Authors: Rafael
The Huntsman (12 page)
The
onrushing motorboat’s roar finally broke Janesh’s concentration. He looked up
from reading John Galt’s speech, squinting at the sun’s sharp glare off the
water. Distant freighters, queued outside Singapore’s harbor, waited to drop or
lade the world’s cargo. Janesh looked once, twice, three times when the craft
emerged from the sun’s reflected blaze. A hundred yards away, his boat’s twin
raced and bounced over the swells. Behind it, in a pink wetsuit bright as the
sunlight, a lithe, athletic figure skied. Air currents streamed her long, raven
hair. Across the stern, in equally dazzling pink, the boat’s name matched
his—Flamingo.
It
began a long turn swinging the skier in a wide arc. Janesh watched as the
window for the boat to slow down or veer off narrowed. If it did neither, the
girl would slam broadside into them. He leaped up, prepared to wave the boat
off. Duncan and Ronan sensed his anxiety, rose from their torpor. Their twin’s
engines deepened their growl as the pilot opened the throttle, dug into the
turn. Janesh ripped off his shirt, dropped his pants, and kicked off his deck
shoes. If she survived the impact, he’d have to dive in before she drowned. The
boat roared past. Its grinning pilot waved. Forty yards out the girl let go the
towline, steering her momentum toward his boat’s dive platform. Ten yards out,
she tilted the skis up and slowly sank. Clambering up from the stern, she
toweled her hair and eyed Janesh with a wry smile. Arms akimbo, the skier
looked up at him.
“I
had to come see for myself. So, you’re the
Mahān
Śikārī.” She gave his physique an appreciative once over. Her
smile widened. “Nice shorts.” Sheepish and annoyed, Janesh turned away to
retrieve his pants. From the canopied pilothouse, the Vietnamese captain and
crew mate gazed down with toothless grins.
“She good skier.” He’d suspected they spoke English but since
picking him up in Indonesia they’d not said much during the twenty-mile trip.
An old-fashioned atmospheric flight had brought him from Rajiv
Gandhi International in Hyderabad, India to Jakarta, Indonesia where an even
older prop, long past quaint and well into rickety, flew him to the backwater
town Pulau Beng Kalis. He’d noted the two travelers who boarded before the
twin-engine continued to their ultimate destination, Pulau Pemping Island twelve
miles south of Singapore. Once deplaned, the two surprised him when they
whispered, “Follow please, Mr. McKenzie.
Jasline Wong sent us.” Until critiquing
her skiing prowess, all subsequent communication had occurred via smiles, nods,
and hand gestures.
By
the time Janesh pulled his top on, he’d puzzled out the boats. “I take it the
two Flamingos is how things not on Singapore arrive undetected.”
“Quite
right, Mr. McKenzie. Singapore is a democratic police state that consistently
ranks near the bottom of international human rights rankings. They’re the only
ones who complain since great wealth and high employment allows everyone else
to remain fat and contented and thus turn a blind eye. It keeps those of us
pursuing unconventional careers on our toes. Anyway, it eliminates wasting time
transferring things from one boat to the other.”
“And
what exactly is your career?”
“Defying
the authorities. It justifies my high fees.”
Janesh
turned to face her. She finished toweling her hair and extended a hand. “Jasline
Wong. Nice to meet you, Mr. McKenzie.” He ignored the almond-eyed beauty’s full
breasts bulging through a low-zippered top.
“Janesh
is fine. I prefer a first-name basis when being fleeced by high fees.” She
raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Speaking
of which.” He strode toward his bench and retrieved a clasped bag.
“It’s
unlocked.”
“I
know Chatur well. I’m sure the five million is there.
“If
more is needed it will not be a problem.” She took on a coquettish tone.
“Oh,
did you have something else in mind?” Janesh had no intention of nibbling the
bait or embarrassing her. He deliberately misunderstood.
“Not
specifically, but we’ll be dealing with a very powerful man. I need to be
prepared for any contingency. I also need to survey the area surrounding Nicholas
Koh’s headquarters. How long before we dock?” Jasline turned her gaze outward.
The Flamingo had just rounded the island’s southern promontory.
“About
ten minutes. I’ve timed our arrival at the basin to coincide with the return of
two sight-seeing cruises. Police will be about but we’ll just be part of a
crowd.”
“And
if I am stopped?”
She
smiled at him while pulling out her top to reveal more of one breast. From
inside she fished out a thin, plastic-sealed package. “My high fees are for a
reason. Inside you’ll find a passport with proper entry visas and permit papers
for those two horses you brought. Chatur provided your vital statistics but
until you leave Singapore you are Bandhu Satya.”
True
to expectations they passed through the boatyard without incident. With Jasline
behind the wheel of an American-sized utility vehicle, Singapore’s skyscrapers
loomed closer by the minute. “Where am I staying?”
“I
have an apartment in a downtown hi-rise twenty minutes from Nicholas Koh’s
headquarters. Despite Singapore’s passionate pet lovers, the dogs will attract
less attention in my complex. Everyone will think you’re just my latest
boyfriend.”
“Twenty
minutes walking or driving?”
“Either.
It’s an island. Traffic is notorious.”
Two
hours later along streets reminiscent of Manhattan’s canyons without the grit
and grime, Janesh turned left to stride past Worldwide Capital’s headquarters.
Glorious sunshine sparkled Singapore’s immaculate streets. Except to inured
natives, its spectacular modernity provided a constant stream of
attention-grabbing imagery. At every opportunity, brilliant landscapers
showcased their artistry with soothing gardens and greens. Amid gawking
visitors, Janesh slowed to assess his tactical options.
The
structure towered an imposing eighty-one stories. At every intersection traffic
control guided vehicles and pedestrians. Around back, armed security guarded a
delivery platform. No imagined scenario made a frontal assault feasible. Even
if he somehow managed to haul out a few hundred pounds of scientific equipment,
Singapore’s aggressive police made escape dubious and arrest probable. Brute
force would have to give way to cunning and guile. But that needed time. He
closed his eyes. Slowed breaths expanded and collapsed. Disquiet retreated.
Miranda might not have much.
Miranda
woke with a start. Opened eyes saw nothing, not even a hand close enough to
press her nose. Heat. Penetrating, maddening heat stifled the air. Total
darkness blinded her. A slow, oncoming dread dissolved the anger at having
succumbed to sleep. She tried to swallow but it hurt. Screams and shouts had
left her throat swollen and raspy. She waited. Naked skin began to crawl. At
any moment the nightmare would resume.
Time
had a new criterion. The slot low on the door measured it. Four times it had
opened without warning or sound. On a plastic tray a cup of water and a small
paper bowl containing a thin, tasteless stew slid in. No utensils. The corner
left of the door held the discarded refuse. Thirst had become a constant
companion and hunger a cruel friend. They left her faint, weak, exhausted, prey
to an induced sleep. She fought against it. Against an unconsciousness that
left her vulnerable, defenseless. She never won.
The
stench from the right corner, piled with feces and urine, no longer registered.
She’d tried chewing the bowl to soften it for use as a wipe. Her dehydrated
state had stopped producing enough saliva.
The
wait ended. One crawled onto her toes and began exploring her foot. Another dropped
from the ceiling. Miranda sighed, brushed them off and sat up. Arms wrapped
around her legs, she pressed her face into her knees. Another then another fell
into her hair. She felt them struggle to find purchase. More scurried onto her
feet. Their tracks left trails of filth and germs. A struggle to close her mind
against the reality began. I’m a trained zoologist, she thought. Roaches can’t
hurt me. The thought became a chant.
Whiskers
and warm fur brushed against her labia. It bit. Endless screams refilled the
dark.
Without
any discretion, Nicholas Koh leered at Jasline’s cleavage. She leaned forward
for the pepper, then gave two sharp shakes. Again she leaned forward to return
it. In a world of men, it still amazed her two breasts could reduce them to
idiocy. Despite their technology, evolution had not kept pace.
A
slow, gentle, late-afternoon rain tapped the canopy over their outdoor Clark
Quay eatery. High tea remained a British legacy but Jasline eschewed pastries
and scones for a small dim sum plate to accompany her chamomile. “C’mon
Jasline. Rainy afternoons are perfect for sex. I’ve seen your boyfriends. It’ll
be the best you ever had.”
She
raised a half-bite to her mouth and slowly let her lips cover it. Long inured
to his clumsy jousting, she chewed with an expression that seemed to give his
offer serious thought. She put down the fork, lifted her cup, and took on a
rueful tone. “No. I have a rule against mixing business and pleasure.”
“Then
let’s end the business relationship right here.” She laughed.
“I
don’t think so, Nicholas. Then I’d have to have sex with you.”
“Okay,
we’ll keep it strictly business. A hundred thousand.” She clucked her tongue.
“Order
me a drink and don’t insult me.” Nicholas glanced toward the waiter who rushed
over.”
“Scotch
and soda.” Nicholas didn’t wait for him to depart. “Talk of sex offends you?”
“No.
Your puny amount.”
“I’ll
double it. Two hundred thousand.” She rolled her eyes.
“Give
me a number then.”
“Why?
I know what I’m worth. I’m not about to go to bed with a man who doesn’t.”
Nicholas
sat back and eyed her. What number did she have in mind? A million? More? He
had no intention of engaging in a bidding war against himself and he hadn’t
risen to his level by overpaying. Nicholas didn’t like to lose. Had no
experience with it. “Why’d you ask to meet me here?”
“Oh,
Nicholas. Don’t be disappointed.” She gave him her warmest smile. “Maybe next
time.” His annoyance grew.
“Why
are we here, Jasline?”
“On
behalf of a client who asked me to convey some information to you.” She reached
into her bag and withdrew a single page. “This is a subset list of cargo
containers and their shipping codes from a Chinese freighter, the ChangLi41.”
Nicholas
scanned the page. An alarm began clamoring. He kept his tone flat and face
impassive. “So?”
“Singapore
police might be curious why cargo that never cleared customs is in your
possession.”
Koh’s
eyes narrowed. Ice chilled his words. “Be very careful, Jasline. Extortion is a
dangerous business.”
“Why,
Nicholas. Isn’t that the business we’re in?”
She
held his gaze well aware the man who sat across could make her disappear. If
they ever found her body it would have a knife in the throat and a bullet in
the brain. “Anyway, this isn’t extortion. You have something he wants. He
proposes a trade.”
“And
what does he think I have?”
“A
female named Miranda Logan. She must be a hell of a woman.” Nicholas knew the
answer without asking.
“Who
is your client?”
“I
don’t normally reveal that but in this case he wanted me to. Janesh McKenzie.”
“And
your role is?”
“I’m
the intermediary. I understand you two would kill each other on sight. He gets
the girl, you keep the cargo, everybody walks away.”
“Do
you know what the cargo is?” Jasline shrugged.
“No
idea. And I had the impression he didn’t either.”
Nicholas
remained calm though his anger boiled. He had no decision to make. The facts
decided themselves. Round one went to McKenzie. A thousand Logans did not add
up to one wormhole. The device was worth his entire empire. He could allow no
chance the police might come sniffing around. He also couldn’t trust McKenzie
didn’t have another copy he’d send to the police anyway. No, he had to move the
device immediately. He also had to deal with the three physicists he’d lured
away from Singapore University. They’d have to relocate to his research and
testing facility in Malaysia. Now that they made triple their former salaries,
he doubted they’d object.
“There
are a few complications to attend to. I’ll need some time to arrange the trade.”
Koh had to insure Janesh McKenzie never interfered with his plans again.
“How
much time?”
“Two,
three days.”
“Seventy-two
hours is reasonable. I’m sure my client will agree.”
Jasline
stood and leaned forward to buss his cheek. Sweet perfume filled the air and
full breasts his vision. Her soft voice whispered, “You know how to reach me.
Don’t drive yourself crazy watching my ass.” Confident he would, she allowed
her hips an extra sway.
Nicholas
looked away and thumbed his communicator. “Boss, you need to get back here
right away. There’s a big problem on the 32nd floor where you built the lab for
those physics guys.”
“What’s
the problem, why didn’t you call me?”
“You
said you didn’t want to be disturbed. You need to come see for yourself.”
Koh’s
voice hissed menace. “Calm down and listen to me. Tell me exactly what the
problem is.”
“The
professors. Someone tore their arms off. They’re hanging from a wall by their
faces.”
*
* *
Nicholas
felt disconnected, at war with himself. Rage and dread fought one another for
emotional control. His mind floated, untethered from reality. McKenzie had
raised their long-standing feud to a new level. Shocked by the sheer violence
of it, nothing else explained the ghastly sight before him.
Koh
switched focus to the surrounding laboratory. Except for huge pools of blood
where the dismemberments must have occurred, its pristine state appeared
undisturbed, the equipment intact. Perhaps goaded by the Cambridge affair, his
arch rival had sent a clear message. Hurt her and I’ll hurt you where it hurts
most. Still, McKenzie had never before descended to such depravity. It shook
Nicholas. The
Mahān Śikārī had
waltzed into the heart of his headquarters, murdered three men charged with
unlocking the secrets of his most valuable asset, then waltzed back out with
impunity.
Nicholas inhaled a sharp breath. All while distracted by Jasline
Wong’s guiles. Well, he would repay her treachery but first he had to safeguard
the wormhole device. It occurred to him he might be acting as McKenzie wanted
but for now he had no choice. The equipment could not remain here. He thumbed
his communicator. It rang once. Jithu Ong answered.
“Yes, Mr. Koh.”
“I’m on the 32
nd
floor. I have three opened packages
that need removal. Their contents left a mess. Once cleaned, the room’s
equipment must be moved. I’ll let you know where.”
“I understand.” Nicholas thumbed off. Comfort washed over him.
Though somewhat bloodless,
Wei and Feng’s successor had proved more than able.
But it had always been so. The world never stopped for death. It simply moved
the living forward on the conveyor belt.
Nicholas
turned and exited the lab. Outside the five top security heads he’d summoned
waited. “I want your resignations on my desk within the half-hour. Your
confidentiality clauses remain in effect but if word of this leaks in any way,
legal jeopardy will be the least of your concerns.”
He
turned on his heel and headed for the elevator bank. One more detail remained.
He had to know what Janesh McKenzie knew. His woman would know.
