him. Horrific servants of a noble purpose, they began to spread out, to cut off any possible retreat. Before that could happen, he turned and bolted into the night.
Upraised dirks and dirty kitchen knives flashing, hems of silk and cotton rising and flapping about their legs like the wings of ascending bats, the Admikhana broke into a run behind him. The piercing ululation that rose from their throats as if from a chorus of stoned banshees was bloodthirsty in every sense of the word, and not merely a metaphor.
*9*
Getting around the hotel was no more difficult than entering it. All one had to do, Jena reflected, was dress appropriately and act as if you owned the place. Here, her sun-darkened skin was assumed to be the product of long hours spent whiling away the afternoons at luxurious beach resorts, instead of simply surviving from day to day beneath the burning tropical heat like everyone else in Sagramanda.
She had discarded her modified sari in favor of an outfit that would not have drawn a frown in Montmarte or Lyon, or for that matter New York or Zurich. Handsome photophobic skirt and blouse, credible shoes, long narrow shoulder bag, passable fake pearl necklace and ear rings comprised the kind of elegant yet casual travel gear any sensible European woman would choose to wear during a visit to India. The tall, traditionally uniformed, magnificently mustachioed Bengali doorman was quick to offer the usual salute and open the heavy glass door for her without asking to see any kind of identification.
Striding through the open, multistory lobby, she kept her gaze for ward and purposeful. She was not attractive enough to draw lengthy stares. Not in this five-star hotel, a favorite of visiting film stars and other notables. The indifference suited her purposes perfectly. Though she acted as if she owned the place, she had never been here before. It was important, when she was in a hotel mood, never to visit any hotel more than once. In a city the size of Sagramanda, that was not a problem.
High overhead, virtuals of scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata played out silently on the slightly concave ceiling. Glancing up, she caught a glimpse of Hanuman the Monkey God triumphing over the demon-king Ravana, as he did every hour on the hour. It was an impressive display, made all the more so by the fact that she couldn't spot the projectors.
The mongoose that confronted her stood up on its hind legs and inquired politely if there was anything she needed. It was a deft mechanical, and a clever change from the usual miniature elephant. Hotels of this class were always looking for any edge over the competition. Indicating that she was fine, she thanked the device and found her way out back.
The poolside bar was comfortably cool thanks to the invisible air curtain that kept the outdoor facility at half the chill of the main lobby. Choosing a chair by one of the small, elevated, mushroom-shaped tables, she ordered a drink and settled down to study the pool itself. It was a trilevel job, the two upper levels connected to the lower by transparent waterslides and waterfalls. Both of the upper pools were fashioned of transparent acrylic, so that swimmers could look out at the world beyond while those seated nearby or swimming in the main pool below could watch the upper-level swimmers cavort. Rainforest vegetation abounded, giving the setting the appearance of some movie-set jungle paradise. Miniature versions of the air screen that sealed off the bar area ensured that the vegetation was not doused with lethally chlorinated pool water.
That portion of the pool area not facing the hotel was enclosed by a two-story-high fence topped with electrified wire and a silent laser alarm beam. On the other side of the fence was a service alley that was the some time home of perhaps a thousand people. Clapboard lean-tos and empty shipping boxes served as shelters for those who had taken up residence in the narrow lane; at least, they did so until a particularly wide delivery truck or utilities vehicle needed to make use of the passage. Then people would scatter frantically in all directions as their transitory residences were smashed to pieces or crushed flat, whereupon they would wordlessly set themselves to the laborious task of rebuilding them anew. Occasion ally a ripe coconut, or mango, or papaya would fall into the alley from one of the branches of the decorative landscaping that overhung the security wall, whereupon a small war over its possession would ensue.
The residents of the hotel, of course, never had any contact with the residents of the alley, and the hotel's indomitable security staff ensured it stayed that way.
None of the alley's citizens would have dreamed, or had the means, to bluff their way inside the hotel. For Jena it was easy. Any decently dressed European, especially a single woman, who entered the hotel was assumed either to be staying there, or visiting a guest, or meeting someone on business. It could be said that the latter was the case for her. It was just that she had not yet chosen someone to meet.
She sat for an hour; nursing her drink, then another. Watching, waiting, appraising, calculating. A middle- aged Italian couple sat down at the table next to her and exchanged polite greetings in broken English. She chatted with them while they ordered, waited until a plate of satay arrived at their mushroom table, watched as the individual thermotropic skewers cooked the chunks of pork and chicken from within, did not bother them as they ate, and decided against asking to see their room so she could compare it with her own. Despite his age, the man was a bit too big, a shade too physically competent-looking. Jena did not buy trouble. The couple departed smiling, utterly unaware how near they had come to participating in an after noon of sudden death and dismemberment.
Eyes narrowing only slightly, she picked up her drink and walked over to another table.
'Hi. Mind if I join you? I hate drinking alone, and it doesn't look like the person I was supposed to meet here is going to show up.'
She guessed the other woman to be about her own age, perhaps a year or two younger. With the Chinese it was sometimes difficult to tell. The woman wore an expensive sun-repellent wrap around a form-fitting swimsuit. Her black hair was cut short and fashionable. The only jewelry she wore was a single earring, so long that its tip brushed her clavicle. A waterfall of color played through it, controlled by the internal chip.
After studying Jena's face, the woman gestured courteously at an empty seat. 'Why not?' Her English was excellent, and no surprise.
'I am Marie-Louise.' Jean extended a hand, shook the other woman's. The grip was firm but not overbearing. 'From French Guiana.'
That piqued the other's curiosity. 'Xinzhou Mai-ling. Everybody calls me May. French Guiana?' She eyed her visitor with obvious interest. 'I have never met a person from that place. What do you do there?' She laughed lightly as she set the drink down. The steadily fizzing contents were blue, Jena noted. 'What
'Not very much, it is true. I work for Arianaspace.'
Jena laughed. Rapport had been established. 'Nothing so exciting. I'm a technician. I am here for a conference.' She did not say what kind of conference. Nor would she, unless she was pressed to elucidate, in which case she would have to elaborate further on things she had read on the Net while constructing her current cover.
Fortunately, May Xinzhou was not particularly interested in the details of her new European friend's profession. She was much more interested in the Frenchwoman herself. She was an executive for a major white goods manufacturer in Guangdong and was in Sagramanda exploring wholesaling possibilities. Jena could not help her there, but she could help relieve the ennui the other woman anticipated having to deal with until her next appointment, which was not until tomorrow morning.
'These Indians,' she confided well into her fourth drink, 'the men they are always so very surprised when they find out there is such a thing as female Chinese executive. Some of them cannot deal with it. Those who only want to talk figures and look at fiscal projections are no problem.' She giggled. 'You are staying here too?'
'Of course,' Jena lied effortlessly as she sipped. 'I'm trying to find a way to relax myself.' She raised a hand and pointed to the far side of the pool where a dark stairway could be seen leading downward. 'I understand this hotel has an excellent Ayurvedic facility. If you want, we could continue this conversation while really taking it easy.'
