day bring his own family here for a visit. Chakra and the children would love it, from the automated ser vants of Hanuman the Monkey-God, who were shown working on the bridge, to the soaring virtuals of Ravan's demons, who strove futilely to harry them in their efforts.
Inside the walls, constructed to resemble Sugriva's fabled city of Kishkindha, sound competed with light for the attention of the park's visitors. People flocked to eat dinner at one of the park's many restaurants or the stalls that served specialties from all over India. Wide-eyed children clung with one hand to parents and with the other to souvenirs like the internally illuminated balloons in the shape of heroes from the Ramayana story. Shops sold everything from figures of the epic's many characters to replicas of Maricha's deer and Hanuman's asoka flowers. 'Reproductions' of Sita's jewelry were especially popular among young girls, while boys favored miniatures of Rama's bow and arrows or the sandals he had given to Bharat.
Never having been to the park before, Sanjay found it difficult to concentrate on the work at hand. He was here on business, serious busi ness, and not for relaxation. Still, it was hard not to be seduced by the glitter and glow of the many rides and attractions on offer. He was particularly drawn to the opportunity to participate in an enormous enclosed ride where for ten minutes at a time, fifty individuals could reenact the great battle in the sky between Rama in his chariot and the evil Ravan in his sky-carriage. Rama's arrows and Ravan's darts were all virtual, of course, but that did nothing to mute the genuine excitement. A place like this, he reflected, could make one feel like a child again.
A check of his chronometer indicated that he was already running a little late. Too late, and his client Mr. Mohan might grow nervous and leave. That would not be good for their always-tenuous relation ship. Sanjay tried to walk faster, but the press of bodies around him made it difficult. In such packed surroundings, he could not run. The consequences of running over some distracted child would slow him down even more.
Passing the opportunity to take Sumantra's chariot ride or win prizes by finding the jewel in the lock of Sita's hair, he worked his way through the multitude until he found himself walking past two opposing rows of park games that harkened back to a simpler, less technologically advanced era. In another time and place, they would have been called carny games. Step right up, folks, and try your skills here! Win cheap prizes! These consisted primarily of overlarge, inexpensively produced stuffed animals and Ramayana figures or wildly blinking low-priced electronics imported from the low-labor factories of China or the SADC.
He passed on the stentorian blandishments of a human hawker who urged him to try his luck at throwing the healing herbs of Hanuman at the foul poisons of Indrajit as he searched for the venue specified by his client. It was located at the end of the aisle, on the left. There, people paid to shoot at Varan's Raksha warriors with virtual arrows shot from real bows. Imbued with individual internal programming and the appropriate electronics, the bows responded to aim and strength of pull and 'fired' accordingly at virtual targets that swooped and darted in three dimensions at the rear of the high-tech booth. When a Raksha was hit, it perished in an explosion of light and color garish enough to satisfy the most demanding twelve-year-old-or his excited father.
As Sanjay approached, there were only three people utilizing the booth's facilities: a frowning teenager of about fourteen who was rap idly exhausting the credit on his park card, and a young couple. The shopkeeper recognized his client immediately. When the figure with him turned slightly, Sanjay found himself taken aback by her attractiveness. Though the capacious sari she wore concealed any hint of curves (deliberately, perhaps?), he felt confident that the beauty he saw in her face must surely be duplicated all the way to the toes of her sandal-clad feet. There was something else about her he could not quite put a finger on, however. A suggestion of hardness, perhaps. This was a flower that would not surrender its petals easily.
Taneer finished firing his bow. He'd been at it for a while now, too preoccupied to pay much attention to what he was doing, more interested in conveying the appearance of an average park-goer. Even so, he was irritated at his lack of success. He had been brought up not to lose at anything, and even the meaningless diversion of the game threatened to distract him from his purpose in coming here. Recognizing the expression on his face, Depahli was amused at his inability to win a prize neither of them wanted. They were here to put the final touches on acquiring a real prize.
She had to touch him on the shoulder and turn him slightly to face the quiet gentleman who had come up behind them and stood waiting patiently for Taneer to finish with the game.
'Sanjay, my friend.' Gesturing, Taneer led the shopkeeper away from the booth and deeper into the park.
'Mr. Mohan,' Sanjay replied courteously.
Depahli looked at him in such a way that the scientist felt moved to take a step forward, in the direction of trust. 'Events have progressed to the point where I think you might as well know my real name, Sanjay. If things don't go as we hope, you might need to know it to facilitate alternatives. My name is Taneer Buthlahee.' As they walked on, he introduced the exquisite woman at his side. 'This is my fiancee, Depahli De.'
Steepling his palms together, Sanjay bowed slightly in her direc tion. 'I am both honored and charmed, though if you will permit me, I must confess that I am more charmed than honored.'
Depahli laughed. It was a bold, forthright expression of delight without a hint of fragility about it. 'A pleasure to meet you, too, Sanjay.' Her tone turned playful and she squeezed her consort's arm. 'Has dear Taneer promised to make you rich also?'
The scientist just shook his head. One could only restrain Depahli so far, and then stand back while she said whatever was on her mind.
'We have a most equitable business arrangement, yes,' Sanjay told her, smiling.
A trio of young girls rushed past. Dressed in colortropic pants that shifted hues to match their emotions and Western-style blouses puffed at the sleeves in the current style, they carried self-icing drink cups that, thanks to their electrostatically charged rims, kept the contents from sloshing out as the girls ran. They were giggling and smirking, bubbling over with adolescent feminine secrets that were important only to them. As a proper father, Sanjay wondered what they had been up to. Black entwined ponytails swaying, the tallest girl wore one of the new vest tops that was open vertically all the way to her waist. Opposing magnetized hems were all that kept it from flopping open with each step. Reflexive disapproval caused him to shake his head. Who could fathom the fashions of today's teenagers?
'Something wrong, Sanjay?' No longer ever completely at ease since his encounter with the lanky tracker, an edgy Taneer tried to scan the crowd without making himself conspicuous.
'No, Mr. Moh… Mr. Buthlahee. Everything is fine. I was not followed on my way here, and I assume the same is true for you.' He smiled and nodded reassuringly at Depahli, whose return smile of gratitude was by itself enough to make a man momentarily forget his wife. Removing his communicator from a pocket, he raised it to his mouth.
'Whenever you are ready I will open the necessary connection on my secure line, and you can give the final instructions to the person who has been designated as spokesperson for the purchasing company. I was informed by our mutual contact that this person will be acting as the sole representative for the remainder of the sale.'
Taneer nodded, searched the crowd again. He was looking particularly for a tall, lean individual with European as well as Indian features. Though several visiting European families were present, he saw no one resembling the man who had nearly run him to ground. Con tent and happy, enjoying their night at the park, innocent people eddied around the trio.
The plaza they emerged onto was busy, bright, and noisy, crowded with families resting from their exertions. Designed to resemble the courtyard of the ancient palace of Ayodhya, the slightly raised platform was one of several such meeting places within the park complex. Auto mated snack vendors kicked out floating virtuals praising the attractions of their ice cream, samosas, sandesh, rosogulla, the almost impossibly sweet gulab jamun, and other treats. Larger stalls offered every kind of fast food, from vegetarian to hamburgers, shashlik to satay. Open space, and a family crowd that was talkative without being deafening: it was exactly what
Taneer wanted for a setting in which to con duct the forthcoming critical conversation.
Turning a slow circle, he took a last, wary glance around before nodding at his middleman. 'Go ahead, Sanjay.'
Bringing out his communicator, the shopkeeper entered a number. It connected him with a special autodialer that then made the secondary connection. This ensured that even if the communication was somehow intercepted, it could not be traced back to its point of origin. The Rat had turned him on to it, and Sanjay had found it very useful when dealing with suppliers of inventory of the nontrinket kind.
By mutual agreement, visual as well as audio links were activated. It was conceded that knowing what
