Best of all, the buyer shared Taneer's desire to conclude the business as rapidly as possible. Tomorrow at the soonest, since the banking establishments in both India and Europe whose services would be required were already closed and the necessary instruments and transfers could not be put through until they reopened.
Though he would continue to work through the shopkeeper, Taneer insisted on making the final arrangements and conveying their details to the buyer himself, in real time. That meant either engaging in a simultaneous three-way communicator exchange-much more difficult to keep private-or being with Sanjay while the two of them utilized the facilities of a single open line to talk to the purchaser. The latter arrangement had the additional advantage of allowing them to communicate privately by signs or in writing or even just via eye con tact while still remaining in constant contact with the buyer.
But where to conduct such business, and on such short notice, this very night? Via communicator, Sanjay suggested that they meet at the trucker's hostel where he was staying. The idea did not appeal to Taneer. Too much potential for secondary violence, too many possible eavesdropping ears. It had to be a more public place, with as many wit nesses as possible in the event something went wrong. Preferably somewhere with a significant police presence. Both men racked their brains for a suitable venue.
In the end, it was Depahli who came up with the solution.
Ramapark was one of the most recent, and successful, additions to the city's sometimes bewildering abundance of entertainment venues. While the well-to-do could afford to have elaborate personal entertainment systems installed in their homes, thus saving them the trouble and danger of mingling with their millions of less fortunate fellow cit izens, such expensive luxuries were not available to the vast majority of Sagramanda's inhabitants. Hence the creation of frequently small and simple, but occasionally vast and elaborate, carnivals of culture and pleasure. Ten-year-old Ramapark fell into the latter category, and had proved stimulating enough to intrigue even the wealthy into going slumming in search of its delights.
Based on the great epic of the Ramayana, a tale set three thousand years in the past had been adapted and updated for contemporary enjoyment. Located on the western side of the Hooghly, the thousands of lights that illuminated the park after dark drew packed crowds on weekends and was reasonably busy on weekdays, not least because most of its rides and attractions were air-conditioned. In the same way, movie houses during the mid-twentieth century had often filled their seats with people less interested in what was being shown on ancient screens than they were in escaping the summer heat.
Surrounded by an artificial moat that made use of Hooghly water, entrance to the park from the parking lot and public transport station was over a wide causeway built to resemble the stone bridge Hanuman had raised from south India to Ceylon so Rama could invade that country to recover his kidnapped wife, Sita. As he joined the throng of happy families and couples in moving toward the great arched, illuminated entrance, Sanjay vowed to one day bring his own family here for a visit. Chakra and the children would love it, from the automated ser vants of Hanuman the Monkey-God, who were shown working on the bridge, to the soaring virtuals of Ravan's demons, who strove futilely to harry them in their efforts.
Inside the walls, constructed to resemble Sugriva's fabled city of Kishkindha, sound competed with light for the attention of the park's visitors. People flocked to eat dinner at one of the park's many restaurants or the stalls that served specialties from all over India. Wide-eyed children clung with one hand to parents and with the other to souvenirs like the internally illuminated balloons in the shape of heroes from the Ramayana story. Shops sold everything from figures of the epic's many characters to replicas of Maricha's deer and Hanuman's asoka flowers. "Reproductions" of Sita's jewelry were especially popular among young girls, while boys favored miniatures of Rama's bow and arrows or the sandals he had given to Bharat.
Never having been to the park before, Sanjay found it difficult to concentrate on the work at hand. He was here on business, serious busi ness, and not for relaxation. Still, it was hard not to be seduced by the glitter and glow of the many rides and attractions on offer. He was particularly drawn to the opportunity to participate in an enormous enclosed ride where for ten minutes at a time, fifty individuals could reenact the great battle in the sky between Rama in his chariot and the evil Ravan in his sky-carriage. Rama's arrows and Ravan's darts were all virtual, of course, but that did nothing to mute the genuine excitement. A place like this, he reflected, could make one feel like a child again.
A check of his chronometer indicated that he was already running a little late. Too late, and his client Mr. Mohan might grow nervous and leave. That would not be good for their always-tenuous relation ship. Sanjay tried to walk faster, but the press of bodies around him made it difficult. In such packed surroundings, he could not run. The consequences of running over some distracted child would slow him down even more.
Passing the opportunity to take Sumantra's chariot ride or win prizes by finding the jewel in the lock of Sita's hair, he worked his way through the multitude until he found himself walking past two opposing rows of park games that harkened back to a simpler, less technologically advanced era. In another time and place, they would have been called carny games. Step right up, folks, and try your skills here! Win cheap prizes! These consisted primarily of overlarge, inexpensively produced stuffed animals and Ramayana figures or wildly blinking low-priced electronics imported from the low-labor factories of China or the SADC.
He passed on the stentorian blandishments of a human hawker who urged him to try his luck at throwing the healing herbs of Hanuman at the foul poisons of Indrajit as he searched for the venue specified by his client. It was located at the end of the aisle, on the left. There, people paid to shoot at Varan's Raksha warriors with virtual arrows shot from real bows. Imbued with individual internal programming and the appropriate electronics, the bows responded to aim and strength of pull and "fired" accordingly at virtual targets that swooped and darted in three dimensions at the rear of the high-tech booth. When a Raksha was hit, it perished in an explosion of light and color garish enough to satisfy the most demanding twelve-year-old-or his excited father.
As Sanjay approached, there were only three people utilizing the booth's facilities: a frowning teenager of about fourteen who was rap idly exhausting the credit on his park card, and a young couple. The shopkeeper recognized his client immediately. When the figure with him turned slightly, Sanjay found himself taken aback by her attractiveness. Though the capacious sari she wore concealed any hint of curves (deliberately, perhaps?), he felt confident that the beauty he saw in her face must surely be duplicated all the way to the toes of her sandal-clad feet. There was something else about her he could not quite put a finger on, however. A suggestion of hardness, perhaps. This was a flower that would not surrender its petals easily.
Taneer finished firing his bow. He'd been at it for a while now, too preoccupied to pay much attention to what he was doing, more interested in conveying the appearance of an average park-goer. Even so, he was irritated at his lack of success. He had been brought up not to lose at anything, and even the meaningless diversion of the game threatened to distract him from his purpose in coming here. Recognizing the expression on his face, Depahli was amused at his inability to win a prize neither of them wanted. They were here to put the final touches on acquiring a real prize.
She had to touch him on the shoulder and turn him slightly to face the quiet gentleman who had come up behind them and stood waiting patiently for Taneer to finish with the game.
"Sanjay, my friend." Gesturing, Taneer led the shopkeeper away from the booth and deeper into the park.
"Mr. Mohan," Sanjay replied courteously.
Depahli looked at him in such a way that the scientist felt moved to take a step forward, in the direction of trust. "Events have progressed to the point where I think you might as well know my real name, Sanjay.
If things don't go as we hope, you might need to know it to facilitate alternatives. My name is Taneer Buthlahee." As they walked on, he introduced the exquisite woman at his side. "This is my fiancee, Depahli De."
Steepling his palms together, Sanjay bowed slightly in her direc tion. "I am both honored and charmed, though if you will permit me, I must confess that I am more charmed than honored."
Depahli laughed. It was a bold, forthright expression of delight without a hint of fragility about it. "A pleasure to meet you, too, Sanjay." Her tone turned playful and she squeezed her consort's arm. "Has dear Taneer promised to make you rich also?"
The scientist just shook his head. One could only restrain Depahli so far, and then stand back while she said whatever was on her mind.
"We have a most equitable business arrangement, yes," Sanjay told her, smiling.
A trio of young girls rushed past. Dressed in colortropic pants that shifted hues to match their emotions and Western-style blouses puffed at the sleeves in the current style, they carried self-icing drink cups that, thanks to their electrostatically charged rims, kept the contents from sloshing out as the girls ran. They were giggling and smirking, bubbling over with adolescent feminine secrets that were important only to them. As a proper father, Sanjay wondered what they had been up to. Black entwined ponytails swaying, the tallest girl wore one of the new vest tops that was open vertically all the way to her waist. Opposing magnetized hems were all that kept it from flopping open with each step. Reflexive disapproval caused him to shake his head. Who could fathom the fashions of today's teenagers?
"Something wrong, Sanjay?" No longer ever completely at ease since his encounter with the lanky tracker, an edgy Taneer tried to scan the crowd without making himself conspicuous.
"No, Mr. Moh… Mr. Buthlahee. Everything is fine. I was not followed on my way here, and I assume the same is true for you." He smiled and nodded reassuringly at Depahli, whose return smile of gratitude was by itself enough to make a man momentarily forget his wife. Removing his communicator from a pocket, he raised it to his mouth.
"Whenever you are ready I will open the necessary connection on my secure line, and you can give the final instructions to the person who has been designated as spokesperson for the purchasing company. I was informed by our mutual contact that this person will be acting as the sole representative for the remainder of the sale."
Taneer nodded, searched the crowd again. He was looking particularly for a tall, lean individual with European as well as Indian features. Though several visiting European families were present, he saw no one resembling the man who had nearly run him to ground. Con tent and happy, enjoying their night at the park, innocent people eddied around the trio.
The plaza they emerged onto was busy, bright, and noisy, crowded with families resting from their exertions. Designed to resemble the courtyard of the ancient palace of Ayodhya, the slightly raised platform was one of several such meeting places within the park complex. Auto mated snack vendors kicked out floating virtuals praising the attractions of their ice cream, samosas, sandesh, rosogulla, the almost impossibly sweet gulab jamun, and other treats. Larger stalls offered every kind of fast food, from vegetarian to hamburgers, shashlik to satay. Open space, and a family crowd that was talkative without being deafening: it was exactly what
Taneer wanted for a setting in which to con duct the forthcoming critical conversation.
Turning a slow circle, he took a last, wary glance around before nodding at his middleman. "Go ahead, Sanjay."
Bringing out his communicator, the shopkeeper entered a number. It connected him with a special autodialer that then made the secondary connection. This ensured that even if the communication was somehow intercepted, it could not be traced back to its point of origin. The Rat had turned him on to it, and Sanjay had found it very useful when dealing with suppliers of inventory of the nontrinket kind.
By mutual agreement, visual as well as audio links were activated. It was conceded that knowing what everyone looked like would be reassuring to all parties concerned. There was a pause, no doubt prompted by security concerns at the other end, and then the communicator's small screen cleared to show the face of a heavyset middle-aged man of European extraction. Innate dignity showed through the effects of his extensive and expensive cosmetic surgery.
"Mr. Ghosh?" The tone was mannered, the English polished, but with a distinctive accent Sanjay could not identify. He did not let it concern him. The man's origins were no more his business than was the identity of the people the respondent represented. Chhote Pandit had vouched for him, and that was all Sanjay needed.
"I am here. What shall I call you, sir?"
The man did not smile. As it developed, he was not to smile throughout the entire course of their conversation. Neither was he con descending or discourteous. Sanjay had dealt with virtuals that were more human.
"Mr. Karlovy will do. As your Mr. Pandit has told you, the members of the consortium I speak for have agreed to your terms. We are ready, indeed anxious, to conclude the transaction."
Responding to a nod from Taneer, Sanjay obediently passed him the communicator. At the sight of the scientist, Mr. Karlovy's expression changed. It was still not quite a smile, but he was clearly pleased.
"Mr. Buthlahee. It is both a great honor and a considerable relief to see that you continue to exist in the flesh, and not as mere rumor. Do you know that you have made yourself, in certain knowledgeable circles, the most wanted man on the planet who has not committed mass murder?"
"It's always nice to be popular," Taneer shot back, unwilling to be flattered. "I'm looking to change that status as soon as possible."
"A yearning in which my group fervently wishes to assist you. How, where, and when might we best expedite our mutual business?"
Though Sanjay did his part by continuing to scan the laid-back crowd while his client chatted on the communicator, he could not keep from eavesdropping. In this he was not ashamed. His future revolved around a successful conclusion to this business as much as did Taneer's.
"Do you know the Parganas District, in the southeastern part of the city, that borders on the Sundarbans?" Taneer was saying into the communicator's pickup.
Mr. Karlovy was noncommittal. "Being only a visitor here myself, I know very little of your gargantuan conurbation. Without wishing to appear rude, there is very little of it that I wish to know. Only where we are to meet. Rest assured I have access to people who know it intimately, and can find their way to any meeting place of your choosing."
"Good." Taneer proceeded to provide the other man with appropriate instructions.
When "Gosaba Inurb" was mentioned, Sanjay's eyes widened. He knew the place, too. Many people who followed the news knew of it. When Taneer became even more specific, Sanjay was hard-pressed to keep his apprehension from showing.
His concerns were confirmed when, after Taneer finished, the man who called himself Mr. Karlovy turned to his left to whisper to someone out of range of his audio pickup. Peeking past the scientist's arm, Sanjay gave the man at the other end of the communication link credit for not losing his composure. At least, not visibly. But it was possible his words, when he spoke again, reflected just the slightest diminishment of self-assurance.
"I am informed that, of all things in this day and age, there is in the area you specify a wild tiger that has come out of the jungle and on two separate occasions has attacked and quite possibly consumed a young child and a grown man."
Taneer clearly relished the effect his directive had produced. So did Depahli, who squeezed his arm while remaining out of range of the communicator's pickup lens. "That's right. A tiger. In this day and age. The Department of Wildlife and Game has assured the populace that it has the situation under control, though the people who are resident in the area remain somewhat skeptical."
"I cannot say that I would blame them," Mr. Karlovy replied feelingly. "Is this your idea of a joke, Mr. Buthlahee? Some form of local humor to which I, as
a foreign visitor, am not privy?"
Taneer took pains not to smile. "It's no joke, sir. With the stakes what they are, there can be no joking around. I want a secure place for our meeting. I am sure that you wish nothing less. What more private location at which to consummate our business than the one place in all Sagramanda where at the present time no one except a handful of animal specialists dares to set foot?"
"Perhaps," the European replied, "sound reason underlies their reticence."
"Sir…" Sanjay started to say, trying to draw his client's attention. But Taneer had worked it all out beforehand, and would not be swayed.
"No one will bother us there. No one will interrupt us," the scientist assured his reluctant customer. "This isn't the sixteenth century, Mr.
Karlovy. I've researched a place where we can meet that's just inside the border of the preserve. No one will intrude on us, no one will stumble across our business, and we will be in, out, and done with it all in a few minutes with the aid of cars, not elephants. The odds of us encountering anything more threatening than a deer are quite small. Surely you know how the media seizes on such a story and immediately blows it all out of proportion, sensationalizing and exaggerating every detail?"
"Well…" Karlovy hesitated, murmured again to someone off-pickup, then returned his attention to the waiting researcher. "You are correct in saying that our business will not take long to conclude, and I must admit I do like the idea of conducting it well away from any prying eyes, be they organic or electronic. Isolation has its good points. Very well: your choice of time and venue is accepted."
Next to Taneer, Depahli hugged him in a way that caused Sanjay to blush. Her elation proved premature.
Sagramanda, a Novel of Near-Future India Page 20