Ironically, I was in India again for the second time in the course of a few days. Yet this was not the jungle or deserted structures buried and choked in foliage. I found myself in one of the oldest cities in India - Pushkar. The hustle and bustle of the busy streets always amazed me, and I was ever captivated by foreign smells and sounds. The midday sun beamed over my skin, but a gentle breeze was present which took the edge off the heat. I would have loved to stay in India for a good two weeks, but with the task I was preparing to undertake, hanging around would be an utterly foolish idea. I didn’t want to risk the chance I might end up having a ‘little chat’ with the Indian authorities! After an exploratory afternoon, while the sun went into brief respite behind a shroud of cloud, I found a quiet, low key hotel. Perfect.
Soon I found myself in a small studio, containing a single bed, table, an en suite and a stove. I wasn’t looking for luxury, merely somewhere I wouldn’t be spotted. I had also checked in with the name Lauren Cross, just to ensure that no alarm bells would sound. I arranged all my tools and weapons on the bed. My grapple glinted in the light, and I smiled. Break ins had become protocol to me when retrieving anything of value, but I always got the same rush that a small child gets when they take a biscuit and manage to eat it without being caught. I also clicked a silencer onto my 50 Caliber pistols - stealth was key. After long deliberation concerning my tools, I cleared the bed and packed the essentials into a black backpack. Kicking off my boots, I fell back onto the sheets, just in time to watch the sun set. It was now only a matter of time until night would fall.
2 am, and Pushkar was finally silent. The adrenaline pumping through my body meant that I felt no fatigue. Zips buzzed and clasps clicked, and my hair was up in tight high-plait. I smiled in the mirror, my catsuit was one of my favourite pieces of clothing. Stealthily, I slid my pistols into my holsters, clipped the grapple to my belt, and advanced quietly through the hotel room window. A couple of lamps lit the streets below, otherwise the only light was offered by the stars that had littered the night sky. The Temple of Pushkar was only a short distance away. I spotted a roof nearby. I breathed in deeply, and as I leapt off the balcony, I flung my grapple, and it clanged noisily against a metal pipe. After one swoop, I landed, one leg bent, onto the roof. I had been noisier than I had anticipated.
“Bloody hell, I hope the residents here are deep sleepers!” I clambered across roof after roof, clunking a little as I went. Finally, I found myself only a roof away from the temple. It was a beautiful place, built to glorify the god Brahma. The gap between my current roof and the temple was long, but I had a plan. I flung the grapple forwards, and it twisted about one of the spires like a protective snake. Trusting in the strength of my tool, I gripped the rope tightly, then turned so that my plait hung towards the floor, and began to climb along the rope. It brought back memories of Paris, and the frantic scrambling I had been reduced to undertake to escape the French police. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt my booted feet touch the temple roof. Taking a few moments to compose myself, I planned my route into the main building. Checking for security, I gripped the grapple rope and descended until I came to a flight of marble steps, and I swung through the arched entrance, flipped, and landed on the cold, hard floor. Taking one final look around for precaution, I ventured inside, drawing my pistols, prepared to retrieve Brahmastra.