JSA: Land Of The Thuggee
By Bruce Wayne
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
Chapter 9
Morarji Shastri decided Australia would be an ideal place to start his new life. The little Indian had heard conflicting stories about the Land Down Under. Some said Australians did not welcome dark-skinned foreigners. Others said Australians were friendly toward everyone, regardless of color. Shastri did not worry. A rich man is welcome anywhere, regardless of his skin shade or ethnic background.
Money talks a universal language of respect. Shastri had learned this lesson as a child. The rich did their best to keep the wealth limited to themselves in India. They married into one another's families. They gave financical support to the candidates who best represented their interests. They gave lip service to the plight of the poor and generally blamed conditions on the oppressive British, whose regime in India had ended about fifteen years ago, or on the selfish capitalist Americans who had only given India a couple of billion dollars in foreign aid when everybody knew they could afford to give trillions.
Shastri had also noticed that the most honored and respected of all the higher castes were the priests and other religious leaders. The most famous and influential leader in India had undoubtedly been Mahatma Gandhi. He was not known for his wealth or his strategic wisdom but for his spiritual insight. He was more a religious leader that a statesman. Even the British had feared him, although Gandhi preached nonviolence. Of course, the British had not wished to slaughter millions of Indians to crush Gandhi's following. Shastri often wondered what would have happened if Gandhi had used such tactics with Adolf Hitler.
The Nazis would have killed Gandhi and anyone who had supported him. They would had burned Indian pacifists in ovens or marched them into gas chambers. Shastri suspected Mahatma Gandhi would have become an obscure martyr under those conditions. Indians still quoted Gandhi, and his memory was honored and praised throughout the world. But what had happened to the united India of Gandhi's dream, of his hopes for a self-sufficient and peaceful India?
Hindu, Moslem and Sikh remained bitter enemies. India could not feed its people or clothe its poor. Since Gandhi's death India had gone to war with Pakistan and been plagued with internal violence. All that Gandhi had stood for did not last in India. Pacifism might be a lofty principle, but it certainly did not make successful long-term politics.
Yet Gandhi was still beloved and respected because he had been a religious leader who took a political stand. Every religion in India honored Gandhi, although few practiced what he taught. The English even made movies with Gandhi as the hero and British as villains. In America, other religious leaders copied Gandhi's example and became more involved in political and social movements.
The benefits of being a religious leader were many. It was a way for a man to become wealthy, powerful and famous. Shastri had no interest in fame. He would be happy just to be rich and powerful.
However, Shastri had not planned to revive the Cult of the Thuggees. He had originally formed a rather small sect of gullible young idiots who regarded him as a guru teaching spiritual oneness with the universe. Shastri's religious training also consisted of making his followers surrender all worldly possessions. Naturally they gave this earthly trash to the guru to dispose of. They were also forced to go days without eating or sleeping. They learned monotonous chants and complex rituals.
After his followers had become totally brainwashed into following the guru's every order, Shastri sent them out to steal for him. The religious thieves brought their leader numerous wallets, rings, watches and assorted jewelry. The plan seemed to be working out fine until one of his thieves handed Shastri a particular passport.
In less than an hour the passport owner had located Shastri's little cult. Five angry men had kicked down the door. The attackers had silencers on their pistols so they could shoot down Shastri's followers without making too much noise. Then one of the assailants aimed his weapon at Shastri's sweat-covered face.
"You're the leader, aren't you?" the bearded gunman asked in accented Hindi.
"No, no," Shastri replied, his teeth chattering with terror. "I am innocent ..."
"No one is innocent," the gunman said with a smile. "I have no use for an innocent man who would bear witness to our actions. However, a shrewd false prophet who can convince Indians that committing crimes is a religious experience ... such a man may indeed be useful to me."
"All right," Shastri sobbed, closing his eyes so he would not see the shot that was about to kill him. Yet he had nothing to lose by confessing. "I am a guru."
"Good," Vandal Savage said as he lowered his gun. "I want to make you an offer, and if you want to live you won't refuse."
This was the beginning of Shastri's partnership with Savage. Vandal Savage needed a false guru for his plot to revive the Thuggees. Shastri was perfect for the role. Now, almost two years later, the Cult of Kali numbered more than three hundred. The scarf-wielding killers stalked their prey from one end of India to the other. They blindly carried out the orders of their goddess and the words of their holy leader, Morarji Shastri.
Vandal Savage was clever, Shastri admitted. He had made Kali move and turn her head. The laser beam was a brilliant addition that certainly made an impression on ignorant Indians who thought atomic energy was similar to coal and cars were powered by small animals hidden beneath the hood. But Savage could never have put the cult together without Shastri. Vandal Savage needed him and they both knew it.
However, Shastri's instincts told him it would soon be time to get the hell out. The farther away he could get from West Bengal, the better. Australia ought to be far enough, and with a fortune in gold Shastri could live like a king for the rest of his life without working another scam again.
"Shastri!" Vandal Savage shouted from the control center inside Kali mountain. "Come here, damn you! We've got a problem."
"What's wrong, my friend?" Shastri asked with a smile as he entered the room. "Did the goddess blow a fuse?"
"I'm in no mood for your stupid jokes, Shastri," the arch-villain snapped. "I've just received a message from Bombay. The section of Thuggees stationed there at the Temple of Bhowani has been wiped out. Every single Thug there was captured during a raid last night."
"That's impossible," Shastri said with astonishment. "I can't imagine the Bombay police carrying out a raid on a Hindu temple, and the CID had been leaving the investigation of the Thuggee killings in the hands of the local police."
"Not anymore," Savage snapped. "Not since those five troublemakers arrived from the United States. One of our informers inside the CID told me that my old rivals, the Justice Society of America, are in India. Remember? You ought to. That idiot Sergeant Din was one of your flunkies."
"Don't blame that on me, my friend," Shastri said defensively. "Din took it upon himself to lure those two costumed men into a trap at the Peacock's Plume. He probably thought he was very clever. Frankly, you can't blame him for being confident that the trap would work. Seven men against two seems like good enough odds to be sure of the outcome."
"That depends on who the two men are," Savage said grimly. "These are five American super-heroes. If they assaulted the base in Bombay, I'm not surprised the Thugs were wiped out."
"Do you know who these people are?" Shastri asked.
"Do I know their real names?" Savage said with a shrug. "No. But I have done battle with them in the past. Reports coming to me tell of a winged man who flys. That is a hero who goes by the name of Hawkman. There is also said to be a beautiful woman with long dark hair wearing a skimpy red, white and blue costume. That would be Wonder Woman. They are part of a team that stopped a major halocaust last year. This team, known as the Justice Society, ruined a scheme that could've killed millions of people and brought the American government to its knees. They are individuals of extraordinary abilities. Do not underestimate them."
Shastri was surprised that Vandal Savage seemed so worried about this small team of heroes. "Surely, my friend, five people against our entire organization ... they couldn't possibly ..."
"There could be more than five of them. They are large team. There could be more than a dozen and some of them have amazing powers," Savage said.
My friend," Shastri said, shaking his head. "Even if these people are the super-heroes you've fought before, they're just men. Not devils or evil spirits. That's the sort of rubbish the superstitious retards in our cult believe in. We have a small army of assassins. Certainly they can take care of five or even a dozen men."
"You're not listening, Shastri!" Savage yelled. "These people are powerful. In fact, so that you know, one of them IS said to be a spirit. He is called the Spectre. He has amazing, UNLIMITED, powers. Your Thuggees will never get close enough to use those silk scarf garrotes on many of them."
"What do you suggest?" Shastri asked. "I suppose we could arm our cult with guns."
"And become something like an American gangster squad?" Savage asked. "Do battle with the meddlesome heroes in open combat? No. Our operation must be discreet or it will never work."
"You're probably worried about nothing, my friend," Shastri told him. "If these heroes are in Bombay or New Delhi they aren't even close to our headquarters."
"I'm not taking any chances," Savage declared. "I'll alert that bandit chief Bahir Khan to watch out for invaders. No one will associate an attack by Moslem hill bandits with the Cult of Kali."
"I suppose that's true," Shastri agreed.
"Now," Vandal Savage continued, "the only way they could find out where we are is through that pompous monarch ass, Prince Ram. I want you to send your best men to make certain Ram's property is well protected."
"By my 'best men' you can't mean Chopra and Kosti?" the Thuggee leader demanded. "They're my priests. I need them here."
"You were leading the Cult of Kali before they joined us," Savage stated. "You can get along without them now. It is vital that we have competent people in charge of security at Ram's place."
"Chopra and Kosti aren't security experts," Shastri said. "They're former hoodlums pretending to be holy men."
"They're cold-blooded killers," Savage declared. "And that's exactly what I want at Ram's place. If our enemies show their faces there, I don't want ritual strangulation or silly ceremonies. I want them dead. Nothing fancy. Just kill them and make certain every one of those bastards is dead."
^J^ ^S^ ^A^
The members of the Justice Society of America and Lieutenant Tagore arrived in Calcutta. The largest city in the West Bengal region, Calcutta was the setting for the infamous "Black Hole of Calcutta," where almost one hundred fifty British captives were apparently crammed into a cell eighteen feet long and fourteen feet wide, with only one small window. Supposedly only twenty-three prisoners survived the ordeal.
Rod Lawson met the JSA and Lieutenant Tagore at an airstrip. A native from South Dakota, Lawson was a tall lean man with copper-brown hair and proud features. Lawson was the top CIA case officer in West Bengal.
"We've been told you're one of the best CIA operatives in the field," Hawkman said as they followed Lawson into a hangar. "And you're the best man to tell us about Rajput Ram Sonoka."
"Not much thrilling info on the guy," Lawson said with a shrug. "Ram is the son of Maharaja Morarji Sonoka. The eldest son, which makes him heir to the throne, something that doesn't make the maharaja very happy."
"They don't get along?" Hourman inquired.
"Not at all," Lawson confirmed. "The maharaja is pretty much a traditional Hindu. Worships the great triad -- Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. Prince Ram has been drifting to and from different cult groups. He even attended Buddhist ceremonies for a while. Funny thing is the prince has a nasty streak a mile wide and two miles long. Ram was accused of sexual assault, assault and battery and conspiracy to commit murder, but nobody could ever get enough evidence to make the charges stick. In India, you don't arrest a rajput without a ton of evidence."
"Maybe Ram has been trying to find a religion that will help him control his evil temper," Starman suggested.
"Or one that will allow him to exercise it," the Atom mused. "The guy would fit right in with the Cult of Kali."
"Yeah," Lawson agreed. "The Thuggees. Well, Sonoka, Junior, has his own private estate and the place is crawling with odd characters. The CIA didn't care much what Ram was up to until he rented that warehouse last year. He was pretty chummy with some Europeans that came to India, even had some unknown bearded fellow for a houseguest. We figure Ram might be up to something no good, but he hasn't broken any laws ... at least none that we can prove."
"Does the CIA still have anyone watching Ram's estate?" Wonder Woman asked.
"The CIA hasn't kept regular surveillance on Ram for the last four or five months. Maybe we should have," Lawson replied.
Hawkman asked, "What kind of security does Ram have?"
"He's got about two dozen bodyguards stationed at his estate," the CIA man replied. "Strong-arm types. Back in the States guys like them are breaking legs for loan sharks. Now most of them carry guns, old British revolvers and side-by-side shotguns. Some of them might have rifles, but no automatic weapons unless they've kept the heavy-duty stuff hidden."
"What about alarms?" Hourman inquired.
"Hell, no," Lawson said. "This is India. Hardly anybody puts money into electronic alarm systems. Besides, you guys aren't planning to attack Ram's place, are you?"
"It's possible," Hawkman said with a shrug. "But we'd rather just talk to him, providing he answers some questions and convinces us he's telling the truth."
"Well," Lawson began awkwardly, "how do you plan to arrange a meeting with the prince? Sure, the royalty in India are just figureheads now. They have a lot of ceremony, but no real authority. Still, you can't just knock on his door and ask to see the prince."
"Why not?" the Atom asked with a grin in his voice. "We'll try not to pick our noses in the presence of his lordship."
Wonder Woman frowned at the Atom.
"Are you guys nuts?" Lawson asked, turning to Lieutenant Tagore for an answer.
"I believe so, yes," the CID officer replied with a nod.
^J^ ^S^ ^A^
Rajput Ram Sonoka's estate was located to the north, about two hundred miles from Ranigan. The terrain was a bit rugged, but the JSA members had no problem getting to where they wanted to go. Tagore and Lawson accompanied the American crimefighters on a dirt road that bisected a bamboo forest. They heard numerous birds chirping and cawing among the slender trees.
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman rasped, pointing at three struggling shapes among the bamboo. "Look at that."
Two large colorful birds were fighting with a snake. The birds resembled toucans with horny fins atop their beaks. They had pinned down the long scaly body of the reptile. The snake raised its head and spread a wide hood at its neck. The birds were not impressed. A beak snapped shut on the cobra's neck, nearly biting its head off.
"Hornbills," Lieutenant Tagore declared as he watched the birds tear the snake apart. "They're omnivorous and generally favor fruit and such to tangling with cobras."
"Looks like they're doing a pretty good job," the Atom commented. "Must have studied under a mongoose."
"When hornbills hunt in pairs," Tagore explained, "one distracts the prey and the other attacks. Then both finish off their opponent. Interesting strategy, eh?"
"Are there many snakes around here?" Wonder Woman asked with a frown. The beautiful Amazon warrior was not terrified of snakes, but would not mind if she never saw one again, either.
"A few," Lawson answered.
"Wonderful," Wonder Woman muttered.
"What about tigers?" Hourman asked, more curious than concerned. "This is the Bengal area, so maybe there are some Bengal tigers around."
"Not very likely in a skimpy little forest like this," Tagore told him. "Tigers generally remain in dense tropical rain forests. Besides, there are probably only a few thousand tigers left in India. They're protected by law from hunters, but the forests are slowly vanishing, and the big cats are disappearing at the same time."
"I just hope you guys know what you're doing, or all of us might be on the endangered-species list," Lawson muttered, turning the steering wheel of the Jeep they were riding in.
Hawkman and Starman flew overhead.
Lawson announced, "We're approaching Prince Ram's estate."
"An iron picket fence surrounded Rajput Sonoka's property. His palace was an odd combination of British and Islamic architecture with a European frame and a tear-shaped dome on the roof. The building was small for a palace, about the size of an English mansion. Four sentries patrolled the lawns behind the fence, all armed with submachine guns.
The two heroes who were flying landed gently on the ground next to the stopped Jeep.
"I thought those guys were suppose to be packing double-barreled shotguns," Atom whispered sourly.
"Somebody decided they needed a little extra firepower," Starman replied. "Funny they should make that decision just before we show up. You don't suppose they're expecting us, do you?"
"Coincidences happen from time to time," Hawkman said.
The Jeep was parked about fifty yards from the front gate. The sentries watched them suspiciously as Hawkman walked around the vehicle and gestured to the others to stay put.
The Justice Society chairman instructed, "If they decide to attack, I don't want it to be easy for them to get all of us in a cross fire. Atom, you like to work at close range."
"It's what I live for, Hawk," the Atom replied with a grin in his voice.
"Then you'll accompany me," the Winged Wonder declared. "I'll also need a translator in case Prince Ram doesn't speak English or he starts giving instructions to his men in a language I don't understand."
"I'll go with you," Lawson said with a sigh. "I'm the logical choice because I speak Hindi, Urdu and Bengali -- the local dialect of this region.
"I'd like to go in with you," Hourman announced as he swallowed a Miraclo pill. "I do my best work up close, too."
"All right," Hawkman agreed. "But the rest of you will stay out here. Now don't jump to conclusions. We don't know that Ram Sonoka is guilty of anything worse than bad taste in the company he chooses to keep. But don't fall asleep out here."
"Don't worry," Wonder Woman assured him. "We will react as warriors should the need arise."
Hawkman, Atom, Hourman and Lawson approached the gate. The guards simply glared at them, hands poised by the triggers of their subguns. Having never seen such a sight before, they studied Hawkman's magnificent wings that adorned his back.
Hawkman smiled at the sentries. "Good afternoon," he greeted. "We'd like to talk to Rajput Ram Sonoka. Is the prince able to receive visitors?"
The sentries seemed confused. One of them spoke into a bulky walkie-talkie. Lawson asked the same question in Hindi and began to repeat it in Bengali, but a guard cut him off with a wave of the hand.
"We understand what you want," the sentry assured him, speaking English with a slight British accent. "Wait a moment, please. We will learn if our master will agree to see you gentlemen."
"Don't you want to know who we are first?" Hourman inquired.
"We know who you are," the guard told him. "You are American super-heroes, yes? Who else would walk around in such strange costumes?"
The man pointed at Hawkman. "Those wings -- can you really fly with them?"
Hawkman smiled again, "Yes, I can."
A static-laced voice on the walkie-talkie issued a curt order to the guards. The sentries exchanged nods and opened the gate. Starman and Wonder Woman, who remained with the Jeep, noticed the gate was not locked.
"You may enter," the English-speaking guard declared. "Rajput Ram Sonoka will see you."
"Thank you," Hawkman replied as he led his four-man group across the threshold.
A sentry escorted them to the front door. A small rat-faced man greeted them at the entrance. The ornate bronze handles of three knives jutted from a yellow sash around his thin waist, but he pressed his palms together at his chest and bowed humbly.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Kosti, the pyscho killer priest of the Thuggees said with a smile. "Prince Ram is delighted to have such honored visitors in his home. Please follow me and I shall take you to him."
Said the spider to the fly, Hawkman thought as he entered the palace of Rajput Sonoka.
To be continued ...
By Bruce Wayne
Justice Society of America created by Gardner Fox
Dedicated to ME, who has taught me more about being philosophical than anyone.
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
Chapter 9
Morarji Shastri decided Australia would be an ideal place to start his new life. The little Indian had heard conflicting stories about the Land Down Under. Some said Australians did not welcome dark-skinned foreigners. Others said Australians were friendly toward everyone, regardless of color. Shastri did not worry. A rich man is welcome anywhere, regardless of his skin shade or ethnic background.
Money talks a universal language of respect. Shastri had learned this lesson as a child. The rich did their best to keep the wealth limited to themselves in India. They married into one another's families. They gave financical support to the candidates who best represented their interests. They gave lip service to the plight of the poor and generally blamed conditions on the oppressive British, whose regime in India had ended about fifteen years ago, or on the selfish capitalist Americans who had only given India a couple of billion dollars in foreign aid when everybody knew they could afford to give trillions.
Shastri had also noticed that the most honored and respected of all the higher castes were the priests and other religious leaders. The most famous and influential leader in India had undoubtedly been Mahatma Gandhi. He was not known for his wealth or his strategic wisdom but for his spiritual insight. He was more a religious leader that a statesman. Even the British had feared him, although Gandhi preached nonviolence. Of course, the British had not wished to slaughter millions of Indians to crush Gandhi's following. Shastri often wondered what would have happened if Gandhi had used such tactics with Adolf Hitler.
The Nazis would have killed Gandhi and anyone who had supported him. They would had burned Indian pacifists in ovens or marched them into gas chambers. Shastri suspected Mahatma Gandhi would have become an obscure martyr under those conditions. Indians still quoted Gandhi, and his memory was honored and praised throughout the world. But what had happened to the united India of Gandhi's dream, of his hopes for a self-sufficient and peaceful India?
Hindu, Moslem and Sikh remained bitter enemies. India could not feed its people or clothe its poor. Since Gandhi's death India had gone to war with Pakistan and been plagued with internal violence. All that Gandhi had stood for did not last in India. Pacifism might be a lofty principle, but it certainly did not make successful long-term politics.
Yet Gandhi was still beloved and respected because he had been a religious leader who took a political stand. Every religion in India honored Gandhi, although few practiced what he taught. The English even made movies with Gandhi as the hero and British as villains. In America, other religious leaders copied Gandhi's example and became more involved in political and social movements.
The benefits of being a religious leader were many. It was a way for a man to become wealthy, powerful and famous. Shastri had no interest in fame. He would be happy just to be rich and powerful.
However, Shastri had not planned to revive the Cult of the Thuggees. He had originally formed a rather small sect of gullible young idiots who regarded him as a guru teaching spiritual oneness with the universe. Shastri's religious training also consisted of making his followers surrender all worldly possessions. Naturally they gave this earthly trash to the guru to dispose of. They were also forced to go days without eating or sleeping. They learned monotonous chants and complex rituals.
After his followers had become totally brainwashed into following the guru's every order, Shastri sent them out to steal for him. The religious thieves brought their leader numerous wallets, rings, watches and assorted jewelry. The plan seemed to be working out fine until one of his thieves handed Shastri a particular passport.
In less than an hour the passport owner had located Shastri's little cult. Five angry men had kicked down the door. The attackers had silencers on their pistols so they could shoot down Shastri's followers without making too much noise. Then one of the assailants aimed his weapon at Shastri's sweat-covered face.
"You're the leader, aren't you?" the bearded gunman asked in accented Hindi.
"No, no," Shastri replied, his teeth chattering with terror. "I am innocent ..."
"No one is innocent," the gunman said with a smile. "I have no use for an innocent man who would bear witness to our actions. However, a shrewd false prophet who can convince Indians that committing crimes is a religious experience ... such a man may indeed be useful to me."
"All right," Shastri sobbed, closing his eyes so he would not see the shot that was about to kill him. Yet he had nothing to lose by confessing. "I am a guru."
"Good," Vandal Savage said as he lowered his gun. "I want to make you an offer, and if you want to live you won't refuse."
This was the beginning of Shastri's partnership with Savage. Vandal Savage needed a false guru for his plot to revive the Thuggees. Shastri was perfect for the role. Now, almost two years later, the Cult of Kali numbered more than three hundred. The scarf-wielding killers stalked their prey from one end of India to the other. They blindly carried out the orders of their goddess and the words of their holy leader, Morarji Shastri.
Vandal Savage was clever, Shastri admitted. He had made Kali move and turn her head. The laser beam was a brilliant addition that certainly made an impression on ignorant Indians who thought atomic energy was similar to coal and cars were powered by small animals hidden beneath the hood. But Savage could never have put the cult together without Shastri. Vandal Savage needed him and they both knew it.
However, Shastri's instincts told him it would soon be time to get the hell out. The farther away he could get from West Bengal, the better. Australia ought to be far enough, and with a fortune in gold Shastri could live like a king for the rest of his life without working another scam again.
"Shastri!" Vandal Savage shouted from the control center inside Kali mountain. "Come here, damn you! We've got a problem."
"What's wrong, my friend?" Shastri asked with a smile as he entered the room. "Did the goddess blow a fuse?"
"I'm in no mood for your stupid jokes, Shastri," the arch-villain snapped. "I've just received a message from Bombay. The section of Thuggees stationed there at the Temple of Bhowani has been wiped out. Every single Thug there was captured during a raid last night."
"That's impossible," Shastri said with astonishment. "I can't imagine the Bombay police carrying out a raid on a Hindu temple, and the CID had been leaving the investigation of the Thuggee killings in the hands of the local police."
"Not anymore," Savage snapped. "Not since those five troublemakers arrived from the United States. One of our informers inside the CID told me that my old rivals, the Justice Society of America, are in India. Remember? You ought to. That idiot Sergeant Din was one of your flunkies."
"Don't blame that on me, my friend," Shastri said defensively. "Din took it upon himself to lure those two costumed men into a trap at the Peacock's Plume. He probably thought he was very clever. Frankly, you can't blame him for being confident that the trap would work. Seven men against two seems like good enough odds to be sure of the outcome."
"That depends on who the two men are," Savage said grimly. "These are five American super-heroes. If they assaulted the base in Bombay, I'm not surprised the Thugs were wiped out."
"Do you know who these people are?" Shastri asked.
"Do I know their real names?" Savage said with a shrug. "No. But I have done battle with them in the past. Reports coming to me tell of a winged man who flys. That is a hero who goes by the name of Hawkman. There is also said to be a beautiful woman with long dark hair wearing a skimpy red, white and blue costume. That would be Wonder Woman. They are part of a team that stopped a major halocaust last year. This team, known as the Justice Society, ruined a scheme that could've killed millions of people and brought the American government to its knees. They are individuals of extraordinary abilities. Do not underestimate them."
Shastri was surprised that Vandal Savage seemed so worried about this small team of heroes. "Surely, my friend, five people against our entire organization ... they couldn't possibly ..."
"There could be more than five of them. They are large team. There could be more than a dozen and some of them have amazing powers," Savage said.
My friend," Shastri said, shaking his head. "Even if these people are the super-heroes you've fought before, they're just men. Not devils or evil spirits. That's the sort of rubbish the superstitious retards in our cult believe in. We have a small army of assassins. Certainly they can take care of five or even a dozen men."
"You're not listening, Shastri!" Savage yelled. "These people are powerful. In fact, so that you know, one of them IS said to be a spirit. He is called the Spectre. He has amazing, UNLIMITED, powers. Your Thuggees will never get close enough to use those silk scarf garrotes on many of them."
"What do you suggest?" Shastri asked. "I suppose we could arm our cult with guns."
"And become something like an American gangster squad?" Savage asked. "Do battle with the meddlesome heroes in open combat? No. Our operation must be discreet or it will never work."
"You're probably worried about nothing, my friend," Shastri told him. "If these heroes are in Bombay or New Delhi they aren't even close to our headquarters."
"I'm not taking any chances," Savage declared. "I'll alert that bandit chief Bahir Khan to watch out for invaders. No one will associate an attack by Moslem hill bandits with the Cult of Kali."
"I suppose that's true," Shastri agreed.
"Now," Vandal Savage continued, "the only way they could find out where we are is through that pompous monarch ass, Prince Ram. I want you to send your best men to make certain Ram's property is well protected."
"By my 'best men' you can't mean Chopra and Kosti?" the Thuggee leader demanded. "They're my priests. I need them here."
"You were leading the Cult of Kali before they joined us," Savage stated. "You can get along without them now. It is vital that we have competent people in charge of security at Ram's place."
"Chopra and Kosti aren't security experts," Shastri said. "They're former hoodlums pretending to be holy men."
"They're cold-blooded killers," Savage declared. "And that's exactly what I want at Ram's place. If our enemies show their faces there, I don't want ritual strangulation or silly ceremonies. I want them dead. Nothing fancy. Just kill them and make certain every one of those bastards is dead."
^J^ ^S^ ^A^
The members of the Justice Society of America and Lieutenant Tagore arrived in Calcutta. The largest city in the West Bengal region, Calcutta was the setting for the infamous "Black Hole of Calcutta," where almost one hundred fifty British captives were apparently crammed into a cell eighteen feet long and fourteen feet wide, with only one small window. Supposedly only twenty-three prisoners survived the ordeal.
Rod Lawson met the JSA and Lieutenant Tagore at an airstrip. A native from South Dakota, Lawson was a tall lean man with copper-brown hair and proud features. Lawson was the top CIA case officer in West Bengal.
"We've been told you're one of the best CIA operatives in the field," Hawkman said as they followed Lawson into a hangar. "And you're the best man to tell us about Rajput Ram Sonoka."
"Not much thrilling info on the guy," Lawson said with a shrug. "Ram is the son of Maharaja Morarji Sonoka. The eldest son, which makes him heir to the throne, something that doesn't make the maharaja very happy."
"They don't get along?" Hourman inquired.
"Not at all," Lawson confirmed. "The maharaja is pretty much a traditional Hindu. Worships the great triad -- Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. Prince Ram has been drifting to and from different cult groups. He even attended Buddhist ceremonies for a while. Funny thing is the prince has a nasty streak a mile wide and two miles long. Ram was accused of sexual assault, assault and battery and conspiracy to commit murder, but nobody could ever get enough evidence to make the charges stick. In India, you don't arrest a rajput without a ton of evidence."
"Maybe Ram has been trying to find a religion that will help him control his evil temper," Starman suggested.
"Or one that will allow him to exercise it," the Atom mused. "The guy would fit right in with the Cult of Kali."
"Yeah," Lawson agreed. "The Thuggees. Well, Sonoka, Junior, has his own private estate and the place is crawling with odd characters. The CIA didn't care much what Ram was up to until he rented that warehouse last year. He was pretty chummy with some Europeans that came to India, even had some unknown bearded fellow for a houseguest. We figure Ram might be up to something no good, but he hasn't broken any laws ... at least none that we can prove."
"Does the CIA still have anyone watching Ram's estate?" Wonder Woman asked.
"The CIA hasn't kept regular surveillance on Ram for the last four or five months. Maybe we should have," Lawson replied.
Hawkman asked, "What kind of security does Ram have?"
"He's got about two dozen bodyguards stationed at his estate," the CIA man replied. "Strong-arm types. Back in the States guys like them are breaking legs for loan sharks. Now most of them carry guns, old British revolvers and side-by-side shotguns. Some of them might have rifles, but no automatic weapons unless they've kept the heavy-duty stuff hidden."
"What about alarms?" Hourman inquired.
"Hell, no," Lawson said. "This is India. Hardly anybody puts money into electronic alarm systems. Besides, you guys aren't planning to attack Ram's place, are you?"
"It's possible," Hawkman said with a shrug. "But we'd rather just talk to him, providing he answers some questions and convinces us he's telling the truth."
"Well," Lawson began awkwardly, "how do you plan to arrange a meeting with the prince? Sure, the royalty in India are just figureheads now. They have a lot of ceremony, but no real authority. Still, you can't just knock on his door and ask to see the prince."
"Why not?" the Atom asked with a grin in his voice. "We'll try not to pick our noses in the presence of his lordship."
Wonder Woman frowned at the Atom.
"Are you guys nuts?" Lawson asked, turning to Lieutenant Tagore for an answer.
"I believe so, yes," the CID officer replied with a nod.
^J^ ^S^ ^A^
Rajput Ram Sonoka's estate was located to the north, about two hundred miles from Ranigan. The terrain was a bit rugged, but the JSA members had no problem getting to where they wanted to go. Tagore and Lawson accompanied the American crimefighters on a dirt road that bisected a bamboo forest. They heard numerous birds chirping and cawing among the slender trees.
"Merciful Minerva," Wonder Woman rasped, pointing at three struggling shapes among the bamboo. "Look at that."
Two large colorful birds were fighting with a snake. The birds resembled toucans with horny fins atop their beaks. They had pinned down the long scaly body of the reptile. The snake raised its head and spread a wide hood at its neck. The birds were not impressed. A beak snapped shut on the cobra's neck, nearly biting its head off.
"Hornbills," Lieutenant Tagore declared as he watched the birds tear the snake apart. "They're omnivorous and generally favor fruit and such to tangling with cobras."
"Looks like they're doing a pretty good job," the Atom commented. "Must have studied under a mongoose."
"When hornbills hunt in pairs," Tagore explained, "one distracts the prey and the other attacks. Then both finish off their opponent. Interesting strategy, eh?"
"Are there many snakes around here?" Wonder Woman asked with a frown. The beautiful Amazon warrior was not terrified of snakes, but would not mind if she never saw one again, either.
"A few," Lawson answered.
"Wonderful," Wonder Woman muttered.
"What about tigers?" Hourman asked, more curious than concerned. "This is the Bengal area, so maybe there are some Bengal tigers around."
"Not very likely in a skimpy little forest like this," Tagore told him. "Tigers generally remain in dense tropical rain forests. Besides, there are probably only a few thousand tigers left in India. They're protected by law from hunters, but the forests are slowly vanishing, and the big cats are disappearing at the same time."
"I just hope you guys know what you're doing, or all of us might be on the endangered-species list," Lawson muttered, turning the steering wheel of the Jeep they were riding in.
Hawkman and Starman flew overhead.
Lawson announced, "We're approaching Prince Ram's estate."
"An iron picket fence surrounded Rajput Sonoka's property. His palace was an odd combination of British and Islamic architecture with a European frame and a tear-shaped dome on the roof. The building was small for a palace, about the size of an English mansion. Four sentries patrolled the lawns behind the fence, all armed with submachine guns.
The two heroes who were flying landed gently on the ground next to the stopped Jeep.
"I thought those guys were suppose to be packing double-barreled shotguns," Atom whispered sourly.
"Somebody decided they needed a little extra firepower," Starman replied. "Funny they should make that decision just before we show up. You don't suppose they're expecting us, do you?"
"Coincidences happen from time to time," Hawkman said.
The Jeep was parked about fifty yards from the front gate. The sentries watched them suspiciously as Hawkman walked around the vehicle and gestured to the others to stay put.
The Justice Society chairman instructed, "If they decide to attack, I don't want it to be easy for them to get all of us in a cross fire. Atom, you like to work at close range."
"It's what I live for, Hawk," the Atom replied with a grin in his voice.
"Then you'll accompany me," the Winged Wonder declared. "I'll also need a translator in case Prince Ram doesn't speak English or he starts giving instructions to his men in a language I don't understand."
"I'll go with you," Lawson said with a sigh. "I'm the logical choice because I speak Hindi, Urdu and Bengali -- the local dialect of this region.
"I'd like to go in with you," Hourman announced as he swallowed a Miraclo pill. "I do my best work up close, too."
"All right," Hawkman agreed. "But the rest of you will stay out here. Now don't jump to conclusions. We don't know that Ram Sonoka is guilty of anything worse than bad taste in the company he chooses to keep. But don't fall asleep out here."
"Don't worry," Wonder Woman assured him. "We will react as warriors should the need arise."
Hawkman, Atom, Hourman and Lawson approached the gate. The guards simply glared at them, hands poised by the triggers of their subguns. Having never seen such a sight before, they studied Hawkman's magnificent wings that adorned his back.
Hawkman smiled at the sentries. "Good afternoon," he greeted. "We'd like to talk to Rajput Ram Sonoka. Is the prince able to receive visitors?"
The sentries seemed confused. One of them spoke into a bulky walkie-talkie. Lawson asked the same question in Hindi and began to repeat it in Bengali, but a guard cut him off with a wave of the hand.
"We understand what you want," the sentry assured him, speaking English with a slight British accent. "Wait a moment, please. We will learn if our master will agree to see you gentlemen."
"Don't you want to know who we are first?" Hourman inquired.
"We know who you are," the guard told him. "You are American super-heroes, yes? Who else would walk around in such strange costumes?"
The man pointed at Hawkman. "Those wings -- can you really fly with them?"
Hawkman smiled again, "Yes, I can."
A static-laced voice on the walkie-talkie issued a curt order to the guards. The sentries exchanged nods and opened the gate. Starman and Wonder Woman, who remained with the Jeep, noticed the gate was not locked.
"You may enter," the English-speaking guard declared. "Rajput Ram Sonoka will see you."
"Thank you," Hawkman replied as he led his four-man group across the threshold.
A sentry escorted them to the front door. A small rat-faced man greeted them at the entrance. The ornate bronze handles of three knives jutted from a yellow sash around his thin waist, but he pressed his palms together at his chest and bowed humbly.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Kosti, the pyscho killer priest of the Thuggees said with a smile. "Prince Ram is delighted to have such honored visitors in his home. Please follow me and I shall take you to him."
Said the spider to the fly, Hawkman thought as he entered the palace of Rajput Sonoka.
To be continued ...