solid to work with. See that suitable reproductions are distributed to all media as well as being put out on the street. Unless she is Muslim or a pretend Muslim and goes about veiled, sooner or later someone is bound to recognize and report her. Given that she's been seen unveiled by at least two witnesses, that may not even be a concern.'
'Yes sir.' The tech turned to go.
'Oh, and Mr. Subrata? My compliments to you and your associates downstairs. Very good work. With luck and continued persistence, hopefully we can take this person and her associates, should she have any, into custody before she can kill again.'
'That is the hope of myself and my colleagues as well, sir.' Subrata let himself out.
For the first time in weeks, a tiny bit of the gloom that had hovered over the chief inspector's every working day lifted. They had, at last, a plausible description of the possible killer-or at least someone who could be a link to the actual killer. It seemed too far-fetched for coincidence to expect that a museum guard and a hotel bartender had seen the same woman in the company of three unreleated people just prior to their untimely deaths.
Maintained by his desk, the representation continued to hang in the air before him. The impassive face was that of a still young woman, attractive without being striking. It could not show what lay within, what drove someone like this to commit or conspire to commit multiple murders. Though it was difficult to tell just from a computer-generated image, the visage hovering before him did not have the aspect of the criminally insane. All the more dangerous, then, for not being
Privately, he was ashamed to admit he was relieved that the first solid lead they had obtained on the serial killer strongly suggested that she was not Indian. It distressed him to think that he could be so provincial.
*11*
There was no question about it. The man he had been trailing had picked up on the tail, broken into a near run, and taken an unexpected detour, seemingly all at the same time. In the gathering darkness and following from behind, Chal could not be positive it was the person he had been charged with finding: Taneer Buthlahee, missing scientist and absent employee of the very anxious and very nervous multinational concern to which his immediate employer Nayari-sahib kowtowed on a daily basis.
Though not familiar with the surroundings through which he now ran, Chal Schneemann recognized that both he and his quarry had entered and were moving steadily deeper into a part of the city for which the description 'unsavory' would have been a marked understatement. The absence of nighttime pedestrian traffic, of open shops and stores, of virtually anything in the way of vehicular traffic either private or municipal, active or furtive, was sufficient to verify his initial hasty impressions. He was not afraid to enter such an area. In the course of his sin gular career he had found himself forced to operate in far more threatening surroundings. But it did not make his task any easier.
How far should he go in his pursuit of the well-dressed younger man he had been stalking? The information he had received that had led him to track the individual in question had been suggestive rather than positive. Wait at such and such a corner and you might see the man you're looking for, he had been told. He had waited, in the heat and crush, ignoring nattering tourists in their garish, unsuitable clothes, watching and hoping.
Only one person all day seemed to fit the physical profile of the absent researcher. Making a choice, he had abandoned the corner to follow that individual. Just because the man had broken and fled still did not mean it was Buthlahee. Anyone persuaded that they were being followed by a stranger might respond in such a manner. Chal knew he could not be certain until he confronted the man directly and made a positive identification, either by shaking it out of his quarry or passing the hand scanner resting in his inside shirt pocket over the man's face.
Of more concern right now was just finding him again. Did he know his way around this bleak, blasted neighborhood? If so, he might be hard to track down. The challenge invigorated Chal. An active hunt was always more stimulating than pumping contacts for information or sweating through a stakeout. There would be no killing at the end of this one, of course, but though muted, the thrill of the chase was still there.
His quarry had bolted down a certain street. Chal would go another way. In the darkness and unfamiliar surroundings, his choice amounted to little more than an educated guess. But it was a guess based on the same decades of experience that kept him alive. Breaking into a run, he lengthened his stride. He could run like this all night. He expected to run like this for not more than a few minutes.
His heart pounding so hard it threatened to punch its way out of his chest, Taneer skidded around a corner, nearly stumbling over a pack of dogs that was sleeping on the sidewalk. Several of the mangy, four-legged ratbags stirred despondently as he leaped over them, but none had the energy to spare to give chase, or even to bark. But when the howling throng of hungry women appeared, the dogs rose and scat tered as if a live grenade had landed in their midst. Undernourished as they were, the women would have fallen upon the unfortunate mon grels and butchered any they could have caught.
Scientist and dogs fled in different directions, the latter making much better time even though they were not nearly as well fed as the man. As he ran, dodging debris, clumps of feces, and piles of uncollected street trash, Taneer regretted having devoted so much of his youth to intellectual pursuits and so little to cricket or soccer. Without having measurably increased the distance between himself and his rabid pursuers, he was already panting heavily. He had the calories to burn, but the Admikhana had staying power-and inspiration in the form of starving children. They would catch him, and he would be chopped up and turned piecemeal into mother's milk. Like any good resident of the city he had always been in favor of recycling-but not where it involved him quite so intimately.
What part would they start with first? he found himself wondering as terror gave a boost to his legs. Or would they be as indiscriminate in their butchery as in their taste? It was not a heartening line of thought.
As desperate as they were for protein, they couldn't have much in the way of energy reserves. Nonathlete though he was, if he just kept his head-and his balance-he might yet outrun them. Or encounter a lonely police cruiser, or a city bus, or even a couple of sanitation workers. Cornering, killing, and quartering a lone pedestrian was one thing, but the presence of witnesses might be enough to dissuade them.
Despite his fervent prayers, the way ahead remained empty. Word the Admikhana were on the hunt had, through some unfathomable street gossip osmosis, managed to precede him. Dark, tapering alleys beckoned on both sides of the increasingly narrow street, but they reminded him too much of gaping serpentine gullets for him to
chance seeking sanctuary in any of them. And if he elected to dart into one, and chose wrong, he might quickly find himself cornered in a place where no one would even be able to hear him scream.
Lights. He needed lights, and people, and activity. He needed to cast himself into the protective maelstrom of energy that was city nightlife.
Instead, he rounded one more corner only to run into another man.
The impact shook him twice: physically, from the unexpected bodily contact, and mentally, because as he staggered backward from the collision he recognized the shape he had run into as the man who had been pursuing him and who had caused him to stumble wildly into this insane part of the city in the first place.
What was worse, much worse, was that the man recognized
'Taneer Buthlahee.' Though the voice was oddly calm, as if reciting one name lifted from a long invisible list, there was no mistaking the satisfaction that underlay the tone. 'I've been looking for you for quite a while. It's been an expensive and often frustrating search. But now it's over.' A long, lean arm reached for the scientist. Without thought or hesitation, Taneer slapped it away. Always a mild sort, for him such a reaction bordered on the extreme. The explanation was that the response had been entirely instinctive.
A slim specter velcroed to the night, the taller man frowned. 'Don't be difficult, now. I'm supposed to return you intact-or at least, coherent. I don't want to hurt you.'
When he advanced a second time, his movements were a blur, and not just because they were masked by darkness. The man's other hand grabbed Taneer by the collar of his shirt before he could duck and spun him around. Though slender, the arm that slipped up to lock in place under his chin and across his neck was immovable. Reaching up with both hands, a struggling Taneer was unable to dislodge it. His fingers dragged futilely across flesh that was rippled with veins that bulged like tree roots. He might as well have been trying to untangle himself from
