The Rise of Io (29 page)

“Hey Congee, two apongs please,” she said, in her politest, sweetest voice. She dug out the rupees to pay for it and laid the bills neatly on the counter.

Congee gave her the stinkeye and placed the drinks on the counter. He didn't remove his hands from the cups. She took out two thousand extra rupees and slid them forward. Still, he didn't move his hand. Another thousand didn't do the trick.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “You knew things were going down. I paid you well in advance and gave you a bonus afterward.”

“You didn't say you were going to set my establishment on fire. It took two weeks to get rid of the smoke.”

Grumbling, she reached into her pocket to grab more money. Even then, it did not seem to satisfy Congee. Finally though, he let go of the cups. Ella handed one to Cameron and took a loud gulp of her apong before Congee could change his mind and take it back, then she beat a hasty retreat.

They found a table in the far back. Cameron had them change seats so she could have a better view of the floor in case she noticed someone suspicious. It also hid most of his face from the crowd, although she had assured him that it didn't matter. Chances were, the majority of the people in this room also had warrants out for their arrest.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Nah,” she said. “Too smart to get caught.”

Except for Manu.

“He doesn't count. That was a private transaction gone bad.”

Cameron raised the cup. “To the mission, and to your best friend.”

Ella's eyes almost watered. Almost. She raised her cup. “To Burglar Alarm.”

Cameron made a face as he sipped the drink and blew out. He smacked his lips. “Interesting. It's sweet and spicy at the same time, and has quite a kick.”

“I tried your American food once. Let me tell you something. It was the most–”

A dark blob approached from the corner of her eye. Ella pulled away, her hand reaching for her knife. She twisted and stabbed with it until the blade poked into a large soft belly, just short of cutting into skin. Little Fab's eyes widened and he dropped his mug of beer. He slowly raised his hand.

“Don't sneak up on me!” she snapped at the fence.

Little Fab looked down at his wet shoes. “You owe me a wash on these shoes, Ella. You almost owed me a wash on these pants, too. Why are you so jumpy?”

The knife went back into its sheath. “Look around. Shouldn't everyone be?”

“Probably right.” He looked at Cameron and nodded. Cameron nodded back. Little Fab jabbed a thumb at a corner at the other end of the room. “I have an associate who wishes to speak business.”

Ella looked at the figure behind the draped booth. She couldn't make out the silhouette. “Who is it and what does he want with us?”

“Not you, Ella. I told her your friend is the one with the money. You're just a little errand girl.”

Ella ground her teeth.

Cameron held up a hand and spoke in Hindi. “Sorry, Little Fab, Ella's a partner. If your associate wants to speak with me, she needs to clear it with Ella first.”

It was a very small gesture on Cameron's part, but it meant the world to her. She stuck out her chin at Little Fab and waited.

The fence shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He gestured toward the booth. “Go see her. I'll keep your friend company for now.”

Ella stood up and Little Fab took her seat. She glanced back once and then headed toward the back booth. It was dark in there save a small candle off to the side. She passed through the beaded curtain and slid into a seat. It took her a few seconds to recognize the person sitting across from her.

Mogg, the union boss, raised an eyebrow. “Black Cat.”

“Big boss,” Ella replied.

“I thought I was supposed to speak to that man over there, not his pet.”

“Well, you speak to me first, and then I decide if you speak to him.”

Mogg smirked. “Little Ella, always making deals. Word on the street is you have some strangers interested in the site.”

“How do you know?” Ella asked, stunned. “Did the Fabs sell me out?”

“Of course not, girl,” Mogg said. “It's not hard to figure out. You prowled the site for weeks. My boys saw you. I told them to lay off. Told them you weren't causing any trouble. So you prowl, and later on you appear with these foreigners buying all sorts of gear. Now the police move in all heavy and make everyone's life uncomfortable. It's not hard to figure out, girl.”

“Aren't you working for the minister?” Ella asked.

“Was,” Mogg groused. “We had a deal. Sold them the docks for stupid money and a good labor agreement. They paid us well for a couple of months, but now they've brought in the military. Told all my boys this morning we're out of a job.”

Ella shrugged. “What did you expect? You saw what they did to Faiz. Besides, you're not going to get a lot of sympathy from me. The minister used you to bully everyone in Crate Town.”

“Poor Faiz,” Mogg said. “Fool cleared out of town the second he could pack his bags. Cried about how that foreigner maimed his cousin. I told him, that's why you don't hire your relatives to be your bodyguards. That's the whole point of having a bodyguard.” She shook her head. “Amateur.”

“What are you going to do next?”

The union boss shrugged. “Probably nothing. The government has the docks all for their own use now. Most of commercial shipping moving north to Hazira. Already another union there. Maybe we go to Mumbai.” Her face darkened. “My boys are pissed. I'm pissed. Thinking about setting up a good old-fashioned strike and shutting the place down.”

“What do you want from us?”

Mogg took a sip. “Isn't it obvious? Half my guys helped unload and move tons of their supplies and the other half helped put up the buildings. They kicked us out and brought in specialists once the walls went up. The union looks out for its own any way we can. My people still have family to support, mouths to feed. Way I see it, you didn't prowl in the shit all those days for nothing. You're aiming to hit it somehow. I got the information you want.”

“How much you asking?”

Mogg looked over to the side. “If your friend is the money guy, why don't I negotiate with him directly. Did I pass your screening, Black Cat?”

Ella nodded and stood up. She jabbed a finger in the woman's face. “Don't rip him off, or you'll hear from me, Mogg.” She paused. “I also want five points for the hookup.”

“Three, and it's coming from your man.”

“Two, and it's coming from you.”

Mogg laughed. “Go fetch him.”

Ella walked back to the table where Cameron and Little Fabs seemed to be debating cricket. There were six empty cups on the table. The parts of Cameron's face not hidden by the headscarf were glowing red. He saw the look of concern on her face and held up his hand. “I'm fine. Asian genes. Is the meeting legit?”

“No,” she replied, “but you should hear her out anyway.”

Cameron drained the cup in his hand and stood up. “I'll be back soon. Keep my seat warm.”

“How did it go?” Little Fab asked when she sat down. “Your boy going to buy her information?”

“What do you care?”

“Mogg is giving me five points on the sale.”

Ella cursed. Ripped off again.

He always seems to get the better deal. Maybe the problem is you, not me.

“Can't trust anyone anymore these days, can you?” Ella said aloud.

He shrugged. “Can't blame them. From what I hear, the union was getting paid double rates or something.”

“Serves them right,” she grumbled. “Turning on Crate Town like that.”

“I have some business to discuss with you as well.” Little Fab took out a piece of folded paper and slid it across the table.

“Wow, you are a busy little broker tonight, Little Fab.”

Ella unfolded it. On the left side was a black and white picture of Cameron that looked a few years old. On the right was a hand-drawn picture that was approximately what he looked like now. On the bottom, though, was the real attention-getter. It was the prize money for information leading to his capture.

“Dangerous fugitive for a hundred million rupees.” She whistled. “That's hefty. I thought the Fabs prided themselves on keeping their mouths shut.”

“Every man has a price. For a hundred million, we'll leak,” Little Fab said. “How do you feel about making some money? I'll go in half with you.”

Ella frowned. “Even if I wanted to do this, why do I need you? Why can't I just report them myself and keep all of it?”

Are you seriously entertaining this? Why is it he can make you sell out, but I cannot?

“Of course I am not serious, Io. At least I don't think I am…”

“Because…” Little Fab said, taking out another piece of folded paper and sliding it forward. On it was a picture of Ella that she honestly didn't think looked anything like her.

“Twenty thousand rupees?” she exclaimed. “That's insulting.”

“Yeah, I've seen lost dogs get bigger rewards than that.” He looked back toward the booth. “Keep the posters as a souvenir. Let me know if you're in. We'll work something out. I can make all the arrangements and keep you out of it. We split it halves and be done with all this. Besides, it'll take all this heat off Crate Town's back. Consider it a public service.”

Ella stared after Little Fab as he left the Cage. She sipped her apong and stared out into nothing. She had never been on a wanted poster before. It sort of made her feel special, important, and all of a sudden, very vulnerable. She was known by enough people that it could be a problem, and twenty thousand rupees was honestly nothing to sneeze at. It was just enough that several people in the slum could turn her in. She didn't even think the government knew she existed until now. But still, only twenty thousand when Cameron was worth a hundred million? It made her angry and spiteful that they thought she was so cheap.

Cameron returned a few minutes later. “That was an interesting conversation. What do you have there?”

Ella folded the poster and tucked it into her shirt. “Nothing. You guys work something out?”

He nodded. “Mogg wants you to pick up some prints first thing tomorrow. If I like what I see, we'll buy the rest.”

“Great. Where to next?”

“Back to the bath house. We have a ton of work to do.”

T
o Surrett's credit
, he delivered. The 13 PARA Special Forces battalion had rolled into Surat the day after the failed ambush. The morning after that, Lieutenant Colonel Kloos, the battalion commander, had met with Rurik. Fifteen minutes later, he was sent to Shura's office to deal with the details.

Of course he was.

Shura studied Kloos as he walked into the room and bowed. “Praise to the Holy Ones.”

“Praise to the Holy Ones. Have a seat, colonel.”

Kloos sat down. “If I may, Adonis, it is an honor working alongside the Scalpel. Your achievements in the Middle East and Sweden are celebrated among the unblessed. If you ever do form your own cadre, you would have many volunteers. I would be the first.” He paused. “If you would have–”

Shura cut him off. “Spare me the pandering rhetoric.”

Easy there.

Tabs was right. She was laying the dismissive tone on a bit too strong. She softened, just slightly. “I find private teams wasteful. I prefer subject matter expertise with every assignment as opposed to trying to force resources to adapt to different elements. The only benefit is individual loyalty to a commander, and loyalty is overrated when it comes to a vessel. It only pertains to the Holy Ones and to our standings.”

“Of course,” Kloos replied stiffly.

I believe he was expecting another answer from you, one more effusive.

“I would think less of him if he thinks that way.”

“Tell me, colonel,” she said aloud. “You've reviewed the mission objectives with Rurik?”

Kloos nodded. “Four hundred para supported by a thousand police should be sufficient to complete the objective. Crate Town is dense, but as long as we contain the perimeter, it is only a matter of time, Adonis.”

“What do you think of his plan?”

Kloos's facial expression remained unchanged. He spoke after a small hesitation, in a measured tone. “The population of Crate Town is unknown. Estimates range anywhere from two hundred thousand to half a million people in an approximately six square kilometer area. There are three major roads leading out of the slum and five kilometers of perimeter to patrol, the rest bordering the water. The crux of the strategy will be wholly dependent on two factors: first, containment of the slum, which will be difficult. Second, the temperament of the residents in Crate Town.”

“Very astute, colonel,” she said, “but that isn't what I asked. If I wanted a briefing on the logistics, I could have just looked at the same data. What are your thoughts on the tactical strategy? You and I must work closely, so speak frankly.”

“Risky,” he admitted. “A door-to-door search may prove problematic considering the population density. The slum is already on edge after the riots over Dumas. The checkpoints that were put up this morning might push tensions to spill over. However, the Adonis has made it clear that the capture of the Prophus Adonis is the primary objective. We do have a limited but sufficient number of Penetra scanners to conduct a thorough search.”

That is an accurate assessment.

“You have reservations, though,” stated Shura.

“If I may,” Kloos said. “I have some recommendations I'd like to offer the Adonis. I believe it will assist us greatly not only in locating the Prophus team hidden in Crate Town, but in mitigating the tension of the local populace.” He pointed at the map of the region on her desk. “Crate Town is divided in a way we can section off–”

Shura held up her hand. “I don't need to hear it.” She stood up and walked to the window. “Tell me, colonel, does Rurik know who you are?”

“I introduced myself to the Adonis as soon as I arrived.”

“So he met you, gave you your orders, and then shuttled you off to me.”

“That is correct.”

She checked the time. “Let me guess. You two met at the pool while he was swimming laps?”

“That is correct.”

Shura turned and stared Kloos down. To his credit, he didn't flinch.

You always err on the side of being overly dramatic.

“Lieutenant Colonel Mayur Kloos,” she began. “Decorated with the Maha Vir Chakra for service during the Iranian offensive, a Sarvottam Yudh Seva for the operational evacuation of the Mumbai province, and twice-honored with the Sena Medal for bravery under fire. You are the fifth-highest ranking Genjix operative in the Indian military and the highest still fighting in the field. And you managed all this while outwardly fighting on the wrong side.”

“I wish I could have fought directly for the Holy Ones.”

She shrugged. “It's easy to point in a direction and fire a gun. It takes skill and finesse to serve the Holy Ones behind enemy lines, and still have the enemy give you medals for it. For the Genjix, you were responsible for assassinating General Pratik Patel and General Gokul Avninder, the latter a Prophus vessel. You were vital in crushing the Myanmar resistance two days after the enemy had swept in and retaken Thailand. You bought enough time for our Chinese forces to establish a new front line to stem our losses.”

“You've read my entire file.”

“Your mother was a politician in India, your father a business mogul. Both were very successful and influential in the government and in business, yet you enlisted under a pseudonym. You are beloved by the majority of your men, with a reputation for being tough yet fair, and you have slowly nurtured a fanaticism for the Special Forces that are sympathetic to the Genjix cause.

“The hierarchy is also in the midst of maneuvering a promotion for you to colonel that will hand you command of the entire Para branch. You are also on several shortlists to become a vessel for several high-ranking Holy Ones once India joins the Genjix.” She paused. “Is that in your file as well?”

Kloos looked thoughtful. “No, no, it is not.”

Shura went back to her seat and leaned forward. “I do know all about you, Colonel Kloos. I would never accept you into my cadre because I believe you are destined for greater things for the Holy Ones than simply carrying out my commands. So…” She put her hand on the map and slid it off to the side. “Here's my advice to you. Adonis Rurik is trying to establish his credentials in the field. I suggest you follow his orders to the letter.”

Kloos nodded. “And if I don't, Adonis?”

“Your choices will be remembered, colonel, by someone who makes a point to know names and deeds and loyalties. Or perhaps by someone who doesn't, who only cares about achieving personal goals. Change is coming to India. Good officers will be needed to rule. Officers who are vessels to be elevated to positions of power and influence in order to best serve the Holy Ones.”

“I see.” Kloos stood up and bowed. “I beg your leave, but I have much to do over the next few days. Adonis Rurik has ordered the perimeter of the slum reinforced by tonight. He wants to start conducting Penetra sweeps within the next two days. I need to review his tactical plan and see if there are any necessary modifications. I believe, however, his plan is fundamentally sound.”

“You have my leave, colonel. Good hunting.”