The SONG of SHIVA (23 page)
Authors: Michael Caulfield
After the water had run from his body, Whitehall’s long drawn face became noticeably less sallow, his entire countenance more animated and vigorous. But he remained impassive as though he was still not entirely convinced of the confidentiality of these surroundings. Lyköan grew impatient.
“So what’s the news, Whitehall? What really brought you all the way from Bangkok?”
“The kernel of the truth is as we presented it this morning. Negotiations with the British government.”
“What kind of negotiations?”
“Waivers of transport. Undocumented shipments to the Thai Ministry of Health and the Primrose labs.”
“Of what ― and why?”
“Things are moving faster than anyone imagined.”
You’re telling me
, Lyköan thought. “What things?”
“Apparently, this bird flu danger ― a computer model ― some algorithm Innovac submitted to the British and Thai governments ― has convinced their respective PMs that another outbreak ― this time a more virulent and robust strain of the same virus ― is right around the corner.
“I can believe that.”
“More perceptive minds than yours or mine have worried about this for some time. Particularly the Thai government. There’s fear another outbreak, if not contained, might allow the already-unhappy southern Muslim population to break away from Thai control at a minimum ― perhaps even topple the government.”
Lyköan wasn’t surprised. Totally plausible. Of course, Whitehall was only confirming one possible outcome if another Thai epidemic occurred. But knowledge was power and Lyköan was feeling more powerful with every revelation.
“You don’t seem surprised or even upset, lad,” Whitehall observed.
“I’d already run similar projections with an algorithm of my own,” Lyköan said, tapping his temple with an index finger. “Didn’t take rocket science to figure out Thailand’s worried. What else you got?”
“We also believe there may have been a devil’s bargain struck ― between Innovac and the Thai Ministry of Health. If they can manage to control the approaching outbreak, direct it as it were ― well, there are a few areas of the country they wouldn’t mind
seeing
decimated.”
“And how did you learn all this? If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d gone over yourself.”
“I’ve had people ― no need to explain further ― infiltrating where we’ve been able. Spies spying on the spies. The Thai government, the military, Primrose, Innovac. Pandavas seems to have identified a Vietnamese province, where―”
“And he should know,” Lyköan interrupted.
“Of course, as I explained―”
“Listen, Whitehall, I’ve got other suspicions ― that there might be a reason
why
Pandavas and Innovac know so much about where and when this virus is going to strike next.”
“How’s that, then?”
“Because they’re responsible for the epidemic.”
“That’s money for old rope, Lyköan,” Whitehall said, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?” Lyköan asked.
Whitehall had hardly reacted, as though he had just discovered an irritating piece of lint on his dinner jacket. “How did you come by this?” he asked.
Tapping his temple again, Lyköan answered, “Seemed to make sense once that TAI virus cure came out of nowhere the minute Innovac got involved.”
“You may be right. We suspected as much, but no one can turn up any evidence. I don’t suppose you’ve stumbled across anything?”
“Only my suspicion. But too much to be mere coincidence ― don’t you think?”
“Then we’ll probably need to push our boat out soon, before Innovac acts, even if we don’t posses all the particulars. What have you done so far? Have you told anyone else about these suspicions?”
“Not a soul,” Lyköan replied straight-faced. “Who would I tell and what could I tell them? That I have this funny feeling my boss might be manufacturing epidemics?”
“Did Carmichael or the WHO team mention any similar suspicions?”
“They seem totally oblivious to the possibility. Listen, this is way beyond my grade level. You’re talking with a simple warehouseman. You guys are the professionals. I feel better knowing it’s in your hands ― that somebody’s at least doing
something
― but I doubt you want an amateur tagging along and getting in your way. Do you?”
Whitehall’s expression was vacant. Lyköan gave him little opportunity. “I didn’t think so. Now that I know the score I’ll try to stay out of the crossfire. Let your more perceptive minds and muscle handle things. What a relief. Anything else you need from me?”
“Silence for now. And your promise not to do anything stupid until the authorities can act.”
“You’ve got that,” Lyköan said, throwing his sponge into the basin. “Right now I’ve got to get out of this heat. How much time did your average Roman grunt stay
in
here anyway?”
“Generally no longer than twenty minutes at a stretch. We’ve probably exceeded that.”
* * *
Lyköan rapped softly at the door. By his watch it was one twenty-three in the morning. Nora opened immediately, as though she had been waiting for his knock. She was fully dressed and flew from the room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Why don’t you walk with me down to Cairncrest Brook, Mr. Lyköan,” she whispered anxiously. “Now.”
Hand-in-hand, they tiptoed down the hallway’s rear stairs without a word, exiting through the commercial kitchen doors and across the manicured hill until the lights of Cairncrest had faded behind them. Under a swirl of unobstructed stars, the moon now but a sliver near its quenching, they came to a path along the dark meandering stream, tree-filled on both banks, barely a ripple on its moonlit surface – night insects and their footsteps the only sounds.
“Well, Philbrick, what did you find out?” Nora asked through the background buzz.
“Whitehall really works for British Intelligence?”
“Help me here, cause I’m confused, are they the good guys?”
“And for all this inside information what did you have to tell
him
?”
“How
are
you going to deal with unknowns from here on out?”
“
Nil credum et omnia cavebo
,” Lyköan said solemnly looking directly into Nora’s eyes.
“What’s that?”
“My new credo ― my new philosophy of life.”
“―And it means?”
“Trust nothing, trust no
one
either? Beware of everything, of
everyone
too?”
“So I’m at the top of that motley heap? What do you
really
think of me?”
“So it can still fly. If Whitehall’s lying, we’re the only ones who can blow the whistle.”
“A wife. A soul mate. A reason for living. All connection with existence.”
“I’m so sorry, Egan. But it only means we have more in common than I ever imagined.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nine-Eleven ring a bell, sweetheart? Jerry left for Singer-Kennedy on the hundred and third floor of World Trade One that morning. Sometimes even successful investment bankers don’t come home ― ever! What do they call it? A New York minute?”
Lyköan couldn’t argue with such finality. What could he do? Like she apparently had now for some time, Nora would continue to make her own decisions. It was selfish to demand otherwise. All he’d ever offer from here on out would be suggestions. Maybe she’d accept a few of them. But they still needed to come to some agreement.
“Does that mean you’d seriously consider Pandavas’s offer?”
“Back to your feathered bird analogy, handsome. I remember reading once that the longest recorded flight of a chicken was something like thirteen seconds…”
“Yeah, that may be true, but
dead
chickens don’t fly at all.”
“But wouldn’t it be much easier, notice I didn’t say
safer
, if we were pulling off an inside job?”
* * *
Alone in his room, lying fully clothed on top of the covers, Lyköan stared at the ceiling, focusing on the shadow-strewn imperfections in the hand-troweled plaster, made monstrous by the starlight filtering through the bedroom’s multi-facetted leaded-glass windows. His mind continued to race, but it was less unsettled than earlier in the day. He had managed to keep his mouth shut when it mattered and open up when it counted.
The barbells on his eyelids felt unnaturally heavy. He had planned to send Sun Shi a message before going to sleep, but this sudden exhaustion made that seem unnecessary right now. Tomorrow would be time enough and more. The sound of fog and a musky, earthy scent had entered the room upon some unseen draft, allowing him to sink below the surface of that vast ocean of anxiety. This sudden and utter fatigue was proof positive. Far in the distance the dolmen hummed ― or was it the drawn-out low moan of an opening door?
Indistinct, a shadowy form stopped at the foot of the bed ― a comical caricature of the boar’s head from
Lord of the Flies
, its large reflective, bulbous eyes peering at him from above a perfectly cylindrical snout. Lyköan’s head was spinning or he would have laughed. He tried to move, but as in those nightmares where escape, even movement, is impossible, his body refused to obey.
The room was expanding and contracting in some sort of temporal distortion, not unpleasant, but paralyzing and accelerating. Soon it had become the great pendulum of time and the three dimensions of space itself ― waves of volume, resonance and essence. Nothing mattered in the grand tide of events and lost arguments. The fact that the darkness had finally shown its teeth seemed inconsequential. Even if those teeth were to sink deep into his flesh, it didn’t matter. The heavens were collapsing, the earth erupting ― but in that veiled instant before the curtain fell, it all seemed so totally unimportant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Śri-Bhagavān said: I am Time, the great destroyer of worlds, and I have come to destroy everyone. With the exception of you, my faithful Arjuna, every warrior here today, on both sides of this battle, shall be slain.
Nora awoke, still weary after a fitful night with little sleep because of her beef with Lyköan It couldn’t even be called an argument ― but it still hurt. What had it been, a difference of opinion? No. He had taken her measure and had judged her a lightweight. Covering her head with the goose down pillow, she turned her back to the morning light streaming through the window and hurrumped herself back to sleep.
When she finally arrived on the patio for breakfast, the sun was already high in a cloud-dappled sky, the morning well on its way to equally high temperature and humidity. She had considered knocking on Lyköan’s door, but then thought better of it. Things between them could benefit from lying fallow a bit longer. Her mind was made up. She would speak with Pandavas and stay a few more days at least, using his job offer as a pretext to dig a little deeper, and mine the Innovac databanks for all they were worth.
But to do that she would need Lyköan’s access program ― the product of the fertile mind of his Buddhist mentor. Who was this mysterious monk anyway? All she knew was a name, Sun Shi, and a location in Bangkok ― the Temple of the Sapphire Buddha, whatever that might be. Lyköan had never explained how some old mystic, squirreled away in a backwater Thai temple had ever produced such an elegant computer hack. It seemed unbelievable.
Lyköan would just have to accept the route she had chosen. What choice did he have? The decision to stay might delay her a few days, but was necessary. Her sister and the girls would have to accept that. Whether or not they would understand was another matter. The CDC would require proof that this outrageous plot was more than just the product of an overworked imagination.
No time for hurt feelings, Carmichael
, she thought, burying the last vestiges of her bruised ego
. The two of you should be spending breakfast together right now, planning your next move.
Ready to tackle any apology doing so might demand, she finished the fruit pulp dregs lying in the bottom of her glass and pushed away from the table.
Swallow the pride, sister. It’s time to powwow
.
* * *
“Mr. Lyköan left on business this morning?” Nora repeated. “When did he say he’d be back?” This was preposterous. Lyköan wouldn’t have left without telling her. He wouldn’t have abandoned her like this. It didn’t seem possible.
“I did not see him leave, Doctor Carmichael,” Prahn offered deferentially. “Doctor Pandavas said he left very early. Before dawn. An emergency.”
“Where was he going?”
“London, I believe. From there to Bangkok. You can ask the doctor more when he returns.”
Nora intended to do just that. “Returns from where?”
“He and Mr. Whitehall have gone to Bascombe Down.”
“The military base?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why?”
“A meeting with government officials. They should be returning early this afternoon. Can Doctor Narayan help you perhaps?”
“Is Ms. Prentice available?”
“I will see.” The servant left Nora standing alone in the empty foyer.
She had headed directly for Lyköan’s room after breakfast and, receiving no reply to her knock, had opened his door to find the room empty, the bed already made. There had to be more of an explanation than this. It wasn’t like him ― didn’t feel right. Not the Egan Lyköan she thought she knew.
A short time later, Prahn returned with Julie Prentice, who, dressed for business, looked as though she was headed out on an errand of her own.
“Julie. Do you know anything about Mr. Lyköan leaving this morning?”
“Only that Atma said he left for London before first light. Why? Had you planned to say goodbye?”
There was something more than interest, an insinuation, wrapped in that comment and Nora didn’t like it. Maybe reacting with such urgency hadn’t been such a smart idea.
“Was it that obvious?” Might as well admit what could she could no longer deny. Doing so wouldn’t expose her as anything more than being a woman who was admitting her attraction to a man ― and that was the honest truth.
“I’ll say,” Prentice confirmed. “Might have to start putting those stars back into the evening sky ― until you get another chance to rekindle whatever you think it was.”
“I just thought that, at the very least, he would have left a note.”
“Can’t help you there, Carmichael. Atma might be able to give you more, but he won’t be back until this afternoon. I’m on my way out too. Is it safe to leave you here alone with Narayan? He’s unattached too, you know. I would have thought he’d be more your type anyway. That Lyköan seemed a bit rough around the edges. But to each her own, I suppose.”
Nora tried to look hurt. To some degree, she really was. Still, something didn’t smell right and the odor hadn’t wafted in from across the Channel.
* * *
“Ah, there you are, Lyköan. Welcome back. I see the effects of the sevoflurane are wearing off. You really left us no choice.”
Lyköan’s head was throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. That voice, coming through a long metaphorical tunnel, sounded like a bad tape with enough wowing distortions to render it almost unintelligible. He opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the overhead lights, squeezing out tears that ran down his cheeks when he shut them again.
“You’ve had us at a distinct disadvantage, you know. You must tell us how you were able to discover so much about our operation while, at the same time, were able to keep us completely in the dark about yours. Until last night we weren’t even suspicious. Very good work.
“Shut the fuck up, will you? What the hell is this all about? Jesus, you’re killing me.” His head was splitting and ― for Christ’s sake ― once again, he seemed paralyzed, couldn’t even lift an arm.
The voice ignored his plea, droning on, “We had planned to use more subtle persuasion, and far more pleasant surroundings ― but then you went and drove us to this turn. Who knows, if we had been given the opportunity, the strength of our argument might have been compelling enough, and this coercion would have been unnecessary.”
“You mean so I wouldn’t have to be hogtied?” he said, finally realizing he had been immobilized, held flat on his back by a series of strategically placed tightly cinched straps. Operating solely on raw adrenaline, he attempted to test their strength by erupting in a frenzy of pure venom. But struggle as he might, he couldn’t move a goddamn inch. Was somebody sitting on his chest?
“Restrained, sir, not
hogtied
. For
everyone’s
protection. You’ve locked
yourself
in this box, by the way. And there are only two exits. Accept our terms, be persuaded by the strength of our argument ― or the other way.” Pandavas didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
“Maybe. But
you’re
in here
with
me.”
And if I get the chance, I intend to take you with me when it’s time to go
,
Lyköan thought as he continued straining against the straps binding him fast at neck, wrists, waist, knees and ankles. An image from the black-and-white
Frankenstein
or silent
Metropolis
flashed through his head.
“Let’s look at this honestly, shall we?” the voice continued. “While I am still capable of coming and going as I please, your ability in that regard is, shall we say, somewhat restricted.”
Lyköan was still so addled that little of this conversation was registering. He was reacting more than thinking. But it had become obvious who was talking – Pandavas!
“Then why not cut me loose so we can discuss this ― man to man?”
“Ah-hah, your sarcasm is returning. A good sign. We’ll give you a bit longer ― allow the effects of the anesthetic to clear from your system. Then, when you’re in a better frame of mind, we’ll continue our conversation.”
Lyköan heard an electronic pop and, after a few unconnected seconds, the room went dark. He was still conscious and very, very sick. An odd odor was fouling the room, accompanied by a sour taste in his mouth. With an involuntary retch, he erupted violently spewing a thick fountain of bile into the air. Turning his head the minimal half inch the restraints permitted, he let the thick sticky fluid run down the side of his cheek and drip onto the gurney. Coughing out the remainder, he fell back into fitful semiconsciousness.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?”
The voice no longer sounded like it was being broadcast through a paper towel tube. That was some improvement. Nothing else seemed to be. His mouth was dry as the Sahara, his lips cracked, and although his eyes were finally able to focus, his head was throbbing worse than the first go round. How long ago had that been?
“I could use a little water here. How about it?” he shouted at the empty air.
By straining his head and shifting his eyes towards the metallic click of a doorknob turning, he was able to catch sight of an unfamiliar, white-smocked lab tech entering the room, Styrofoam cup in hand. She shook half a mouthful of ice chips between his parched lips, barely enough to coat the inside of his mouth. His tongue felt twice its size and covered in flannel.
“That’s enough,” the amplified voice boomed.
Lyköan strained his neck muscles, rolling his eyes to the limits of his confinement. Pandavas must be orchestrating this interrogation from outside the room. He certainly wasn’t taking any chances.
“How about letting me sit up?” Lyköan asked.
There was no reply.
After a brief pause, Pandavas continued. “Quite a marvel, this device of yours, Lyköan. Care to elucidate any of its mysteries?”
Was Pandavas talking about the yíb? If he was, for the time being anyway, it would probably be best to keep the shithead guessing. It was the only secret he had ― that in truth, he really had no secrets at all, except the password.
“Who supplied it?” Pandavas asked. “Were you sent on a specific assignment or just a fishing expedition? We thought we had performed adequate due diligence and yet here you are, up to something we never expected.”
“What, not quite as smart as you thought, asshole?” Lyköan answered. The bravado had erupted from some hidden place, because on the inside he was still utterly terrified.
“No need for profanity,” Pandavas replied. “There’s no reason we can’t both remain civil, even under the circumstances. I don’t consider you my enemy ― even after discovering what you’ve been up to. You shouldn’t consider me yours. Anyway, now that we have you, the advantage is ours, time is on
our
side. Your superiors are sure to make themselves known ― one way or another ― once you fail to report back.”
Since there was no one to report back
to
, that was an impossibility. Pandavas didn’t know this, of course, but if he was expecting someone to come looking, he’d be waiting one helluva long time. Let him wait.
“Have it your way,” the disembodied Pandavas voice echoed. “We’ve deactivated the device’s wireless protocols and isolated the hardware. If it
was
gathering and transmitting data ― well, it isn’t any longer.”
Pandavas sure took him for a far more professional operative than he was. Let him keep thinking that. Minute by minute Lyköan’s head was clearing. But he’d never been a decent chess player or convincing liar and this game surely required both.
“How come you get to ask all the questions?” he asked.
“Yes, under the circumstances, I can see how you would have a few,” Pandavas replied.
“What the hell am I doing here? Kidnapping is still a crime, even in England, isn’t it? If you’re not careful this is liable to completely ruin our working relationship.”
“You can cut the protestations of innocent ignorance, Lyköan. In reviewing the Shiva Node surveillance history ― once we reversed the command sequences back to their source impulses ― why, there it was, your voice as clear and recognizable as a nightingale’s. So let’s just move along and deal with things as they are, like two men who know the score, alright? Doing so will speed things along immensely.”
So much for playing dumb. “Okay, okay, but can you blame me for being interested in what the boss was up to? And you have to admit, it was a world-class scoop.” Might as well imply that he
had
passed on the information ― and oh, right this minute, was he wishing that he had. “So who’s put you up to this? Who hired you?”
“You’ve got it all wrong, if that’s what you truly believe. This isn’t about money. Heavens no. What would a few more millions or even many billions of pounds mean to an entity like Innovac or, for that matter, me personally? Our true objective is far loftier and vastly more important ― inestimably more consequential than accumulating a few more billion in fungible assets.
You
may still measure fortunes in that manner, Lyköan, but I assure you, that is a pathetically poor yardstick for measuring the true value of anything. This may be a bit too philosophical for you at the moment, I realize you are still out of sorts, but please, try to give it your full attention...”