one of the steel cables that held up the bridges over the Hooghly. New voices filled the night. Shapes that were female but not especially feminine came barreling around the same corner he had just turned. Taneer's eyes widened at the sight of the homicidal mothers. With extreme terror shooting a burst of adrenaline through his system as forcefully as any pusher, he broke free of his captor's grasp, staggered a few steps, and took off running. Cursing in an especially crude jumble of English, Hindi, and German, Chal turned to corral his quarry, but found his attention diverted.
Never ones to discriminate in their choice of meat, the Admikhana were on him before he had taken another step.
Driven by a combination of frustration and anger at having had his objective snatched away from him, Chal Schneemann fought back. That he did not run like the other man, like most of the men they had pursued, slowed the reactions of the Admilchana somewhat. That he was well armed and clearly schooled in the use of the weapons he carried caused several of them to hesitate further. The brief delay was all a professional like himself needed.
Eyes wild with hunger and bloodlust, one woman brought her long knife around in a wide arc parallel to the street. Gauging the distance with knowledge born of long practice and too much experience, Chal simply leaned back just far enough for the blade to miss him by centimeters. In response, one hand withdrew from an inside breast pocket a small gun not much bigger than his open hand. The shot from it was as silent as it was deadly. The tiny syringet, no bigger than a small nail, struck his attacker in the neck. She looked surprised, brought the knife around for a backhand swing, swallowed hard once or twice, and collapsed as the potent neurotoxin contained in the hypod paralyzed the muscles in her upper body. Unable to breathe, much less to scream, she went down as if axed.
The gun that appeared in the tall man's other hand was larger, less subtle, and almost as fast-acting. The second-closest woman to him was knocked backward by the concussive force of the compact explosive shell that blew apart her sternum and shredded the vital organs within her chest. Unlike the silent syringet, the noise of the explosive shell shattering bone and flesh stunned most of the remaining attackers into momentary immobility. Clearly, the last thing they had expected when they had commenced their hunt of the other man was to encounter resistance in the person of a trained professional.
Only the two most desperate women continued with the assault. Unable to bring a weapon to bear properly, Chal leaped into the air, extended his right leg, spun completely around, and brought the heel of his right foot into contact with a small but ferocious woman's chin. Jawbone cracked, flesh fluttered, and eyes closed as she collapsed. The fourth attacker caught another of the explosive shells just above her left armpit. It blew off her arm.
That was enough for the surviving Admikhana. A potential death from hunger was bad, but at least it was not instantaneous, and might more easily be avoided. They retreated, leaving their broken, bleeding, and unconscious comrades behind. They could return for the meat later, when their unexpectedly adept adversary had moved on.
Hardly pausing to ensure that the fight was over, Chal crossed his hands over his chest and pocketed his weapons. A quick search of the street behind him showed no sign of the man he had almost caught. Expressionless, not even breathing hard, he broke into a steady, space-eating run that was more wolf-lope than runner's stride.
Clearly, the homicidal women had been pursuing the scientist when he had run smack into Chal. The other man's frantic terror and unexpected resistance now had an explanation. Circumstances had resulted in the professional sent to track him down ending up not only extending Buthlahee's freedom but saving his life. Even as he ran on while methodically searching every possible and potential hiding place, the irony of the encounter did not escape Chal.
Where had the elusive little shit gotten himself off to? Hitherto calm and in complete control, Schneemann began to lose his temper when he noticed that his unadorned but finely crafted shirt had suffered cuts and tears in several places. The four Admikhana had not gone down without making contact.
Now he would have to visit a tailor: how annoying.
Lights began to appear up ahead. He was emerging from the edge of the squalid zone into one occupied by lower-middle-class families and their businesses. Street vendors hawked fast snack food like pappadams with meat toppings and deep-fried pakoras. Small storefronts sold everything from cheap Chinese toys to portable electronics, while pay-as-you-go terminals offered communications access, information, and multiple entertainment downloads. While a few small utes and private cars were in evidence, vehicular traffic was dominated by the more affordable, electrically powered tri-wheeled rickshaws.
What was his quarry likely to do now? Not keep running. Their brief physical contact had been enough to tell Chal that the scientist was no athlete. He was much more likely to seek transportation than to stay on foot.
Feeling he was about due for a break, the tall tracker got one when he spotted the well-dressed shape of his target hailing an automated taxi. Breaking into a sprint, he bent low and tried to hide himself among the crowd. But the street was too well lit and he was too tall.
Spotting his pursuer approaching rapidly, a frantic Taneer had to wait for the door to open before he could throw himself inside the cab. While the automated vehicle's voice inquired politely as to where its passenger wished to go, Taneer yelped wildly, 'Security, security!'
'I have already locked the doors,' the cab assured him in calm, unthreatening, preprogrammed tones. 'Destination, please?'
Panicky, looking out the back window for signs of his pursuer, Taneer almost gave the address of the apartment complex where he lived with Depahli. Just before he spoke it, he reminded himself that he knew nothing whatsoever of any sophisticated electronics his tracker might be carrying. So instead of home he called out the first innocuous address that came to him: that of a bank in the city's commercial center. From there he would be able to take public transportation in any direction, eventually working himself by a carefully circuitous route back to the apartment. But first he had to shake the company man who had somehow tracked him down.
The taxi started off, but his relief was short-lived. Traffic control in this lower-class, largely residential district was a fraction of that maintained on the main thoroughfares. Cattle lay uncollected and unshifted along the central median, cargo rickshaws illegally piled four and five times their height and twice their width with enormous bundles blocked lanes theoretically reserved for cars and real trucks, while electric-powered Tata trolleys fought for driving space with fuel-cell-driven Ashok-Leyland trucks.
As there was no driver, he did not need to lean forward as he urgently addressed the vehicle's AI. 'Can't we go any faster? I'm already running late.'
Since the taxi utilized sophisticated electronic sensors to perceive its surroundings, the traditional forward windshield existed only to allow fares to see where they were going. The vehicle was as aware of this as its passenger.
'As you can see, sir, this is a very busy street, and I am forbidden by law and by my coding from forcing a path. I assure you that I am doing my best.'
There was nothing Taneer could do except fight down his anxiety and feed his patience. Switching to another taxi would gain him nothing. All were equipped with the same city-regulated programming. With its smaller profile, a rickshaw might make better time through the throng, but all powered rickshaws had open sides. He felt safer in the sealed, air-conditioned confines of the cab.
His choice to stay put was validated when a lean, determined figure drew up alongside the vehicle and bent low to squint inside. Taneer found the lack of any expression whatsoever on the lean, drawn visage that peered inward far more frightening than any scowl or grimace.
