The Huntsman

by Rafael

  “Thanks for the dogs.” Janesh smiled at him.

  “I have no suggestions for your report. You’re on your own.”

  He turned around, headed back to the Alakai Preserve, to the wilderness that welcomed its son. “Come.” Duncan and Ronan trotted up to scout ahead.

  CHAPTER 29 Clear as a Bell

  Nicholas Koh hated these moments. A venom-like hatred. But he wouldn’t articulate why. His lawyers sat on either side and at the conference table’s other end two detectives from Singapore Homicide had taken seats. “Let the record show Mr. Koh has voluntarily agreed to answer your questions though he is under no legal obligation to do so. Mr. Koh is a pillar of the Singapore community. He is President and CEO of a headquarters that employs over 1,400 and more than 24,000 worldwide. He generously contributes to Singaporean charities and is a more than generous patron of the arts. With the exception of two youthful indiscretions, he has not had so much as a parking ticket in almost thirty years.”

  His lawyer could not have better described his self-image. Singapore’s elite kept him at the top of their invitation lists and his presence at any gathering elevated the host and hostess’ status. Politicians courted his favor and counsel. He spoke at churches, corporate auditoriums, and commencement ceremonies. And too, the policemen at the other end confirmed him a thug and a hoodlum. One snorted.

  “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Mr. Koh is allergic to tar and nicotine.” He lit up anyway.

  Perhaps the island’s confined space caused it. Perhaps long memories of colonial subjugation. Maybe success. Wealth, ease, and comfort endured all manner of insults. Singaporeans had long decided civil liberties and individual prerogatives took a back seat to law and order. Its face sat at the table. Arrogant, impervious, insufferable.

  He puffed deep then opened his mouth. Blue-gray smoke crawled out, swirled and floated, snaked along his face before drifting away. “You were the last person seen with Jasline Wong. Want to tell us about it?”

  “We’re business associates. We met for lunch. We discussed the weather.”

  “That means they had no specific agenda.” the lawyer interjected. “Their conversations were general and simply intended to foster good business relations.” The other lawyer joined in.

  “Your question implies Ms. Wong has met an untimely end. Do you have proof of that? I’m sure you’re aware restaurant witnesses stated Mr. Koh and Ms. Wong left separately and in different directions.”

  The detective puffed again and once more let a cloud ooze from his mouth and curl away. He sat forward, forearms on the table. “You’re right. There’s no body. Funny thing however, all her personal effects are still in her apartment—mobile, keys, credit cards, cash, ID. Her suitcases are stacked and unopened. Even her makeup bag is there and there’s no sign of forced entry. Maybe she’s on a no-frills vacation.” His partner spoke up.

  “What about the physicists, Koh?” Singapore University confirms they approved their temporary assignment to your headquarters. One moment they report to work, the next no one sees them again. Maybe they’re on vacation with Ms. Wong.”

  “How’d you make detective? Someone take the test for you?”

  “My client is upset by your unprofessional and unfounded insinuations. He of course has the highest regard and respect for the law enforcement community.”

  The detectives stared at the lawyer. Like attorneys everywhere, once they completed the dull and unimaginative work of memorizing statutes and case law, their only skill lay in making you believe you hadn’t heard what you heard or seen what you seen. As one they rose from the table. The smoker looked at Nicholas.

  “You and I both know you killed these people. You’re going to slip up, Koh. When you do I’ll be there to put the cuffs on you. Oh, and all those guards you fired. We’re watching them too. If one slips up, it’s amazing what they’ll reveal when facing prison.”

  “I object.”

  “Save your objections, counselor. This is not a courtroom.” He dropped the cigarette on the floor and stubbed it with his shoe. “Don’t bother. We’ll let ourselves out.”

  When the door clicked the two turned to stare at Nicholas. “I swear to you. I had nothing to do with the physicists.” They remained silent. The admission hung in the air.

  “Why do you do it, Nicholas? You have everything any human could wish for. Nothing in this world is denied you. Why risk it all?”

  Nicholas rose and sauntered to a small convenience station. From a lower cabinet a half-filled vodka bottle emerged. He poured two fingers and drank one. He strolled back halfway down the table before he stopped and faced the lawyers.

  “I could say loyalty.” He gave the hand holding the drink an expansive wave. “Loyalty to a business that made all this possible. Your children attend university in America. You have apartments in London, New York, and Miami. That business made your salaries possible. But I have another reason.

  That world is a pure, clean one. The rules are simple, straightforward, and everyone knows what they are. Beforehand. However paradoxical or ironic, that world is an honest one because it provides clarity. It has to because decisions are life and death. And if decisions do not have life, your life, as a consequence, then they are not important and your life is of little note.

  This world has no clarity. Truth is an ever-shifting vagary. Enemies appear in the guise of friends. Pitfalls are presented as opportunities. Whims become hopes and hopes become laws. What is true today is false tomorrow and today’s falsity is tomorrow’s standard. And because decisions do not have life as a consequence, no one takes responsibility. In both our worlds death is inescapable. You spend your lives avoiding it. I spend mine disdaining it.”

  Nicholas drained his glass. “And now, gentlemen, I have an appointment I don’t want to miss.” He stepped into the hallway where passing workers moved aside to permit his determined passage. At its end he entered an anteroom to find a seated man with a patient expression.

  “Mr. Timson?” He smiled, rose, and extended a hand.

  “At your service.” Nicholas turned to his assistant.

  “Any messages?”

  “Just an electronic one.” She handed him a slip.

  “Miranda is safe and so is the equipment. I’ll be in touch. Cheers.”

  Nicholas crumpled the paper. What a coincidence, he thought. Josh Timson could never have reached this floor without including two words in his meeting request: Janesh McKenzie. He opened the office door. “Come in, Mr. Timson.” He guided him to a lounging area. “Please make yourself comfortable. Something to drink?”

  “A glass of water is perfect.” Nicholas poured himself another two-finger vodka and handed Timson water.

  “What brings you to Singapore, Mr. Timson?”

  “I understand you’re interested in acquiring some scientific equipment currently in the possession of a Mr. Janesh McKenzie.” Nicholas’ eyebrow rose.

  “And how do you know of my interest?” Josh displayed his ID.

  “I’m an investigator for the National Science Foundation. They sponsored a research project under the auspices of the CIA that went missing. I have access to the CIA’s after-action reports. The Agency found two men, traced back to your company, dead inside a warehouse where Dr. Joshua Ang’s science project had been taken. That project was then transferred to Tacoma, Washington by movers subcontracted by your people. Two CIA agents died there. The CIA is a bureaucracy. They work a little slower than I do but very soon they’ll begin sniffing around your operations. They’re determined to find the project. So are you. So am I. A person in my position can be very valuable.”

  Nicholas sipped his vodka. “And what exactly is your position, Mr. Timson?”

  “Information is a valuable commodity, Mr. Koh. The information I have access to is very valuable. I’m sure you’d be appreciative if I shared it with you.”

  Fortune had just smiled, Nicholas thought. This man gave him an opportunity to play McKenzie against
the CIA and at an opportune moment swoop in and snatch the prize. Could he trust him? He might himself be CIA, or worse, a police plant. “How much will my appreciation cost, Mr. Timson?”

  “$5 million dollars. Everything I learn you’ll learn.”

  “That’s a lot of appreciation.”

  “It’s a very valuable project.”

  Nicholas reached for a pad on the table, wrote a number on it, and passed it to Josh. “Here’s the deal, Mr. Timson. You and I will never meet again. Ever. When you have some information you think I should have, call that number and deliver it. If the information pans out you’ll receive $5 million. I will expect the information flow to continue until I have possession of the project. Otherwise someone is going to come looking for a refund. That’s the deal, Mr. Timson. Take it or leave it.”

  Josh gave the paper a careful fold and placed it in a pocket. “You have a deal, Mr. Koh. It’s a pleasure dealing with a professional. I’ll be on my way.” Nicholas raised a finger to hold him.

  “You play a dangerous game, Mr. Timson. Why do you do it?”

  “The rules are clear and the rewards high. I like the clarity.”

  CHAPTER 30 Guiding Lights

  They’d all attended crazy meetings but nothing like this one. The Senior Deputy Director rose from his chair, paced the table’s length, and back again. With the left on his hip, the right hand alternated between scratching his brow, the back of his neck, and the top of his head. Everyone seated wore somber expressions. Head down, he reached the end, turned, and paced back up. An occasional cough broke the silence.

  Hell of a spot to be in, he thought. He should just bury this case right now. Three dead agents prevented it. He glanced at Tilka Lon. Half-jokingly, he wondered if a termination order might work. Or perhaps psychiatric commitment. Wouldn’t work. Three dead agents prevented it.

  The Deputy knew, just knew, if he kept this at his desk it would blow up. The President would ask the Director why he hadn’t been briefed and the Director would ask him the same question just before demanding he resign. No matter how he imagined that conversation, it always ended with his head on a platter. “Yes, sir. Someone murdered a contracted physicist on an obscure research project into quantum encryption and stole the project. Along the way three agents were killed and a fourth attacked by a xenoform. Xenoform, sir. Yes, that’s right, an alien, as in extraterrestrial. One that flies. Oh, and did I mention the agents killed had their arms torn off and pasted to their backs as they hung by their faces? Yes, that’s right sir, pasted to their backs. And we still don’t know where the research project is.”

  Again the Deputy glanced at Tilka. Maybe he should have him explain the story to the psychiatrist. The good doctor would commit him on the spot. But it would still leave him with three dead agents to explain. The group’s clearest thinker caught his eye.

  “Yes, Jennifer. Something to say?”

  “There are many documented cases of group psychosis…” Tilka exploded.

  “This wasn’t some goddamn group psychosis. Two homicide detectives and two uniformed SWATs testified to the same thing.”

  “You didn’t let me finish, Tilka. Group psychosis doesn’t produce physical corpses independent of the psychotic event. No witnesses observed that poor ranch family the day before or the month-old corpse hanging on the tree. In the time frame the xenoform appeared another death with the same MO occurred. However, whether or not the xenoform is a xenoform is beside the point. Regaining possession of the project will answer many questions.”

  “Clark, what’s the latest intelligence on the project’s location?”

  “The trail went cold in a port city on India’s east coast, sir. Vish…, Vish…”

  “Vishakhapatnam.” a colleague finished.

  “How many agents we got there?”

  “Six, sir.”

  The Deputy paced the table’s length again before regaining his seat. “Okay, here’s the plan. First off, I don’t want anyone”, he looked at Tilka, “and I mean anyone talking about a xenoform outside this room. As far as anybody is concerned, we’re investigating the deaths of three agents. That’ll make sure no one thinks you guys have turned me into a lunatic. I’m going to put a request through channels for our counterparts in India’s R&AW to give us a hand finding this Janesh McKenzie.

  When we do, I want you Tilka to make peace with this guy. Talk to him. Tell him we have every legal right to the equipment but we’re willing to strike a deal for its return. We just want to know what it is and why three of our agents are dead. By the way, am I right he was helping us on this case?”

  “That’s right.” Jennifer responded. “We had another subcontractor, a Miranda Logan, on the case assisting and she brought him in to assist her.”

  “Jesus.” Dan interjected. “Could we have had any more security leaks? Maybe these two are at the bottom of this?” No one protested. “What happened to her?”

  “The same pirates who hijacked the equipment kidnapped her.”

  “And we think she was the woman in the cave?”

  “We don’t think, we know.” Tilka answered.

  “How’d she get in the cave?”

  “I think it had something to do with the xenoform.”

  “That’s it. This meeting is over. I’m going to have a double before you guys turn me into a lunatic. I’ll forward the contact links with R&AW as soon as I have them.”

  * * *

  If he’d had a worse start to a day he couldn’t remember it. Before reaching his office at the end of a long hallway he’d already been ambushed four times by bureaucratic underlings with no concept of initiative. One woman stopped him to ask if she should order less tea because the upcoming Diwali holiday would cause personnel absences. At least she’d had the decency to blush at his prolonged stare. Even the door title, Deputy Commissioner Central District, did not bring its customary satisfaction today. He’d worked hard to rise through R&AW’s ranks and provide for his family, especially his two daughters.

  He’d passed the eldest as he exited the house and she returned from the night’s debauchery. Her second year at university had transformed her into a caricature of an American coed: makeup, revealing clothes, tight jeans, throb music. Afraid to vent his anger, he’d remained silent walking through the reek of cigarettes and liquor.

  A transmitted paper with a scribbled note on its bottom lay on his chair. “Call the Commissioner soon as you get in.” Damn, he thought. Now he would know he’d arrived late. Langley, Virginia had sent a priority message requesting support for a team they had in Vishakhapatnam. What on earth did the CIA want there? He reddened and began digging through the message box pile.

  A paper emerged that had caused him to ask the same question four days ago. The port city’s local office had uncovered the CIA activity and asked for further instruction. He’d passed it to a manager and promptly forgotten. As his hand reached for the intercom he prayed to every god he knew an underling hadn’t placed him at the center of a looming disaster.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Rahul, update me on the CIA agents nosing around Vishakhapatnam.”

  “I told our local office to keep them under quiet surveillance and not reveal we’re on to them. The hope is we’ll discover what exactly they’re up to.”

  “Who’s in charge?”

  “Daaruk Kapur.”

  “He’s a good man. Competent and experienced. Okay, I may call you back with further instructions.”

  Before he could press his boss’ button, it lit up red. “Yes, Commissioner.”

  “Good morning, Ahsan. Did you sleep well last night?” He winced.

  “Quite, sir. So well I had difficulty rising.”

  “I see. Did you read the Langley request?”

  “Yes, sir. Did they specify what kind of support they need?”

  “They’re looking for Janesh McKenzie in conjunction with the deaths of three of their agents. It seems they’re having trouble finding him.”

&
nbsp; “Janesh McKenzie? The Mahān Śikārī? Do they suspect him of having a role in their deaths?”

  “Unknown. Because of who is involved this has the potential to become a public relations nightmare. Who is your man in the field?”

  “Daaruk Kapur, a very capable man.”

  “I want him to be the point man on this. Speak to the CIA people. See what it is they want and what they expect to accomplish. Our initial position should be one of cooperation. We’d expect the same if it was three of our agents. On the other hand our eyes should be wide open. The Americans can be devious. We should make no assumptions. The business we’re in can often appear innocent. It is a delicate situation and I expect you to give it your full attention. An earlier bedtime would help.” Ahsan winced again.

  “Yes, sir, it would.”

  CHAPTER 31 Assembly Required

  “It seems like yesterday I picked you up at the rail station, Kumārī Logan. You have changed.” Miranda held Janesh’s hand in her lap while the other gently stroked its strong fingers. She turned her gaze from the passing scenery to the rear view mirror.

  “Oh, how so, Narsimha?”

  “You’ve become…complicated. Before, like many Americans, you were hi-intensity, hi-energy, very driven, openly aggressive. Now you’ve become subdued, quiescent. Not like a person lazing on a beach with two weeks’ vacation remaining. More like someone grown wise and reflective. You have a new gentleness that experience and perspective produce. And yet I look in your eyes and see a volcano whose occasional rumble reminds everyone it is a volcano.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t miss your calling as a psychology student?

  “I love engineering.” he laughed. “It’s my girlfriend. She’s the psychology major. When we’re out and about she ‘reads’ people who catch her interest. In some ways she reminds me of Sri McKenzie. She has a stillness and inner calm that soothes everyone around her.”