One
evening, I had just returned to my apartment after an early evening stroll in
the park with Joan and was settling down for a pre-dinner snooze on the couch
when the telephone rang. Oh!! It was such a pain. The telephone stood on a
table at the far end of the room and I set out on that cumbersome journey
across the room after heaving myself off the couch. Why did it always have to
ring when I was either in the shower or on the verge of a much-deserved sleep?
It was only as I approached the phone that I considered who it might be
telephoning me at this time of the day. No one in particular came to mind. I
picked up the receiver, ”Hello”. A dangerous low voice, more a hiss, answered
me. “First let me introduce myself. You can refer to me as the Raven from now
onwards as I would expect us to be in touch for some time to come. Let me make
it clear to you, that any attempt to contact the police will be futile and more
importantly, ’Dangerous’ to your friend Joan.
So, my suggestion and advice to you would be to comply with my requests.
I am holding Joan captive. Her life is entirely within my hands and I have
nothing, I repeat nothing to lose by disposing of her. So I would expect you to
follow my instructions to the letter and ‘DON’T ASK QUESTIONS’. Oh yes you must
have your doubts whether my threat is genuine or not. Well this should rectify
any misconceptions you may have.” Another voice came on the line, the voice of
a person in panic, a woman’s voice, a voice I immediately recognized to be
Joan’s. “ Eldor! Oh Eldor! Please do as he says. Please! I love you and I want
to be with you again.” The receiver seemed to have been snatched from her
hand. I knew better than to argue with
such a person as the Raven, so I kept my mouth shut and ears open. “ I want you
to walk across to your postbox in the front yard and empty its contents.
Instructions await you there.” There was a click and the line went dead.
I
hastened outside, and was almost running by the time I had reached the red box
attached to the inside of the gate. In it was a thick blue folder, bound using
a red ribbon. I carried it inside and sat down at my desk. On opening it I
found a sheaf of papers written in a neat close hand.
‘What I am about
to ask you to do is rather close to my heart, so I would expect you to take
extreme care and have complete discretion in the matters you are about to
undertake. You must have heard about the revolution of 1963. Great pains were
taken to cover up the truth behind the reason for the movement and its
consequences, the means by which it was ended and even who exactly was
involved. However you may be interested to know that many of the people
involved in it were close to me for various personal reasons.’
‘The people of
the land were suppressed by the government, food rations did not reach them,
ladies and children were badly treated and great injustices were openly done to
them by the courts of law. As a result many of them got together and formed a
secret society known as the Tronix, with an aim to overthrow and right the
immense wrongs done to them by the Smutlin government.’
‘Over the months
that followed they made several feeble efforts to overthrow the government, but
none of them made much impact. Soon their resources started running out and
they decided to give it one final try. A plot was devised, employing as much of
their resources and as many of their men as was necessary, without sparing any
effort whatsoever. In other words it was a ‘now or never’, a ‘do or die’
effort.’
‘Till here the
facts are well recorded, though not in the libraries of the west. On one chilly
winter evening, all wrapped up in fur coats and scarves in a feeble attempt to
cut out the biting wind, one hundred and twenty of their best men set out
towards the government headquarters with the intent of breaking into the fort
and overpowering the guards to take control of the place. Without a head or
headquarters, any organization would fall apart, sooner or later, as history
has made very clear to us.’
‘Anyway these
brave souls set out on their mission with the fire of hope for freedom burning
brightly in their hearts. But due to some unfathomable, unearthly reason, they
never made it to their destination. Not one of the original one hundred and
twenty who started either returned to base camp or reached Smutlin’s
headquarters and have never been heard
of since. As it was in the best interest of the government, the case was
immediately closed and no investigation was ever conducted. What I want you to
do is find out what happened that fateful night, when so many of my comrades
disappeared without a trace off the face of the earth. I am not an unreasonable
person and I do not have unreasonable demands. All I want is information and I
expect to get it by next Sunday. You are to make no effort whatsoever to
contact me. Next Sunday you can expect to be hearing from me at midday.’
Following
this was a detailed description of the landscape and location of the path that
the soldiers were supposed to have taken on their final journey, including a
map with various landmarks marked upon it. In spite of the impossibly dangerous
situation I knew I was faced with, I felt a strange curiosity welling within
me. How could such a large group of soldiers just disappear into the night?
The final
paragraph of the document was written in red ink, so that it stood out above
all the rest. ‘Remember, I have greater
contacts and means to keep track of your every movement, than you would suspect
at any stage of your mission. So I warn you not to underestimate my resources
and to respect my anonymity at all times, that is if you want to avoid the
direst of consequences.’ I could not bear the thought of Joan – my own dear
Joan getting hurt at the hands of this maniac. What would I tell her parents?
No, I had to do the needful to ensure her safe release, irrespective of the
extent I had to go to, of the risks I needed to take.
At
the bottom of the paper was an insignia, a blue insignia that contained a bird,
a large black bird, possibly a ….raven ?
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