The Shiva Objective

EIGHT

The shadows in the corner of his penthouse office suite shifted and Davarius Malmud froze.

Is someone there? He looked at the darkness, wishing he'd turned on more lights, but that wasn't advisable. Despite the magnificent view, he was a target and couldn't give his enemies a clean shot. He had everything else so well protected, all the various aspects of his business enterprises, but the last thing he expected was for an attack to come from right inside his very office, his very sanctum.

Then he thought about her. The hunt. He had been following it on the screens. Impressive. But there was no way she'd win.

He had chuckled at the thought. Of course it was impossible. That was the true beauty of the game. The prey needed a carrot, something to play for. But just like a deer in a gated hunting preserve, there was no escape, no survival. Only the fleeting belief in it — enough so that they wouldn't just lay down and surrender.

But then he got the report from thirty minutes ago… Some kind of explosion down there. Near the entrance. They were still trying to sort it out.

And then he saw it on the central monitor in his office… The red dot, her tracking device.

She was out. She had fled away from the Taj.

Unexpected. And devious. Again he was impressed, but this was nothing he couldn't deal with. He had already sent two squads of elite hunters after her, teams that had been outbid for this game but were itching for the next. For a reduced price, he let them in now, with a major monetary reward slated for whoever eventually bagged the kill.

But where was she going?

At first he was worried.

She couldn't get in here, not past all the guards and defenses.

But then he saw her pass the Oberoi Hotel, heading east. A few blocks later, she stopped. At some office park. He couldn't imagine what she was doing, except maybe trying to lay low. But he knew she'd be coming to him eventually. It was in her file, in her makeup. The same way she had made sure to get revenge on her captors all those years ago.

So he had ordered the hunters to come back, fortify the hotel grounds, the lobby and the elevator access.

Let her come.

And then he waited. Watching that red dot, which never moved.

Sweating now, he kept glancing out the window, then back to the shadows in the corner. His attention was pulled by the soft lights of the sprawling resort with its grand pools, fountains and gardens lit up below. And further back, the magnificent Taj, basking in its resplendent glory and mystery. Normally inspiring, now it seemed to mock him.

Then, from the shadows, a small sound that nonetheless assaulted his ears like a funeral gong.

Impossible. He looked again at the monitor — at the red dot in the same position as before. How? He didn't know, but how she did it could wait. How she got past all the hunters and into his very sanctum without his knowledge, and without making a sound, could wait.

The machine pistol in my top drawer… He thought about it, then remembered how many hunters had already fallen to this quarry. She hadn't survived this long only to lose the game to the lucky chance of who was the faster draw.

But he had no other choice. He had to try to distract her long enough to somehow come out of this alive.

— And hunt another day.

"Congratulations," he said to the shadows. "You've exceeded my hopes. But-"

The darkness parted and a much larger-than-expected figure emerged, completely taking Davarius by surprise. All at once, his hopes were crushed. And then he realized what was in that office building two blocks away. A minor detail, something he hadn't cared about at the time. The basement — where they've been keeping the children, the boy and the girl.

"You?" he whispered to the figure pulling free from the shadows.

Rakesh brought something to his lips and Davarius had a millisecond to cry out — but then the feathered dart flew across the room and plunged into his neck.

And the world faded into black.

He awoke to a revolting smell, cringing and fighting the rising tide of bile at the back of his throat.

No, no… not here. Davarius got to his knees, looking helplessly about the garbage-strewn alley, cramped between ramshackle tenements with clothes hanging on lines above him. The day was already sweltering, the air oppressive.

He looked down at himself. Nothing. He was dressed just in khakis, a t-shirt and shoes.

Nothing but the clothes on my back. And out there — a city full of shadowy hunters, waiting to see how I'll do.

I'm in my own game, he thought as he struggled to his feet. How far would he get? He knew the rules, knew the tactics of the hunters. Knew all the places to hide, to get weapons. The people to seek out. I can do this, I can-

But then he noticed the quarter-sized red dot bouncing over his heart. He looked up, past the white sheets and black jilbabs swaying on the clotheslines, to the distant high-rise apartment roof, where he saw the sun reflecting off a sniper-rifle's scope.

Now that's not very sporting at all…

He started to run.

But never took a step.