The Shiva Objective (4 page)

Four shots tracked her, none hitting. 
Sniper rifles not the best at short range
, she thought giddily as she tucked her body around the rooftop unit. 
But how did they know I was coming?

Starting to think they were psychics – and better ones – she turned and sighted through the revolver's scope, seeing two men aiming their rifles from above similar cover.  Two quick shots, precise, deadly, and they went down.

Three to go.  Two snipers, one cowboy.
  She hoped they'd had a couple beers each at least.  Typical Americans, their idea of hunting was to get smashed, climb a tree and take potshots at helpless deer.

Well, this fawn was going to teach them a thing or two.  She scanned the roof.  Two more air conditioning units were out there, one in the middle, the other near the right edge.  She closed her eyes and willed herself to
see.

A flash, and it was as if she were in flight,
a hovering falcon over the opposite side of the building, looking down on the rooftop, seeing the two snipers crouched behind the middle unit.  The cowboy…

Behind her!

She turned – and there he was, creeping toward her, only four feet away, that wickedly sharp KA-BAR knife in his hand, murderous lust in his eyes. 
Hoping for a close and memorable kill.
  His eyes went wide when she saw him and his jaw dropped.

"Oh sh-" he started to say, then she shot him through the heart.  He spun and fell, the knife skidding away.  Sliding sideways, she aimed as one more raised his head, hoping to take advantage of her distraction.  They both fired at the same time. 

He went down, she didn't.

Confident now, she strode ahead, making for the cover, where she saw the tip of a sniper rifle, trembling.  Then it was thrown out and the last hunter emerged, arms up.

"Don't shoot!"

She aimed at him as he backed up toward the edge.

"Please, I-"

"You what? Don't like being on the other side of the gun?"

"I just… just signed up for this last night.  At the casino, some guy – he promised us the hunt of a lifetime."

"And how many of you are there on this hunt of a lifetime?"

The man shook his head.  "Not sure.  Five of us here, a lot more in other parts of the city.  But we-"

"Paid more, didn't you?  Expected to win it all after just a little target practice."

The man was sweating profusely and looking dreadfully pale.  "Listen.  This is cool.  We're good.  You're safe.  Go, I won't tell anyone-"

Nina shot him in the leg.  "No, you won't."  Over his howls, she lined up another shot.  "Now tell me – how did you know where I was?  After I changed outfits, I was completely concealed.  How did you-?"

A noise, subtle at first.  A rumbling that she'd been hearing for almost a minute, getting louder.  And then, suddenly, it appeared – rising over the edge of the roof, ascending with a gale of dust and heat blowing into her.

A helicopter!

The cabin door was open, a man in a black suit and goggles hanging out.  With an assault rifle.

Oh no they don't-

He fired – and she flinched.  But the shots were meant for the other hunter, lining his chest with bullets.

For a brief shining moment she hoped Waxman had seen her in trouble and had sent help.  But then the shooter aimed at Nina.

She hefted the .38. 
One shot left.  I can take him-

But the man had retreated back into the cabin.  And as the helicopter drifted away, Nina lowered her gun. 
Yeah.  Not sporting enough. 
They were clearing the board, giving her a chance to keep running. 
And keeping the hunter from talking?
Maybe they had a listening device on him?

Nina tossed the .38 and picked up the hunter's sniper rifle.  Calmly she approached the edge and took aim.  The helicopter wavered, then turned around so she couldn't get a clear shot at the pilot or the shooter.  She could blast the fuselage or try to puncture the blades, but she didn't want a crowd of people dying below when this thing fell from the sky.  She'd killed before, sometimes innocents.  But always for a purpose.  And only when there was no other way.

But the chopper waited, just hovering, letting her know she wouldn't be able to just sit tight.  She looked down – way down – and saw two black limos pulling up in front of the building.  Doors opened, and a crowd of men in what looked like police uniforms burst out.

Fine.  I'll keep playing.
  She thought about the rifle, then let it drop by her feet.  She'd never get out of the building with it now and they were coming.  Impossible to use it effectively up here on the roof when they arrived.  And especially not while there was that helicopter to worry about.

Cursing, she turned and headed for the door.

FOUR

After psychically confirming that the newcomers had all piled into two elevators, she raced down the stairs.  She made it through the lobby, as she expected.  But on the way down the stairs, she had a full three minutes to think, to try to Remote-View where the other hunters were.  She got indistinct results:
shadowy images of men in twisting passages underground; others on side streets, at cafes, in the bazaars.  Looking inconspicuous, but often checking their smartphones.  Looking carefully at something there…

Text messages?  Updates?  Or something else?  She needed more time to focus her sight.

Out on the street, she ducked into a cab just as another fare got in.  She smiled at him and the cab driver, then pulled out her .45 and aimed at the passenger.

"Get out."

After he left in a hurry, she turned to the driver.  "Sorry," she said.  "I'm temporarily low on funds, but I'd really appreciate a ride to the Taj Mahal."

#

Three blocks later, just as she was settling in to try to calm her thoughts, preparing to seek some more information, a black van collided with the cab.  Out of nowhere it crunched violently into the driver's side and spun them around.  Nina bounced off the cushioned seat, lucky to avoid a head injury.

Recovering her wits, shocked they'd found her yet again, and even more surprised at their brazenness, she kicked open the door and, crouching low, jumped out.  Shocked onlookers surrounded the accident scene.  She rose swiftly, aiming her gun at the van.  People screamed, the crowd backed away.

The van's passenger door opened and a man leaned out with something in both hands.

Is that a freakin' crossbow?

She took her shot and ducked to the side as a bolt whistled past.  Seeing the spray of blood along the van's door where the archer had been, she aimed to the right.  The van was backing up, the driver panicking.  She shot the window just above the steering wheel and a second later the horn went off as the driver slumped forward.

Thinking quickly, the eyes of a hundred people on her, she leapt over the hood of the cab and launched herself into the crowd.  She looked back over her shoulder, expecting another van to come tearing after her, scattering people.  But so far, safe. 

Hearing sirens, she ducked into a crowded bazaar, weaving through shops, around crates full of spices and barrels packed with bread and fruit.  Deeper into the market, she slowed her pace, adopted a touristy stance, and blended in.  She checked out the needlework on some rugs, then sampled some dried fruit as she asked the proprietor for the fastest route to the Taj.

Thanking him, she asked for the time.  3:30.
Two hours down.

This was taking too long.  But if she could get to the Taj, to sanctuary, she could rest and think.  And start asking the right questions.

A commotion behind her.  The helpful proprietor was yelling at somebody – a man in a green fatigues.  Sunglasses.  Bald.  He was trying to get around the merchant, but had knocked over a table, spilling all the fruit.

Damn
, she thought. 
Didn't see that coming.  Got lucky… 

The hunter saw her and reached for something at his belt.  Now he had a gun in his hand and the proprietor was shouting, grabbing the hunter's wrist.  Two other men – bearing a resemblance to the merchant and possibly his sons – appeared on the scene just as the hunter pulled free.  He aimed at Nina, but the men were on him, pummeling him, punching his face.

Nina didn't stay to watch.

Found me again.
  That was too fast.  Maybe they had cameras in some areas and scouts at others, but still…  There had to be something else.  They didn't have a psychic, not anymore, so what else could it be?

As she ran, she stumbled and then suddenly she saw it:

The bald man, earlier, in the bazaar. Leaning against a post while he looked at his smartphone's screen. 
The screen –
a red dot moving around a map of the city's streets.

              Her mind ripped back to the present.  And as she ran, she felt around her pockets, sure they had put a transmitter in her clothes somewhere.  Or the shoes.  It could be anywhere, but…

No, they wouldn't have trusted that she'd keep these clothes.  It was something else.

The dart…

A microchip.  In her bloodstream.  That was the only thing that made sense.

It was likely something of a transitory nature – lasting about twenty-four hours before dissolving.  They'd tagged her like a deer and released her into the wild, knowing they could locate her signal and find her anywhere.

She stopped, taking a breath. The sun beat down on her face and she tasted the sweat trickling past her lips.

Not much she could do about it then.  They'd locate her, no matter how well she hid.  So there was only thing left to do.

They could track her, but she could also track them. 

Smiling, she turned around.  The Taj could wait. 

Time to improve the odds.

FIVE

When she finally made it to the grounds of the Taj Mahal, the sun was setting over the rooftops of the sprawling city, out beyond the old Agra Fort where the Mogul emperors once held court.  She turned her gaze ahead to the awe-inspiring Taj Mahal, even more incredible up close, where the pillars, the minarets and the onion-shaped dome seemed to be lit from within the very marble, presenting a reddish-pink glow at once soothing and inspiring.

The past seven hours were now only a blur.  Her head ached, but she felt surprisingly good.  Normally, whenever she suffered migraines, she liked to go shopping.  It somehow soothed her.  With the surprising amount of cash lifted from the dead hunters' wallets, she had indulged herself at a little black market dealer to the southeast.  She had taken the last hunter's cell phone too, and just for fun she fired off a couple of mocking texts to recent numbers that had sent him updates. 

She had confirmed that they were indeed tracking her with a microchip and were leading a well-coordinated process that was ultimately marred by a bunch of overexcited yahoos with guns – some of them drinking at the same time.

She had taken two out where they waited in a locked apartment building by tossing a homemade smoke bomb through the window and then picking them off as they came running out.  After the smoke cleared, she went in and rounded up whatever ammunition and weapons were still usable, including another sniper rifle.

Three more she caught off guard by using the limitations of their tracking technology.  The program could only tell where she was horizontally in relation to the user, but told them nothing about what altitude she was at.  So she had climbed to the fourth floor of an adjacent building, perched on a fire escape with the sniper rifle, and as they wandered the alley, checking their phones and looking around various ground-level hiding places, she dropped them one by one.

Like fish in a barrel.

The last three had had been more difficult.  She had used her
sight
to tell that their positions were in well fortified, highly visible public areas.  So instead she lured them to her.  After rigging the basement of an abandoned apartment home with trip wires and motion-sensing floodlights, she let them come for her, then got the drop on them after they triggered the lights.  Momentarily blinded, they had no defense as she stepped out of hiding and shot all three, point-blank.

And now she casually walked the central courtyard of the Taj Mahal's gardens.  Past luxurious fountains and meticulously-groomed bushes and spruces, she admired the scenery along with hundreds of other tourists, natives and pilgrims.

She glanced back, and then to her left and right – and saw them.  Several men out of place, trying to appear as tourists, but too obvious.  She spotted a Bluetooth device in one's ear and saw another one working his phone, probably relaying information on her position.  If they wanted to stop her from entering the palace, they didn't seem to be in much of a hurry.  She wasn't sure if the grounds themselves counted as sanctuary, but it was looking that way.  Too many witnesses and such a sacred spot.  She didn't think they'd risk the backlash.

So a few minutes later, she entered the great mausoleum, staring in awe at the decorative archways, the massive pillars, the dizzying heights seen from inside.  And moments later, she was there, before the two golden cenotaphs.  Shah Jahan and his beloved.  She recalled the legends about how, during a typical power play, he had been imprisoned by his son in the Agra fortress and had spent the rest of his life supposedly gazing out the high window at the Taj Mahal, longing for his lost love.

Nina wanted to gag.  It was probably all nonsense.  If she had enough time and she felt like it, she might try to Remote-View what happened to him and see if any of that story was true, but right now she knelt along with some pilgrims before the gorgeously-inscribed coffins and closed her eyes. 

Safe.  And one hour to go.  She had time to think.

And to plan.

SIX

When Rakesh came for her, she was ready.  She had borrowed a tourist's pen and a sheet of notebook paper.  Found a quiet spot in the gardens and wrote up what she intended, then went back in the mausoleum to wait.