Shiva

by Simon Sloane

  The Indian spread his arms in triumph. “See?” He pointed at the monitors that still showed Jyran’s handsome face before it had been disfigured by the gunshot.

  Hugo stared at the wall of screens. Clearly, none of the 108 had ever seen the sheik in person. They didn’t know who was behind Shiva, and for all intents and purposes, it might as well be Yogi. If they were the only men to survive the looming apocalypse, Yogi was about to become the ruler the world.

  Hugo gasped when his nemesis cocked the hammer again.

  “I’m sorry,” Yogi said as he pointed the gun at Hugo. “I should have known you don’t have what it takes.”

  III. RENEWAL

  “Artificial intelligence is the future …

  Whoever becomes the leader in this sphere

  will become the ruler of the world.”

  Vladimir Putin

  Chapter 97

  Nuclear

  Saturday, 10:45am CET (2:15pm Indian time)

  Diana hurried through the corridors. She heard three loud bangs, but she couldn’t locate them. Right in front of her, Sorokan looked grim on his video, which documented a family visit to the Forbidden City in Beijing.

  Diana still hadn’t managed to find Alexander. Where was the Russian when she needed him? Unwittingly, he had revealed the essence of Shiva.

  The time had come for the AI’s next move—was it the shots she had just heard? Diana wasn’t sure how to attribute the revelation around the human genome, because it didn’t fit the countdown that Hugo had uncovered. Having eliminated the leaders of France and India within twenty-four hours, Diana wondered about Shiva’s next target.

  It might well be Hugo.

  He was the only scientist who understood the realm of quantum computing well enough to rein in the artificial intelligence. If only she could find him!

  Diana rushed along a forlorn hallway, which didn’t feature any images or videos. Where was Alexander? His intimate knowledge of the Singh residence would be her chance to find Hugo. Something deep inside told her that someone had hurt him.

  When Hugo died, their last hope of stopping Shiva would be gone. Soon one of the nuclear powers would push the button. And the others … in an attempt to finish off Shiva, they were bound to destroy the world.

  Ever since the assault on MECCA in Oman, Diana wasn’t in a position to inform Vauxhall about what was really going on. No one seemed to have picked up on Sarah’s publishing of Shiva’s one hundred and eight locations on geek-o-matixx. Diana was sure they would find glowing cylinders at each address.

  Nevertheless, she saw no way to arrange a coordinated global strike within the next few hours. Considering Shiva’s superior intelligence, there was no way for special forces to approach its replications without alerting the AI. Anyway, there was nothing Diana could do to help the agents in London, Paris, New York or Singapore.

  Even if she sacrificed herself, it might be too late for Hugo. Her mind swirling in desperation, Diana frantically looked for a way to find the only man who could help her take out Shiva. Hugo probably would want to stop her from doing what needed to be done, but he would accept that it was the only way.

  At least Diana wouldn’t die in vain.

  A moving shadow at the far end of the corridor alarmed her. She ran straight ahead, but then she heard a voice echoing from the walls behind her.

  “Have you been looking for me?”

  Diana turned around.

  Alexander stood before her, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Chapter 98

  Motive

  Saturday, 11:00am CET

  “Can’t you take off my handcuffs?” Khaled asked the SSI officer, whose nametag identified him as Agent Leclerc. The man in the anthracite suit ignored him while opening the lid of his laptop. His cologne smelled like a mixture of menthol and gasoline, making Khaled feel nauseous.

  “Khaled Sharkhor,” Leclerc snarled, “is that your name?”

  “It is,” Khaled replied, hoping he would be spared the history of names and aliases he had been forced to use over the years.

  “When did you decide to use your original family name again?” the bald interrogator asked, his voice rising in feigned curiosity.

  “Right after my adopted brother was pronounced dead.”

  “When were you last in contact with Al-Antqam?” Leclerc seemed to think Khaled’s only logical move was to continue Nassor Sharkhor’s legacy.

  “Three months ago.” Maybe the agent wasn’t aware of Khaled having foiled their bombing of the Church of Basilique Sainte-Clotilde.

  “And you haven’t spoken to anyone from Al-Antqam since then?”

  “I have not.” Khaled bared his teeth. He had no reason to lie. They would have to deploy more effective interrogation techniques than plain old redundancy.

  “So, you deny that the attack you prevented on the basilique was a ploy to gain President Casimir-Perier’s trust?”

  “He always trusted me, even before that incident. And I’ve never let him down. If you’re looking for his murderer, you must go to the Elysée Palace.”

  “Why did you shoot Etienne Saint-Clair?” The officer changed tack, ignoring Khaled’s swipe at Charenton and Zoë.

  “I pursued the Casimir-Perier’s assassin through the Tuileries and along Rue Rivoli. Saint-Clair met him at Hôtel de Crillon, only to hand him a bomb that was disguised as an attaché case full of gold. And when I found Saint-Clair at L’Esplanade restaurant, I accidentally shot him during an altercation involving the police. I very much would have preferred to take him alive.”

  “Why didn’t you arrest Saint-Clair at Hôtel de Crillon?” Leclerc asked, apparently intrigued.

  Khaled sighed. “I was working undercover. I never carried a badge or anything. At Hôtel de Crillon, the explosion of the briefcase knocked me off balance. Saint-Clair escaped to the Elysée Palace.”

  “And you didn’t inform the authorities because ….”

  “I needed more evidence. I knew that Saint-Clair had been instructed by a government official with the aim to take out the president, but—”

  “By whom exactly?” Leclerc caressed the stubble on his chin. It seemed as if he was only pretending to believe Khaled, trying lead him toward self-incrimination.

  “Zoë de Valenciennes,” Khaled said, remembering her duplicitous smile.

  The agent consulted his laptop. “Mademoiselle de Valenciennes is a mid-ranking official in the prime ministerial liaison office within the Elysée Palace. What would be her motive to kill the president?”

  “She was having an affair with Jean-Marc Tanguy. It seems as if she was disappointed with her career prospects under Casimir-Perier and Charenton.”

  “Did Tanguy incite her to assassinate the president?”

  “No.” Khaled thought of the recording he had made of Zoë’s encounter with the politician. “Tanguy despised Casimir-Perier, but he didn’t want him dead. He must have thought he could beat him at the polls.”

  “So, Ms. Valenciennes acted on her own accord?” Leclerc was unable to conceal the mocking tone that revealed what he thought of Khaled’s theory.

  “No,” Khaled said. Surely, he’d be locked away for months—maybe even years—once the interrogation was concluded. This was his last chance to unveil the truth. He took a deep breath before he answered. “Zoë did it on behalf of Henri Charenton.”

  “The acting president and electoral frontrunner?” The agent asked in disbelief.

  “Consider Charenton’s motive,” Khaled said calmly, locking eyes with the man when he stopped typing on his laptop. “Casimir-Perier’s premature passing was Charenton’s only chance ever to become president of France.”

  Leclerc remained silent. Then he folded his laptop, nodded at Khaled and walked away.

  Chapter 99

  CCTV

  Saturday, 11:15am CET (2:45pm Indian time)

  “Rewind it again,” Diana told Alexander. “Can we see the shooter’s face from a different angle?”
>
  They sat behind the CCTV console in Alexander’s security control centre in the basement of Singh Tower. Diana felt so exhausted that the humming of the generator almost put her to sleep, but Alexander poked her in the ribs to wake her up.

  “Whoever shot Yogi from behind was clever,” he said, pointing at the bloated corpse blocking the entrance to the Room of the Three Gods. “They must have known where to fire from, so they wouldn’t be recorded.”

  “Maybe a different camera?” Diana asked. “Oh, and what’s the news from Hugo?”

  “Our medical staff stitched up his wound. As far as I heard, it’s nothing life threatening.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Alexander swallowed. “He’s with Maya, relaxing at the temple. She insisted on taking him there. The doctors obliged, on the condition that he got time to recover.”

  “I see.” Diana would have preferred checking on Hugo herself, but she couldn’t just barge into the temple. “Any idea of who shot him in the shoulder?”

  “No.” Alexander sighed. “We’ve watched the CCTV recordings three times. I’ve already missed my inspection of the guards.”

  “So?” Diana wondered why this was a priority when Hugo had almost been killed.

  “Word will get out that Jyran and Yogi are dead,” Alexander said. “Then the situation might get out of control. A rudderless ship invites plunderers. Moreover, we must think of a reason why we haven’t contacted the authorities yet.”

  “We need to take control of Shiva first,” Diana said. “And the police won’t complain if we deliver them the evidence for the murders of Jyran and Yogi.”

  “Look what I got for you!” Alexander let a silver chain glide through his hand. A golden card dangled from it. “One of my guards took it from Jyran before they carried his body to the mausoleum. His ashes will be stored next to his father’s.”

  “That’s good, but we need Hugo if we want to interact with Shiva. Let’s give him some time to recover while we find out who tried to murder him. Otherwise it wouldn’t be safe for him to get back up to the thirty-sixth floor.”

  “It’s too dark,” Alexander said, pointing at the surveillance recording. “The lights were dimmed more than usual before the shooter took out Yogi and fired at Hugo.”

  “Too bad you don’t have CCTV in that chamber,” Diana said.

  “That’s why Yogi must have chosen it,” Alexander said. “He probably thought he’d get away with double murder. Shooting Jyran and Hugo without leaving a trace—it sounded like a good plan.”

  Even with her special training, Diana had failed to locate the hidden room until Alexander helped her trace the origin of the gunshots. Had Yogi succeeded, he might have locked up Jyran and Hugo’s bodies in the Room of the Three Gods forever. “I wish I’d have stayed with Hugo,” she said wistfully when her phone beeped.

  So, I wasn’t wrong, after all, Sarah wrote to her. Shiva’s origin is now confirmed: 9pm Indian Standard Time on 8 December.

  “Since we can’t identify Yogi’s shooter,” Alexander said when Diana showed him the message, “let’s check our CCTV records for what happened back then.”

  Diana nodded. “I have a feeling we may find something.”

  Alexander grinned. “You’ve got feelings?”

  Chapter 100

  Fiercer

  Saturday, 11:30am CET (3:00pm Indian time)

  The pain pierced Hugo’s bandaged shoulder when he woke up.

  “Relax, Hugo,” someone whispered. “You’re safe.”

  Hugo opened his eyes. He felt as if he had gone to heaven. Maya’s face was an inch from his. She caressed his cheek. Her gaze carried a power he couldn’t escape, particularly in her temple. The sitar music and the scent of incense soothed him.

  The young woman bent down and gave him a kiss of such tenderness and passion that it eclipsed anything he had felt before.

  “My father set up an emergency room in Singh Tower,” Maya said, showing him a small lump of lead. “That’s where they cut this out of your shoulder.”

  Hugo took the deformed bullet. Slowly, the memory came back. He recalled the feeling of solid metal underneath his back and adjustable white spotlights above his head. The surgeon’s laser had hovered above him, burning through his chest.

  Now he was lying on the same pillows where he had made love to Maya the night before. “What happened?” he asked, glad to be alive. “Who shot me?”

  “It was Yogi,” Maya said. “First he killed Jyran. The guards caught him when he tried to murder you. And he got what he deserved: two bullets in his back.”

  Hugo couldn’t remember any of it, but it wasn’t unusual for the mind to wipe out memories of horrific incidents that preceded the loss of consciousness.

  “Jyran ….” he sighed. He regretted the passing of the heir who had opened up to him about his issues with his father. On the other hand, Jyran had already died the moment Sorokan rejected him. Never would Hugo forget the scion’s mortified expression.

  Leaning in for another kiss, Maya made sure the servants standing at the far corner of the temple noticed their passion. They took the hint and left.

  To Hugo, Maya appeared more determined than ever. The teenage beauty didn’t leave him time to think. Again her sari glided from her shoulder. Then she bent down to remove Hugo’s underwear. He moaned, but she didn’t seem to care whether he was ready. All the violence around her only seemed to have sharpened her desire to live.

  “Let it happen!” Maya sat astride him, placing her finger on his lips.

  A thought struck Hugo, although his mind was still numb from the anaesthetic. Had Maya seen Jyran as a hurdle to consummate their union? Her perverted brother had even precluded her from having sex with any of her prospective husbands. Surely, he wouldn’t have accepted Hugo as his brother-in-law.

  “Shiva,” he groaned as she became one with him. “I must get back to Shiva.”

  “You will,” Maya said, smiling as he rested between her thighs. “It won’t be long before we’ll both stand face to face with Shiva. I promise you that.”

  Hugo found it weird that hadn’t Maya hadn’t shed more tears about her brother’s death. She glowed with the fervour of a woman on the cusp of her destiny. She was old enough to know what she wanted but young enough to have the courage to go for it.

  Entranced by her voluptuous curves and the scent of the fragrance on her caramel skin, Hugo cast his concerns aside. She kissed him once more, and he longed for nothing more than to become one with the immaculate goddess.

  Once again, her earrings dangled as she shivered with desire. To Hugo, it felt as if he was sinking into the spiral galaxy of diamonds that swirled around the sapphire.

  Chapter 101

  Engaged

  Saturday, 11:45am CET (3:15pm Indian time)

  “What’s this?” Diana asked, pointing at Alexander’s recording. “A Bollywood movie?” Young women danced in colourful saris on top of Singh Tower.

  “It’s Maya’s eighteenth birthday party. Seems like it takes a cinematic production when an heiress comes of age.”

  Diana laughed for the first time since Hugo had been shot in the shoulder.

  “By the way,” Alexander glanced at his phone, “one of my guards heard from a servant, who saw Hugo with Maya at the temple. Our patient seems to be recovering quickly.” He gave Diana a wink and a thumbs-up.

  “Then we shouldn’t bother him,” Diana snapped, “until the morphine wears off and he can think straight again.” She had always felt unenthusiastic about Hugo and Maya rolling in the pillows. It was all fine as long as it didn’t distract him from Shiva.

  Diana pondered the option of taking Alexander’s access card. She could go up there on her own and face the AI. And yet she couldn’t be sure her plan would work unless she knew about Shiva’s origin.

  Refocusing her attention on the CCTV recording of the party, Diana was amused by the sight of Yogi shaking his rolls beneath his green Hindu cloth. The bouncing electropo
p rhythm made him swing in the most comical manner as he tried to edge closer to Maya. Out of the corner of his eye, he ogled the freshly minted adult while paying little attention to her almost equally attractive friends.

  Jyran, by contrast, had removed himself from the crowd. The heir’s gaze glided dreamily over the city and its plethora of flickering lights. Was it possible that he was thinking of the suffering down there while his family revelled in luxury?

  Maya’s parents sat together in a cabana by the pool. They toasted their daughter with smiles. Akasha, in particular, looked overjoyed.

  At last Yogi seemed to accept the fact that Maya wouldn’t dance with him. He exchanged a glance with a handsome man at the corner of the dance floor. Then he withdrew from the crowd to visit with Sorokan and his wife.

  When Yogi sat down and whispered to Sorokan, the head of the Singh dynasty gave him a meaningful nod. Sorokan took his phone and retrieved a photo of a smiling young man in a Hindu gown. Yogi’s lips trembled as he listened to Sorokan’s words. Something had perturbed the founder’s right-hand man.

  “Who’s that?” Diana asked, zooming in on the raven-like face in the photo.

  “Pratiman Rao,” Alexander said, looking nervous, “the prime minister’s slaughtered son. By the way, may I check on our guards?” He pointed at another monitor that showed the restless crowd in front of the gates of the Singh residence.