Shiva

by Simon Sloane

  “I was the one who proved it to him,” Alexander said, his voice booming with pride.

  “Thanks!” Hugo slapped his back. “I owe you. So, how’s Maya?” he added with a sheepish grin.

  Diana tried not to reveal her irritation. “She’ll be glad to see you,” she said diplomatically, wondering why she disapproved of Hugo’s doomed romance with the teenager. “Just keep your hands off her until we’ve stopped Shiva!”

  Hugo smirked. “Did you find out who shot us from the sky?” he asked as they approached Singh Tower for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  Alexander turned around to give him a meaningful look. “Not yet. But this time I have scanned the surrounding roofs for snipers. We should be in the clear.”

  “I hope so,” Diana said, taking a deep breath.

  “If we went down now,” Alexander said, “it would be the third helicopter crash on Singh premises within five months. We can’t be that unluc—”

  “Wait!” Diana would have jumped up if her seatbelt hadn’t been fastened. “You said the third crash?”

  “You haven’t heard?” Alexander asked, his gaze bouncing between Hugo and Diana.

  “Heard what?” Hugo asked.

  “I thought Maya told you,” Alexander said with a stern face, “how her beloved mother passed away.”

  Chapter 77

  Caught In The Act

  Saturday, 5:30am CET

  Khaled saw Zoë disappear into a luxury apartment complex near Sèvres-Babylone. The way she entered the door code suggested she frequented the place. It was only a few blocks from the prime minister’s residence at 57 Rue de Varenne.

  Khaled wondered how long Zoë had been dating the man who had been forced to surrender the prestigious address to Charenton nine months earlier. Now her future at Charenton’s office depended on engineering Tanguy’s downfall.

  After much whinging about Zoë’s betrayal, Charenton had accepted Khaled’s advice. The acting president offered his assistant a deal: she had to record Tanguy’s confession, preferably in a moment of passion, when a man was his most honest self.

  Once Tanguy admitted to having ordered Casimir-Perier’s assassination, Zoë would receive full immunity. Any crime she might have committed under Tanguy’s influence would be forgiven. The deal expired at 6am, allowing the evidence to be leaked to the morning news broadcasts. Tanguy would be disgraced, this time for good.

  And yet Khaled didn’t feel at ease with the young woman. He wondered about the type of person who served one powerful man while sleeping with his fiercest enemy. Had Zoë really thought she could fool Charenton with her ridiculous stories about Saint-Clair’s gift and her Spanish boyfriend? Khaled felt he hadn’t even begun to understand the power-hungry blonde.

  Through the audio output embedded in his interactive spectacles, Khaled heard Zoë exchange kisses and pleasantries with the villain, who would soon be charged with treason and murder. He used the glasses’ electronic magnifying function to watch the penthouse apartment from a rooftop across the street. Charenton hadn’t involved his security detail in the operation. Too great was the risk that someone would inform the press about the way he was framing his rival.

  Khaled had configured Zoë’s phone to record the tryst. Even though inadmissible in court, most news outlets would release the content in a heartbeat. Turning up the volume, Khaled felt like a voyeur as he listened to Zoë’s passionate cries over the rhythmic creaking of the bed she shared with the presidential contender. Hopefully, she would get Tanguy to talk soon.

  Khaled wondered how Zoë had gotten involved with her boss’s rival. Maybe Charenton had disappointed her in some way, prompting her to flirt behind enemy lines. Or had she chosen Tanguy, the divorcé, over the Charenton, the family man, for her own marital prospects? Just like Khaled, Zoë was in her late twenties, a time when even workaholic women begin to ponder the prospect of a family.

  The pounding crescendoed. Khaled nearly blushed from Zoë’s high-pitched squeals. Either she was a uniquely gifted actress, or Tanguy was the most formidable lover in Paris. Heavy breathing followed as the pair relaxed. Khaled pictured them resting in each other’s arms.

  “So, Juan,” Zoë teased Tanguy with his Spanish nickname, “what will be your first executive action as president of France?”

  Chapter 78

  Delinquent

  Saturday, 5:45am CET (9:15am Indian time)

  Hugo reached for the second button from the top, but Alexander blocked the lift panel.

  “Why not?” Hugo asked. If they didn’t let him anywhere near Shiva now, when would he ever get a chance to rein in the AI that was starving the world?

  “We must be patient,” Diana spoke like a mature sister dragging a younger sibling from a toy store window. “Ask Jyran first!”

  “He forgave you only grudgingly,” Alexander said. “Welcoming you back into his home is a big step. You don’t want to get on his wrong side again.”

  Hugo let his hand glide over the anthracite-coloured suit that Alexander had given him when they arrived at the residence. It was the finest fabric he had ever worn. He looked at Diana. Her facial skin looked pristine even after bursting through the frosted glass ceiling. The slit of her black cocktail dress subtly revealed her long legs.

  “Why dress up like this before noon?” Hugo asked Alexander.

  “You’ll see. Just so you know, Yogi has been asked to resign as CEO of Akasha Limited. But don’t tell anyone. It’s still confidential.”

  “Ah!” Hugo said. “So, you’re working directly for Jyran now?”

  Alexander nodded, and Hugo caught a glimpse at the handgun in the jacket pocket of the Russian’s tuxedo. It was amazing how smoothly he moved behind the scenes.

  Hugo still couldn’t forgive Jyran for casting him out on the street. But then, the twenty-year-old must have still been unsure what he wanted to do with his privileged life. Hugo imagined how hard it must have been on both of the Singh siblings to lose their parents within a week. The fact that no one in Mumbai mentioned the events of the previous December meant they were still taboo.

  On the roof of Singh Tower, the pool area buzzed with servants. Barely clad waitresses carried fresh food trays just like in the good times. Decorators lined the pool with colourful flowers, scented candles and golden Shiva statues. Cocktail tables were placed behind the loungers. Electricians had installed loudspeakers and television screens set to a music video channel.

  To Hugo, it seemed inconceivable for Jyran to parade his wealth when, one hundred yards down the road, the Mumbai mob encircled his leaden gate, longing for the Singhs to suffer the same fate as the Raos. Maybe he had never seen the kind of suffering in the streets that had redoubled Hugo’s determination to exterminate Shiva.

  “So good to have you back, Hugo!” the heir’s voice boomed from the edge of the infinity pool as Jyran ambled across the marble tiles. He embraced Hugo like a brother. “Like every Saturday,” he said, spreading his arms, “we’re hosting a brunch for the local elite. And today you’ll be our guest of honour, along with Miss Holborn, of course!” He bowed to kiss Diana’s hand.

  Hugo raised his eyebrow but refrained from reminding Jyran about the circumstances of his departure just a few hours earlier.

  Jyran’s attire had changed along with his attitude toward Hugo. Instead of a Hindu cloth, he wore a white shirt, a peacock-blue suit and a crimson tie. Hugo even spotted a gleam of gold in his pocket. He must have repossessed Yogi’s access card to Shiva.

  The young billionaire had yet to offer an apology for the ordeal his “guest of honour” had gone through on his orders. And yet Hugo forgot about it the moment he saw Maya walking toward them. He detected the hint of a smile on her glowing face. The heiress wore a long hazelnut dress and a matching hat adorned with chrysanthemums that would have made quite a splash at Royal Ascot. In any case, Hugo was surprised that Jyran let his sister anywhere near him.

  “So,” Hugo said to Jyran while no servant was with
in earshot, “what are we going to do about Shiva?”

  Jyran sighed, casting down his eyes like a delinquent.

  Chapter 79

  Shangri-La

  Saturday 6:00am CET (9:30am Indian time)

  Sarah couldn’t sleep. The sun was about to rise, painting the horizon orange. She was listening to the waves from a lounger next to the pool of the bungalow that belonged to Jamie’s bank.

  Much to Sarah’s chagrin, her girlfriend constructed what accountants referred to as “offshore tax efficiency vehicles.” Some of the sham firms were officially based at the Jersey residence, where Jamie was catching up on sleep in the four-poster bed. They were designed to be so clandestine that even the secret service wouldn’t be able to link the beachfront property to Sarah’s inner circle.

  Wondering how she could help Hugo, Sarah checked news sites on her phone. The reports from New Delhi were devastating. Half the city was in flames.

  So, Hugo hadn’t managed to slow down Shiva after all.

  But then a news article on the bottom of the page caught her eye: “French Scientists Decode Human Genome.” The headline may have sounded uninteresting to the average reader, but Sarah realised its implications at once.

  The fact the press release had been issued by the Elysée Palace and not the research labs of Syngenetiq SA might point to a last-minute electoral gamble. With excitement, Sarah watched the London-based anchorwoman interview a Californian scientist about the bioscience breakthrough.

  “Hasn’t the human DNA been sequenced before?” the journalist asked.

  “Think of our genetic code as a Mozart symphony,” the bearded expert said. “All we could do in the past was read aloud the notes. Now we’re listening to the music.”

  “How did the discovery come about?”

  “If I had to bet, I’d say that the mysteries of our genes could only have been untangled by an extremely powerful quantum computer.”

  Sarah nodded. She already knew which one. But she was confused. What was the work of Shiva now—New Delhi, Syngenetiq or both?

  “We’ve seen a lot of quantum computers coming online since last year,” the dark-haired anchorwoman said, “but none of them achieved anything as spectacular.”

  “I’m just as puzzled as you are,” the geek responded, fiddling with the collar of his Pacman shirt. “Someone must have boosted the number of entangled qubits by a factor of ten or more. And I only know one technology that could have—”

  “That’s fascinating,” the anchor interrupted, “but what does the discovery mean for the average person on the street?”

  “Not much for now,” he said as Sarah wrote to Hugo. “We still lack a mechanism to modify the genes of grown organisms such as human beings. But embryos are a different story. With this we might be able to make future generations resistant to heart disease and cancer. We might even overcome death itself.”

  Sarah thought a few more steps ahead. The food shortage was bound to worsen if people lived forever. In any case, it would have been too much of a giveaway if the discovery had been announced by Akasha Ltd in Mumbai. She split the screen of her phone and browsed the website of Syngenetiq SA, the French agribusiness giant making headlines with the genetic cure.

  But there was nothing—the French firm hadn’t even updated its news section in the last twenty-four hours. Their latest announcement was about an artificial virus that could be used as a carrier for genetic cures. It was a genetically enhanced version of the highly infectious common cold virus. Now it was able to cut out faulty genetic material and replace it with benign genes on a global scale.

  The news story about it, however, had been buried by news about Casimir-Perier’s assassination. Geek-o-matixx knew that the slain president had originally planned to mention the discovery in his final speech, only to decide differently at the last moment.

  “So, our descendants will live in Shangri-La, where people grow ever younger?” the anchorwoman responded with a sardonic undertone, which the scientist failed to pick up. “What about horrific bioweapons that could target specific genes? Aren’t those on the horizon as well?”

  “Absolutely. One could design viruses targeting certain races, eye colour or even specific capabilities. For example, anyone below a certain IQ could be wiped out by an artificial virus attacking brain cells with genes that are indicative of low intelligence.” He grinned, almost as if he welcomed the prospect.

  Sarah’s gaze bounced from left to right as she pondered Shiva’s latest move. Syngenetiq SA’s logo caught her attention again. Somehow the announcement didn’t fit Shiva’s recipe of chaos and disaster. But then, Casimir-Perier’s murder had also broken the pattern of plague-style disasters. What was Shiva up to?

  Sarah reread both news stories from Syngenetiq again. Then she saw the devastating result. It all fit perfectly.

  Syngenetiq was in control of the delivery vehicle as well as the payload. Both had been endowed to the firm by Shiva.

  Why had Shiva chosen the French agribusiness giant to unveil its godlike powers? Having sent her findings on Syngenetiq to Diana, Sarah knew the answer might unlock Shiva’s secret.

  Chapter 80

  Reshuffle

  Saturday, 6:15am CET (9:45am Indian time)

  Hugo watched Diana as she sat on the lounger next to Yogi, who looked distraught. She attempted to strike up a conversation, but he continued to brood in silence. Hugo found it interesting that Yogi had bothered to show up at all. Diana gave up her efforts when a new message arrived on her phone.

  Maya stuck by Hugo’s side. The heiress was never shy of a sultry smile. Hugo was surprised she didn’t even mention the slaughter of her fiancé and his family in New Delhi. If anything, Jyran and Maya looked relieved. Hugo wondered who had withheld the Singh funds, failing to prop up the government.

  “Have you heard about the recent announcement of our French competitor?” Jyran asked out of the blue.

  “It’s a great step for science,” Hugo responded. “And we know what’s behind it.” He had to be careful, since it could be assumed that Shiva had access to the CCTV cameras and microphones spread throughout the residence.

  “Shiva?” Maya asked, taking a glass of champagne from a tray. “In that case, the discovery would have been made by our firm, wouldn’t it?”

  Hugo wondered how much Maya knew about the AI. He remembered what he had found out about the way Shiva stored its knowledge. Its storage of DNA sequences was a lot bigger than the six and a half gigabytes of human DNA. As a result, it wasn’t far-fetched to assume that Shiva had cracked the code of the blueprint of life as well.

  “Only Shiva has the capability to decipher the full meaning of the genetic code,” Hugo said at last, answering the questioning glances of Jyran and his sister. “And going through Akasha Ltd would have been too obvious. I guess Shiva wouldn’t like it if the spotlight of the global media shone on Mumbai. And neither would you.” He gave the siblings a duplicitous nod. “This place would be swarming with journalists.”

  Maya looked intrigued. “Sounds interesting. Soon we’ll see if you’re right.”

  Still famished from the nightly chase, Hugo grabbed a tandoori chicken dish when the servants offered him a selection of steaming plates.

  “In any case,” Jyran clasped Hugo’s shoulder, “congratulations to a successful turnaround! Shiva is no longer a destroyer. It’s a saviour.”

  Maya’s features twitched. She excused herself, ambling toward the gilded bathrooms that were reserved for members of the Singh family.

  Hugo couldn’t help noticing that Yogi still stared after her, despite Diana’s efforts to entangle him in conversation. When the deposed CEO pushed himself up from his lounger, Hugo hoped he wasn’t going to follow Maya. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for Yogi despite his plot to evict Hugo from the residence. For the first time since they had met, Yogi seemed to have lost his appetite for food. The odour of dejection emanated from his body, repelling even the servants as he walked by. He
caressed the surface of the cocktail table next to Hugo, but he didn’t linger.

  Hugo gestured at Diana to follow him. She did so but without enthusiasm. Maybe she would have preferred to stay close to Jyran and tease some nuggets of knowledge about Shiva out of him.

  “Now that we’re among us,” Jyran said, putting his hand on Hugo’s shoulder, “you might have heard about our management reshuffle.”

  “I wouldn’t believe a word of it,” Hugo said sardonically, “unless it came directly from your mouth.” He tried to keep his host in a good mood.

  “Let’s not play coy,” Jyran said with a conceited smile. “I want to be straight with you, Hugo: how would you like to become the new CEO of Akasha Limited?”

  Hugo feigned surprise, although he had anticipated Jyran’s move. It was the heir’s last opportunity to get Shiva back under his control.

  “Why did you let Yogi go?” Hugo asked, curious about the fate of the man who had arranged his expulsion from the Singh residence.

  “I need someone I can trust,” Jyran said, avoiding Yogi’s obvious incapacity when dealing with Shiva. “I’ll offer you twice the package of your predecessor,” he added before Hugo had a chance to probe. “Here’s your first instalment. I’d like to have your answer before our guests arrive.” He checked his watch.

  Hugo let the cheque disappear in the inner pocket of his jacket. It showed a lot more zeroes than he would have anticipated. His brush with the street thugs had made him think twice about the world of privilege he inhabited with the likes of Jyran. Surely, the heir considered the poor souls untouchables. According to Hindu faith, they deserved what they got due to the sins of their past life. But it wouldn’t be wise for Hugo to launch a discussion with the heir about the underclass. His reason for accepting Jyran’s offer had nothing to do with money. “To be effective in this role,” Hugo said as hesitantly as he could muster, “I’ll need to talk to Shiva.”