Laldasa (48 page)

The Badan-Devaki door guards dropped their weapons and surrendered, several more were captured in the corridor along with the driver of the car and the draymen emerging from the airvan.

There was much shouting and protest and confusion as the raiders overran the dalali. The Sarngin and their civilian assistants fanned out and conducted an exhaustive search, gathering everyone they found into the largest of the dalali's showrooms on the premiere floor.

Jaya, Gar, and Ravi went directly to the penthouse and cornered Badan and Devaki in their sumptuous private Salon. The pair seemed merely surprised and annoyed, and gave no indication they wished to escape. Ashur Badan blustered about Sarngin arrogance and Kareen Devaki spoke dispassionately about legal action.

Jaya Sarojin lost his temper and shouted them both to silence.

“Where is she?” he demanded and felt like committing mayhem when both of them stared at him blankly and said, “Who do you mean, Nathu Rai?” almost in unison.

Gar intervened. “The mahesa is asking after the whereabouts of his young cousin, Ana. We believe she is here.”

Kareen Devaki looked at her partner with well-feigned innocence. “I certainly haven't seen her. I can't imagine what she'd be doing here at this time of night. You must have misunderstood her, Nathu Rai. She's been invited to a private auction tomorrow, but-“

“That's enough,” snapped Jaya. “We know she was coming here tonight.”

Devaki shrugged. “Apparently she never got here.”

“We'll see what our search reveals,” said Gar mildly. “Yes, Lieutenant?” He turned to the young officer who hovered in the doorway.

“The search is complete, Commander. We've found a lot of young women, but none of them seems to be Anala Nadim.”

Gar caught the glance the two dalal exchanged. “I see the name lights.”

“Nadim? Of course it does,” said Devaki. “But what in the name of the Goddess would Anala Nadim be doing in our dalali?”

“Checking your files, memsa,” said Gar quietly, “to see how many Avasans have passed through your doors on their way to becoming das.”

“Our trade is quite legal, Commander,” returned Devaki.

“So. But it is not legal to manufacture das by intentionally stealing the leaf of people who bear no cree. Haroon, you have finished with the offices? What have you found?”

“This was in the lock-up, sir.”

Officer Haroon, graying, craggy and dour-looking, held a box in gnarled hands. The sight of it excited the most incredible expressions on the faces of the two brokers.

Jaya reached for it reflexively.

Haroon hesitated, but gave up the box at a slight nod from his Commander.

Jaya tried the lid. It was set with a micro-encoder and refused to admit him. He handed the box to Devaki. “Open it, memsa.”

She hesitated, then grimly did as he'd commanded, entering her private code to loose the lid. She hesitated, again, to hand it back and he took it roughly from her hands, spilling a portion of its shining contents onto the polished wooden floor of the salon.

Haroon bent to pick up the fallen items and held them up to the light; a necklace and two bracelets glittered in his stubby hand, the leaf they carried tinkling musically as they jostled together. He squinted, then separated the necklace from the tangle and handed it to his Commander.

Gar turned the leaf over in his hands. “Anala Nadim,” he read. “Lying right on top where you must have just put it, eh, memsa? Now, you could tell me you don't know how these got into your possession or into your lock-up but, of course, I wouldn't believe you. I wouldn't believe you, because I know how they got into your possession. I even know the name—or should I say names—of the man who put them there. Pidar Rel, I think, or Parva Rishi or- But I'm sure you've heard them all.”

Kareen Devaki's face was a horrid shade of gray and a white aureole encircled her pursed lips.

“Where is she?” asked Jaya again.

“I will admit,” said Devaki archly. “That we have used rather questionable methods to ensure our business has the finest and most exotic stock. However, I will not admit to kidnapping this Nadim girl, or whatever it is you're accusing us of having done. You may be able to prove that she was processed by this dalali some time ago and on your behalf, but you cannot prove that she was here tonight.”

“Whose car is that parked behind your building?” asked Gar abruptly. “What special visitors do you entertain?”

“All of our clients are special,” countered Devaki. “Many of them come to us in chauffeured aircars.”

“Who has the woman?”

“I don't know.” Devaki shot Jaya a sideways glance. “He had her. If he lost her, that's his fault, not ours.”

Gar made a grinding sound with his teeth. “Downstairs,” he said. “Let's go and see what the rest of our team has turned up.”

They had just stepped out of the lift basket on the premiere level when one of Gar's officers approached escorting a crumpled young man in a black body-suit.

“Hadas!” Jaya shouldered his way past Gar and Haroon.

“Nathu Rai!” Catching sight of Badan and Devaki being led from the basket, he pointed a finger at Ashur Badan, his cheeks flushed with anger. “He's the one! He's the one who chased us! He and his-his-“ He stammered, searching for a word, then gave it up. “Where's Ana, Nathu Rai? Tell me she has come to no harm.”

Jaya stared at Hadas, feeling the gnawing of defeat at the inside of his stomach. “We haven't found her yet, Hadas. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

The Avasan shook his head. “ they know,” he said, moving his eyes to the dalal. “And those other men.”

Jaya grasped his shoulder, ungently. “What other men, Hadas?”

“In the alley. They came in a big, dark blue aircar. Three of them. I didn't know them,” he offered before either Jaya or Gar could ask. “Although ... one of them, I think I've seen somewhere—it must have been at the Mesha Fest. They were both wearing hats, then the Vadin came out gave them hoods to put on.”

Jaya jerked his head around to catch Kareen Devaki's reaction. She'd gone completely white. Ashur Badan just stared at the floor.

“What Vadin?”

“I saw him at the Mesha Fest, too,” Hadas said. “Jivinta introduced me to him, but I don't remember his name.”

“The boy is lying,” said Devaki. “He didn't see anything.”

“I saw the men get out of the car.”

The dalal sneered. “Lots of men get out of lots of cars at our back door if they wish to be discreet. This is that kind of business.”

“They came to see Ana. One of them asked the Vadin if they had the woman.”

“We have a house full of women-“

Hadas rode over her sarcastic retort. “Then he asked if the Vadin was sure she was Nadim's daughter. Then they put on hoods and went inside.”

“Who were the men, memsa?” Gar leaned close to Devaki's face. “Who was the Vadin?”

“I don't know.”

Ashur Badan glanced at her, then shoved his gaze back to the floor.

Gar studied the two of them momentarily, then turned to Haroon, who hovered at his shoulder. “Find the driver of the aircar and bring him to me.”

Haroon bowed smartly and disappeared in the direction of the dalali's public showroom. Gar turned back swiftly and caught Kareen Devaki staring after the man as if her gaze could topple him to the ground.

“Who were the men, Devaki-sa?” he asked again. “And who was the Vadin? Was it, by any chance, Bel Adivaram?” Gar's eyes were tight against Kareen Devaki's face, clamping it in a brilliant vise.

She held his gaze coolly, trying to look down her nose at him. “I don't know. Several auspicious Vadin frequent our business. It could have been any of them.”

“Do they all behave as if they own the place? Greet your discreet visitors at the back door and introduce them to young women?”

“They rent facilities for their own private parties quite often. We don't pry into their affairs.”

Gar nodded. “Ah, well, I think you must have known what this Vadin was about. After all, the young lady he was introducing his guests to was very recently in the possession of Badansama—isn't that right, Badan-sama?”

The dalal jumped and glanced swiftly to Devaki. He tried to meet the Zone Commander's eyes but his gaze slid from that intense scrutiny and escaped back to the carpeting.

“This young man saw you, sama.”

Badan sweated.

“We know she was here in Hadas Gupta's company. We know the two were pursued by you and your men. We know that Hadas escaped, but Anala Nadim did not. We know that three men arrived by car and were greeted by a Vadin. We strongly suspect that Vadin was Bel Adivaram. Those men were here with the express purpose of seeing Anala Nadim—who was last known to be in your possession.”

Jaya's entire anatomy recoiled from that last word. It was wrong. It shouldn't be spoken in the same breath with the name Anala Nadim ... or any other name.

“Ah! Haroon returns with the driver.”

“It was Bel Adivaram!” Ashur Badan spat the words from his mouth, his fear making them sound vicious.

Devaki was on him in an instant. “Ashur, you idiot! What are you doing?”

“I am not going to freeze in Niraya Hell for the sake of that old lecher, Kareen.” He turned to face Gar. “The Vadin who met the our ... guests was Bel Adivaram. He instructed us to lure Anala Nadim here so she could be captured.”

“To what end?”

Badan made a gesture of frustration. “Some ... political scheme. Some grand design—I don't know. We did as the Vadin asked.”

“And the other men?” asked Jaya over Gar's shoulder.

“I don't know.” Badan raised his hands before either Jaya or Gar could protest. “That is the truth. We have only seen them hooded. We have never been permitted to know who they are. We have never even heard their voices. Adivaram knows.”

“They have the girl?”

“Yes.”

“You idiot,” repeated Devaki.

“Where are they now?”

“Gone. I don't know where because I don't know who they are.”

Gar's eyes narrowed. “Are you lying again, Badan-sama? Is there not some hiding place where they might be secreted?”

“There is a private lift shaft. It goes directly from this level to a small foyer at the back of the building. From there, one can cross beneath the street to the carpark-“

Gar made a sudden shift in attention. “Haroon! Leave the driver with Lieutenant Bharta for questioning. Take two men and search this passage and carpark.”

“Sir!” Haroon snapped like a wire puppet and obeyed instantly.

Gar turned back to Badan and Devaki. “I think we will be more comfortable in one of your lovely parlors. We have much to discuss.”

oOo

Jaya opened his eyes and stared, unfocused, at the patch of sunlight that crept slowly across the table top. He watched a thin veil of golden motes ripple through the radiance—tiny, dancing jinn that hypnotized with their chaotic frolic. When a curl of steam invaded the bright aura, he realized someone had put a cup of channa in front of him. He mumbled his thanks and automatically lifted the cup to his lips, trying to reorder his thoughts. That was futile just now, because there was nothing around which to organize them.

He got up stiffly, stretched, and went to the couch that occupied the bay window in Kareen Devaki's private parlor. Below, the street was coming to life; merchants rolled up their gates and rolled out their awnings; street-keepers swept and curried the glistening composite walkways; aircars began to tour the avenue. People were chatting amicably, enjoying their morning channa, deciding what to eat for breakfast.

The pleasant scene would make it difficult for the average person to imagine that somewhere out there, there was fear and uncertainty—terror, even. That there was a darkness in Kasi this morning that had not lifted with the rising of the sun.

No, he corrected himself, remembering where he was, not just this morning. Every morning. But this particular morning, the darkness had reached out for and found Jaya Sarojin. This particular morning, he was experiencing it firsthand.

Jaya shook himself. He had to concentrate on the positive. Whoever had Ana wanted her alive—had to keep her alive, in fact—at least, until some demands had been made and responded to. He couldn't see what that person or persons had to gain by taking her captive. How could they possibly hope to issue their demands without revealing who they were—without making the whole exercise futile?

He turned from the window as Mall Gar re-entered the room, his face still clothed in its irritatingly dispassionate mask. He'd admired that dispassion when he first met Gar, now it aroused in him the conflicting urges to emulate the Sarngin's detachment and to fly into an hysterical rage. Jaya Sarojin was not given to either hysteria or rages, so he simply watched Gar cross the room.