The SONG of SHIVA (24 page)

“Do I have a choice?” Lyköan was no longer straining against the immobilizing restraints. At this point, only stealth and negotiation had the slightest chance of setting him free. “But OK, I’m willing to listen.”

“Very well,” Pandavas began in a low, measured voice. “You must first understand that, in the grand illusory mélange, things like wealth and power may
appear
extremely important and desirable, but that appearance is rarely genuine truth. Let me have your opinion on something ― it’s very important I know your jumping off point ―, do you believe there is but one true reality?”

“What?” Lyköan asked, genuinely confused by the question. “Are you talking about perception? I know you have me tied to a fucking hospital bed. I’m pretty sure that’s true, that’s real..”

“And do you believe that that is the only place you are, the only place you can possibly be?” Pandavas asked.

“Pretty sure, unless you decide to cut me loose.”

“What if I were to tell you that reality is not at all that strictly bound?”

“I’d bolt outta here in a heartbeat.”

What was Pandavas getting at? Strapped to a hospital gurney in the middle of an empty room, conversing with an obvious madman over the intercom, that was Lyköan’s only reality at this moment . He was still alive, but that seemed to be about the only positive.

“You already have -- bolted out of here, I mean,” Pandavas replied. “Then again, you soon will. And you have already and will also still die in this room. You have never arrived here either.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“At present,” Pandavas explained, “we are all, every one of us, engaged in a great and ancient piece of theater, operating not in the direction of a single future, but upon an infinitely more devious course of an equally infinite number of possible futures, just as the past contains its own infinite number of possible variations.”

Lyköan didn’t know how or if he should respond.

“You don’t believe me?” Pandavas asked.

“Yeah, sure, sure...” Lyköan replied at last, even though he had no idea where Pandavas was going with this lunatic’s conversation. “There’s also the future where I expose you and your crazy apocalyptic plans. Come on, level with me, who are you working for? You’ve obviously decided to throw your hat into the ring along side of... which side was it again?”

“The winning side,” Pandavas replied. “And ultimately, the
only
side.”

“Keep your hopes up, you crazy shithead.”

“Unnecessary. But after I’ve presented and proven our position, my fervent hope is that you will enthusiastically agree to join us.”

“I can’t see how that’s gonna happen.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. For all you presently
don’t
know, there could still be something of inestimable value in all of this for you, personally. A thing you desire above all else ― that you presently believe is utterly impossible ― but even now, still lies within your grasp.”

“Yeah? And what exactly might
that
be?”

“Patience, my friend. Before we can approach that peak, there are a number of hills and valleys we must traverse first .”

Pandavas was beginning to sound uncannily like old Sun Shi ― using a vocal meter that smacked of hypnotism.

“Are you familiar with the Hindu concept of duty,” Pandavas asked. “The story of Arjuna at the battle of Kuruksetra?”

“From the
Bhagavad-Gītā
? Yeah, I’ve read it. Why?”

“Do you recall why Arjuna, of all the men on earth, was singled out by the great godhead to perform the culminating final act at the end of the previous age?”

“Something about self-denial ― moving beyond his personal desires – assisting Shiva ― even though it meant the destruction of everything he held dear.”

“Excellent,” Pandavas chortled, his breath hissing through the microphone. “Very perceptive. Have the scales begun to drop from your eyes?”

“You’re planning on performing a similar function, is that it? Worldwide genocide sounds like it’d be right up your alley. But how does that benefit
you
?”

“You make it sound so self-serving. I assure you, it isn’t. I am simply performing a duty that the universe ― the great Urgrund itself ― periodically demands. It is actually a service to this world. You, however, persisting in your ignorance, are still struggling in darkness, a result of that totally reasonable but faulty belief in a single reality.”

“But at least I still have all my marbles. What happened to yours? Did you lose them with all that fiddling with your DNA?”
Damn it!
He caught his breath. Once again he’d allowed his fury to override his best interests. That last outburst had served no purpose, but it
had
unnecessarily revealed another detail of just how extensively he’d plumbed the Innovac databanks.

“If that were true, my friend ― though I can show you reams of data that prove otherwise ― your own madness would not be very far off.”

“Holy shit, Arjuna! And I thought it was just going to kill me. Anything else you’d like to let me in on?”
If you bite your tongue and let
him
talk for a fucking minute, idiot, maybe he’ll reveal more of what you still don’t know.

“And with that sarcasm we will conclude this period of instruction. I haven’t any more time at present to devote to the endeavor. There are other deadlines and milestones that I cannot allow to slip. Our timetable with you is already ahead of schedule. We can return to this later.”

Lyköan heard the same pop of extinguished speakers, but this time it was not followed by the dousing of the lights. Instead, the same white-smocked lab tech who had brought the ice chips reentered the room, rolling a stainless steel cart ahead of her from which an IV bag and surgical tubing line were suspended. The most alarming items, however, both lying in clear sight on the cart’s top shelf, were a polished steel bedpan and a mean looking length of tubing with a bag attached. It looked like Pandavas intended to keep him trussed up like this for awhile. The tech, or maybe she was a bona fide nurse, came over to the bedside and began unbuckling his belt with one hand while holding the business end of the catheter in the other.

“But darlin’, we hardly know each other,” Lyköan managed nervously.

Any humor residing in that remark seemed lost on the young woman, who’s stony expression never wavered, not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid. It was the last quip Lyköan would make for some time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Quidquid recipitur, recipitur per modum recipientis

Lucius Septimius Severus :
Mater Castrorum

With a turn of her index finger, Nora anxiously adjusted the earpiece. “Yes, yes, I’ll hold.” This double-bud was the smartest purchase she had made in years. Both hands free again ― she raised the umbrella over her head.

Surveying the rain-slicked cobblestones from under its protection, she continued walking along Blue Boar Row, keeping pace with the pedestrian traffic, the sound of her heels adding a counterpoint click-clack rhythm to the water spilling from storefront eaves and gurgling out of metal downspouts. It had been raining uninterrupted since she had stepped out of Pandavas’s borrowed Bentley only minutes before. She was paranoid and afraid to call anyone from inside the car.

Salisbury cathedral housed one of the four surviving Magna Carta originals, which was certainly a convincing destination, but she had told Pandavas that, weather permitting, she also intended to hike out of town to Old Sarum, which would give her all the time she needed. Originally an Iron Age hill fortress overlooking the
new
city nestled in a crook of the River Avon, the hilltop
old
city had been abandoned nine hundred years ago. This little trip would give her breathing room, she had contended, time to mull over the Innovac employment offer away from Cairncrest. Pandavas had been understanding, even gracious, when she explained she would be gone all day and, depending on how her adventure went, might even stay overnight in Salisbury.

Her real motive, however, had been to contact Lyköan in Bangkok without the conversation being intercepted. It had been two days and she was desperate for an explanation. She had called the number on the
Lyköan IE
business card, still in her raincoat pocket from their first stumbling encounter weeks before. The dull message his answering service provided had not put her mind at ease. Inputting her callback number and executing a numerical page to track him down if he was out on business, she had headed for Salisbury’s city centre.

She had entered the cathedral simply to get out of the rain, distractedly passing by the four noticeably bowed enormous central Purbeck marble piers supporting the highest spire in England, a spire for which the structure had never been designed, then stood and gawked at the goat-fetus parchment Magna Carta original, all the while preoccupied, periodically returning to the brief conversation she had had with Pandavas the night before.

While the laird of Cairncrest had responded pleasantly enough when she had questioned him about Lyköan’s hasty departure, he claimed to know little of the particulars, only that Lyköan had been called back to Bangkok “on a business emergency unassociated with Innovac.” His British assignment complete, Pandavas explained, Mr. Lyköan was free to return to Thailand or wherever else he chose. “After all,” Pandavas had remarked, “Lyköan IE does have other clients.”

True, but it was difficult to imagine any of them capable of presenting an emergency equal to the one threatening right here on the Salisbury Plain. Whatever had taken Lyköan away must have been very important indeed ― or somehow connected. Either way, she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t spoken to her before he left. It just didn’t feel right.

When two hours had passed without a callback, she had decided to take another tack. Around noon, emerging from the Churchill Way circus underground, heading north along Castle Street uphill towards Old Sarum, her patience was finally being rewarded by a familiar voice speaking through the earpiece.

“Yes, this is Yin Yat Chen. May I help you?”             

“Chan, it’s Nora Carmichael. I’m still in England.” Looking at her watch, realizing it was 6:38 P.M. in Thailand, she quickly added, “I’m glad I was able to catch you in the lab.”

“Hello, Nora. Yes, still here. Extended hours. Tardieu won’t be satisfied until we can duplicate the anti-telomerase anomaly. So we’re prepared. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

“Sounds like they’re keeping you busy, but it’s important work – and reassuring ― knowing the WHO hasn’t let down its guard. Good luck. Right now, though, I need to ask you a personal favor.”

“Certainly, Nora. What is it?”             

“There’s something I’d like you to do for me ― as soon as you can...”

* * *

Eyes open, Lyköan tried to relax. After hours attempting to struggle free, he had given up. No matter how hard he wriggled, he was fixed as securely to the gurney as any fly to flypaper. Even with the artificial hydration of a winged IV needle inserted painfully into a vein on the top of his left hand, his mouth was raw ― still felt like it was full of feathers. While his tongue wasn’t as swollen as when he had first come out of the anesthetic, that was the only improvement he had noticed. Had days passed? With no reference for gauging even a single hour, he had no idea. Whatever time had passed, his earlier angry energy had long since evaporated. 

Sweat burned in the sores he had worn into shoulder blades and hips by his effort, still pressed hard into the thin gurney mattress. The lights continued to come on and go off at odd intervals, sometimes accompanied by the arrival of the same female attendant, supplying tube-fed nutrients, a replacement catheter bag or bedpan. At other times, the lights had no observable association with anything, only an irregular punctuation to the intermittent silence or the occasional whir of unseen machinery.

Making matters worse, Pandavas had recently taken to leaving his hidden microphone chamber and visiting Lyköan personally, turning this sterile white room, no doubt secreted away somewhere in the bowels of Innovac’s vast subterranean complex, into a truly dismal little purgatory.

The Lord of Light had come to his bedside for another session only minutes ago, smiling as he stood over Lyköan’s head. Lyköan had been honest enough to allow that the wind had been taken from his sails. As a result, the conversational exchange had changed, drifting imperceptibly from confrontational argument into a realm approaching cordiality. Almost. There was still no question about who was in charge.

“Back to your electronic device,” Pandavas was asking pleasantly. “Isn’t there some enticement we might offer that will avoid our having to resort to the messy stuff?”

How ’bout a get-out-of-hell-free card?
Lyköan almost replied, then thought better of it
.
Shit, the locked yíb might be the only reason he was still alive. But ‘the messy stuff’ certainly didn’t sound very appealing. Wasn’t this already messy enough?

Trying to buy a moment’s reprieve before finding out firsthand what that threat actually entailed, he asked, “By any chance, was it your people who boosted my Ōkii back in Bangkok?”

“Of course not,” Pandavas laughed. “At that point we were the innocents. You were on our payroll and for all we knew, performing admirably. Even if we had wanted the device, we would never have risked killing you to get it.”

“Then who else
is
there?”

“The Thai Ministry of Health, perhaps. A rogue element in the Thai military or
nak leeng
freelancers maybe? We considered them all as possibilities, but the truth is, we never uncovered any evidence any of them were involved. Might have even been el Jaish-e-Muhammad. Who knows? They may have gotten wind of the Ministry of Health’s plans to let the next viral outbreak run unchecked through the Muslim south. If so, they may have come looking for proof in your tablet’s data files.”

“Sounds like
everyone
’s onto you,” Lyköan chuckled. “If it’s true, where you gonna run?”

“
On to us
only to the limit of the Thai government’s involvement, which you’ve learned, isn’t at all the true scope of our design. But the possibility that el Jaish may actually
be
nipping at our heels
has
added a degree of urgency to our plans ― motivated us to increase security and accelerate our timetable.”

“Why pick on the Muslims anyway?”

“We needed a target for the contagion. The Thai government had problems of their own that lent themselves perfectly to our purpose. We aren’t
picking
on anyone.”

“Couldn’t you have just tested these things in the lab?”

“Wouldn’t do at all. Never the same stream of variables. Take the totally unexpected outbreak at the CDC. Hypothecated Modeling never predicted
that
outcome.

“Listen, I haven’t time to take you on my entire life’s journey, Lyköan – explain every detail of how I arrived at this particular moment, with my unique set of prejudices. It’s interesting that you bring it up, however, for you see, there was a time, immediately after the 1971 Gabbar-Jaisalmir massacre, which I escaped as an seven-year-old orphan, where I
did
harbor a genuine hatred towards Islam. The murder of my entire family at their hands was not inconsequential. They were
my
people after all and I grieved for them long and bitterly. More than a million Hindus were slain in that violence. I had every right to nurture that hatred. You may not believe me, but I eventually outgrew it. There are more important things in life ― in the tread of world events ― than revenge. No, our purpose is not based on any personal animosity.”

Not particular anymore? You’ll kill anybody?
Lyköan bit his tongue again. He was a little rusty on the history of the Indian subcontinent’s divisional wars, so these revelations were unfamiliar to him. The account sounded authentic, but it explained little ― even seemed to muddy the waters somewhat. Maybe acting a wee bit more sympathetic, though, could be worked more to his advantage.

“Hey, this is really interesting stuff you’re telling me, but I’m not in good enough shape here to give it full consideration. I’m really hurting ― stiff and sore as hell ― there’s no feeling at all in my hands. I know ― that’s probably the idea ― but just let me sit up and I promise to be a less disinterested pupil ― honest.”

“Certainly, the minute you agree to open your little virtual burglary tool.”

“Sure, sure, cut me loose and I’ll let you have a peek. Just let me get back on my feet ― I promise ― no funny business.”

Lyköan had already decided that the yíb contained nothing that would really help Pandavas or hurt anyone else ― except perhaps expose his two forays into Innovac’s databases. There was a better-than-even chance Pandavas already knew about those anyway. But it possessed no reference to Nora or Whitehall or any other sensitive information ― just business files and the stealth program itself. While it had value, exchanging yíb access for a longer tether seemed worth the risk. He didn’t have a better idea.

And the more he thought about it the better it looked. Sun Shi was nowhere identified in any of the code. It was encrypted well enough to give the Innovac computer geeks a good run for their money. The syntax alone might take months to unravel. Unless they were capable of identifying programmers simply by
style
alone, even if they managed to crack the encryption engine, they wouldn’t know more about the author than they knew right now. Maybe he was rationalizing, but sheer stiff upper lip stubbornness was getting him nowhere.

“Is it a deal?” he asked hopefully.

“Fair enough,” Pandavas agreed, stepping out into the hallway and conferring in low tones with someone Lyköan could not see.

“Any trouble and you’ll be waking up flat on your back again,” Pandavas threatened coolly, as two burly attendants in coveralls entered the room with the bedside nurse.

“Trouble? Not me,” Lyköan answered. And for the moment, he meant it.

* * *

“How many perfect specimens you planning to save from annihilation, invite into this Utopia of yours?” Lyköan was pacing between the walls of his cell, thinking out loud again, rubbing his stiff, swollen wrists where the blood had pooled. Except for the pain, they still felt like they belonged to someone else.

“Very few,” Pandavas answered soberly. Catching the somber tone, Lyköan felt briefly content. that he actually might be disrupting Pandavas’s well-oiled plan.

“It’s more a matter of identifying viable candidates than the impact of your recent hijinx, Lyköan ― if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Actually it
is
something of a lottery. You could call it the accident-of-birth lottery. You, for instance. You’re luck was cast by the long line of hearty and varied ancestors who preceded you. Which explains why Innovac sought you out originally. You are quite a unique specimen.”

“Strong like ox, smart like fox?”

“Not too far off.”

“It wasn’t my phenomenal business prowess then?”

“Hardly.”

“So I’m one of the elect? I didn’t even know I was in the running.”

“The sequencing of our original nano-assemblers required a basic starting point at an elevated level.”

“Isn’t all this just doublespeak ― a euphemism for eugenics?”

“In a sense. But consider the results.”