Sagramanda

by Alan Dean Foster

  Frustratingly, the boy and girl rode the car all the way to the end of the line. By the time they chose to exit, it was already dark outside. The evening was cloudy and with only a hint of moon, a condition Jena had thoughtfully ascertained before deciding to go out that night in search of others in need of salvation. Nor was the terminus station crowded, at least by Indian standards, when the pair finally disembarked. As they made their way through the station confines, past shops whose owners were activating security screens and autovendors that were shutting down for the night, they never noticed her. From her continued clandestine observation of them, she felt it was doubtful they noticed anything except each other, so intent were they on the young and handsome miracle that was themselves. In love, no doubt. Puppy love, kitty love, first love. Certain old memories that forever refused entombment rose, like bitter gorge, within her. She slapped them down. There was work to be done this night.

  Despite her resolve and her eagerness, she nearly changed her mind when the older woman showed up to meet the couple. Stout and efficient, the newcomer was dressed not in sari or salwar, but in freshly laundered Western-style field gear. Peering over the top of her reader, Jena saw the newcomer namaste and then formally shake hands with each of the students in turn. That was more encouraging. It meant the possibility existed that not only had greeter and arrivals not met before, it also suggested that the students were new to this area and to their eventual destination. Unfamiliarity was the mother of confusion, and ever a useful partner in Jena's work.

  Students and greeter climbed into an open-topped, fuel-cell-powered 4×4 equipped with bull bars, oversized wheels, all-wheel steering, and a pair of swiveling elevator observation seats mounted in the rear. Pocketing her reader and making her way in the same direction without ever following immediately behind the trio, Jena was able to make out the bold inscription on the side of the vehicle: Jhila-Biopatenschaften Biological Station. This only further confirmed her supposition that the young couple were students. Come over from their dorm for a night's, or longer, fieldwork. Used to reacting quickly to the unforeseen, she employed one of several aliased credcards in her bag to rent an electric trike from one of the numerous autohires located next to the station. When the 4×4 headed out of the parking lot and away from the terminal, its occupants were unknowingly being tracked by an equally silent if much smaller shadow.

  In defiance of traffic regulations and those regulating the use of the rental, she drove with all the lights turned off. Should the driver of the vehicle in front of her happen to glance in her curving rearview, on such a dark night she was unlikely to see the much smaller, three-wheeled transport following behind. Jena was also careful to keep out of range of the other vehicle's animal detection avoidance system with which a 4×4 in this area was likely to be equipped. While its arc of sensitivity would be much greater forward of the vehicle on which it was mounted than it would be to the rear, she was taking no chances.

  After a short drive during which the station receded into the distance behind them, the 4×4 slowed as it approached a gate in a tall, high security fence. Sizing up the situation swiftly, Jena did not slow proportionately. Instead, she asked for and received a quick burst of speed from the trike that enabled her to pull up alongside the bigger vehicle. It positioned her on the right side of the 4×4, out of range of the gate's identification system that was mounted off to the left. So occupied with each other were the students that they did not even bother to glance in her direction. As for the car's driver, she was busy slipping an ident card into the gate sensor's reception slot. Meanwhile, Jena made a show of fumbling in her shoulder bag for a similar card, which she did not possess.

  Accepting the driver's ID, the gate blocking the road ahead rolled back on its track to allow the 4×4 to drive through. Jena paralleled it until she was just inside the gate, then turned deliberately down a narrow road leading off to the right. Not until the bigger transport had driven on out of sight did she reverse course, accelerate quickly, and resume tracking the other vehicle.

  Interesting, she mused as she bounced along in the wake of her quarry, immediately finding herself in deep, damp forest. This was a place she had never visited before. Night birds called querulously to one another from high in the trees while the occasional rattle of shadowy branches hinted at the presence of other, larger creatures. As she drove on, forced in the absence of the trike's lights to concentrate exclusively on the route ahead, she made note of her fascinating new surroundings, or as much of them as she could make out in the dark. Fervently committed but not single-minded, she was always interested in improving herself and adding to her store of knowledge about her adopted country.

  Giving no sign that its occupants were in any way aware that they were being followed, the nearly silent 4×4 pushed deeper into forest and night. Before too long it turned onto a left-hand spur that was narrower than the main track. Nearly an hour of additional driving ensued, during which time Jena stoically ignored the increasing ache in her backside and legs. Pain and discomfort were mere intangibles that her ongoing studies had long ago taught her how to tolerate.

  Eventually, the 4×4 slowed and turned right, heading toward a small but intense cluster of bright lights that resembled a constellation fallen to Earth. They were the only indication of a human presence in the vast darkness. From the vicinity of the lights, voices and a few slightly louder welcoming shouts could be heard. Clearly this was a substantial encampment, hardworking and well populated.

  With no one around to see her sitting in the darkness on the idling trike, Jena dug her fingers tight into the handgrips and made no attempt to hide her disappointment. Her long journey down from the central part of the city, her singling out of the student pair as likely candidates for redemption, her subsequent shadowing of them on the train and now to this point: all had been for naught. She was fearless, but she was not foolish. There were too many people around for her to proceed with her intentions. Furthermore, a camp in a place like this would be actively alert to any unauthorized intrusions, especially late at night. The odds were bad, and she did not see how she could improve them. There was nothing she could do. The scriptures taught one how to absorb disappointment. Working the trike's controls, she brought it around and headed away from the camp, back the way she had come.

  Still, having primed and prepared herself to do a night's work on the Mother's behalf, she was reluctant to simply return home. Around her the woods were alternately still and enticing. The huntress is never quick to flee. If she was patient, and waited, and looked around for a while, perhaps she might encounter others. A student or two camped by themselves for the night while carrying out observations of the forest's nocturnal life. A professor with a wide-eyed doctoral candidate in tow. Even locals who serviced the camp. In her present state of mind, she would settle for providing salvation even to one as simple as an itinerant laundry-wallah.

  So instead of turning down the road that had brought her to this point and heading back toward the transport station, she urged the trike forward and continued along the north-south road. Once past the well-lit camp, it narrowed perceptibly. Cut barely wide enough through the forest to accommodate the specially equipped 4×4, it provided plenty of driving room for the smaller trike.

  She did not wonder at the need for such a thoroughfare in so isolated and unpopulated a place. Besides leading to a camp such as the one she had left behind, it paralleled the lofty security fence, providing service access. As she sped northward, she could hear periodic crackles as the occasional insect or unlucky night bird flew into its multiple strands and was instantly electrocuted.

  Some time later, at the sight of motion up ahead, she slowed, wondering if these larger animals would meet the same fate or would simply be shocked into retreating. Then she saw that they were not animals.

  She smiled.

  Bringing the trike to an abrupt stop, she pushed the deactivated transport into a copse of thick, concealing bushes. Removing her long carry bag
from the trike's luggage compartment, she slung it over her left shoulder and began to move silently forward, keeping low and under cover. There was plenty of time and she would take all that she needed.

  As always, she was intensely curious about those whom she was about to redeem.

  It was not difficult to decode the seal and open the access gate. The dozens of such gates strung out along the fence line were designed to hold back animals, not bank robbers or terrorists. The trick was to realize the entry while preventing the gate from sending notification back to its central monitor that it had been opened without authorization.

  Sanjay watched admiringly as Taneer swiftly and efficiently compromised the gate's sensors. It was a trick he knew could be done, but he certainly could not have done it himself. As soon as the three of them had stepped through, the scientist reactivated the gate behind them to maintain the fiction of a continuous, uninterrupted connection. The two men they were supposed to meet should already be waiting for them, having accessed the location by another route. The utilization of two different entry points and two separate approaches to the meeting place had been agreed on as much to assuage the buyer's fears as to enhance security for the forthcoming exchange.

  “I don't like it here, Taneer.” A fount of bravado in the city, Depahli retained the same atavistic fear of the jungle that was common to the majority of country folk. “Why couldn't we have done this somewhere in the city center? The main transport terminus, maybe, or one of the airport lounges.”

  “You know why, Depa.” Cold beam in hand, the scientist illuminated the narrow but well-maintained service trail that was leading them deeper into the woods. “Too many potential witnesses, too many curious onlookers. If only one person witnessed the exchange, that would be one person who could identify all of us later. The buyer's representative feels the same way. He doesn't want this done in public any more than I do.” He glanced over at the third member of their little group. “Sanjay, are you all right? For someone who's supposed to be pretending to be a ruthless bodyguard, you're looking a little pale.”

  In truth, the farther they walked and the more distance they put between themselves and the fence line, the less comfortable the shopkeeper felt.

  “Permit me to point out that you have no experience of places like this, Mr. Buthlahee, sir. I grew up in surroundings that were similar but still not half so impenetrable. There are things in the forest that go bump in the night that you do not want to bump into.”

  “Relax,” Taneer chided him. “We're still close to the fence line and the cluster of inurb buildings just on the other side.” He waggled his beam across the trail. “There are three of us, and each of us has a light.” A hand gestured at the dark woods. “Anything out there is much more likely to run from us than we are from it. It's true I may not have your firsthand experiences, but I've read a great deal about our native animals and their habits. It's not as if we are walking to Bangladesh.”

  Sanjay was not reassured. “Tell that to the first cobra we see waiting in ambush on the side of the trail.”

  Depahli shuddered and tried to crowd a little closer to her lover.

  But Taneer was right. As they continued to advance and the dense, undisturbed vegetation drew even closer around them, even the nocturnal birds seemed to shun their lights. As for snakes, the only one they saw was a king snake, not a king cobra, too small to frighten even Depahli.

  Jena was enjoying herself. Though the heat of excitement burned steadily within, it was late enough so that her surroundings had cooled down. The appearance of the two men and one woman had gone a long way toward mitigating her disappointment at having to abandon her intention to set free the two students and their guide. Three take the place of three, she mused. Obviously, these were the innocents who had been intended for her all along.

  Something was itching her ankle. Glancing down and pulling up her left pants' leg slightly, she saw that something thin, black, glistening, and about six centimeters long had attached itself to her flesh. It looked like a tiny, wet sausage. She eyed the lively leech for a long moment, then let the fabric fall back into place. It was an omen. Someone else would have declared it was just an opportunistic parasite, but Jena knew better. Give blood, take blood. It would be churlish of her to deny the small creature its due. Ignoring the itching, which was barely noticeable, she moved on.

  She was careful to keep her distance, sometimes utilizing the trail behind the trio, at other times ducking back into the brush. Only very rarely did one of the three bright beams being carried by her quarry aim backward in her direction. Those she was trailing were clearly concerned with what lay ahead, not behind. What were they doing out here, in the forest preserve, in the middle of the night? They did not look like students. One of them was exceptionally well dressed in a manner suggesting that he was in possession of unpleasant knowledge. She would have to watch him carefully. The other two concerned her not at all.

  She felt that she could make her move at any time. But that would terminate the delicious sense of anticipation she always felt, a kind of lubricious homicidal foreplay. Besides, the more distance they put between themselves and the fence line, the less likelihood there was of anyone in the apartment complex on the other side overhearing any sounds. It would be a pleasant change to be able to conduct her liberating activities at leisure, without having to worry about the noise that all too often attended her ministrations. She continued to follow, and to anticipate, and to watch.

  Keshu studied the readout on his spinner. The video was being forwarded to him from sensors mounted on the silent police drone currently hovering above the forest floor. Though the highly sensitive infrared detectors were picking up multiple targets, the unit's scopes and sensors had been programmed to emphasize anything that fit the human profile. It was left to those viewing the information to distinguish between night-loving monkeys and humans, a task that size comparison alone made relatively easy.

  Next to him, Lieutenant Johar looked up from his own spinner. Half a dozen special police wearing night camouflage clustered not far behind them, while a pair of noise-negating stealth choppers hovered off to the west, above the nearest public housing. Each carried an additional complement of cops patiently awaiting orders for deployment.

  Keshu was tired. Having covered many kilometers via chopper, he and his hastily assembled team had been tracking Chalmette ever since she had stepped off the commuter train at the end of its line. Fairly quickly they ascertained that she, in turn, was indeed following a pair of students. From a distance, the chief inspector had watched with grudging admiration as the foreign woman had used her own quarry to enable her to slip inside the restricted area of the preserve.

  From then on it had been a matter of staying patient: tracking, tailing the foreigner as she trailed the field station 4×4 that had picked up the unknowing students. Not daring to risk losing her but still loath to pick her up without irrefutable evidence of wrongdoing on her part, he had reluctantly issued the order to start moving in when their target paused and turned away from the field station. But when she had surprisingly chosen to continue onward, paralleling the fence line instead of returning to the station, he had hastily countermanded his own order. Maybe, just maybe, an opportunity might yet present itself to catch her engaging in something prosecutable.

  The process of tiresomely tracking her through the forest continued. Despite their hopes, he and Johar were starting to believe they were going to have to give up and decide whether or not to let the woman return to her apartment or pick her up on some pretext. That was when the three newcomers had put in their unexpected appearance. Their illegal entry into the preserve provided sufficient grounds for their arrest, but the thought of issuing the necessary order never entered Keshu's head. Especially not when the real object of his interest abandoned her trike and began to stalk the newly arrived trio.

  He was not surprised. Her rapid and effortless switch from one set of potential prey to another fit the modus that
the department psychs had put together for her. To a random killer unconcerned with the background or personalities of her quarry, one set of victims was as good as another. How cold she must be inside, he thought. How ethically bankrupt. He had dealt with, had helped to bring to justice, and had seen numerous murderers slain, but none quite like this implacable, unfathomable foreign woman.

  Cheese, he thought absently as he studied the moving readout on his spinner, was a far more amenable French export.

  From the moment she had pushed her trike into the bushes, there was no doubt to anyone observing her subsequent actions that her intent was to follow the trio of unanticipated forest visitors. Focused on his likely serial killer, Keshu wasted no mental capital trying to divine the newcomers' motivation. They might be researchers, or illegal lepidopterist collectors, or rare plant thieves. They might be friends out for an evening's excitement, or in the process of settling a bet. He doubted they were poachers because the starlight sensor on the drone did not show them carrying anything that might be poaching equipment. They might constitute a bizarre ménage à trois searching for a suitably exotic location in which to consummate their particular sexual needs.

  It mattered to him only in the most cursory manner. Of the four ambulatory heat images visible on his spinner's readout, he had eyes only for one.

  “Want me to signal some of the boys to move in more closely, sir?” Johar whispered even though they were well out of hearing range of both the naïve trio and the deadly female shadow that was stalking them.

  “No.” Keshu knew that the lieutenant was worried that if and when the foreign woman attacked, his people might be too far away to get there in time to put a halt to her intended mayhem. There was a risk, certainly, in continuing to keep their distance, but he felt it worth it to acquire the conclusive proof of guilt a court would demand. Even if they were seconds too late to intervene physically, each officer had been instructed that when given orders to move in, they were to make as much noise as possible. From experience, Keshu knew that might well be enough to halt the woman in her tracks.