The Huntsman (7 page)

Diners, already gawking at the miniature ponies disguised as dogs,
turned their heads as Singh held Miranda’s hand to step up low stairs onto the
platform. A whispered undercurrent grew when Janesh stepped up. Some pointed
and waved. Miranda’s temper flared at a few Indian beauties who pointedly tried
to catch Janesh’s eye. She straightened and slowed to a smug, regal sashay.

Singh brought them to a table on the platform’s rim within a more
spacious area set off by decorative railings. He fussed over settings and
comfort, introduced their waiter and waitress, hovered while they took drink
orders, then discretely retired. The waitress returned, placed menus, dispensed
with a tiresome specials announcement, then proved herself equally discrete.
Miranda sipped her gin and tonic, noting her limit had one left.

“I’m impressed. What must tables 1 and 2 be like?”

“Table 3 is it. The original design included the two tables but
Chatur had them ripped out to allow the additional space. A Table 3 placement
is considered quite an honor among Chandrapur’s dining cognoscenti.”

“How long have you known Chatur?”

“We met in Cambridge. He left as an undergraduate. I followed a
year later.”

“And where are the dogs?”

“Don’t let their fawning fool you. They knew what was coming.
Right now they’re happily gnawing on fresh bones in Chatur’s office.” Miranda
looked around.

“His office?”

“This room is bigger than it appears. Beyond the outer wall a
kitchen takes up half the circumference. The remainder contains storage and
supply areas, administrative rooms, and Chatur’s private office.” Janesh
reached for the menus and passed her one. “Don’t be afraid to choose. You can’t
go wrong whatever you pick.”

Her stomach threatening to protest further delay, she opened the
ornate carte. English descriptions and Janesh’s urging proved no help.
Unfamiliar words, intermingled throughout, sprang from the pages. “What is
chaat, Janesh?”

“You must be looking at the appetizers.” Miranda nodded.

“Served like your sidewalk hotdog stands, chaat is a savory snack
made of fried dough beloved throughout India. Chatur took this popular street
fare and gave it his own flare and style. He’s mixed in herbs and spices, with
mint, tamarind and yogurt, and added in a ginger potato hash. Quite delicious
and an excellent choice to start.”

“Okay. Put me down for one of those.” She continued scanning.”And
vindaloo? What is that?”

“Vindaloo is a spicy curry dish distinguished by vinegar and
Kashmiri chilies, served alongside whatever the menu selection is. Besides
being quite tasty, it’s rich in vitamins and minerals along with immunity and
healing properties.”

“Great.” She hummed a bit. “What is tandoor? And you still haven’t
told me if tiger hunting pays the bills?”

“That refers to how a menu selection’s meat is cooked. A tandoor
is a clay brick oven designed to reach very high temperatures. As high as 900°.
It sears the herbs and spices into the meat and is an essential component if
one wishes to create classic Indian cuisine. Chatur has two in his kitchen.”

The silence lengthened. She looked up to see him concentrating on
the menu. “Having trouble remembering what else you do?”

He matched her teasing tone. “It’s a question when asked on a
first date insures there won’t be a second. Make an effort to know who I am.
The question is lazy, makes a woman look like she has a tape measure out and is
checking boxes on a form. But this isn’t a first date.” He looked up from the
menu. “Is it?” She smiled and shrugged noncommittally.

“Sounds to me like Exception #2 is in order.” His enigmatic
chuckle rose above the restaurant’s clink and tinkle.

“You are a force of nature, Miranda Logan.” He sat back in the
chair. A smile played around his lips. “I am a…facilitator. Hunting tigers has
given me a certain notoriety and brought me in contact with a great many
people. I connect those who want something to those who can provide it.”

“Sounds illegal.”

“It can be. But legality has never been a factor in my decision to
do or not do something.” Miranda returned to the menu. She knew even less about
the man she sat with than ten seconds ago. Now what? Did she really want to
know more? Instinct told her not to probe deeper. For the moment he’d gone as
far as he would. She looked up to find him watching. His eyes gleamed with
amusement.

“Okay, I’m ready. If I don’t eat my tummy will begin talking for
me. I’ll have the chaat to start and the tandoori shrimp with mustard seeds and
coconut milk. You can order. I feel empowered when a man orders for me.” Janesh
raised an eyebrow.

“Do you have any objection to an Italian red?”

“Not at all. Why not French?”

“I
noticed the wine list includes a favorite of mine: Mocali Brunello di
Montalcino. It works nicely even with seafood. And two, the Italians were
making red wine when the French were running around in the woods.” Miranda
laughed.

“Okay,
Mr. McKenzie. Italian it is.” With no apparent signal, the waiter appeared.
Janesh ordered in Hindi.

“Forgive
me for not speaking English. As your introduction to fine Indian cuisine, I
wanted to leave no room for error.” The waitress returned to present Janesh the
red. He nodded. She uncorked and served him a glass. Her eyelashes batted with
unspoken invitations. With all the seriousness she’d seen in the forest, he
lifted the glass and tasted. Miranda thought the girl would swoon when he said,
“Perfect.” She gave the waitress her brightest smile when she poured her glass.

Miranda
sipped and sat back in the soft seat. Spreading warmth suffused her. She rested
her forelimbs on the chair’s armrests, crossed her legs. Janesh looked at her.
She squeezed her thighs. “So, Miranda. Tell me about this creature of yours.”

She
strained to rise from a languid torpor, reluctant to reengage a distant
reality. “Right. The reason we’re here.” From her bag a banded sheaf of papers
and photos emerged. She again marveled at Janesh’s tunneled focus that walled
off his surroundings. He nodded and sat back as the waiter arrived with their
orders, deftly arranged the settings, refilled their glasses and left before
his presence intruded.

“Janesh?”

“Forgive
me.” He sat up and lifted a glass. “To a marvelous evening and to a woman, who
I fear, will cause me many exceptions.” Miranda smiled.

“How
many do I have?”

“Not
sure. I’m in unchartered waters. Never reached two before.”

For
a few minutes only their silverware made noise. Janesh paused. “Your expression
defines besotted.”

“Don’t
interrupt. I’m communing with the divine. These shrimp are sinful.”

“That
DNA report is interesting to say the least.”

“Okay.
You talk, I’ll eat.”

“The
possibility three machines separated geographically made the same error is not
worth considering. The DNA is central to this case.” Janesh stopped and stared.
Realization dawned. “That’s why Professor Akiyama sent you. He understood the
DNA report is telling us the truth. But it offers no understanding without its
source. He wants me to find it.”

Janesh
returned to his plate. Both ate with gusto as the sumptuous meal began to
disappear beneath stabbing forks and slicing knives. “Would you agree, because
of all the unknowns, the CIA agents Cross and Dawkins may not be telling us
everything?”  Miranda nodded as she dipped a juicy shrimp in coconut milk and
dabbed a little chutney. Her eyes rolled at the flavors swirling across her
tongue. Amused, Janesh continued.

“Until
we know who’s who and what’s what, we might be wise to hold our own counsel.” 
Miranda spotted a plump chaat that had somehow managed to escape her fork. Its
freedom proved short-lived. Janesh kept an even tone. “I’m not interrupting
your pursuit of a psychopath am I?”

She
drained the wine glass without smacking her lips and extended it toward him for
a refill. A bright smile accompanied a sweet, “No.” She noted his frown. Her
shoulders slumped. “Janesh. You haven’t said a thing I don’t agree with.” Her
smile broadened again. “Besides. Anyone who can feed me like this has my
complete confidence.”

“Did
you and Chatur go to the same charm school?” She laughed, took another sip, put
down her knife and fork, and dabbed her lips. A languorous pose against the
chair followed. “Wow. I can’t remember the last time feeling so full felt so
good.” Smoky, half-lidded eyes turned toward her host. A throaty voice rolled
out. “Thank you.” Janesh leaned back in his seat.

“We’ll
have to do it again.”

“We
must.” Their eyes locked. The air crackled. He brushed a curl from his
forehead. She squeezed her thighs.

“Miranda
Logan. You truly are a force of nature.”

“You
have no idea.”

Chatur’s
arrival prevented a public spectacle. “My dearest Miranda. Despite the ordeal
did you enjoy the food?”

“I
can now go to heaven. Thank you, Chatur.” She gave Janesh a side-long glance.
“Despite the ordeal.” Chatur looked up and gave a wave. The waitress arrived
with a dessert cart.

“I
have a piece that until I laid eyes on you, befitted only a queen.” Miranda’s
eagerness made her face shine. Janesh rolled his eyes.

“What
is it?”

“A
Basil Chocolate cake in white chocolate sauce with a scoop of pure vanilla ice
cream.” Miranda squirmed in her seat.

“Oh
my God. I can taste it already.” Chatur turned to Janesh.

“Do
not concern yourself with the expense. I present it as a gift.” He turned back
to Miranda. “In fact, to spare you any embarrassment at my friend’s lack of
financial depth, accept this meal as a token of my esteem.” Janesh shook his
head.

“I
will long regret introducing you two.” Chatur, head turned from Janesh, winked
at Miranda.

“Be
grateful, Janesh. It is a high point that saves you from an otherwise
undistinguished life.”

 Chatur
departed after pouring them fresh Brazilian coffee. Miranda moaned her way
through the cake then sat quietly, sipping the hot brew. Janesh laid his cup
down. “I booked myself on your return flight. It is the day after tomorrow,
right?” Miranda nodded absently. Janesh gave her a curious look and grinned.
“What’s the matter? Caffeine bring you down?”

“I’ve
had a most wonderful evening. I can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so
contented, so at peace. I want it to last.”

“It
will.”

Miranda
stared at him.

CHAPTER
10            Upper Reaches

Twelve-foot,
floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across a wall eighty-one stories above the
street. Arms folded, Nicholas Koh gazed across Singapore’s blue harbor.
Somewhere on the water filled with the world’s ships a fog horn must have
blared but it couldn’t penetrate the soundproof glass. “Let it go, Nicholas.
It’s long past time you ended any involvement with that side of the business.
You’ve got too much to lose. It’s not worth it.”

Koh
twisted his trunk just enough to look over his shoulder and eye the speaker,
one of two lawyers sitting in his office. Their perfectly tailored suits,
perfectly manicured fingers, perfectly coiffed hair, perfectly reflected the
seven-figure salaries “that side” of the business had made possible. They
looked like high-powered corporate attorneys but he had no doubt shaving cuts
might cause them to faint.

Nicholas
returned to the view. Far below, ants scurried throughout maze-like pathways.
So had he once. Everyday had been a hard-scrabble struggle to find the exit
from a future that promised only the same. His escape had begun with stolen
vehicles provided for heists and robberies, trucks to move filched goods, boats
for fast getaways. He’d never asked questions only cash in advance. The work
had introduced him to hard men who permitted no mistakes and allowed no
weakness. Now he centered a transportation empire that spread web-like across
the globe.

Somewhere
in it, probably in this building, a spy, a mole, a rat had penetrated his security.
That breach had killed Wei Xuan Chan and Feng Tan his most trusted confidantes.
He had no idea what had happened and no bodies to return to their families. An
insult he would not forgive. Either a competitor or an enemy had intercepted
the communiqués of a discovery that would revolutionize transportation. The
world’s power centers would beat a path to his door. He’d control the gateway
to the stars.

For
the moment it remained safe in Tacoma, Washington. The equipment needed to be
here but he wouldn’t move it until discovering who else knew of it. When he
did, they’d learn he hadn’t forgotten the lessons that gave rise to Nicholas
Koh.

He
returned to his desk. The lawyers knew nothing. His tone held no irony. “You’re
right. I have too much to lose. Please continue your efforts to repatriate my
fallen comrades.” The two rose in unison and exited. Nicholas retrieved his
communicator, began pressing buttons connecting to “that side”.