The Eye of the Idol

The Eye of the Idol

Copyright © 2010 Paul Dayton

Second electronic edition published by Paul Dayton at Smashwords

Written by Paul Dayton

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Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This is a work of fiction and the product of the author’s imagination. Some of the details of the historical stories included can be found at many online encyclopaedia websites. Otherwise, all current characters are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual living persons is entirely coincidental.

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Cover: Vladstudios source file/ Paul Dayton design

Paul Dayton has written numerous books, ranging from Comedy to Scifi and Adventure. Hit the link below for any that may interest you:

Dying for the American Dream – a realist’s guide to a happy retirement

Tired of living to work? Tired of expensive health insurance? Want out of the rat race? Want to read true life experiences of how others are living their dreams without winning the lottery or being rich? This is your illustrated source for real, solid information on living your dreams.

And You Thought Your Family was Dysfunctional!

Written originally for my future grandkids, this is a hilarious account of the goings-on of a regular, run-of-the-mill Pork family. From Aunt Vampira to Uncle Caulk, you’ll be needing paper towels to wipe the tears of laughter pouring down your face as you read these toilet-sized true stories.

Coming soon: Pandora’s Sister

On the 12th day of the 12th month, twelve different people were going about their business. When the clock struck twelve, eleven of them instantaneously ignited and burned to death.

Someone is sending a hell of a message.

Liked Sanchez, Coleman and Michelle in The Eye of the Idol? Want to follow them in their next adventure? Next in the series is coming soon. Scroll to the end for an excerpt!

We’ve Seen the Enemy

700 years of post-apocalyptic fighting and running, against an enemy that can’t be beat. Until now...

Flashes Through Time

Prefer shorts instead? From the bizarre, the creepy and the romantic to funny romps, this anthology from various writers delivers in spades. First class entertainment at a ridiculously low price. Also available in paperback.

Visit my website for more information or purchasing options – www.pauldaytonscifi.com.

Forward

It’s often been said that truth is stranger than fiction, but this very tired cliché is also inaccurate. The reality is that truth is far, far more interesting than fiction. Authors are often limited – any fiction too unusual or coincidental is unbelievable and as such, ruins the whole purpose of the story. But when an author has unusual, highly coincidental and true facts to work with, he has a potent recipe for some good fiction.

When I started writing this book, I had no idea what it would become. I was researching for a short fiction story I wanted to write – the strange events in the early 1600s where a man serving as a state executioner was forced to pass sentence on his own wife. ‘Well, that’s interesting!’ I thought. Couldn’t make that up if I wanted to, and if I had people would have said the story was too odd, too coincidental (yes, there’s that word again) to be believed. That short story was written, is set far in the future and is called ‘Irony’. It can be found in a short story compilation from various authors called Flashes Through Time.

However, as I looked over the event, I came across some information dealing with a curse associated with the sinking of the Empress of Ireland in 1914. That horrible event, although tragic got little press – just a few weeks later the attention grabbing headlines of the First World War drowned it out. Everyone loves curses – they publicly laugh it off, but deep down inside, they want to believe because it’s so much fun. If the executioner story was odd, what about that one? The cat with supposed powers of predestination, the silver bars, the odd sinking, a curse on the Captain of the Empress who just so happened to spot the murderer who killed his wife, the sneaky diamond purchaser who was torn apart by dogs and so on...There was enough material here to write a book. Who was the silver for? Why was it there? So many people died - not only when the Empress sank, but afterwards in deaths directly associated with the salvage operations on the Empress...Then there’s the 400 year old blood diamond and her stunning sister nobody talks about. And what about all those impossible coincidences?

Worse yet, those engrossing trails disappeared, seemingly as if they were meant too. This isn’t a matter of conspiracies, it’s a matter of unanswered questions and entertaining historical facts.

The more I looked, the more astonished I became that recorded facts could be ignored, cast aside and happily forgotten as bigger events took center stage. Questions popped up as I researched, and the story became stories as my investigation kept getting sidetracked into different (and very entertaining) directions. Before long, I was regaling my wife with these accounts – incredible events from real people’s lives with enough twists and turns that would have given Agatha Christie whiplash. The best part? They had never been connected into a single, entertaining work of fiction – one story made of a conglomerate of true events connected by fiction. What started as research became a short story became a book - and the book is The Eye of the Idol.

Read on, and when you do, keep in mind that although The Eye of the Idol is a work of fiction, a good portion of nearly every sub-story you will read here is true. Most of them recount horrendous historical events, and out of respect for the deceased, I did my utmost to keep as much of the information as accurate, believable and respectful as possible. The events I wrote about occurring in the DPRK are mostly fictitious of course. Very little information escapes from that regime, though you may find a name, place or occurrence familiar.

In a very few cases, a nibblet of fiction was added here, a fact slightly changed there, just enough to keep this work of fiction flowing as I connected dots. Otherwise, the accounts of historical events, names and places you will read can be easily researched and verified. Follow their path, read their clues, pull out your electronic maps on your phone and see the roads, houses and descriptions that you will read in the following pages. Best of all, you can see for yourself the oddities that life and recorded history present to those digging it up as you reach your own conclusions.

The Eye of the Idol

Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1 The Curse

Chapter 2 Enigma

Chapter 3 The Plan

Chapter 4 An SIS Conundrum

Chapter 5 A Mystery

Chapter 6 The Horror

Chapter 7 And There Will Be Wars

Chapter 8 The Day Civility Ended

Chapter 9 The Sniper

Chapter 10 The Butler Revisited

Chapter 11 The Sola Strand

Chapter 12 The Non High Speed Chase

Chapter 13 Duel!

Chapter 14 Home Field Advantage?

Chapter 15 Gaspé Manor

Chapter 16 The Best Laid Plans...

Chapter 17 Back to Gaspé Manor

Chapter 18 The Return of the Curse

Chapter 19 Relief

Epilogue

Smashwords users, please note: Because of Smashwords regulations on footnotes, all references can be found at the end of the book.

The Eye of the Idol

Prologue

1660 A.D.

You are to seek out the temple of the Hindu abomination called Sita, located somewhere on the Coleroon river, and you are to search carefully for an object of great importance on or near the idol.

The instructions ran through Jacob’s mind as they had a hundred times before. He looked down at the bag sitting between his outstretched legs, the drawstring stretched fully open. The hardened bread had disappeared two days ago, but the corners of the bag still had crumbs of cheese and bread, together with lint and the brown dust that seemed to impregnate all the nooks and crannies in the fleshly folds of any traveller walking these roads.

He stared at the mixture for a long while, but finally turned to the single onion, a lone refugee fallen from some cart and abandoned on the side of the dusty road. He concentrated on the little onion for quite some time before raising his head again. ‘If I just had a carrot to go with this onion, I could have carrot and onion soup. And if I had found a potato too...’

He shook off the thought as the whiff of the half rotting onion reeked in his nose. Though he entertained the idea of trying to eat the crumbs, he quickly felt the bile rising in his throat. In the end, Jacob decided it didn’t matter. Two days before, upon entering a deserted village, he had filled his water skin at the town well and taken a hefty drink. Within six hours he realized his mistake. The town well had obviously been ‘purified’ with cow dung, and the last bit of cheese he had previously eaten had come up in a violent fit. Since then, he was barely able to hold down water.

‘Dear Jesus, why was I sent here?’ he said to himself again. He looked around the ramshackle town, and could already see smoke rising from a number of areas in the early morning sun. The upper range of mountains where the source of the Coleroon river was found looked beautiful in the distance, but they might as well be a mirage to him as the heat already rising from the plains surrounding Kanakapura added to his torment. The heat was brutal, almost as bad as what he imagined hell to be. And then there were the people – less than the mass of humanity he'd encountered in Calcutta, but a dirty, impoverished, desperate and poor mass nonetheless. Fortunately, they recognized him as more of a beggar than they were and usually left him alone.

He thought back to his assignment. After spending thirteen years in Gujarat teaching in the new school established there by his three cum pane(1), he was recalled to Jerusalem in a terse note that included no specific details, and more importantly, enough money to charter a ship from the port in Jamnagar to infidel territory in Guraine(2), and from there, on the treacherous road that led to Jerusalem where the Superior General was now temporarily located.

At first it seemed as if he had done something wrong, though he couldn’t fathom what, but the money quickly told him otherwise. He had never seen so much, let alone had it in his possession. But that wasn’t the most notable thing – according to the note the request, if you could call it that, for him to go to Jerusalem and meet with the Superior General came from none less than the pope himself. After four months of travelling and by the grace of Christ, he had made it without being robbed, only to receive more cryptic instructions from the Superior General in the Jesuit office. If it weren’t for the years of respect beaten into him, he would have laughed.

A cold, sickly sweat ran down Jacob’s forehead as he sat on that anthill, but his mind had travelled back to the curious event, and he sat imagining it as if seeing the event from above. Kneeling with bowed head, the near-disembodied instructions floated through the air as voices tend to do from the elite priests, cardinals, bishops and others. He would have been slightly jealous of their ability, had he not recognized his own limitations.

You are to seek out the temple of the Hindu abomination called Sita, located somewhere on the Coleroon river, and you are to search carefully for an object of great importance on or near the idol.

He quietly waited until the echo of the words died away, but nothing more was coming. Superior, the river is long, and the area hostile to Christians. How will I be able to find this object? What he really meant to say was how a Christian priest would find it without being killed, as a number of Jesuit missionaries had been the year before.

You are to disguise yourself as a beggar. Your skin is well tanned, and you look somewhat like one. You speak the language well, do you not? The Superior looked down on the kneeling Jesuit, waiting for confirmation.

Well, I speak Hindi passably well, sir. But there are many languages...

Excellent! the Superior interrupted, clearly not wanting to hear more. Ask. Tell people you want to worship at Sita’s temple. The Superior saw the uncertainty in Jacob’s face. It was obvious he was troubled and guessed as to the reason.

Jacob, you were named after the son of the patriarch, were you not?

He didn’t know how to reply. Jacob was the grandson of Abraham, not his son, but he wouldn’t dare correct the Superior General, so he ended up nodding.

Well, did not Abraham lie about his wife, calling her his sister when Pharaoh and...and...

Abimelech...

"...of course, Abimelech – when they wanted her for their wife? And did not David clothe himself in madness in the wilderness so he could escape from the Philistine king? Remember! Saliva drooled down his lips and beard; he make childish cross markings on the city gate...They did what they had to do to accomplish their mission.

You are on a mission for Christ. We chose you well. He looked into Jacob’s eyes for the first time. Or did we?

Yes, Superior, he replied. It was true, except that Abraham’s wife was really a half sister, and so it technically wasn’t a lie. However, Moses did lie when he told Pharaoh he wanted to take the Israelites away for three days. Prove yourselves cautious as serpents and yet innocent as doves. Guard yourselves against men. Those were the Lord’s instructions to all Christians, he reminded himself.

And the object I am looking for?

The object...is astounding... the Superior said, forgetting himself as his eyes temporarily glazed over. He shook himself off and added excitedly, ...and of immense value to the church. Use any means necessary to acquire it, and once in your possession, return as quickly as possible with the item. Tell no one - not even the company. You are being sent on your own, and if stopped, your only response should be that you are on a pilgrimage to worship at the Shrine of Sita on the Coleroon River. On your return, you are to say that you have seen the mercy of Sita and want to tell others about it. That is all.

But how will I recognize the object? Jacob cried, trying hard to control his frustration amidst Superior’s shortening patience.

The Superior General sighed. I was told that if you look into the abomination’s eyes, she will tell you. Now go!

He got up. Look into the abomination’s eyes. How was he supposed to understand that?! As he turned to leave, he spied a cloaked figure standing in the shadows. He hadn’t noticed him before, and felt somewhat embarrassed at his outburst now that he knew the man had been watching. Jacob continued walking knowing there was nothing he could do, but he glanced quickly at the stranger. Although the figure was wearing the cloak of a monk with the hood carefully drawn over his head, Jacob noticed his expensive turned shoes, which clearly indicated he was either of noble birth or rich and not the monk he was pretending to be. Jacob passed him without saying anything and left the room.

***

The cloaked figure approached into the light cast by the oil lamps. Do you think he will succeed before being plagued by self-doubt? he asked with a smile.

Only time will tell. If not, no harm is done. He is of little consequence, albeit sincere in his efforts. His sincerity will drive him, and Ignatius will protect him, the Superior General said.

And if not?

Well, our Lord did tell us to send them out two by two. That’s where you come in.

I doubt he meant that! The cloaked figure laughed, but his laughter was cut short.

It is not your place to tell me what our Lord meant! the Superior snapped, and the man stepped back in fear. Of course not, Superior! I meant no disrespect. Please accept my apologies.

A silence ensued, and the Superior General stretched it out until the creaking of the man’s shoes confirmed his squirming. He needed the upper hand for the next part.

And your fee? Standard, I assume?

In this case, no I’m afraid. If the rumours are correct, both the object and the risks are monumental. I suggest this: If the object does not exist or if I cannot retrieve it, then my fee is nothing. However, if I bring it back to you, my fee is four times the usual.

Four times! Propos... The Superior General stopped himself in mid sentence as he looked suspiciously at the man. He thought about the issue and decided to agree, knowing that the value of the object, if real, would be incalculable. Under those circumstances, anything less than a good payout ran the risk of the object never arriving. Yet, he couldn’t let it pass without some argument.

Four times the standard amount is a wealthy sum for someone who is already travelling to the region on his regular diamond purchase trip.

I am a businessman after all, Superior. These are the terms of any humble service I may perform in addition to the means I use to put food on my table.

The superior smiled. "Of course. I have nothing against feeding your family. Very well. Your terms are accepted. However, I do expect one or the other to succeed. And just one more small thing, hardly worth mentioning."

Yes, Superior?

Hell would be a very welcome relief to anyone involved in treachery here.

***

Jacob was given a package containing enough funds to pay for the voyage back, but no more. He looked at the funds and gave thanks to the Lord, but it was obvious that the Superior was keeping the costs down for fear he might not succeed. Perhaps the Superior was in doubt as to the object itself, its value or even its existence...

‘Find...an important but non-descript object. I’ll know it when I see it, or then I am to look into the abomination’s eyes, and she will tell me.’ The task seemed impossible. And now, as he looked into his almost empty food pouch, he was more convinced than ever. He had travelled from the southern branch of the crocodile-infested Coleroon river where it was called Kaveri, and worked his way northwest, through the ramshackle city of Anicut, on through the Tiruchirapalli district, asking everyone he passed where the Sita’s temple was so he could worship there. He had gone to many Sita temples along the way, but none held any sort of astounding object. When he asked for the temple, the one that was unlike any other, vague references were made about the holy temple somewhere else.

It’s up river, but distant...on another river, one we haven’t seen...at the source of the holy Coleroon river, in the mountains...it’s where you cannot go, in heaven...a great distance, too great for any man... I worship Annapurna / Maya