The Goddess Legacy

Chapter 21

Allie and Drake neared the building that housed the magazine, a three-story structure painted Day-Glo orange, the bottom floor retail shops, with offices above. They’d agreed to split up, leaving Spencer to research the satellite imagery and mosaic at the café after buying a cheap cell phone next door. The owner of the shop had activated the device without seeing any identification, handing it to Allie after she promised to return with her passport later.

After another harrowing rickshaw ride across town to a seedy neighborhood on the east side of New Delhi, they found themselves in a crowded street, a small river of muddy fluid coursing down the center. The pedestrians moved slowly due to the heat, colorful umbrellas bobbing above heads to provide the slim relief of portable shade.

“What do you think?” Drake asked as they eyed the building.

“I’ll go in and you wait out here.”

“Why don’t we do this together?”

“A lone woman will be far less threatening than a couple.”

“It’s not like we’re going to rob the place.”

“Just let me do this my way.”

Drake parked himself in a shop across the street as Allie made her way to the building entry. An ancient doorman seated on a barstool just outside waved her through without question. Allie glanced around once inside and spotted a directory to her right, with the magazine offices identified as being on the third floor.

She mounted the stairs, the air stifling in the enclosed area, and exhaled in relief when she reached the third landing. The magazine had the entire level, and Allie paused at the door, the publication’s stenciled name partially peeled off, the paint in desperate need of repair.

Allie approached a heavyset woman seated behind a reception desk that, like the offices, had seen better days. After a brief discussion, the woman called the assistant managing director. Allie took a seat on a stained sofa and surveyed the large room, counting seven workers, all female, typing away furiously on computers, half of them wearing telephone headsets.

Ten minutes later a short man with all of ten strands of hair combed over a shining pate emerged from an office at the rear of the area and walked to the reception desk with the air of a man at home in his fiefdom. Allie stood, and his eyes roved over her before gracing her with a lupine grin. He offered his hand and she shook it, ignoring how his fingers lingered uncomfortably long on hers.

“Vikram Pradhan, at your service,” he announced. “Come back to my office. May I offer you a refreshment?” he said, his voice a musical purr.

“No, thank you,” Allie said as she followed him to his door.

“Well, then, how may I help you, Miss…?” he asked as she stepped inside the office. “Please,” he said, indicating one of two chairs in front of his desk, which was stacked high with folders. A standing fan blew a stream of warm air from the open window, and Allie sat in the closest while Pradhan rounded his desk and took a seat.

“Allie,” she said, smiling shyly at him. “I have a bitcoin address of someone I desperately need to contact. He’s sent a number of payments to your magazine. I’m hoping you have his contact information.”

The Indian’s expression hardened, any trace of friendliness gone. “I’m afraid that our advertiser information is most strictly confidential. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

Allie opened her purse and removed a tissue, pausing long enough for Pradhan to get a good look at the wad of hundred-dollar bills in it. Just in case he’d missed the point, she set the bag, open, on his desk, and sat forward. “I would be extremely grateful if you could make an exception,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to him, the public key written across it.

Pradhan’s eyes darted to the side, and then he gave her a sad smile. “I’m really very sorry, young lady, but our rules are our rules. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you. I’d suggest you look elsewhere. I’m in a bit of a rush to finish up my errands before I have lunch at the restaurant across the street. I hate to be late. Every day, same time.” He eyed his watch. “Oh, in twenty minutes.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a shame you can’t bend the rules.”

“I would lose my job. I hope you understand — I am not of sufficient means to risk that.”

“Of course. Well, thank you for your time,” Allie said, rising.

Pradhan palmed the note and stood. “I trust you can find your own way out.”

“Yes. Enjoy your lunch,” she said, holding his stare.

“Oh, I most sincerely hope I do.”

Allie retraced her steps downstairs and reported on her meeting to Drake. They agreed that he would continue loitering nearby, and she crossed the street and entered the restaurant. The hostess seated her near the rear, at her request, and she busied herself on her phone while she waited.

Pradhan appeared right on time and slid into the booth across from her. “This is most unusual,” he began, and then seemed to run out of steam.

“Yes, but these are strange times. As I said, I’d be extremely grateful for any help you can offer.”

“How would that gratitude express itself?”

“I’d think five hundred dollars would be a reasonable token of my appreciation.”

“A thousand would be more in line with the risk involved, should I be caught.”

Allie knew that was probably double what the man earned per month, but she was uninterested in fighting too hard.

“It is a princely sum, but perhaps, depending on the information you shared, reasonable.”

“I must use the restroom. I will be back in a moment,” he said, and when he departed, her note was on the table, folded neatly in half. She opened it and read a name and telephone number, as well as a street address. She slipped it into her purse and surreptitiously counted ten hundred-dollar bills, which she folded into a small wedge.

Pradhan returned and sat down. Allie stood and placed her napkin on the table, and slid the money beneath it. “I’m sorry. I just got a call. I’m afraid I need to run,” she said.

The little man nodded sagely, his eyes on the napkin. Allie made her way to the entrance, Pradhan’s eyes burning holes through her back, and pulled it open, smiling in triumph. Drake was beside her in moments.

“I got it,” she said. “Phone and address. Name’s Gafur Singh.”

“Wonder why Carson didn’t have his information?”

“He could have. We never got a chance to look at his phone contacts.”

“Going to give ol’ Gafur a call?”

“Let’s pick up another phone. Call me paranoid, but I don’t want to use mine.”

“I’d say with a beheading and a manhunt in progress for Spencer, you can’t be paranoid enough.”

“Don’t forget that at some point it’s inevitable they’ll be after you.”

Drake frowned. “That hasn’t escaped me.”

They repeated their phone purchase with the same result — the merchant happily selling them one without identification, accepting their promise to return when they had their passports. Allie called Singh’s phone number, but it went straight to voice mail. She waited for the tone and left a message.

“Hello. I’m calling to let you know that the remainder of the fee is ready. Please call me as soon as possible so we can conclude the transaction.” She recited her new phone number and hung up. “No answer,” she said.

“Want to go by his place or stop in to see the professor first?”

She tapped an address into her phone and peered at the display. “Looks like he’s only a mile away, maybe less. The university’s farther. Let’s get a ride and check out Singh’s first and then hit the professor.”

“How much did it wind up costing?” Drake asked as they waved at a taxi.

“I’ll put it on your tab.”

“That much?”

“If it gets us out of this mess, it was a bargain at ten times the price.”