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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 fiancée, Depahli De."
Steepling his palms together, Sanjay bowed slightly in her direction. "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
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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. Content 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. Automated 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
conduct 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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]