do hope you were a little more careful coming here."
"Don't worry. I wasn't followed. But if you are so worried about being found by the Clan, why come here?"
"I would have thought it was obvious. This is where they would least expect to find me."
"I think you said you had some information for me?"
"I don't know if I should trust you or not. There appears to be a large gun between us."
"I'm a careful man."
"Are you afraid of me, Al?" She smiled and lowered her voice, leaning a little closer. "Put it away, young man."
I obeyed, reluctantly. She took another draw on her cigarette.
"Your sister didn't take my advice. She was careless. She is currently in the custody of a man called Sidney, who is as high up in the Sicarii as anyone I know of. She has only a few hours before he kills her. Perhaps only minutes."
"She was with me less than three hours ago. How the hell did you find out about this so quickly?"
"Does it matter? She's your damn sister!"
I hesitated. Okay, so perhaps I was a cold-hearted bastard after all. I took the cigarette from her hand, threw it on the floor and crushed it underfoot. She recoiled from me. "The truth, Mrs Rhegin. Now."
"The truth? My husband was not just an academic, you know. He was a Sicarii. He'd been part of their organisation for decades. And the idiot thought I didn't know. I have been working contacts in the local cell for years now. Nothing happens in that nest of snakes that I don't know about. Now do you want to know where your sister is or not?"
"I have a feeling you are going to tell me, Mrs Rhegin. Get it over with."
"I have a price, Mr Starchaser."
I took a deep breath. "The rest of this conversation can go very, very badly for you. Think very carefully about what you say next."
She handed me an old leather bound notebook. It was dogeared and ragged, and was held together by an elastic band. "This is my husband's notebook. He spent the last five years of his life looking for the Serpent of Mumbai. I want you to rescue your sister, Mr Starchaser. Then I want you both to find it."
"Disappointed that your husband failed to bring home a golden nest egg?"
"You misunderstand me, Mr Starchaser. I was loyal to my husband, and I intend to make sure that his final wishes are carried out. When you find the Serpent, I want you to destroy it. Do we have a deal?"
I looked at her. She was definitely lying about something, but I got the gut wrenching feeling that her information about Verity was spot on. I took her hand. She gave me the location Verity was being held at, and I started to leave.
"One more thing," I asked. "What has the Clan done with Lee?"
"On that, Mr Starchaser, I'm afraid I have no idea," she replied, and once again I knew that she was telling me the truth.

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 8

Posted by LYRA

I am occasionally asked by Verity Starchaser, and other humans who I associate with, to provide a pictorial record of events as they occur, which can be uploaded in real time to the net. I am usually happy to oblige, like most other synthetic consciousnesses, but on behalf of my people I need to make it clear that we do not do this all the time. If you think about it, it would generate an almost infinite amount of data, which we would be required to sift through. Nobody needs that amount of processing. What follows is my verbal commentary on the events which led Verity to discover the reason behind the Clan's activities.

When we got back to the conference centre, the conference was winding up. There was a crowd of academics and students outside the building, networking. Some had already spilled into the coffee shops and cafes surrounding the centre. Others were waving goodbye to each other and trailing their suitcases behind them. It didn't take long for Verity to spot the man she had me tag "Muscles" in lieu of his name. What with the crowd of people, he did not seem to be aware of her arrival.

"So, what is your approach going to be?" I asked.

"The normal approach when you are in the end game and holding a pair of Jacks," she said. I would have normally assumed by this that she meant she needed to concede defeat, since in Poker a pair of Jacks is outranked by the majority of the other possible hands. However, Verity proceeded to walk up to 'Muscles' and engage him in conversation.

"Hi," she said brightly. 

Muscles frowned. "Verity Starchaser? I'm afraid the professor has left. I'm very sorry."

"The professor? Oh, of course. No, I'm afraid he is old news. I'm on the trail of a much bigger story now." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It has to do with a Golden Snake," she said.

The expression on the face of Muscles indicated a high degree of surprise and alarm at the mention of a golden snake. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about that," he said. Observing his level of perspiration, I concluded that he was either suffering from a high fever or lying.

Verity smiled. "The problem is, it just isn't enough of a story yet. I need to be able to meet with someone in the Clan. A leader, perhaps. Otherwise, you know, I'm afraid that when I publish the story it just won't have the right level of balance."

Muscles started to say something, but stopped. I was able to calculate an 83% chance of the word in question being "what".

Verity smiled at him. "Is there any chance you could connect me?"

Muscles took Verity to the third floor of an office block in the centre of Mumbai. The technology was at least three decades out of date, and the working space was demarcated in a very inefficient manner - prefab walls separated the space into at least five small rooms, connected by a narrow corridor. The room he left Verity in had no windows and only a single office chair. There were five olive-drab filing cabinets in the room.

"How is your data connection, LYRA?" asked Verity.

"More than adequate, Verity," I replied. From the pitch of her voice I calculated a high degree of stress. "MD Direct dot com lists stress as the largest cause of heart problems," I offered. "It is a very reputable website."

"Shut up, LYRA."

The door opened, and the man who had threatened Captain Drake and Verity in the Viceroy Hotel entered. "I had no idea that you were quite as foolish as this, Verity," said the man.

"Let me stop you there, mister," said Verity. "This conversation is being recorded by LYRA, who is a Synthetic Consciousness who works for me. If any harm comes to me, she will upload the footage to my contact at Interpol."

The man smiled. "Very well played, my dear. I should have known better than to put my trust in that idiot. What do you want?"

"I'd like to know what to be able to call you, first."

"'Stanley' will do."

"Stanley it is. Okay then, Stanley. What have you done with Lee?"

Stanley paused. "What is he to you, exactly?"

"My friend, jackass. I want him back."

"I think you probably know my price."

"The Serpent?"

"Indeed."

"I want to know why it means so much to you."

Stanley's eyes narrowed. He took out an electronic cigarette, pressed a couple of buttons on it, and started to vape. "As you are probably aware, I am a member of a venerable organisation. The Sicarii go all the way back to the construction of the Herodian Temple in Jerusalem. Without going into our long, complicated history unduly, we are very interested in certain types of historical artifacts. Artifacts which are...powerful. The kinds of artifacts which should not fall into the wrong hands. Our remit, Ms Starchaser, is nothing less than the survival of the human race. I will not allow that remit to be compromised, even by a well-meaning fool like yourself."

Verity frowned. "Be careful, Stanley. Your secrets can be revealed to the world at a single word from me."

"No doubt. But lets be frank with each other. You actually don't have the Serpent of Mumbai at all, do you?"

It was at this point that I started to get a number of error messages from my internal diagnostics. Within nanoseconds, there were over 10 to the power 334 separate errors. I had a virus. The last thing I was able to record before I was forced to dedicate 100% of my runtime to the threat was one final statement from the man who called himself 'Stanley'.

"You know far too much, Ms Starchaser."

'

'"

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 7

Posted by Lee Montana

Barefooted, out of breath and soaking wet, I emerged from the surf onto the beach of the third islet, and spat a mouthful of saltwater onto the sand. I had been a complete idiot. Looking at the column of smoke, and hearing the voices from the cove that seemed to be so close, it had seemed like such a simple task to swim through the clear, still waters from islet to islet until I could take a closer look. In truth, the distance proved to be much further than I had expected, and I clearly was not as good a swimmer as I had imagined myself to be. I needed a drink, badly. Luckily, the sun was going down and the temperature had dropped. Still, I wondered, would I be able to make the return trip in darkness? How would the tides affect the return journey?

Before me was a small bluff, covered in lichen and yellow grass. Peering over, I caught sight of the cove where the smoke had been coming from. It was about two hundred yards away, across a shallow strait, which only looked about ankle deep. A campfire was still smouldering away, and a large plastic coracle had been turned upside down nearby. There were two men on the beach. One was sitting on a wooden crate, eating from a long wooden skewer, and I immediately caught the scent of smoked fish. The other appeared to be sleeping. They were both of South-East Asian origin. To begin with, I thought about simply approaching them, but something stopped me. The thought came into my head that these men were smugglers, and that the sudden appearance of a western man, from out of nowhere, would make them nervous. Again, I cursed my lack of planning. What I really needed was some of the ration packs, or even the whole crate. Perhaps I might be able to barter a lift back to whatever mainland was closest.
Crawling over the bluff, I kept a close eye on the man eating the skewered fish. He did not notice me. I quietly crossed the narrow strait and took cover behind some rocks. Peering out, I saw the man continue to eat his fish. So far, so good: the failing light of day was in my favour. I decided to approach the cove from inland, where there were trees to use as cover. Perhaps, if the man decided to go to sleep like his colleague, I might reconnoitre their camp a lot easier. They might even have some water.

I pushed through the dense foliage. There was a narrow path through the rocks which ringed the cove on three sides, which I managed to find without difficulty. Inch by inch, I made my way down to the beach until I could go no further without being seen. Risking a brief glance at the beach, I saw that by now, the man who had been eating the fish had disappeared. Perhaps he had gone away to do more fishing. I decided to take my chance and explore their camp. I badly needed water.

Cautiously, I walked down to the wooden crate. It was nailed shut. I crossed over to the coracle and looked underneath. There were, indeed, supplies stashed there, as I had suspected. I started to reach underneath, desperate to find anything I could drink.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye, and rolled away just in time to see a flash of metal bite into the sand where I had been a split second before. It was the fish-eater, with a wicked-looking machete in his left fist and fury in his eyes. Crying out, he attacked me again. Once more, I lurched away and managed to avoid the attack. This time, I scrambled to my feet. His colleague was awake in an instant. I made eye contact briefly, and thought I saw fear. The fish eater threw himself bodily at me, holding the blade to my throat. My fingers gripped the blade, and it's edge began to bite. I was being forced back into the waves. Planting my right foot in the sand, I tried to twist the blade away from me. My attacker lost his footing, and somehow I ended up on top of him, winded, but able to pinion the blade to the sand with both hands. I tried to use my knee to land a blow, but only succeeded in wrenching my thigh muscle. I was almost spent, but I knew that my only hope of survival was to get control of that machete.

I saw the second man's attack before it hit, but I was simply too exhausted to avoid it. I was struck under the ribs, knocking all the air out of my lungs. As I doubled up on the sand, I managed to squeeze my eyes open for long enough to see what the second man had used to hit me. It was the stock of an old Kalashnikov assault rifle, which he now levelled at my head.

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 6

Posted by Verity Starchaser

"You knew the professor, Verity?" asked Juanita.
"Oh, not that well. We'd met."
"I know. I read your piece on the Tycho City University scandal."
"That was a long time ago," I said.
"It doesn't seem that long ago. The university hasn't recovered from it yet. Perhaps it never will."
I looked at Juanita. She could hardly have been a day over 21. She had gorgeous hair, doe eyes and was irritatingly skinny. Her smile seemed completely innocent.
"How is the Professor? Did you see him this morning?" I asked.
Juanita's perfect eyebrows knitted for a fraction of a second. "No one has seen him since last night. His wife was close to tears, and the world renowned Verity Starchaser has been asking questions all morning. Either he's been killed, or he's involved in a torrid sex scandal. I'm not an idiot."
I smiled. "Someone was killed last night. Someone who looks exactly like Thomas Rhegin, but that was on the other side of the world. Then again, someone else who looks exactly like Thomas Rhegin was drinking champagne with you last night as well. Do you have any explanation for that?"
"Why would I?"
I held her gaze. All I could see was innocent confusion. Eventually, I gave a short chuckle to break the tension. "I don't know. It is a real puzzle. But I hear you have a puzzle of your own. A certain secret society. PhD thesis?"
"No. I was helping Professor Rhegin out with his research. He was convinced he could find the Serpent of Mumbai."
Al snorted. Juanita turned to him. "What have you found out?"
"It turns out they are a lot more dangerous than you led me to believe, Ms Junipo," said Al. "They've killed at least one person, probably two, in the last twelve hours. And they have tried to kill my little sister and Drake, here, as well."
"Are you pulling out, Starchaser?"
"A chap has to look to his own safety, my dear."
Juanita sighed. "If the Clan got Professor Rhegin, then he was on to something. I'll give you an extra thousand if you bring me any intelligence on them that I can use."
"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Juanita."

When she had gone, Al immediately started to pack his bag. "Where do you think you are going, Albert?" growled Sabrina.
"Do you know how much haggling that young lady did to agree the initial price?" he replied. "Fluttering her eyelashes the whole time. Shameful. Now she throws in another thousand without a fight? Something is up."
"Something is up, Al," I said. "But it might not be what you think."
"You are being mysterious, Verity," said Sabrina. "Cut it out. Exactly how much of this mystery have you figured out?"
I sat down on the bed again. "Not much. The only thing I really want to know is what they have done with Lee. On that, I'm afraid I have no clue."
"Okay then. Start with what you do know. How can a man be in two places at once?"
"He can't. The Professor Rhegin we saw in the photo, the one drinking with everyone last night, was obviously an imposter. As for the text message, imagine this. The Clan come upon Rhegin, and he gets knocked out. They put him in their ship's hold. They take him to a deserted island to kill him, so that no one will find the body for months, if ever. But they messed up. They forgot to search him, and when he wakes up, he has a few seconds before they come for him, and he has his phone. So his GPS tells him where he is, and he sends the text. But there is no network coverage. So he hides the phone before his captors enter. They shoot him, dump his body on the beach, and head off. As he is dying, Rhegin pulls off his shoe, trying to give us a clue. He wants us to see his secret snake tattoo. But he dies before he can get the sock off. As soon as the ship is within range of a mobile mast, the text message gets sent. Of course, they found the phone later, and realised what they had allowed to happen. That is why they got Lee, I suspect. They knew he was coming."
"And what is our next move?"
There are three of us, and there are three leads. All of them know more than they are letting on. Sabrina, you tail Juanita. Al, you come with me back to the conference. I want you to have a talk with Rhegin's widow."
"Why me?"
"Because you are a cold hearted bastard, you carry a sawn-off shotgun in your jacket, and she has never met you."
"And what about you?"
"Oh, I have a date with someone tall, dark and muscular."

2314 - A Year in Review (by Verity Starchaser)

This post first appeared in the January 2315 edition of Zöenomie

Being a journalist, it isn't always easy to keep a long view of things. Keeping abreast of news across three star systems, eight planets and something like two hundred nations is impossible. Each morning the world you wake up to is completely new. Such is a journalist's lot. Thinking about this article, I went back over everything I wrote this year today. So many times, I could barely remember that I'd written it.

The biggest story of 2314 was the Turing Ascendancy's terrorist attack on Interpol's mainframe computer. The IAAAI (Intergalactic Association for the Advancement of Artificial Intelligences) was quick to denounce the attack, but many interest groups have now started to call for the abolition of Artificial Intelligences altogether. The question of whether individuals or even governments would be able to function without A.I.s to sift the information contained on the various internets has been raised. Not everyone agrees with the prejudice against "Synthetic Consciousness", and anyone who has never had to argue against the Chinese Room Problem to defend their right to exist should take a moment to think before their opinion is settled. One piece of good news for the IAAAI last year was the landmark legal case, in which one A.I. (who still cannot be named) had her right to reproduce upheld by the US Supreme Court.

So what can we expect from 2315? Governments everywhere in the galaxy continue to struggle to cope with the increasing ease of intergalactic travel, and restrictions on free movement will be fought every step of the way by merchants lobby groups. Space travel, of course, now makes international travel look like child's play. The first circumnavigation of the globe in under seven hours was recorded last year in the new Whisperjet, which has been described by aviation experts as the biggest technological breakthrough since the Wright Flyer. Many commentators remarked at the time that this makes a mockery of the idea that nations can police their own borders any longer, when anyone with a space ship can pop in, land and be out in less than an hour.

The human population is expected to pass three trillion this year, and the increasing administrative burdens on governments and law enforcement agencies continues to cause concern. This has led to the rise of supranational organisations such as Microsoft, who in 2314 won a huge victory in their campaign to be recognised as a people. Increading numbers of people are choosing to associate their ethnic identity with these corporations (the Coca Cola Company is tipped to be the next to apply for national status), interest groups (such as the Gamer Collective) or subcultures (Emo Nation) - and not all of these are as benign or as fair-dealing as Microsoft.

Still, most of these issues have been with us since the late 22nd century at least. Perhaps the old adage is true age all: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 5

Posted by Verity Starchaser

It was Sabrina who spoke first. "For crying aloud, Al. Never mind why we are here, why the hell are you here?"
My brother, Al Starchaser, cleared the breach of the sawn-off shotgun he was carrying. "It's delightful to see you too, Drake," he drawled as he reloaded, rattling each shell next to his ear as he did so.
"Al, do you know who these guys are? They've got Lee," I asked. It had been a great shock to see Al, and a part of me was mortified to have been saved by my little brother, but there was no need to keep a poker face now. The most crucial thing was finding where they had taken Lee.
"I heard. Poor chap."
"So where do we start looking?"
"Start looking? Probably the bottom of the Mithi. I don't know if you noticed but these people really do not mess around."
"Speaking of which, shouldn't we be getting out of here?" put in Sabrina.
"What an excellent idea," said Al drily, putting the gun into his jacket and making for the door.
I fell into step next to my brother. "I take it you are after the Serpent of Mumbai as well," I said. "What do you know?"
"Ha. I know it isn't real, Verity. I've been doing this for ten years now, and I've heard every fish story there is."
"Albert, I am a journalist, not a treasure hunter. Please, will you start at the beginning. What is the Serpent of Mumbai?"
Al sighed. "Okay. But let's go to my hotel room. Loose lips sink ships."
"Are we just going to leave these bodies here?" asked Sabrina.
"The Clan will be along to clean up shortly. They certainly won't be reporting this to the police. Your Noel Coward lookalike friend will see to that."
"The Clan?"
"Quiet till we're home," said Al urgently.
Al was staying in a typically medium-rate hotel, but one where the decor suggested a much richer level of clientelle. Hearing Al ingratiatingly ask the porter, using her first name, if anyone had been asking for him made me clench my fists. He was acting out his fantasy - a rich, globetrotting playboy, the regular in an expensive hotel.
The room was beautifully decorated but small, and smelled of cheap furniture polish. Al put the one chair next to the window so that he could glance out. I sat on the end of the bed. Sabrina leant against the wall and glared a Al.
"So, Verity," said Al. "I think we should swap our back stories. What brings you to India?"
I told him, as briefly as possible, about Professor Rhegin. Al frowned at parts of the story. "Ok, Al, your turn," I finished.
"I'm here on a contract for a friend. She wanted someone to investigate a secret society for her. How does a chap like me turn down a job like that?"
"What do you know?"
"I know what you know. They are a weird cult and they are obsessed with finding the Serpent of Mumbai. Apparently they believe they are the descendants of Judas Iscariot."
"And the Serpent?"
"It's a totem. Supposedly solid gold, about four feet high, of a coiled viper. Emeralds for eyes. Silver filigree in the scales. Worth fortune beyond the dreams of avarice. And of course, it is cursed. Legend has it that when Joshua drove the Canaanites out of Jericho, the sons of Achan took the idol from the ruins of the city along with the other treasure they stole. But when they went to sleep that night, a golden snake appeared to the youngest of the sons in a dream, and commanded him to take the idol and bury it in the desert. And the boy woke and did what the serpent said. And when the sin of Achan was discovered and family sentenced to death, the youngest son took three of his sisters and escaped, and they left Israel and went East, plotting their revenge. And everywhere they went, they took the Serpent; and before long they began to worship it, and invoke the malign Canaanite god that it represented. Gradually, people from other nomadic tribes were drawn in, until they numbered over a thousand. Everyone has their own version of the gory details of their religion - some talk of child sacrifice, for example. Eventually, they settled in India and constructed a temple to worship the Serpent - but as soon as the Brahmins learned of their depraved rituals and their perverted practices, they denounced them, and the temple was torn down, and the sons of Achan were put to the sword. But when the Brahmins came to destroy the idol, it is said to have become a real serpent, and caused them to flee. That was the last that was seen of the Serpent until the British arrived in India. It was supposed to have been discovered in a cave with a cache of treasure, but the two men who found it died of dysentery before it could be presented at auction, and neither it nor the rest of the treasure was ever found. And ever since then, treasure hunters have told stories about it around camp fires to give each other the willies."
"And where does Judas and this Clan come in?" asked Sabrina.
"No idea," said Al.
"I think a better question is this," I said. "Who employed you to look into the Clan, and why?"
"As luck would have it I have asked her to join us. She should be here in a moment. I saw her come in the front door a minute ago."
Almost as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "That'll be her," said Al with a smug smile.
I opened the door, revealing a pretty young woman I had last seen wearing a scarlet sari in a photograph with Thomas Rhegin.
"You must be Verity Starchaser," she said, shaking my hand. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Juanita Junipo."