Chapter 15 - Smell of Revenge

This chapter is dedicated to Mayad who has quit IF-IPKKND as of today. A toast to her happiness and health. Mayad - I promise I will read Odessa File as soon as I get a chance. 

Dear Readers

I have a humble request. When you leave your comments, please leave your initials or IF name. Sometimes, I get lovely comments, but I have no idea who you are. If you wish to use a fake name, like the "Lana" here, feel free to do so, keeping it consistent throughout TSC :))The reference to Brazil, South America, in this chapter is to the activities of the nefarious organization The ODESSA. Quoting from Wikipedia, " The ODESSA, from the German Organisation der ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen, meaning “Organization of Former SS Members,”. is believed to have been an international Nazi network set up towards the end of World War II by a group of SS officers. The purpose of the ODESSA was to establish and facilitate secret escape routes, later known as ratlines, to allow SS members to avoid their capture and prosecution for war crimes. Most of those fleeing out of Germany and Austria were helped to South America and the Middle East." 
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(play the music for mood)

Khushi spent most of the day in her room. After the initial shock wore off, she plunged into exhaustion of the previous day’s events. She stood by the window and went over the conversation between Sasi and ASR. She was adopted, she was not a Gupta, Payal and Molly weren’t her sisters, she was a bastard child of a reckless prince and a Jewish mother. Why had’t Sasi told her before? What was he trying to protect her from? Who else knew about her bastard status? Were Payal and Molly privy to the information?

She was roiling with questions about her parentage and birth. She wanted to be mad and furious at Sasi and Garima, her parents, her adoptive parents, she corrected. And just as soon, her rage was wiped away by a surge of guilt. She wanted to believe that Sasi had good reasons to hide the truth from her. She wanted explanations, yet she knew the truth tied her directly to the murders of the royal families in many countries.

She wished the memory would erase from her conscious and the day had never happened but it did, staring at her grotesquely. She pulled her rob closer together and thought of Chameli. The poor dog did not deserve to die. Chameli had been her source of joy and comfort in the days when Payal was her meanest .

You were the only one who loved me Chameli, the only one who didn’t care that I am a bastard, the only one who didn’t hide any secrets from me!

Khushi could not hold it in anymore and ran to the bathroom, retching in the sink as the bloodied body of Chameli flashed again and again before her eyes. She would never be able to forgive herself for Chameli’s death. It was her fault, her irrational behavior that had put the dog in harm’s way. Khushi began sobbing and sat on the bathroom floor. She was helpless and no one who ever mattered to her in her life so far was truly hers anymore. No one.

Garima heard movement in Khushi’s room and rushed in. Her insides tore into million pieces when she found her child sitting in the corner of the bathroom, crying.

“Khushiiii. Beta, please.” She bent down and helped Khushi to her feet. Khushi’s eyes were going through the motions of mourning but what caught Garima’s attention was that those eyes were blank. Her grey-green eyes never failed to reveal her true feelings during trying times but today they were placid. A hot flash of panic coursed through Garima and she was afraid she had lost Khushi as her daughter, forever.

She handed Khushi a glass of water. Khushi took a few sips and lied down. Garima cradled her head in her arms and kissed her forehead.

“Khushi, talk to me, my child.” Garima urged, searching her daughter’s eyes for some signs of connection. Khushi blinked once and then broke down.

“Shhhh, no darling, don’t cry. I know it is a lot to take. I am sorry I did not tell you. Talk to me, beta.” She rocked Khushi gently, prodding her to talk. Khushi sat up and rested her back on the headboard. She wiped her tears and sniffled a few times to clear her nose.

“Do Payal and Molly know? Is that why they hate me?” she asked.

“No, they don’t know. No one but Sasi and I know. And of course, the FBI agent knows now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she continued, as her fingers fidgeted with the soggy tissue paper in her hand.

“We were afraid for your safety. We didn’t want anyone to know. Dad was afraid if anyone found out, you will be killed just like your dad and his family were murdered. “

“How old was I when….?” She choked as she struggled to speak about her parents.

“Sarah died soon after you were born Khushi. She died of uterine hemorrhage, complications following child birth. You were with your aunt Martha in Zurich. We adopted you when you were 10 months old, that’s why you don’t remember anything. You dad, Mahinder and his family were killed in a road accident. But we think it was murder. And I’m afraid your identity is out and those very people are out here to hurt you.”

Garima steadied Khushi’s shoulder and lifted her chin. Khushi’s hollow eyes had suddenly grown dark circles under them. Garima couldn’t see her child suffer any more.

“Khushi. Dad and I love you, more than anything in the world. You are our daughter, more precious than anything in the world. Nothing and no one can replace your rightful place as our daughter. Do you understand?” she prodded.

Khushi nodded more as an acknowledgment of what was being said, than an acceptance of the truth in Garima’s words. Garima knew she would take some time to heal and come to terms with all the changes wrought on her.

“Whatever you decide to do, Khushi, we will stand by you. You are right if you feel angry at Dad and me for hiding this from you, but frankly after 28 years, we never thought this would come back to haunt us. We forgot it even existed. You were and are our daughter, that’s what matters the most. Don’t do anything drastic, if you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at us. Tell us what you feel.” She took another tissue ply and wiped Khushi’s face.

“I want you to eat some breakfast and come join us in the dining room.” She got up and tugged at Khushi’s arm.

“No, I can’t. I need some time. I can’t face anyone right now. “ She lowered her head to hide the fresh bout of tears. The two heard a knock at the door and found Shyam standing in the doorway.

Garima nodded to let him in and left the two of them alone to talk. Shyam’s nose was bandaged and a slight inflammation had settled in his orbits and cheek area. He sat next to Khushi and took her hand in his. She pulled her hand away.

“Khushi! Come on. You know I am with you, no matter what. And I don’t care about these attacks or the reasons behind it. I still want our arrangement to stick.”

Khushi glared at him. He was surprised at the intensity of her anger flaring through her eyes.

“How dare you?” she seethed. If he were shocked by her ferocity, it disappeared just as fast. He stood up and slipped his hands into the pocket of his trousers. His body relaxed and his next words came out with deliberate menace.

“You know Khushi, your attitude needs adjustment. You know what I can do to your family.” He bent and whispered into her ears as she looked away .

“You better not say a word to anyone, the agent, the officers or your family. Because if you play me, you know what I will do to your dad and that shitty career of his.” He straightened and noticed ASR at the door.

His face contorted at seeing the FBI agent. He decided to irritate ASR and bent down to kiss Khushi on her lips. She pulled back in horror and pushed him away. He smiled and looked at ASR, who was ready to maul Shyam by putting him through a meat shredder. Shyam walked out casually with a smile on his face, fully recognizing the effect he had on ASR. His parting words to Khushi were, “Hope you remember what I said, sweetheart. We can talk more, later.”

ASR shut the door gently. He wanted to rush in and scoop the girl into his embrace. He was aching to hold her and share her pain, but she was too emotionally fragile. She had after all discovered a devastating truth about her past and would need time to recover. He stood next to her for a few moments. Neither spoke anything.

He decided to start the conversation.

“Khushi, I know this is not easy for anyone. I am here as a friend, not as an FBI agent, if you want to talk.” He offered.

She sat motionless with her head cradled on her bent knees. She heard his words and knew he meant them. Ironically, he was the only friend she felt she had at this moment in her life. But she needed time to sort through the questions in her life. He deserved to know the truth and more importantly, she knew she had to do everything in her power to help him get to the bottom of this.

He stood in the room, feeling powerless to help Khushi. When she didn’t speak further, he left her alone.

*****

Back in the room, ASR opened his laptop and began sorting through the case files on Sabres. He was waiting for Kevin’s call on the contents of the box and information regarding Khushi’s mother Sarah Schwab.

He noted the facts he knew in a simple narrative to help him understand the gaps. When he finished his write up he knew he would need to meet Joseph Isaacson as soon as possible. He opened the clearance email from Kevin that detailed Isaacson’s number and address.

ASR rang the number in the file. The phone rang twice and was answered by a dignified erudite voice, “Hello, this is Joseph Isaacson, Curator of the Field Museum.”

“Hi Mr. Isaacson. This is FBI Agent Raizada, Kevin Calhoun must have spoken to you about my call.”

“Yes, yes, indeed. What can I do for you?” the old man’s voice shivered lightly with excitement.

“I’d like to meet you as soon as possible, as in pronto. When can I stop by?”

“Hmmm. Yes, we should talk. How about you stop by my house, say 4:30 pm tomorrow and we can talk.”

“Sounds good. I will be there with my partner, FBI agent NK. Merry Christmas, Mr. Isaacson”

The old man chuckled with nervous energy. The Sabres were an enigma he hadn’t fully solved in the years of his service as the curator of the museum. He was ready to do anything to discover the true meaning of the Sabre Tooth Tiger and its many cousins, the actual Sabres owned by the eleven royal families across the globe.

“What a story to tell the people of Chicago!” he gushed thinking of what the historical artifact could to the thrust his museum to fame. He got about wrapping his activities as fast as he old arthritic hands would allow him.

*****

(play the music for mood)

Henri Gutzmann was a patient man. One by one, he had taken care of each one of them.

The fucking, cheating, lying, blood-sucking royals of the world.

He wiped the corner of his mouth and summoned his housekeeper to clear the dinner from the table.  He had one last business to take care of before he died. He lit a cigar and took several puffs before he headed to the library. The old mansion stood alone as a relic from a distant past amongst the Swiss Alps. Its loner master had restored and renovated it but the evil in the air that hung like a dank odor served as a constant reminder to Henri. His mind wandered to that fateful day when he was a small boy, the day his dad Henri Gutzmann Sr. died.

“Henri, you better claim the Sabres and leave with us to Brazil.” The man in grey SS uniform thundered over a mug of beer.

“I am not leaving my Fatherland. I am not a slave to a madman’s rants. Hasn’t he done enough? The Fuehrer, Adolf Hitler my foot! He is a madman, a lunatic, and you are all crazy.” The young man sputtered as blood spewed from his mouth. Another blow landed on his face sending him unconscious. Henri Gutzmann Jr stood shivering behind his mom’s skits as she begged for mercy to spare her husband.

“Explain to your husband. If he stays, we all die a painful death.” The SS officer gulped his beer and slammed the mug on the crude country wooden table, cracking the glass. An attending uniformed guard threw some water on Henri Gutzmann Sr. to bring him back. His eyes were shut under thick swelling and his face sported grotesque purple scars.

“Henri, give me the details of the Sabres or I will just have to kill you.” The SS officer pressed the man’s wounded shoulders with his heavy paws, drawing a pained helpless cry that filled the small country cottage.

Henri gathered the last bit of courage in him and spoke for the last time.

“Reichsfuhrer Zimmerman, you will never lay your dirty Nazi hands on the Sabres, never!” He spit on the officer’s face. The officer straightened up and smiled.

Without further ado, Reichsfuhrer Zimmerman drew out his gun and pointed it at Henri’s forehead.

Bam!

The phone rang through the mansion bringing Henri Gutzmann Jr back from his past. He could not let the memory of his dad and the evil in the rooms of the mansion disappear. His dad, an unsuspecting bank clerk was brutally murdered for no fault of his. Henri Gutzmann Sr’s only offense was that he had accompanied the Swiss banker Mr. Schmid to the mansion on that fateful January day in 1940. His father died because he witnessed an evil in the mansion and threatened to go public on the heels of the war.

Henri answered the phone and heard the newly minted boss of the Jewish Mafia. He detested the man who had assumed the leadership of the worldwide Jewish Mafia operations. He expected this conversation to be unpalatable.

“I have the security tapes with me, you moron. What were you thinking sending your henchmen to access the account? Are you nuts?” Henri’s eighty year old body shook with anger as he frothed the words into the receiver. His wrinkled face contorted and he coughed a few times to draw air into his emphysemic  lungs.

“Gutzmann, need I remind you of the dirty game and your part in it? You will be sorry you ever spoke to me.” The voice was calm and threatening at the same time.

“Are you threatening me? Are you seriously threatening me? I am 80 years old, I have nothing to lose.”

“You don’t, but your family does. Remember that.” The call was disconnected.

Henri knew the man meant business. The mafia had accosted Herzog to his apartment to get the tapes and murdered him. Herzog’s secretary was their next victim. When she suddenly went on vacation after Herzog’s death, they followed her. Her dead body will probably remain unclaimed for weeks, frozen in the ice of the slopes somewhere in the outskirts of Zurich. The secretary was taken care of, but the Interpol investigation had just begun. Henri could not let an impetuous mafia get ahead of him.

He puffed his cigar and sat under the cloud of smoke. The first call from Dr. Gupta was quite serendipitous, confirming his doubts about Dr. Gupta’s daughter’s identity. Henri had spent years trying to locate the daughter who had disappeared into thin air like she never existed. The murder of her parents had been smooth but it dead ended when mafia couldn’t find anything about the Sabres. Later, when Dr. Gupta had first contacted the organization, he understood why they hadn’t been able to find the Sabre in the royal premises in Gwalior.

The bastard child had it on her.

Henri had wanted to wipe out the family during their short stay in Zurich but the SOS organization was stronger than his limited access within. The whereabouts of the family was a tightly held secret among a handful few.

Yet, he had breathed, lived, smoked, eaten and slept with one and only one purpose in life – to seek revenge for his father’s death, claim ownership of the Sabres and everything it stood for. The Jewish Mafia was just a tool for him, although lately, they were increasingly aggressive as the prize seemed within reach. If something happened to him, he had to have his chips in place to bring down the mafia with him. For now, he had to lie low and be safe.

Better late than never.

Henri had waited an entire lifetime but revenge did not come with an expiry date.

*****

ASR felt good after the hot shower. He changed into plaid Pajamas and quickly dried his thick black hair with the plush towel laid out in the guest bathroom. The shower had left him hot, not to mention the third floor guest room that remained incredibly hot, collecting the rising hot air though its vents. He decided to not wear his t-shirt until his body cooled off.

He pinched the skin on his abs with his thumb and index finger. He concluded that if he didn’t do something soon, the sumptuous food in the Gutpa household would get to his waistline soon. Although the eight packs still glistened proudly against his taut skin, he was itching for a good workout.

He sat on the bed and opened his laptop. He scanned his emails and opened the one from Kevin that was marked urgent. He found a list of inventory from the box Sasi had given to him. There were attachments of scans of handwritten notes found in the box. ASR read the list aloud.

List of Inventory

1. Letter of ownership for the Sabre Tooth Tiger sculpture

2. Letter from Mahinder Singh Chauhan

3. Swiss bank account details for Khushi Gupta alias. Khushi Sarah Schwab

4. Royal seal and a blueprint of the coat of armor of the royal family

5. Picture of sculpture

We found a number that belongs to a Henri Gutzmann Jr. living in Zurich. We have set a trace on the man with help from Interpol.

ASR opened the letter from Mahinder Singh Chauhan. There was nothing interesting in there other than the facts Sasi had already mentioned about Khushi and her mother.

The name Henri Gutzmann caught his attention. He was the SOS guy Sasi had mentioned. That was their best lead from the box. He began typing a response to Kevin when he heard a knock on his door.

He locked his laptop screen and set it aside. He opened the door and found Khushi standing outside the room. She was in a hideous and shapeless blanket-like robe that seems to make rounds as gifts during Christmas. He couldn’t control his smile.

She walked in uninvited and stopped in the middle of the room. She turned to face him and spoke in a very lucid voice, “I want the killers of Chameli found. I want the killers of Mahinder Singh Chauhan and his family found. I want those bastards to pay for it.”

Her bloodshot eyes highlighted the contrast of her grey greens, eyes that thirsted for blood and revenge.

“I want to put an end to this. I want the mafia to pay for this and I will do anything to keep my family safe. Can you help me, ASR?” She asked with determination he had never seen in her. Gone was the chirpy, confident woman, replaced by a woman who appeared no less lethal than a weapon. 

“Of course, Khushi. I want to get those bastards just as much as you do. I want someone to answer for Lana’s death and I want to protect you from any harm. We will do this together, I promise.” She broke into a weak smile at his assurances. Neither knew what more to say to make their respective pains go away. The silence was interrupted by the distant sounds of children ice skating on the frozen lake nearby, beckoning Christmas Eve.

The two stood staring at each other in the middle of the room. Neither spoke.

Then she stepped forward, closing in the physical distance between them. Her eyes sought answers in his caramel ones as she untied the waist of the blanket robe and pushed it off her shoulders. The material fell to the floor, leaving a beautifully naked Khushi for him to see.

“Kiss me, Arnav. Make me feel human again.” She pleaded.