in the ways of the world. Yet he had thrown away everything, everything-future, family, honor-for this Untouchable woman. Perhaps hypnotism was involved, though Anil was not sure he believed in that. Considering himself a modern man, he did not lend much countenance to sorcery, either. Drugs seemed more likely. Had this mercenary whore turned his son into some kind of addict? When they had last spoken, and argued, Taneer had been angry. But he had not sounded drugged.
Could it just be natural attraction, then? Or rather, unnatural attraction. Could she be that beautiful, that seductive? Trying to imagine himself lying with an outcaste girl, he shuddered. It nearly put him off his lunch. He found himself eyeing other women on the street; some in Western dress, some in saris, others in the amalgamation attire that had recently become popular.
Get a hold of yourself, he thought firmly. You have a good wife, and other children. You are not here on holiday. Resolutely, he refocused his gaze on both the task and the street ahead. An overloaded donkey treading a fine line between sidewalk and motorized traffic was complaining about its load of electronic components. Past and future, Anil ruminated as he eyed the ancient beast of burden. Then the donkey let loose a flood of urine, and the determinedly homicidal busi nessman from Puri had to sidestep like an odissi dancer to avoid having his shoes drenched.
*5*
Sanjay could hardly believe his luck. First, he had escaped the unexpected late monsoon downpour simply by being aboard the transfer bus when the storm had struck. Then, it had let up just long enough for a silent electric transport to disgorge its load of tourists in front of the long line of shops of which his was one. When the intermittent storm had returned with full force the steaming, soaking gray downpour had driven the ill-prepared visitors into the shops, whose proprietors waited to greet them with open arms, wide smiles, hot tea, and hastily inflated prices.
Sanjay made out as well as any of his neighbor merchants. With so much tourist largesse to spread around, there was none of the occasional acrimony that bubbled up when one lucky shopkeeper succeeded in monopolizing the clientele. Not for the first time, Sanjay thought he should add some T-shirts to his inventory. It took a lot of space to display them properly, but the profit margin was substantial.
It was while he was contemplating this potential expansion of his stock that a local gentleman entered. Sanjay sized him up swiftly. About his own age, the visitor was dressed modestly but was exceedingly well groomed. It was almost as if he was deliberately dressing down. For what reason someone might do this, Sanjay could not imagine. In contemporary India, the style was to flaunt it if you had it. Sanjay himself had no compunctions about showing off his fine wrist communicator or designer running shoes. Perhaps this gentleman's better clothes were all with his laundry-wallah.
Though he pretended to inspect the shop's offerings, it was clear from the moment the man entered that he was no tourist. Feigning disinterest, Sanjay missed nothing as he followed the visitor's movements. Occasionally he would find himself diverted to attend to another potential customer. Interestingly, and strangely, each time someone else entered, it seemed to unsettle the man.
Shit or get off the pot, Sanjay thought, employing a favorite metaphor an American tourist lady had once explained to him in her careful English. If the man was too uneasy to approach him…
'Excuse me,' he said with a smile, 'may I help you, sir? Are you looking possibly for something in particular? For a lady, perhaps?'
Unexpectedly, the man looked alarmed. 'What makes you say that?' From his tone Sanjay could tell that this odd caller was an educated person.
'Is it such an unusual thing to ask, when a man looks at silver and amber jewelry for almost an hour without inquiring about anything?'
Sanjay had a smile that was all the more winning for being genuine, instead of manufactured like that of some of his fellow shop owners. It relaxed his edgy visitor-a little.
'No, I suppose it is not. I am not here shopping for a woman. I am, in a way, shopping for myself.' He glanced significantly at the door. 'Would it be possible for us to have some privacy?'
Sanjay hesitated only briefly. He had owned his business long enough to recognize a potential robber on sight, and this peculiar visitor was not one. The man's look, his voice, even his clothing were all wrong. Sliding his fingertips over the appropriate contacts on his gold bracelet, Sanjay locked the door, darkened the windows, and activated the shop's security bubble.
'There,' he announced when he was done. 'No one can see us; no one can hear us.' He indicated the window. 'We are safe from infrared scopes, directional microphones, and all manner of eavesdropping equipment. Is that enough privacy for you?'
Tension leached out of the man like steam from a safety valve. 'My friend was right. You are as vigilant as he claimed.'
'Please, have a seat.' Directing his guest to the chair opposite, Sanjay sat down behind his counter. Without thinking and despite his
prelimi nary appraisal of the visitor, he made sure that the safety was off on the drawer that concealed the loaded pop-up gun. 'What friend was that?'
'No need to bring his name into this.' Taneer had to fight not to keep glancing in the direction of the door. The shop owner's assurances notwithstanding, the street, after all, was still very close. 'Or mine.'
Sanjay shrugged. Whatever game his visitor was playing, the rules would no doubt eventually be spelled out. 'As you wish. What shall I call you?'
''Mohan' will do.'
Sanjay had a quick response. 'But you're not, are you?'
It brought the first hint of a smile, which did not linger long. 'My friend told me that you have many interesting contacts on the street, and that you sometimes deal in items not usually found in tourist gift shops.' When Sanjay started to reach for the relevant hidden sample drawer, Taneer raised a hand. 'That's not what I'm interested in. I need an intermediary. An honest broker.' The intensity in his voice matched that of his stare. 'The most important thing is, my friend said you were discreet and reliable.'
'I am very much flattered, sir. I come from a small, poor village where sometimes all a man has to offer are such intangibles.' He indicated their surroundings. 'I am convinced it has helped me to get where I am today. So. I take it, then, that you are not here to buy, but that you have something you wish to sell?'
Taneer nodded.
'Can I see it?' Sanjay prompted him. 'What is it? Gold? Jewels? Pre-nineteenth-century artifacts? Please be at ease. I assure you that I can be most conveniently ambivalent where provenance is concerned.' He hesitated only momentarily. 'Drugs? Restricted pornography?'
His visitor took a deep breath. Bending over in the chair, he reached down and removed his right shoe. The heel, interestingly, rotated side ways beneath his fingers to reveal a hidden compartment from which 'Mohan' withdrew a tiny metal case. Utilizing his own control bracelet, he entered a combination that unlocked this. It contained a single molly-sphere. A small one, no bigger in diameter than the tip of Sanjay's little finger. The man handled it as if it were a flawless hot pink diamond.
'That tells me nothing.' When it came to business, Sanjay could be disarmingly direct. 'I surmise it most probably contains information you desire to sell.' His visitor nodded confirmation. 'I am sure you will tell me how and to whom you want it offered. But first you must tell me what you want for it. Your asking price.'
Taneer held out the molly. 'Before we get to that, you need to know that this is a copy. Not to insult you, but without periodic electronic reactivation by me, the information it contains will simply evaporate. So there's no point in anyone trying to take it by force. As to potential buyers, I'll give you the names of several companies with offices or representatives in the city who I think will be interested in what I am offering.
'Your task will be to find a safe and respected means of engaging them through a third party. You will act as my primary agent in this. No one else is to be involved except yourself and whoever you choose to use as your own intermediary. That way, you will be in contact with me and this other individual, while they will have contact only with you and the eventual buyer. As I will never have any dealings with this third party, they will not be able to
