Chapter 32: Demolish the Temple
"Uncle, this is what you asked us to investigate. We searched separately for a whole day before confirming it."
Marcus changed into clean clothes and sat at the tea table, pondering how to deal with Hastar. Raghav's nephew, Kiran, was already waiting at the door.
He handed Marcus a file folder.
Inside were only five paper documents, titled "The Embrace of the Goddess of Prosperity."
Marcus carefully read the contents and formed a plan.
"Good work. I'm going out for a bit. You can rest now."
Marcus waved to Kiran, then went out, got on his motorcycle, and headed toward the garrison on the street.
The garrison occupied the largest compound in the middle of the street. It was said to have been the ancestral home of a nobleman. At the four pillars in front of the gate, a British Army soldier with a rifle stood guard.
"I'm looking for Cooper Harker. Tell him I'm here."
Marcus arrived at the garrison gate and spoke to the soldiers on guard. These men were all in Raghav's pocket, so he naturally knew them all.
One of the guards nodded and walked into the compound.
"Raghav, do you have new gold coins, or have you collected enough?"
Cooper Harker asked in a low voice, his expression filled with anticipation.
Every time Raghav came to him, it meant he was about to make a small fortune; it was just that the Indian was always cautious and indecisive.
"Of course. See this gold coin? I've discovered the secret of that little bird; it's related to the gold treasure in Tumbbad. Let's find a place to discuss it in detail."
Marcus took out a gleaming gold coin and showed it to Cooper Harker.
"Brother Raghav, I admit I underestimated you. Come with me."
Cooper Harker started the jeep parked nearby and drove for five minutes, arriving at a deserted area.
"You can talk here without worry. Whatever the treasure in Tumbbad is, I'll share it with you when I find it."
Cooper Harker said excitedly.
He straightened his military uniform, his hand running down the holster at his waist, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes.
"No need to look anymore!"
"This is Tumbbad's treasure!"
Marcus took out the goddess's pouch, gently tilted it onto the jeep seat, and a pile of gold coins five times the size of the pouch flowed out.
"Can I see this?"
Cooper Harker picked up a gold coin and tried biting it, finding it was real gold. Although he didn't understand how such a small pouch could produce so much gold,
as long as it was real gold, he said, reaching for his pistol at his waist.
"Of course, it's yours!"
Marcus handed it to Cooper Harker, causing Cooper Harker to pause for a moment in his gun-drawing motion, but he continued to draw his pistol.
Cooper Harker took the pouch with his left hand, gently tilted it onto the seat, and another pile of gold coins poured out.
"Hahaha, I'm rich! Raghav, thank you for the gift, you're my brother for life."
A fierce glint flashed in his excited eyes, and he raised his right wrist to aim the gun.
CRACK!
Cooper Harker's laughter abruptly stopped, his right wrist falling limply to his side, his fingers barely holding onto the pistol to prevent it from dropping.
"You're welcome!"
Marcus slowly released his hand from Cooper Harker's neck, activating his skin-shifting ability.
A withered, skinless corpse was pushed out of the jeep door, landing on the muddy wasteland with a nauseating thud.
The military jeep drove back to the garrison, and a refreshed, more energetic Cooper Harker stepped out.
The four guards at the door, seeing Marcus in his British uniform, pressed their right hands against their hat brims, palms facing outward, and simultaneously stood at attention, saluting in unison.
Marcus returned a somewhat awkward salute and entered the office.
He dialed the personal number of Colonel James Mitchell, the commanding officer of the British Colonial Forces, according to the contact list. Fortunately, Cooper had some connection with Mitchell, and after reporting the situation, he received permission to meet.
He found a twenty-inch-long box in the storeroom, filled it with gold coins from his pouch, and carried it toward military headquarters.
Half an hour passed.
Marcus's current identity was that of the Colonial Commanding Officer.
The dry, wrinkled skin of the old man made Marcus feel somewhat uncomfortable.
Beside him, the box of gold coins remained untouched, and something was burning in the fireplace, emitting the smell of roasting meat.
Marcus, still in his military uniform, entered the headquarters, where two staff officers were discussing operations.
"Colonel!" the two saluted.
"Connect me to the Engineering Corps."
One of the staff officers quickly picked up the phone and dialed the number.
"Hello, this is headquarters. Connect me to the Engineering Corps."
The phone line was transferred, and the staff officer said again, "This is headquarters. Put your commanding officer on the phone. The Colonel has orders."
"Sir!"
He then turned and handed the phone to Marcus.
"Hello!" Marcus took the phone.
"Sir! This is Captain Nathan Palmer, commanding officer of the Engineering Corps, reporting!"
A sharp voice came from the other end of the line.
Marcus instructed the person on the other end:
"Skip the pleasantries, await orders."
"Immediately assemble all personnel of the Engineering Corps, bringing 50 tons of flour, 1,000 bolts of canvas, and an equivalent amount of tarpaulins. Mobilize all excavation and transport vehicles and proceed to the westernmost location of Tumbbad village to await instructions."
"If vehicle numbers are insufficient, requisition from nearby facilities. All military and civilian personnel must unconditionally cooperate with this operation."
"Understood, sir. Engineering Corps will guarantee full cooperation with this operation."
A resolute and excited voice came from the other end of the line.
"Execute immediately!"
"Yes, sir!"
After hanging up the phone, Marcus instructed his staff to prepare a vehicle and led his escort to the west side of Tumbbad village.
It was already dark, and a light rain was falling. Marcus got out of the car, and the escort beside him quickly opened an umbrella.
The perennial rain and clouds gave Tumbbad a musty smell, and rows of headlights illuminated the area dozens of yards into the thick darkness.
Marcus stood before the headlights, his shadow stretched long and slanted.
He silently gazed in the direction of the 'Hastar' temple, considering the feasibility of his plan.
Everything had to be tried to know.
Marcus waited for a while; the Engineering Corps would take some time to arrive, so he didn't get in the car, and the others stood in the rain as well.
"Get in the vehicle and wait."
Marcus waved his hand, and the group climbed into the vehicle and waited quietly.
About half an hour later, through the rain, lights could be seen appearing in the distance, like a blazing serpent, growing brighter as it approached.
The roar of engines pierced the patter of rain.
The long convoy of lights stopped after about fifty yards, and a sharp-looking, square-jawed middle-aged man ran to the window in the rain.
"Reporting, sir! Captain Nathan Palmer, commanding officer of the Engineering Corps, reporting for duty."
"The corps should have 1078 men; 945 are present. Another 133 are collecting mission supplies and will arrive within an hour. Awaiting orders, sir."
The square-jawed man stood straight, saluted, and reported loudly.
"Form up and move out. Target: Temple ruins in Tumbbad Village."
"Yes, sir."
The headquarters and the Engineering Corps convoy joined together and headed toward the God's Well. After fifteen minutes, they finally arrived again at the towering temple, which resembled a fortress.
A group of soldiers disembarked and began setting up tents around the area.
"Captain Palmer."
"Sir."
The Engineering Corps commander stepped forward and stood at attention.
"Tear down the outer walls and pavilion of these temple ruins!"
"Don't damage anything within a hundred feet of the square well in the backyard."
"Yes, sir."
Nathan Palmer accepted the order and ran back to the convoy.
Then, bulldozers, excavators, and rock crushers rushed toward the temple ruins, followed by the demolition team's vehicles.
Marcus, in the temporary command tent, took a sip of water and quietly awaited the results.
Sometimes the direct approach was the best approach. He'd been to Hell—a cursed temple in India was just Tuesday.
Let's see how Hastar liked having his house torn down around him.
(End of Chapter)
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