Xenopath (26 page)

She smiled to
herself, relieved that he was still there. "Communing? Who
with?"

It would be
better if you did not know that.

"Ah-cha,"
she said. She was quiet for a while, then said, "I've decided
I'm going to look for Abdul today."

Do you know
where to find him?

"He told me
he begged on Chandi Road. I'll look there."

Very well,
Pham.

"Okay, so
I'll leave you to your communing, Khar."

He did not
reply.

She stuffed her
blanket into her teddy-bear backpack, hitched it onto her back and
left the park.

She had missed
Abdul since hurrying away from the starship a couple of days ago. She
wanted to explain why she had left so quickly, and apologise. She was
sure Abdul would understand. It was strange, but she'd only met him
two or three times, and then only for a few hours each time, but she
felt as if she had known him for years. She thought of his smile, his
big staring eyes... He was like the brother she had never had.

She took the
upchute two levels to the upper deck, then caught the train to Chandi
Road.

The long, wide
road that ran parallel to the spaceport was solid with a noisy,
colourful river of humanity. It was as if a skyball stadium was
constantly emptying spectators out into the street. Pham wondered
where each citizen was heading.

All of them were
going about their own private business, spending perhaps minutes on
the road before leaving it, their places taken by other pedestrians.

Pham pushed
through the crowd, heading for Patel's Sweet Centre where she had
first met Abdul. He'd told her that his begging patch was between
Patel's and a restaurant called Nazruddin's. She was sure to find him
somewhere along the street.

She had to cut
across the crowd flowing along the length of the road, and it was
like swimming against a great surging torrent of water. She was
carried way past Patel's by the time she emerged from the press and
jumped out onto the sidewalk, catching her breath in the quiet space
between the stall of a chai vendor and a paan kiosk.

She looked up
and down the sidewalk, scrutinising the kids hurrying along its
length, their hands outstretched towards the well-dressed citizens
promenading before the expensive shop-fronts. Most of the time the
kids were ignored, but now and then a man or woman tossed a small
denomination note their way, to keep them quiet. Sometimes fights
broke out among the street-kids as they fought for notes that
fluttered to the ground.

Pham watched
them and thought of Abdul living like this, and the idea made her
unhappy.

She walked
towards Patel's. She was still wearing the smart clothes she had
bought yesterday, and she earned hostile glances from the street-kids
who thought she was a little rich kid out shopping.

The odd thing
was, while part of her hated the life these kids were living, relying
on baht from fat, bored rich people, another part envied the fact
that the children existed in one big family. It might not always be a
happy family, but at least they had each other to talk to, to play
with, to share their problems with.

She would like
to be part of that family, but not if it meant living on the
spaceship and working for Dr Rao.

The double
shop-front of Patel's was an Aladdin's cave full of a hundred
different kinds of Indian sweets, piled in pyramids and ziggurats and
cones like exotic multicoloured temples.

Pham slipped
into the shop and bought a selection of barfi in a big bag, then
stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked for Abdul.

He was not among
the kids rushing up and down outside Patel's and neighbouring shops.
She wanted to ask them if they knew where he was, but shyness stopped
her approaching the scruffy, ragged urchins. She hurried along the
sidewalk towards Nazruddin's, hoping that Abdul had not decided to
take a holiday today.

He was not
outside Nazruddin's, so she walked further along the road, and then
back again. She consoled herself by stuffing delicious barfi into her
mouth, and washing it down with a cup of spiced ginger chai from a
roadside stall.

There was no
sign of Abdul along his usual patch, so the only thing left to do was
to ask one of the street-kids if they knew where he was.

She stood beside
the chai stall, watching the kids. Some of them looked rough, as if
they'd rather punch her in the face than answer her questions. But
one young girl caught her eye and smiled shyly.

Pham smiled in
return and offered her the bag of barfi. The girl, a Tamil by the
shape and colour of her small, dark face, nodded and dipped a hand
into the bag.

"I wonder
if you can help me," Pham asked the girl.

The Indian
nibbled the barfi like a mouse, jogging her head from side to side.

Pham went on.
"I'm looking for a boy called Abdul. I don't know his last name.
He works around here."

The girl's eyes
widened, as if in alarm. "Abdul? Abdul Mohammed?"

"I don't
know—he has only one arm."

"Ah-cha!
That is Abdul Mohammed. You haven't heard?"

Pham's stomach
heaved. She felt sick. "Heard what?" she asked in a
whisper.

"Someone
beat him up. Many broken bones. Almost killed him."

Pham felt dizzy.
"Who? Who did this?"

"A
Westerner. He asked Abdul questions."

"Where is
Abdul now?"

"Dr Rao
treated him, but he was injured very badly. Dr Rao took him to
hospital." The girl considered for a second, then took Pham's
hand. "Come. I will take you."

Her heart
beating wildly, Pham gripped the kid's sticky hand and followed her
along the sidewalk and down a side street. They passed through
crowded alleys, deafened by the cries of street traders and the jet
engines of passing air-cars.

Five minutes
later they came to a small Ayurvedic clinic with a big red cross
flashing on and off outside. The girl pointed across the road. "Abdul
is in there, ward three."

Pham hesitated,
part of her oddly reluctant to face Abdul now that she knew where he
was. She turned to the girl, slipped a ten baht note into her hand,
then hurried across the road and into the hospital before she changed
her mind.

A Thai nurse in
a brilliant white uniform smiled at her from behind the reception
desk.

"I have
come to see Abdul Mohammed," Pham said. "Ward three."

The nurse
pointed through swing doors and along a corridor. "Through
there, and it's the first door on your right."

Pham moved
slowly towards the door and pushed it open. The thing was. if the
Westerner who had beaten up Abdul was the laser killer looking for
Pham. then why had he assaulted Abdul and asked questions? He was
telepathic, after all: why hadn't he simply read Abdul's mind?

She felt a
sudden wave of relief. Perhaps the man who beat him up had nothing to
do with the laser killings.

Perhaps Abdul
would be glad to see her.

She approached
the door on the right and eased it open timorously, peering in at the
beds.

Only one of the
four beds on the small ward was occupied, but Pham did not recognise
the boy stretched out on the white sheets, his legs encased in silver
machines. His face was bruised and swollen, his eyes closed.

Pham felt tears
stung her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. She backhanded them away
and stepped towards the bed.

Abdul heard her
and opened his eyes.

"'Pham!"
he said in a small voice. "You shouldn't... you're in danger!"

Pham ran forward
and gripped the boy's right hand. "Abdul. I'm sorry!"

He grinned, and
despite the bruises that made him look like a different person, she
recognised him from the grin. "Not your fault. I took you to the
amusement park, after all."

She smiled
through her tears. "What happened?"

"Yesterday,
Dr Rao came to me in the spaceship. He said someone was looking for
you—he said that this person would be looking for me, also."

Pham opened her
eyes wide. "The laser killer," she said m a small voice.

"Ah-cha.
Anyway, Dr Rao gave me a small metal disc. He called it a
mind-shield. He said I should keep it on me at all times, and that it
would stop a telepath from reading my mind—stop a telepath from
reading where you might be."

"But what
happened?"

Abdul shrugged,
smiling sadly. "He found me. He must have read other kids'
minds, and found out where I was. Last night, I was begging near the
spaceport when I saw this guy... The way he was looking at me. I knew
something was wrong. So I ran."

"But the
killer caught you, ah-cha?"

"But I
almost got away! I ran across the Pindi Bridge, but he chased me and
kicked me. I fell off the bridge, breaking my legs. Even then, Pham,
I tried to get away."

Pham reached out
and squeezed his hand, tears dribbling down her cheeks.

"The
killer, he jumped down and kicked me, then searched for the
mind-shield and threw it away. He was evil. He said he was going to
kill you."

Pham just shook
her head, fear like a fist gripping her heart.

"Then he
read everything, Pham. He read what we did that night in Kandalay
amusement park, what we saw, where you were planning to spend the
night."

Pham nodded. "He
nearly found me in Ketsuwan Park. I ran before he could shoot!"

"He saw
you, and didn't shoot?"

Pham nodded.
"Ah-cha. He ran after me, called my name."

Abdul frowned,
then winced as the gesture pained him. "But he told me he was
going to kill you... Why did he call your name, when he could've
simply lasered you dead?" He thought about it. "What did
this guy look like?"

Pham considered.
"Tall, dark haired. He needed a shave. He was wearing a leather
jacket."

Abdul was
smiling. "That wasn't the killer," he said. "That was
Vaughan, the detective. Dr Rao said he's a good man. He's trying to
find the killer, so he needs to question you. He was at Nazruddin's a
couple of days ago, with Dr Rao. Vaughan questioned me, asked all
about you." Abdul squeezed her fingers. "But you're in
danger, Pham. What if the killer is watching the hospital?"

Pham felt a cold
hand grip her spine. She shook her head, wordlessly. "Okay, I
should go."

"Don't go
back to Ketsuwan Park!" Abdul warned. "Keep away from
Chandi Road and everywhere else you've been lately!"

Pham smiled. "Do
I look like a complete idiot? I haven't been back to Ketsuwan Park
since Vaughan saw at"

They sat in
silence for a time. Abdul smiled bravely. and indicated the machines
on his legs. "Expensive healers," he said proudly. "Dr
Rao is paying for it all. He is a good man, Dr Rao."

Pham thought
about the last time she had seen Abdul, on the spaceship with Dr Rao.
She said, "I'm sorry I ran away the other day. I didn't want to
stay on the ship. Something about it, about Dr Rao..."

Abdul reached up
and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. "It's okay, I
understand."

In a any voice,
she asked, "Abdul, how did you lose your arm? Tell me,
honestly?"

He smiled, and
said, "Dr Rao removed it so that 1 could make a living, begging
on the streets. Don't hate Dr Rao, Pham. I agreed to the operation. I
wanted it to happen."

Pham nodded
silently, too overwhelmed by the course of events to criticise an
action she had no way of comprehending.

Abdul said, "You
aren't safe here, Pham. You should go."

"I'll see
you again."

"Don't come
back here. I'll find you, ah-cha?"

"I'll be—"

"Shh! Don't
tell me. If the telepath comes back and reads me..."

Pham shook her
head. "I
am
a complete idiot!" A thought occurred to
her. "If this Vaughan man is good, and trying to find the
killer, I should try to find him and tell him everything I know."
Tell him, she thought, about the voice called Khar in her head.

Abdul nodded.
"Perhaps that would be best."

"But how
would I find him?"

Abdul thought
about it, then said, "Dr Rao will know where Vaughan lives. I'll
give you Dr Rao's com number, ah-cha?"

She found a pen
and some paper in her backpack and wrote down Dr Rao's number.

She stood and
smiled at Abdul, then leaned forward and kissed his face, attempting
to find an area that wasn't bruised and swollen.

She hurried from
the hospital, half expecting the killer to emerge and laser her down.
She ran along the street, found a com kiosk and hauled open the door.

She had
difficulty reaching the receiver, and then entering the code, but at
last she heard the dial tone purring in the handset.

It seemed an age
before an impatient voice snapped, "Yes, who is it? This is my
private line and I am a very busy man."

"Dr Rao,
you've got to help me. This is Pham. I met you the other day."

"Pham?"
he said, uncertain. Then: "Kali strike me dead! Pham, the
epicentre of the typhoon of chaos and destruction!"

"Dr Rao,
you must help me. I need to find a man called Vaughan. He is a
detective. He is working on the case of the laser killer."

"Vaughan is
attempting to locate you," Rao said. "Where are you, girl?"

"I'm in the
street near the hospital."

"Where
exactly, girl?"

She looked up
and down the street, saw a sign, and said, "I am on the corner
of Tagore Street—"

"One
moment, please. Hold the line and I will attempt to locate Vaughan
and tell him where you are."

"Ah-cha!"
Pham said, relief sweeping through her. She fed another ten baht note
into the phone-machine and waited what seemed like five minutes while
Dr Rao tried to contact the detective.