Somewhere far away.
His white hair, straight and long below his waist, shined in the light of the rising sun that peeped through the mountains far away.
He was on the terrace, naked. His skin was abnormally white, hands spread out and eyes closed as if feeling the sunlight all over his body, a joyous smile on his face.
Men and women, naked, lay on the floor of the terrace like a carpet, face down and hands joined, as he walked on them, enjoying the morning breeze.
"Kal! Kal! Kal! Kal!" A crowd screamed below—a crowd, all naked, standing with flowers, waiting desperately for him, hands joined, looking up.
A man crouched at the edge of the terrace. He climbed on him, his feet never touching the ground, and looked down at the crowd, raising his hand. They went crazy, throwing flowers in the sky, screaming his name—some kneeling down, while others jumped up, stepping over the kneeling ones, to get his attention, all hands joined.
His eyebrows and eyelashes were white too, and his eyes were blood red.
As he looked at the people going crazy, a soft, pleasured smile spread across his face. His eyes half closed, looking at them amused.
He held his penis and started peeing down at the crowd. They rushed to the spot where the urine fell, palms spread out. They jumped over each other—one stumbled and fell, and others stepped over, crushing them—desperate, fighting to have one drop of his urine, so they could drink it, like it was a sweet nectar.
When he was done, they were scrounging the soil, pushing and pulling others aside for a single drop of his pee. A suffocating, desperate, deranged crowd. A child got elbowed and fell, and his own mother kneed over his back, the child screaming as his bones cracked, while she licked a drop of pee off the soil.
He looked down at them, eyes of superiority and evil, his lips curling into a soft, amused smile—like a god watching insects scurry and tear each other apart. The chaos below entertained him. He was above them, untouchable, divine. They were miserable obedient bugs.
He leaned forward and spit down at them.
*
Back in USA
Karam sat down and atmosphere of gravity about him, as was about everyone in the room. They were the most powerful people of the most powerful country sitting there for him.
The room was well lit but not decorated like the rest of the place outside the door. It meant business and it looked like that. There stood 2 guards behind every person, including behind Karam, at the sides of the door, all holding an FN SCAR rifle.
"So, Mr. Karam", said the president, "you may speak now."
Karam took a deep breath and said in a tone of importance, "Thank you, Mr. President, and all the people present here." with a head bow, "I am here to make a deal."
"You know about the Russian Gamma experiment and have tried to recreate it" he said.
There were gas and eyebrow razors in the room. The director of Advanced Research Agency, Professor Mirk Connors, spoke up hastily, "how did you-" but was stopped by a sharp gesture from the Secretary of Defense who sat beside him, Harrison Hilton. They looked at him with threatening eyes, but there was no effect. All they saw was someone unbreakable with fear or intimidation.
The President, Ronald Breuer, took a heavy breath and said, "Please continue."
Karam sighed and said, "As I was saying, I am aware that you have been trying to recreate the Gamma Ray project but have been failing. And the reason is that you don't have the wave sequence necessary, isn't it?"
"Come to the point", shot sharply a tough middle-aged man, a scar across his face, Commander Robert Parkins, U.S. Strategic Command.
"My point is, Commander", said Karam, getting up and fixing his trench coat, "I have the wave sequence you need."
The atmosphere in the room became severe, heavy.
"How do we believe you", said the commander sharply, almost cross.
"Ask the director of CIA, Mr. Peter Dikoy over there", said Karam. They all looked at the director, an almost bald man in suit, who adjusted his tie and said, "Yes, we have reports of him stealing 'something' from the Russian laboratories, and from the tone, it was clear that something very important, yet not material, was stolen. We received calls about him to capture and hand him over to Russia, dead or alive."
"But you didn't", said Karam, standing upright, hands on his back, "because you needed what I had. And this is what I have, the wave sequence, and I am willing to give it to you."
"And what do you want in return", said the president.
Karam leaned forward, his hands on the table, looked at them and said "The Blue Book."
There was a loud rustle and gasp in the room. They looked at each other, wide eyes. He had just said something he wasn't supposed to know about. And it became worse when he said, standing steadfast, "not the one on the internet, for the people to fool. I want the actual blue book, because I know what it contains."
The chaos was followed by a loud silence in the room for a good while.
"Mr. Karam" said, the president, leaning forward, "we can't provide you the Blue Book. If you really know the contents of it, you will know why."
Karam sighed and said, "then I can't provide you the sequence either. Sorry."
The commander banged the table furiously with his fist and said to the president, nerves popping in rage, "we are wasting our time, sir! We can just-"
"No you can't, commander", interrupted Karam calmly, a slight smile on his face, "if you are thinking of forcing the information out of me, you can't."
"You underestimate us, boy", said the commander with an intimidating eye and a threatening voice.
Karam looked at him, a smile on his face, and said, "I don't. Look at me, commander. You have seen so many battles, so many men"
He leaned forward and said, "look at me and tell, do I look like someone you torture all your information out of?"
The commander started to say, but stopped as he looked at Karam's cold eyes. He had seen those eyes countless times on battlefields, on the faces of soldiers who have lost all their comrades and families to a war, as they sat there watching their brothers and soldiers they once shared their lunch with bleed to death.
Those were the eyes of someone whose soul was dead, and body was alive not to live a life but to serve a purpose, a mission. Lifeless stare and a smile with no happiness behind, he knew it - those were the eyes of someone who had lost everything that made them alive.
The commander sat back gravely without a word.
"Exactly", said Karam, with a calm smile, "You might even try to sedate me, but that won't work either because I'm not actually the one who knows the sequences."
Their eyes widened.
"I just know the person who knows them. Even if you get out of me their name, it's useless because no one except me addresses them with that name. I don't know their real name, their face, where they are and how to contact them. They are the ones who contact me."
"So, as you can see", said Karam, spreading his hands out, "There is nothing you can force out of me that will be useful to you. Nothing that can get you the wave sequences. Your only choice is to accept the deal, give me the Blue Book and take the sequences. Well, of course, I will not give you the entire sequence till I am sure that what you gave me was the real Blue Book. And once that's confirmed, I will give you the remaining sequences."
"Or, of course, you can deny the offer entirely and I can go out and back my way", he said, sitting down.
And then, with a depth in his voice, said, "You can arrest me and hand me to Russians, or kill me here" -Sigh- "Either ways, it will be useless to you. And me?" he said with a soft, melancholic smile, "I am already dead."
There was a deep silence.
"Please stand outside for some time, Mr. Karam", said the President gravely, "we need to discuss before we make a decision."
Karam sighed and said, "sure". He got up, adjusted his trench coat, bowed down, turned back and opening the heavy wooden door, walked out.
As he closed the door behind, he noticed the guard with a scar on his face still standing there like a statue. Karam went and leaning back to the wall, stood there beside him, and closed his eyes, waiting.
*
Norilsk, Russia, one day ago.
"Что нам делать, генерал?"
("What should we do, General?")
The young guard said to an old man in Russian military uniform. Hair grey and temples wrinkly, but a man tough as a rock, the general who commanded men and wars.
He stood, a calm yet threatening presence, hands crossed behind, looking out of a glass window, down at a snow blizzard, heavy and cold, yet unable to penetrate the warm room. The view of the mountains was invisible behind the white storm. Towers, like lighthouses, shined at a distance in different spots, thin red light barely piercing through the snow.
He had a gravity about himself, his uniform a grandeur, with stars and badges over his battle-nurtured body, and the name written on his badge was Генерал Виктор Михайлович Зорин.
(General Victor Mikhailovich Zorin)
"Америка не отвечает," said the young guard in concern, "Боюсь, они уже заключили сделку и получили волновую последовательность."
("America is not responding," said the young guard in concern, "I fear they have made a deal and acquired the wave sequence.")
"Судя по моему опыту с Америкой," said Zorin, "у нас все еще может быть время. Они очень скептичны."
("From my experience with America," said Zorin, "we still might have time. They are very skeptical.")
He turned to a monitor on his ebony desk on which Karam's face was there.
"Согласно имеющейся информации, он не американец и не служит Америке. Если у него есть последовательность, он, скорее всего, попытается заключить сделку."
("From our information, he is neither American nor serves America. If he has the sequence, he will probably try to strike a deal.")
"Любая подобная сделка потребует времени. Даже если они попытаются выбить из него информацию, это не произойдет сразу," he said.
("Anything like that will take time. Even if they try and force the information out of him, it will not be immediate," he said.)
"Но..." He thought to himself, looking at the picture of Karam, "это не тот человек, которого можно просто заставить силой."
("But..." he thought to himself, looking at the picture of Karam, "that's not a man you can force your way with.")
There was a long grave silence in the room.
Finally, Zorin sighed and said gravely,
"Нам нужно вызвать его."
("We need to call him.")
The air in the room changed, it tensed, like a forbidden name had been said. The young guard gasped, stepping back, and all the other guards shifted uncomfortably.
They knew who he was talking about. A monster.
"Готовьте боевое задание, мы захватим и ликвидируем Карама Равина и исключим любую возможность попадания последовательности в руки правительства США."
("Prepare the mission brief, we will capture and execute Karam Raveen and eliminate any possibility of the US government obtaining the sequence.")
"Свяжитесь с ГРУ немедленно," he commanded the guard urgently, "Это код 32. Отправьте Чёрную Бурю."
("Contact the GRU immediately," he commanded the guard urgently. "It's Code 32. Send out the Black Storm.")
"Приготовьте вертолет. Я поговорю с ним лично."
("Get a chopper ready. I will talk to him personally.")
*
"Mr. Karam" said a guard, coming out of the large door. Karam opened his eyes.
"The president is asking for you."
He adjusted his collar and followed the guard into the room. Everyone sat their, grave. The president looked up and said after a deep breath, "Mr. Karam, we have decided that we will" -pause- "accept the deal."
A slight smile spread across Karam's face. He bowed down and said, "thank you gentlemen."
"Men outside will escort you out", said the man standing beside the president, almost robotically, "Give all the details to them."
"You may leave now", said the president, and then added in a deep, threatening voice as the eyes in the room glared at him, "And stay honest with the deal."
Karam smiled, unaffected, and said, "I will, if you do. Now excuse me" and fixing his coat, he turned and walked out of the door.