concealed weapons. The doors opened as soon as he drew near enough.
Gautaum Nayari was standing by a wall staring down at Sagramanda. The wall was the window: completely transparent armor glass from floor to ceiling. When he did not immediately turn to greet his visitor, Chal contained his irritation and walked over to stand beside the executive.
'What do you see?' Nayari gestured with the home-rolled incense stick he was smoking.
Chal disliked games. In his profession, it was directness that was prized. But this was the man whose company was paying for his time. If Nayari could not buy his interest, he could at least rent his attention.
'City. People. Smog. Buildings, vehicles.' Unsmiling, he turned to his right to regard his host. 'Am I missing something?'
'Customers.'
Nayari walked away from him, toward the small shrine built into the back of the office. Designed like a stupa lying on its side, it had the general shape of a fallen helmet, with the shrine to Ganesh at its apex. Figures of Ganesh, who promised prosperity and happiness, were everywhere in India, and Chal had seen thousands of them. This one was bronze and wore a patina of considerable age, its dull golden hue burnished with sooty black, its costume inlaid with jewels. The statue was an antique, and the rose-cut stones were not imitations.
The executive took his seat. Or rather, it took him, rolling up to meet his approach and gently nudging the backs of his knees. Wafting upward from the incense stick, hints of sandalwood and nutmeg tickled Chal's nostrils.
'People today need four things,' Nayari declaimed importantly. 'Food, shelter, entertainment, and energy. The company doesn't get involved with the first two. For one thing, the profit margins are insufficient. We are very big on the last two.'
'I know,' Chal responded. 'I've read the annual report.'
Nayari's eyebrows rose slightly. They were like the man; very thick and forward. Ruffs of white hair like mislaid cat fur framed a skull that was otherwise bald from front to back, as if someone had pushed a shovel down the middle of a snowbank, leaving high drifts on both sides. The executive was quite dark-skinned, though this was not necessarily reflective of caste. His eyes were those of someone twenty years younger, as was the mind behind them. The latter had to be, for him to occupy and maintain an important position in a company of such size and reach.
'Most of the men like yourself that I have met are not big readers.'
Chal shrugged slightly. ' 'To stop learning is to start to die.' Erasmus, I believe. It's the same in any profession.' A hint of a smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. 'Before agreeing to any job, I like to know that my employer can afford my services.'
The executive let out a guffaw of approval. Or maybe it was just a surprised grunt. 'Given someone with your reputation for efficiency, I had expected to see results by now.'
'This isn't some backward mud-and-dung village in southern Tamil Nadu.' Chal's tone was curt, but not disrespectful. He could have severed this puffed-up, self-important windbag's throat before the man's finger could hit the alarm button that was no doubt built into his desk. Such actions were generally good for the soul but bad for the pocketbook. Schneemann never gave in to impulse. He continued conscientiously.
'I have sources who are devoting all their efforts to locating your missing individual. I have contacts who will inform me the instant anyone in officialdom receives information as to his whereabouts. Meanwhile, I am not waiting on them but am also pursuing specific information on my own.' Afraid that his eyes might betray his feel ings, he kept his gaze focused on the statue of Ganesh reposing in its shrine well back of the desk. The right hand of the elephant-headed god remained aloft, palm benevolently facing him.
Suddenly Nayari seemed to slump, some of the sturdy officiousness oozing out of him like accumulated gas. 'I don't mean to belabor the same points, or to in any way belittle your efforts, Mr. Schneemann, but I am under a great deal of pressure to get this issue resolved.' With a sweep of his hand he indicated his spare but elegant office. 'It may appear to you that I am a powerful man. And I do exercise a certain amount of power, especially within this country. But there are those above me who are even more concerned, more impatient, to see this awkward matter swiftly brought to a conclusion.'
Some sort of empathetic response seemed in order. 'I'm doing the best I can, Mr. Nayari.'
'I know, I know.' Despite the perfectly controlled temperature and the genetically engineered antiperspirant he wore, the executive was starting to sweat. 'Despite what the company is paying you for your current assignment, Mr. Schneemann, I am not certain you entirely understand what is at stake here.'
Chal hardly ever lost his cool. 'It might help if I had some idea what is at stake, besides 'information.' For a start, you might at least tell me which half of company interests this
Nayari looked up at him. He was not uncomfortable sitting at a lower level than his visitor. Someone occupying a less-powerful position might have been, would have stood or sought a dais on which to stand. Nayari was only frightened of real threats, not implied ones. 'I wish I could give you more details. Believe me, I wish I could. But I
Chal nodded, noting the streak of slight discoloration in the thick carpet that semicircled around the executive's desk. No wonder Nayari wasn't afraid. The discoloration almost completely masked the presence of the charged conductor woven into the carpet. It was impossible to tell whether it was presently activated or not without crossing the line. It was a test he had no intention of taking.
'Considering what you are paying me, and how everyone inside the company I have come in contact with reacts when I mention what I am doing, I didn't think it had to do with some vit star's infidelities or a stolen story script for the next big soap opera. I know that billions are at stake.' He spoke the word calmly, as if discussing last week's rent.
'Billions.' Nayari nodded in agreement. 'Careers. Entire companies. Not just subsidiaries. Whole companies. A significant portion of humanity's future.'
'Then why put just me in charge?' There was no sarcasm under lying Chal's question. It was an honest inquiry.
The display of personal concern that had started to overcome the executive vanished. He was once more the cool, implacable, completely collected administrator. 'Because within your idiosyncratic job description you were clearly the most trustworthy person in the company. Given what is at risk, that was deemed more important than any other considering factor. Also, it was decided that because you live outside India, you could bring an outsider's perspective to a sensitive situation.'
Translation: he could act with impunity and if caught, the com pany could more easily disown one of his singular ilk than, say, half a dozen. He was not offended by the explanation. It was no less than what he expected.
'And,' Nayari continued, not yet finished, 'you have a reputation for discretion. The last thing the company wants is to attract attention to what everyone hopes will remain an internal matter.'
Translation number two: if whatever the missing researcher Taneer Buthlahee had made off with got out onto the open market, heads would roll: perhaps literally. And one of them surely sat on the shoulders of the erstwhile powerbroker seated before him.
'I promise you, Mr. Nayari,' he replied calmly, 'that I understand the need to resolve this matter as quickly as possible. Rest assured I will do so.'
Preoccupied now, the executive nodded absently. Chal had to prompt him. 'Was there anything else, Mr. Nayari?'
'What? No, no. I don't want to hold you up any longer. I just wanted to'-he sighed-'reemphasize the importance of haste. If you come across anything to report, anything at all…' His voice was level, but his posture was pleading. Chal almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
'The instant I know anything, I promise that you'll know it too, Mr. Nayari.'
'Good. Excellent. If you need more resources…'
Translation the last: find the son of a bitch and I'll personally see to it that you receive an ample bonus on top of the already promised remuneration.
'I have access to as much as I can appropriately supervise,' Chal replied. 'Wouldn't do to spread the word too far afield. As you say, that's exactly what the company doesn't want to happen.'
'True, true,' Nayari murmured. 'Well then, I hope to hear from you soon.'
