Alan Foster - Sagramanda, a Novel of Near-Future India

He recognized the voice. Subrata from downstairs. The tireless bridge to, among other sections, Forensics. The individual who was invisible-except when he had something to say. The kind of man on whose hard work and back great works were raised. With a sigh, he muttered the command that would allow two-way communication.

"Chief Inspector Singh?"

"Yes, what is it, Mr. Subrata?" Keshu's annoyance increased as the shuttle slowed to give more room to a pair of air ambulances speeding past on their way to some unknown medical crisis. "I'm on my way home, you know."

"Yes, Chief Inspector. I know. I would not bother you, sir, if I-"

"-did not think this a matter of some importance," a prickly Keshu finished for him. "Get on with it, man."

"Yes, Chief Inspector." Though the communication was devoid of video, Keshu almost thought he could see the little man shuffling papers in front of him: mentally if not physically. "I, and those I am working with, believe we have identified a woman matching the description of the composite created by the department's visual facilitator."

Ignoring the crowded air lanes now, Keshu sat up a little straighter in his seat, the mandatory safety harness digging into his chest. "What woman?"

"The projected multiple murderer, Chief Inspector. The match is accurate to-"

"Hang percentages! Who is she? Where is she?" Even as he spoke, he was alerting the pilot, indicating with gestures that the man needed to be ready to receive new instructions.

The urgency in the chief inspector's voice did not fluster Subrata. Keshu was beginning to think that very little did. At least, not where the little man's work was concerned.

"Her name is Jena Chalmette. She is a French national who has been resident in India, in Sagramanda, for many years. Apparently, she changes her place of residence on a regular basis. Officers have already been to her apartment. She was not there."

Keshu cursed fluently and at length, but to himself. "Leads?"

"Better than that, Chief Inspector." Was that an uncharacteristic hint of glee in the sober-minded researcher's voice? "As soon as her identity was ascertained from a box match, a grade one-cee priority override was injected into the municipal surveillance system."

Keshu knew what that meant. Tens of thousands of individual pickups, vit sensors, and spotpoints maintained by the police department and scattered strategically about the city would have been alerted to search for one particular facial match. In addition, a grade one-cee override would temporarily coopt the functions of thousands more private surveillance systems to join in the hunt.

"And?" Keshu asked tersely.

The reply was more than he could have hoped for. Even worth missing one of his wife's superb dinners for. "We have her located."

The sense of relief that washed through Keshu was expansive enough to prevail over any feeling of triumph. Besides, any indulgence in the latter was premature. Locating someone was not the same as having them in custody.

"Order those officers on-site to maintain surveillance and keep their distance," Keshu instructed Subrata. "I want to be in on this one myself. Where is the suspect, and what is she doing?"

"Just a moment, Chief Inspector, and I'll patch you through to a Lieutenant Johar, who is the officer in charge on location."

Though to an energized Keshu the resultant pause seemed like for ever, it took the ever-efficient Subrata only a moment to link the chief inspector's communicator with the officer on site.

"Chief Inspector Singh?" The voice that issued from the communicator's tiny but powerful built-in speaker was unfamiliar to Keshu. Though distorted by mild interference, it sounded capable enough.

Wasting no time on pleasantries, Keshu barked back, "Current location and disposition of the female foreign national Chalmette: report, Lieutenant."

Johar's prompt and efficient response justified Keshu's initial assessment of the officer. "At present, suspect is traveling south on automated public transport. There is a possibility, as yet unconfirmable, that suspect is following a small group of students. Transport has just left Canning Central on way to Basanti Main."

Keshu found himself cursing again. Though still within his district, the foreign woman was far south of his present location. That made for awkward, but not insurmountable, logistics. While conversing with the lieutenant, he instructed the shuttle pilot to turn and head south as soon as airspace became available.

"How many people do you have on her and can they tell if she is armed?" he asked sharply.

"Two undercover officers, rotating observation, Chief Inspector. No visible weapons, but of course that is hardly conclusive. Do you want us to pick her up?"

"No, no," Keshu responded quickly. "We have to move very care fully here, Lieutenant. We have to have something irrefutable to take into court." He thought furiously. "I was told that officers have been to her apartment. I don't suppose they found anything incriminating, or I would already have been informed."

"I have seen the reports of the search, Chief Inspector. No weapons were found, if that is what you mean."

Keshu considered. "Anything less incriminating but still suggestive, Lieutenant? Media recordings of recent killings? Anything that might indicate souvenirs taken from one of the murder sites?"

"No, Chief Inspector. Nothing at all." The voice on the other end of the communicator hesitated. "There was one item that caught my attention, though. I thought it rather a strange thing to find in the living quarters of a foreigner, even one who qualifies as a long-term resident."

"Don't keep it a secret, Lieutenant," Keshu chided him impatiently.

"No, Chief Inspector. It was a shrine."

Acknowledging his orders, the shuttle was slowing and descending toward a staging area that bulged out of the right side of the expressway like a blister on an artery. He was already pumping a command request into the chopper's transmitter. As the pilot set down smoothly on the empty platform, Keshu continued questioning the distant but responsive lieutenant.

"What kind of shrine?"

"Very strange," the officer repeated. "It was as well maintained as any shrine in a well-to-do Indian home. When I saw mention of its existence in the report, I expected it to be a shrine to Ganesh or Krishna, those being the gods Westerners seem to find the most com forting. But it was not. It was a shrine to Kali."

Keshu swallowed hard. Leaning to his right, he peered out the transparent bubble of the shuttle, scanning the pollution-stained sky. "I don't know about you, Lieutenant, but I, for one, do find that suggestive."

"Yes, Chief Inspector," the distant officer agreed. "Also creepy."

"But not grounds for arrest, and certainly not for prosecution. We need much more than that, Lieutenant Johar. We can't remand a person into custody on the basis of uncharacteristic theological prefer ences, a perceived visual match with a computer simulation, or even for carrying a weapon that might match the one used in certain attacks." A black spot in the sky was growing steadily larger as it approached the platform on which he had ordered the shuttle to land.

"Tell your people to keep their distance, to make sure they aren't detected by the suspect, and not to do anything. Understand? They are not to approach the suspect in any way unless it looks like the woman is going to be alone with the students she may be following. At that time, and only under those circumstances, are your people allowed to move to stage two."

"Understood, Chief Inspector."

"I want to be very clear on this, Lieutenant." Keshu spoke slowly and emphatically. "If this woman is by chance the person we are after, and we alert her that we are on to her, she may change her modus completely. Or worse, leave India altogether. As a noncitizen, we cannot hold her. We need to be absolutely certain we have our killer before we pick her up, and that we have sufficient evidence to bring cause and to convict. Otherwise, we may not get a second chance. This case is too important to risk on second chances."