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."

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 4

Posted by Lee Montana

It took me a while to realise that I was awake. My dreams had seemed so real that when I came to I was so confused I couple not remember who I was, let alone that I had been out cold. I found that I was in a small tent, maybe designed for hiking expeditions. I could not remember what I was doing there, but I could not remember where I had gone to sleep. My head was pounding. For a moment I thought I must have been on a drunken binge the night before, but I could not shake the feeling that a man was dead and I had to do something about it.

I unzipped the tent door and put my head out. I was in a clearing in a forest. There were no other tents and no other people in sight. It was morning and there was birdsong, and also the distant sound of the ocean.

I searched my pockets, but found them empty. The tent was also empty, apart from the gear I had been sleeping in.

It came back, or at least some of it did. Professor Rhegin, the impossible text message, the burly man at the academic conference in Mumbai. I had done as Verity asked and snuck into the meeting. It had been a lecture about Indian Historiography. However, neither the Professor or his wife were present. As I was scanning the auditorium, I noticed that a young woman was watching me. I realised that she was the woman in the red sari, the one who had been pictured with the professor the night before. I smiled at her and sat down.
"Looking for someone?" she said, with a cut-glass English accent which took me somewhat by surprise.
"I was looking for Professor Rhegin," I replied. "I was supposed to meet up with him. Sorry," I added, "I'm Lee."
"Juanita," she said, shaking my hand. "So you're looking for Thomas? Well, it was a long night for him, and he's not as young as he was. I expect he's in his room. He and his wife are next door to me. Room 102."
"Thanks," I said, and left as discreetly as I could. When I found the room, I was not surprised to discover that there was no response to any knocks.
"Here, allow me," said Juanita from behind me. She leaned past me and unlocked the door.
"This is your room," I stated.
"Yes, it is," she said as she slid past me.

That was all I could remember. Leaving the tent, I looked around at my surroundings. The trees were tropical, I thought. They were sparse enough that I could see, a few hundred yards away, a beach. The sun glinted through the canopy, and the day was already getting hot. Near the tent was the remains of a campfire, but it was cool to the touch. Nowhere else was there any sign of life, or indeed, human activity of any kind.

I decided to wall along the coast until I found some civilisation. The sand was firm underfoot, and walking was easy despite the unsuitable nature of my plimsolls. In the middle distance, I could see several islets of different sizes, covered in trees. My heart began to sink. Sure enough, it only took about half an hour for me to arrive back where I started.

Marooned, then. I found myself strolling back to the tent, wondering how I had been so foolish. For the first time, I noticed a strongbox on the far side of the tent. It was unlocked, and contained a dozen litres of water, and thirty six foil-wrapped packs of freeze-dried rations. So, my captors had left me food, water and shelter. They wanted me alive.

After I had eaten one of the reason packs, I decided to explore the interior of the island. Before long, the trees became thicker, and the undergrowth became almost impenetrable. Nevertheless, I persevered and managed to find a tall outcropping of rock near what I judged to be the middle of the island. It took me at least an hour to climb to the summit, by which time the heat was getting very intense. The view was spectacular. I was at the centre of a vast archipelago of islets of golden sand covered in intense green foliage, set in a perfect blue ocean that seemed to go on forever. There was absolutely no mainland in sight. It was a beautiful prison, but a prison it was. And there did not seem to be any escape.

Just as I prepared to scale back down the outcropping and head back to the camp, I noticed a thin column of smoke coming from one of the nearby islets. As I watched it rise, I thought I could hear the distant sound of voices.

My heart leapt in my chest. I was not alone.

The Serpent of Mumbai, Part 3

Posted by Verity Starchaser

The Viceroy hotel did not, as it turned out, live up to its name. It had been, in years past, a fine establishment, if a little eccentric. But now, a pall of dread hung over the poorly lit, fusty smelling, dust coated lobby hall, and the once charming curios (tapestries of 20th century Bollywood film posters, a porcelain figurine of a King Cobra wearing a fez, an imitation of Da Vinci's The Last Supper with a pantheon of Hindu deities) seemed almost sinister now, draped in cobwebs. As I walked in, I could hear the telltale rustle of rats in the walls.

"Lee?" I called. There was no response. I went up to the reception desk and rang the bell. Somewhere, there was the sound of birds taking flight. The bell echoed around the empty corridors for a long moment.
"Ms Starchaser?"
I was expecting someone, but the voice took me by surprise. It was calm, deep and melodious. I turned around to see a balding man in a velvet smoking jacket.
"You have the advantage of me, Mr...?"
"All in good time, my dear. I read your opinion piece in the New Houston Gazette last week. Very good! I find it so tedious when journalists try to present a balanced view of the facts."
"I'm glad it made you think. Listen, I don't mean to sound rude, but I was expecting to meet my friend, Lee, here. I don't suppose you've seen him around?"
The man chuckled. "Mr Montana will not, I'm afraid, be joining us."
"Shame. In that case, I had better go. I'm late for my interview with Professor Rhegin."
"Don't trifle with me, Ms Starchaser. I am well aware that you were working with the late professor. And do not suppose that you will leave this building without telling me where the Serpent is."
I smiled, although my heart was racing. "What makes you think I know anything about that?"
"Rhegin would hardly have contacted you for help if you were not a part of his little conspiracy. I will have the Serpent of Mumbai, and if you will not talk, then I'm sure your friend will. With the proper inducement, of course."
My jaw clenched. "This has been an enlightening talk, but I think it is time I was going."
The man slowly drew a wicked, curved dagger from inside his jacket. "Do not move, my dear," he drawled with a sadistic smile. "This is a sicarius. It is razor sharp. It can leave a very nasty laceration."
The silence was broken by the sound of a pistol cocking. "This is a Colt .44 Dragoon Pattern revolver," said Captain Sabrina Drake, "and it is loaded with manstopper cartridges. The exit wounds can be awful. I trust you are willing to take my word for it?"

She and I exchanged a brief, triumphant smile. I had called her as soon as I got the note from Jane, and we had worked out the plan for her to enter the hotel a few minutes after me, just in case of an ambush. I smiled at the man in the smoking jacket.
"Now," I said, "I think its time you did some talking. I want very much to know three things. Where is my friend, what is your name, and what do you know about the Serpent of Mumbai?"

A snarl passed over the man's features. With a speed that made me gasp, he span around and threw something at Sabrina. A dreadful noise made my eardrums burst, and a bright flash made me flinch. When I looked back the man was pushing past Sabrina and making for the exit. Sabrina righted herself, and looked at me, but in the corner of my eye I could see the shadows moving.
"Get down!" I screamed.
The first gunshot came a split second later, thudding into the wall behind me. A second whistled past my ear as I dived over a sofa. A third and a fourth thudded into the upholstery behind me.

Sabrina had also taken cover behind a faux-marble column. Two bullets ricocheted off, sending chunks of plaster and dust flying up. Sabrina returned fire once, twice. I looked around desperately for a way out, but the only avenue of retreat took me straight into the line of fire. Two more gunshots came, and a bullet ripped a hole through the back of the sofa only inches from my head. Sabrina squeezed off three shots in response, but she didn't have time to aim at our foes, who remained in the shadows. Now, she only had one bullet left. I looked over at my long-time comrade. Our eyes met, and I could see she had no more idea how to escape from this one than I did.

Two sets of footsteps approached. I tensed my muscles, ready to leap up as soon as I heard the sound of a gun being reloaded. I was sure that Sabrina would be able to take care of one of them given half a chance to take aim, but I was hardly confident that I could take on one of our assailants unarmed. Although I have certainly been in a street fight or two, I am not a muscular woman and I almost always came off worse. Still, perhaps I could survive long enough for Sabrina to finish her one off, and come to my aid.

The footsteps stopped, and I held my breath. For a split second, there was silence. Then, a third set of footsteps approached. Almost at once there was the sound of a shotgun shell being chambered, followed by a shout of alarm from one of our assailants, the shotgun blast, a second shell being chambered and shot, and the sound of two bodies hitting the floor.

Sabrina and I stared at each other, mystified. I shrugged. Putting up my hands in a gesture of surrender, I stood up and looked at our would-be saviour.
"Verity? What the hell are you doing here?" he said.