have wooden rods.'
Blackburn looked into her dark brown eyes, and realized she was studying his own. 'That phrase you used… wayang….'
'Kulit' she said. 'Roughly translated, it means 'shadow play.' An enactment of the Hindu epics using maybe a hundred puppets, and a full orchestra. It's an ancient form of entertainment in this part of the world, and a way of keeping certain traditions alive. These days, though, Nintendo beats it hands down for popularity.'
'Same old, same old, I guess,' he said.
'Maybe so, but it's an awful shame. The puppet masters — they're called dayangs — spend years and years learning their craft. They make their puppets by hand, and provide the voices and movements of all the characters. During a show the puppets are manipulated behind a white cotton screen, with oil lamps throwing their shadows onto it — when the lighting's done right, the shadows are colored, you know. The audience is split into two groups, so that one group sees the shadow play in front of the screen, and the other sees the puppet show and musicians behind it.'
'Representing the separation between the material and the sublime, the self and the godhead,' he said. 'Worldly illusion and ultimate truth—'
'Atman and Brahman,' she said, giving him a look that was comprised of equal parts surprise and curiosity. 'I see you're familiar with Hindu philosophy.'
'The Beatles school, anyway,' he said. 'I must have worn out five copies of George Harrison's All Things Must Pass when I was in college.'
They stood there silently a moment, facing each other, their eyes still in contact. The crowd jostling around them, the pungent smell of cooking smoke thick in the sultry air.
'Fifty ringgits, twenty-five American dollars!' the vendor yelled at the top of his lungs, pushing up closer to them, obviously worried that he'd been forgotten.
Blackburn reached into his pocket for his wallet, got out two bills — a twenty and a five, U. S. currency — and payed for the puppet. The vendor gave him a little bow of thanks and briskly moved off into the crowd, leaving Blackburn holding his new acquisition with a faint look of bemusement on his face, like someone who has won a stuffed animal at a country fair shooting gallery and abruptly realizes he hasn't the slightest idea what he's going to do with it.
'Well,' the woman said. 'I'm sure the puppet will make an interesting conversation piece when you bring it to work with you. Don't see many like it in the States, I'll bet.'
Blackburn gave her a quizzical glance, not quite sure what she meant. Only a moment later did it dawn on him that she was assuming his office was in America. A natural enough mistake, considering that he was obviously American, and that he'd payed for the puppet with American money.
'Actually, my pal Ganesha here won't be leaving the peninsula in the foreseeable future,' he said. 'Guess I should properly introduce myself. My name's Max Blackburn. I work security for a company called UpLink International, and right now I'm based at our regional headquarters in—'
'Johor, isn't it?' She suddenly burst out laughing as they shook hands, putting him at a loss as to what he could have said that was so funny. She recovered briefly, but then saw that the bemused expression he'd been wearing on and off over the last several minutes was very much back in evidence, and broke up again.
Still, he noticed she hadn't let go of his hand. Which was something on the plus side, anyway.
'I'm sorry, you must think I'm awfully rude,' she said, getting control of herself at last. 'I'm Kirsten Chu, and it happens that I work for Monolith Technologies, Singapore. The Corporate Communications Division. I'm here on holiday, visiting my sister and nieces.'
Understanding spread across Blackburn's features.
'Ah-ha,' he said. 'So that explains why you're in conniptions.'
'It does indeed,' she said. 'Our employers are very much archrivals, aren't they? For the past six months I've done nothing but huddle with our lobbyists and publicists about the encryption flap, brainstorming ways to counter Roger Gordian's opposition.'
Though Blackburn would not realize it until several months later, that was the moment he had decided to use Kirsten. The exact moment. It had been a calculating, unemotional decision, entirely separate from the genuine attraction he felt toward her. And all the time they had spent together since, all the nights their bodies had been locked in passion, using her had been very much a part of it.
'Well, judging by how badly things are going for us, you're doing a helluva job.' He'd flashed an engaging smile, letting a hint of flirtatiousness slip into his voice. Calibrating both for maximum effect. 'But does being on opposite sides of a professional dispute mean we can't make friendly overtures?'
'Overtures,' she repeated.
'Right. A personal truce.'
Their eyes met.
'I suppose,' she said, 'it could be possible.'
'Then let's seal it over dinner tonight.'
'Well…'
'Please,' he said, not giving her time to answer. 'I guarantee a mutually agreeable resolution.'
She looked at him a moment longer. Smiled.
'Yes,' she said. 'I'd love to have dinner with you.'
And that was that. The beginning of an affair that had turned out to be enormously satisfying for him. Great sex, great inside information.
What more could a man desire?
Now Blackburn sat in the silence of his office, his face troubled, looking out his window at the sprawl of low, prefabricated buildings that constituted the Johor ground station, hating to think of the danger he'd put her in, refusing to let himself think about it, instead turning his mind back to the part that was real for both of them, imagining her body moving against him, joined to him, their cries of pleasure mingling in the darkness of her bedroom, going on and on into the night.
Yes, that part of it was real.
Real.
He reached for his phone, dialed her office number, waited for her secretary to connect them.
'Max?' she said, picking up a moment later. 'Did you get my messages?'
'Yeah,' he said. 'Sorry I couldn't get back to you till now. They're adding components to the alarm system, and I had to oversee the whole thing. Took me most of the morning to get the glitches smoothed out.'
Her voice became hushed. 'Guess I got a little anxious. Something's turned up, and I think it could be important. Perhaps the very thing you've been looking for.'
'You'd better not say any more right now.'
'Agreed. Even if I wasn't at the office, it would be much too sensitive to discuss over the phone.'
'Got you. We'll talk about it in person, then.'
'Will you be coming this weekend?'
'Yes,' he said.
'Such enthusiasm,' she said.
He told himself to put away the guilt.
'Just tired,' he said. 'Barring any unforseen developments, I'll be taking a lorry over the causeway tomorrow morning.'
'Bringing along your overnight bag?'
'It's been packed since yesterday,' he said.
'Not too full, I hope. Clothes won't be necessary for the weekend agenda I've planned.'
'Toothbrush and deodorant?'
'Now they're absolute requirements.' She laughed. 'I have to run, Max. Love you.'
Blackburn's eyes moved from the window to the spot where he'd hung the puppet on the wall.
Atman and Brahman, he thought. Illusion and truth.
'I love you, too,' he heard himself say.
Wondering if the words sounded as empty and mechanical over the phone as they did to his own ears.
