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

"I'm supposed to bring you back with me, alive." His eyes shifted imperceptibly to his left. "I assure you that's going to happen. Whether your lady friend comes with us or not is up to you."

Quaking in his air shoes, a frightened Sanjay wondered why, if this terrifying person wished to take no chances, he himself had not already also gone the way of the dead bodyguard. Then it occurred to him that the masquerade that had deceived the European businessman and his associate had not for an instant fooled this person. Whoever he was, he had straightaway seen the sham for what it was.

Whether he would still kill the poor shopkeeper or not was some thing that could not be predicted, nor inferred from the executioner's manner. Sanjay would not wait to find out. Silently, he began reciting his own final prayers. He would be sorry to die only because it meant he would not be able to see Chakra and the children again.

Somehow, he knew that trying to use them to appeal to this person would carry less weight with the tall, stolid-faced killer than a dead leaf falling from a tree.

Gun held in one level, perfectly steady hand, the other extended outward, palm up, Chal approached the wide-eyed Karlovy. "In addition to this gentleman, I am required to return with the two items you presently hold in your right hand. Please pass them over to me while you are still capable of doing so. I assure you I have no compunction about picking them up off the ground, should they happen to drop along with you."

Swallowing, Taneer took a step forward despite a terrified Depahli's best efforts to hold him back. He held out the security case. "Take this. I'll open it for you. There's a lot of money inside. Millions more than you're being paid to do this, I'm sure." He raised his voice slightly. "Go on-take it!"

Barely glancing in the scientist's direction, Chal's gaze briefly flicked over the case. Its presence and contents were confirmation that the esteemed Mushtaq's sources had once again come through.

"You want to know the difference between an employee and a whore? An employee has one kind of reputation, a whore another. I value my reputation, Mr. Buthlahee. Besides, even if I were to take you up on your offer, others of my chosen profession would then be hired to look for me in turn. Not to mention that I would have to kill you-all of you-simply to buy a little time." He smiled pleasantly. "For a man of logic and reason, I don't think you've thought through your offer very thoroughly."

Taneer's lips tightened. "If they get me back, the company will forcibly extract the information they want from me. Then they may kill me anyway, or they may not."

The tracker pursed his lips slightly. "Not my concern."

Sanjay could not keep from blurting, "You will excuse me, please, but I must ask: what happens to the money?"

Smile widening, Chal studied the shopkeeper and whispered some thing under his breath. It might have been "peasant," or it might have been something even less flattering. Sanjay could not tell, nor did he really care.

"I suppose this gentleman"-and he indicated Karlovy-"will return it to his superiors. He'd better, or they're liable to hire someone like me to find him." Shifting his attention from Taneer and Sanjay, he inquired curiously of the frightened businessman, "I don't imagine they're going to be very pleased when you have to report the details of your failure here."

To his credit and despite his evident fear, Karlovy did not cower beneath the tracker's stare. "I shall plead extenuating circumstances."

To everyone's surprise, but not relief, Schneemann laughed. "I've been around long enough to hear myself described a great many ways, in a great many languages, but as 'extenuating circumstances'? That is a first." An auditory vapor, the laugh went away, fleeing into the night. Chal gestured anew with his upturned palm. "The items, please. Before I lose my sense of humor."

Keshu wanted to shake the spinner, to threaten it. He was going to have to make a decision, and soon, very soon, without the right kind of information he needed to make it.

"Chief Inspector, what's going on out there?" With a nod, Johar gestured in front of them, toward the trees that blocked contact and a proper view of what was transpiring deeper in the forest.

"I don't know." Keshu squinted at his readout. "None of them seem to be moving. Since they're not likely to be spending all this time in prayerful communion, I expect they must be talking to one another." As he had been doing all night, he kept switching rapidly back and forth between the overhead drone's infrared and magnified-starlight views. One was little more instructive than the other. "Without audio or daylight vision, I can't tell what's going on. Are they arguing? Are they old friends meeting up for a night's illegal campout?"

Johar looked over at his superior. There was sympathy in his voice. "We're going to have to do something soon, Chief Inspector." He indicated his own readout. "It looks like the suspect is on the move again."

Keshu's attention shot back to his own spinner. Damn! The foreign woman was showing signs of moving, all right-away from the others. Pick her up, or let it go. It was the same thorny choice he had been faced with all night.

He was tired. It wasn't fair. All the careful trailing and observation, the expensive surveillance, the number of personnel on site and holding as backup; everything added up to a considerable expenditure of time and money. If he called it off, he'd be asked in no uncertain terms to explain the decision. If he gave the order to pick up the woman Chalmette, he might have no case-and no chance to prosecute again in the future.

Why had all these other people decided to pick the same night and place to convene for their mysterious little gathering? Why couldn't they have done so a kilometer farther north, or south, or at a sensorium tea shop somewhere in the middle of the city, or at a damn meet-and-greet center at one of the city's five main airports? Why in Gurja's name did they have to end up doing this now, on his watch, here, tonight? Had he not been devout in his work, his home life, his prayers? What had he done to deserve this?"

"Chief Inspector?" In the darkness alongside him, Johar was staring a little harder than usual at the glowing screen of his spinner.

"What now, Lieutenant?" Somehow, Keshu managed to substitute resignation for exhaustion in his voice.

"It looks like we have another new heat signature, sir."

Oh great. Wonderful wondrous, an exasperated Keshu thought. Who could it be now? A wandering politician in search of nocturnal votes? Teenage forestry scouts desperate to earn commendations? Was there perhaps a small convention scheduled for this region he had not been informed about? He directed his attention to the far right-hand portion of his readout as the unseen distant drone slightly adjusted its position and magnification to accommodate the new arrival.

Recognition shot through him as if he had received a full jolt from one of his department's own advanced mob control stunners.

The telltale heat signature of the new arrival was far too big, and moving much too fast.

Five people stood around the artificial water hole. A sixth had begun to retreat slowly through the dense undergrowth that concealed her. Given so many choices, all equally oblivious to its presence, the tiger logically settled on the one that had its back facing the jungle.

To his credit, Chal sensed the big cat's approach and whirled with almost superhuman speed. Expecting to find a human bearing down on him, he was sufficiently taken aback, for just an instant, to hold off pulling the trigger of his small but exceedingly deadly weapon. When instinct and reflex finally managed to overcome shock, it was too late.