Mumbai Manhunt Read online

  Joshi turned and looked at her; she watched the shadows of his face and could see his eyes trail down her. The appraisal sent a shiver of hunger along her spine and made her wish she could convince him of the need to rest overnight instead of continuing to run.

  "Safe is relative,” he said. Despite the likelihood that they were the only persons on the dock, he kept his voice quiet. “Bao is still coming to kill you. That's why we're leaving, or had you forgotten that?"

  In the distance, one of the enormous robot loaders strode across the maze of crates, the scanner on its lifting arm painting red bars across the narrow alleys and containers alike as it searched for the crate it wanted.

  "I haven't forgotten." She pushed away the image of the relentless, white-suited assassin striding across the lab for her. No need to let him invade her waking moments, his memory got enough air time when she slept.

  "Good. Then you understand why the safest place for you is aboard the Imru'al-Qais."

  "That's where your plan falls apart. How does that count as safe?" She'd heard horror stories about the floating anarchist communes that drifted through the world's oceans. Barely seaworthy, with no law except what they'd decided to impose on themselves, and no destination save what the group had agreed upon. They'd be helpless, assuming that they wouldn't just turn her and Joshi over to BlueGene at the earliest opportunity. "We're not part of their movement. There's no guarantee that they'll even help us."

  His pace slowed to a stop, and his shoulders slumped. It wasn't much, but the light amplification in her eyes made the gesture as plain as if it had been noon on a well-lit street. "They're neo-Kharijites. No masters but God. They may not agree with each other or other anarchists, but I can guarantee they're not going to sell someone out to the corporations. It would lose them standing among the other communes and cost them a lot of their freedom if they even appeared to align with BlueGene or Corporate Services." He turned and started toward the mouth of the narrow corridor. "They're safe enough."

  "I'm saying that it's not the only option, that's all." She shouldn't want him, but she did. Couldn't keep herself from touching him. He knew about her sister and didn't judge her as any more horrible than himself.

  Which only means he's got plenty of blood on his hands too.

  She moved behind him and let her hand trail up his back, rest on the tense iron of his shoulders. He arched into her hand like a cat, as though he couldn't resist her touch, and she smiled. Might as well go for broke. "Just hear me out."

  "You hired me to keep you safe, now you think you have a better idea than I do?" He turned to face her, his expression skeptical in her low-light vision.

  "Actually, I do." She placed a finger against his lips before he could interrupt. "Why does BlueGene want me dead?"

  Joshi waited until she'd lifted her finger. "Because you wasted their time and resources to create a drug that doesn't work?"

  "I created a different drug that interferes with what they were doing." The robot crane silhouetted in the distance collected its target and trundled back to load it. Netta leaned back against the side of the container and turned Joshi to face her. "Look at it a different way. Why don't you take drugs to control your IRS?"

  His laugh was as quick as it was bitter. "Clearly the vid-streams have deluded you with romantic ideas of how much money operatives actually make."

  "Which answers my question. Those drugs are expensive. The price creates a new disparity, effectively preventing implants from being the equalizer that they could be." She put her hands on his shoulders to avoid waving them about in the dark. He wouldn't be able to see them anyway. "The corporations, collectively, have no interest in actually curing Rejection Syndrome. Just as holds true with cancer and every other virulent disease that ravages mankind, there's no money in curing it, and the corporations are all about making money. If you cure it, it goes away. One sale and poof. But if you only treat it..."

  "They come back again and again." He nodded. "So by making the drugs expensive, only the right people can afford to treat the issue. Meaning other members of the corporate elite."

  "And at the same time, they aren't cured. Like any drug pusher, they've created an addict of a different sort, and set the price just low enough that their preferred client will choose to buy comfort rather than go without."

  "That's basic economics, but I don't see how that stops them from killing you." He walked to the corner and peered between the stacks. "Best-case scenario, they kill you to keep their secrets safe"

  She took a deep breath. Leading him this far felt guilty, but she needed him to understand. Needed him to see a future where they could both be right. "They're trying to silence me, but not for the reasons you think. All we have to do is prove that I've created a cure that works."

  "We." No emotion framed the word when he spoke. In the black and white she could see him stiffen and turn, like an automaton. "You haven't tested it."

  The pain was enough to drive the air from Joshi's lungs. He'd almost convinced himself that she'd stayed by his side because she trusted him. Had almost convinced himself to board the flotilla with her and try hiding for a change.

  "It's not like you think," she said. Her voice barely cut through the ringing in his ears. "It should work."

  "Is that what you told your sister too?" She winced away from his words, but he couldn't stop. "You figured I was so far gone? So untreatable that I'd grab whatever chance you could offer me?" The realization of Bao's warning crashed back in on him. Too late, he understood what the other operative had been talking about.

  "You're not that bad off! I told you, your doctor's not diagnosing you properly." Her voice had raised slightly, still careful not to shout but loud enough for him to hear the hurt in it.

  He'd been a fool to think he mattered as a person to her. As a man. He destroyed things: people, happiness, hope. All she'd seen this entire time was a test subject she could use. A tool to prove her cleverness.

  "Even more reason for me to not want to be your guinea pig." He spat the words.

  The silhouette of her shoulders slumped. "I can't run anymore, Joshi. Not again. The last time sapped all my strength, looking over my shoulder all the time. Feeling like any second they'd find me and I'd have to start running again."

  He scoffed. "The next operative won't be as good. I made my bones as one of the best harriers in the business."

  It took her time to put it together. To realize all the things he'd done to keep her off balance. To understand that it had been him from the start. But he couldn't mistake the moment she figured it out.

  "You son of a bitch." She stormed across the space between them and slapped him.

  "I deserved that."

  "And you fucked me why? To finish the game? Make me think I was safe in a foreign city with no friends and no allies? Were they paying you for that too?"

  He spun on her, hands slamming into the crate on either side of her, pinning her in. And damn him for the thrill it sparked in his gut. She liked his strength. "Not once. I volunteered to help you settle here because I knew the city. And because I hated what I'd done to get you there."

  She shoved him back, shoved him again hard enough to make him stumble. "Why do it in the first place?"

  "Because it was the contract. Just like taking you to the flotilla. I finish jobs."

  She reached into her knitting bag, grabbed the package of cash he'd given her in the Zone, and threw it at him. The band broke on impact, and the bills swirled in the narrow alley. "Consider your contract fulfilled. I can get myself the rest of the way."

  "You'll need the cash to get on board the Imru'al-Qais. They may be anarchists, but they're not a cashless society. Take care of yourself, Doctor." He turned before she could say something else that might change his mind. She'd be fine. Fortunately, his eyes wouldn't be able to see her once he got more than a few steps away.

  Seven

  Out of country or not, Joshi knew Netta wouldn't be safe while Bao still had he
r in his sights. The twinge behind his ribs at the thought of her being in danger didn't mean anything. Couldn't mean anything. She'd only put him on retainer to test her theories, not out of any affection for him.

  He dragged his hand down his face and growled his frustration into his palm.

  As though I hadn't agreed to help her to assuage my own guilt. They'd each been attempting to repair their pasts, in their own way. He tried to put his finger on the moment he could have pushed things in some other direction. Could have saved things for them. Nothing presented itself.

  "Just as well," he muttered. He stopped walking and turned to rest against the safety rail beside the jogging track. Down below, the black waters of Back Bay lapped at the retaining wall, the sound mixing perfectly with the traffic behind him. Not the blue seas of the Maldives, but he knew this water. Seeing it at night felt like the proper choice.

  Especially given what comes next. He shoved the thought away. Told himself he wasn't making some grand sacrifice, or doing it for her. He was resolving the problem. Without Bao, Netta would be safe. And, in the end, he never failed at a contract.

  On instinct, he checked his watch. The ships of the Imru'al-Qais would have left port and rejoined the flotilla more than ninety minutes ago. She was free, or would be.

  He dug the burner phone out of his coat and dialed the only number in its memory.

  Yashilla picked up on the first ring. "That was fast."

  "I grabbed the stun-rod you had stored in the cache near Babulnath." Ever the pragmatist, Yashilla had resources scattered throughout the city, just in case she ever had to go on the run. At one point, he'd helped her with them, which made finding the few he knew about easy.

  "You're a fucking idiot." The tone in her voice sounded like she'd already figured out his next move.

  "It's got to happen, 'Shilla."

  The pet name didn't earn him any favors from her wrath. "You've both done some dumb shit. Get over it. That's what people do."

  "Says the person who'd rather hide behind the ‘net than spend time in meatspace." He used her favorite word for the real world, driving home her dislike of the messiness of physicality.

  "Right. Push me away too, you selfish ass."

  "She was using me to test her theories, that's it."

  "And if you believe that, even a little, you deserve to be alone." She growled out loud, her frustration almost palpable even from whatever distance existed between them.

  Joshi tried to ignore the tiny spark of hope that fluttered to life. It didn't matter anyway. He'd never given Netta a phone. Contacting her was impossible, which worked perfectly. No one could use him to find her.

  "I just wanted you to know about the stunner," he said at last. "I'll put it back after I'm done with it." Assuming I get the chance.

  "Fine." The word was terse, laden with the implication that things were far from fine but she refused to engage with him anymore. A tone she confirmed seconds later when she disconnected the call.

  He stared at the phone in his hand. Even if Yashilla was right—even if he and Netta were just being stupid—it was too late to bother with it. He had months left, not years, and he wouldn’t allow Netta to suffer through watching another loved one wither and die with no way to stop it.

  Joshi started walking again, headed around the bay toward the point. His fingers tightened around the collapsed stun-rod in his pocket, trying to draw some reassurance from its slight weight. Best to hurry. It'd be rude to keep Bao waiting.

  Bao found him an hour later, near the other end of Marine Drive. The assassin hopped off the rail and fell into step alongside him. "You appear to be empty-handed, Mr. Joshi. I thought you were supposed to be a professional."

  Joshi scanned their surroundings in a panic, but there were no safe spaces, no areas without tourists on the crowded scenic street. A fight between them would draw authorities, cameras, and worse. A skinny dog followed along behind Bao, and it took Joshi a moment to recognize the animal as the same mongrel Bao had plucked from the trash, cleaned and groomed. No doubt well-fed as well, though it would be a while before its ribs didn't stand out against its fur. He nodded at the dog. "Apparently I'm not the only one losing focus."

  Bao shrugged. "He's a survivor. I respect that drive in him. If it matters, I respect it in you as well. That you came to fight for her, even though she would have killed you to prove a point."

  He almost didn't wince at the accusation. Joshi turned toward the water to hide his face better. "It's my life too, as you'll recall. You threatened us both."

  "You take it so personally, then?" Bao leaned against the rail, looking back toward the city. "It's a contract. I take them, same as you."

  "Nothing personal." Joshi shook his head. In its own way, it made a sick kind of sense. "But unless you've decided to abandon your contract—"

  "You know I cannot."

  "Then we know how this ends." He waited while Bao reached down and ruffled the dog's ears. "I, uh, I'll take care of the dog for you. After."

  Bao chuckled. "I appreciate the gesture." He made a shooing motion, and the dog retreated about twenty feet away. "Unwarranted as it is. You're certain you want to do this here, in front of people."

  "I'm surprised you'd noticed."

  "I'm a professional, Mr. Joshi, not a monster. I didn't create an explosion in a factory district with a history of murderous structure fires, for example." He spread his arms wide to take in the crowded promenade. "I'm fine with here if you are, of course. Or there's a parking structure about ten minutes from here. Plenty of collateral damage if you like, but not people."

  A combination of rage and shame bubbled in him—he hadn't been given a choice for the explosion. Despite the fact that no one had been killed, he knew someone could have been. Just as he knew full well that people had lost their homes in the subsequent blaze. He could blame BlueGene, indeed most of the people affected were corporate employees, but he knew that responsibility ultimately fell on his shoulders. "The garage is fine. Lead the way."

  Joshi fell in as Bao started down the road. The parking lot, a three-story unit, sat between a luxury apartment and one of the omnipresent tech offices that had sprung up along the seaboard while the company was flush with cash. In ten years, likely less, it would be gone and another would replace it. In many cases, even the employees remained the same. Only the business names changed.

  "I have to ask," Bao said when they were halfway. "Why do this for her? You know, if the roles had switched, she would have been more than happy to sacrifice you to secure her survival."

  She might have, except that she hadn't. Even her offer to experiment on him had been out of hope to help. Not to sacrifice him, but Joshi wasn't certain Bao would understand the difference. A month ago, Joshi wouldn't have either. And if she wanted to risk something in a misguided effort to save him, then he was more than capable of doing the same for her. In the end he settled for saying, "It's not the same."

  Bao nodded. "I see." He stopped to buy a pair of satay skewers from a street vendor. Joshi started to turn down the offer, when Bao knelt and pulled the meat off the sticks and left them on the banana leaf for his dog. He bowed slightly and indicated the garage. "After you."

  Joshi stepped through into the cool shade of the first floor, taking note of his surroundings as the combat mods began to pump his system full of adrenaline for the fight. His vision narrowed, and the skin tightened on his arms as the endorphins surged through his veins. Bao, moving with speed that an unaugmented person couldn't track, attacked from behind, the wind of his approach alarm enough to send Joshi to one side.

  Bao's fist sailed through the space where Joshi’s head had been a heartbeat before. Joshi tucked and spun. His fist struck twice, like a cobra, into Bao's kidney. The sting of subdermal armor made his hand ache, but Bao lurched forward with a grunt of pain.

  "You're faster than I gave you credit for, old man." Bao spun. His feet blurred, hypnotic, before one snapped out. Bao struck Joshi on the poi
nt of his jaw. His neck popped as it rocked back from the blow. "I'm faster, of course, but still. I'm impressed."

  "Fight. Don't bore me with conversation." He ducked under the next kick, spinning low to sweep Bao's feet. One hand primed the stunner in his coat pocket.

  The assassin jumped over his leg effortlessly. "Worried you don't have processor space enough for both? I understand." He feinted high, and Joshi dodged low, only to catch a knee to the chest.

  The wind huffed out of him on a white flash of agony as his broken rib reopened. For a moment, he feared that the kick had stopped his heart. A follow-up punch to the back of his neck sent him to the pavement, and the impact confirmed he was still alive enough to feel pain. Bao lashed out with his pointed dress shoe again, and Joshi grabbed him by the leg and rolled.

  Bao tumbled, the rip of fabric loud in the still air of the garage. Joshi tried to roll farther, break the leg, but Bao twisted and ended up astride his back.

  "Do you feel like you're winning?" He grunted, grabbed Joshi by the ears, and slammed his head into the pavement. "I want you to feel like you had a chance."

  Joshi’s nose shattered and split. The wound blinded him to seeing the stain on the ground, but there was no mistaking the warm rush of blood on his face and the taste of it in his throat. Now, while Bao was gloating. He tugged the stunner out of his pocket and slammed it against Bao's leg.

  Bao grabbed his fist at the last second and redirected the weapon into the side of Joshi's neck. As soon as his skin completed a circuit between the two points, the weapon discharged. A massive surge of electricity bent his spine like a bow, all his muscles firing at once. His systems overloaded and mods shut down in response. Every twitch pushed the stunner deeper into his skin, unable to release it or push it away.