The Rise of Io (7 page)

She looked back and saw two of the Terrible Gandhis close behind her. She crossed one particular loosely-assembled bridge, and when she got to the other side, knocked a board off while the boy was still crossing, sending him down to ground level, his panicked screams music to her ears.

Unfortunately, she had reached the end of the block. The gap between the container she was on and the next was too wide for a bridge, so she was forced to go inside. She entered what looked like a karaoke room and was about to head downstairs when the door slammed open and one of the gangsters appeared.

Ella was trapped.

She backed up until she bumped against the balcony railing. She could jump down, but that was a long fall. If she stayed up here though, she was as good as dead.

Use your hands to grab the clothing line and cross to the next building.

Ella stared at the rope. “I can't do that. I'm not a monkey.”

Would you rather be dead?

She looked over at the advancing gangster and then back at the rope. She wasn't sure what was worse. Falling to her death or getting beaten to it.

That is your only choice.

“Fine, I can be a monkey.”

Grimacing, Ella climbed onto the railing and jumped, grabbing the rope a meter away from the balcony. The gangster lunged forward and swiped at her, narrowly missing her feet. Ella, slowly moving one hand in front of the other, made it a few meters down the line safely out of his reach. She looked back at the gangster and stuck her tongue out.

And then she lost her grip on the rope and fell.

Fortunately, she hit the half dozen clothing lines crisscrossed in between the buildings on her way down. They didn't break her fall, but bounced her around enough that, coupled with the soft mud, she didn't crack anything open when she finally hit the ground.

Unfortunately, it dazed her long enough that by the time her head had cleared again, three of the gangsters were bearing down on her. She stood on unsteady feet and flinched as her right ankle screamed in pain. She limped five steps and nearly collapsed. They were going to catch her.

To your left are two uniformed policemen. Run to them.

Ella made a face. “That's not a good option either. The police and I have history.”

Damn it, dumb girl. You have to trust me right now.

“Oh, this is a huge mistake, but fine.” She looked back one more time at the advancing gangsters, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, hobbled to the two policemen leaning against their car. She waved. “Hey, Sanchit. Hey, Dhruv, nice matching mustaches. You guys call each other in the morning to coordinate?”

The one named Dhruv squinted. “What the hell?” He reached over and yanked Ella by the collar and pulled her off her feet. He then picked her up and slammed her into the patrol car.

What are they doing?

Ella's face was pressed against the trunk. “I told you I have history with the uncles.”

Uncles?

“What we call the police around here.”

She looked to the other side and saw the three gangsters on the other side of the street, scowling. She pulled an arm free and gave them the middle finger.

The uncle named Sanchit grabbed her wrist and forced it behind her back. He leaned in close. “The inspector is looking forward to having a few words with you.” The last thing Ella remembered was Sanchit grabbing the back of her head and slamming it toward the car trunk.

S
urrett Kapoor
, Deputy Minister of Gujurat, was mid-sentence when he caught a glimpse of his reflection as he passed the hallway mirror. He stopped, squinted at his tie, and adjusted it so it perfectly aligned with how his suit hung off his shoulders and how his lapel balanced the blue of the right half of his tie with the handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket.

He turned to Amita. “Next time, tell me if I'm disheveled.”

His assistant looked confused. “I'm sorry, Minister, but you look great.”

“Public presentation is just as important as public policy in this line of business, do you not know that? What if I need to speak with the press?”

She checked her tablet. “You don't have anything on your schedule.”

“That's not the point.” He shook his finger at her. “A group of reporters could happen upon us in the hallway at any moment. Moving on. Where was I?”

“You were dictating your message. Friday evening.”

“Ah yes,” Surrett said. “I will be away this Friday and over water from six to nine, so depending on how far away from the coast I am, I may have limited access to email and messages. I will be hard at work in the office Saturday morning from seven until five, but will be spending the evening with a dear friend and will only respond to emergency calls. Please note that on Sunday, I will be the guest of honor at the Vapi Country Club and will be unavailable except through my assistant, Amita, who may be reached at her office or through the operating dispatch.” He stopped just outside his office. “That will be all.”

Amita tapped a few buttons on the tablet. “Your weekend out-of-office message is now saved, Minister. Is there anything else?”

Surrett shook his head. “Have a good weekend. Please keep your phone charged this time.” He watched his assistant leave the reception room, and then proceeded into his office. He closed the door behind him, took off his blazer, and carefully placed it on a hanger, making sure there were no creases around the shoulders. Humming, he went to his tea cart and poured himself a cup. He looked up at the wall mirror and saw a pair of crossed legs in front of his corner couch.

Casually, and still humming, he strolled behind his desk and reached for the loaded handgun hidden inside a hollowed-out statue of Ganesh. He pawed around for a few seconds and came up empty. Shrugging, and now whistling, he reached for the phone on his desk.

“You don't want to do that.”

Surrett froze. The woman spoke perfect Hindi with only a slight tinge of an accent. There was a sharpness to her enunciation that was too staccato in its delivery. He kept his hands up and slowly pivoted. “Oh, I did not realize I had company. Do you have an appointment?”

The woman flicked on the lamp on the console table next to her and her face appeared out of the shadows. The first thing Surrett noticed was her blonde hair. Next, her pale face – nearly sheet-white. Then he realized how beautiful she was and his heart skipped a few beats. He caught himself staring.

Slowly, the catch in his throat sank into his belly. Surrett was not an ugly man, with decent genes from his actress mother, but he definitely was not good-looking, powerful, or rich enough to have someone like her wander into his office. A terrifying realization hit him.

“Praise to the Holy Ones?” The words came out with less gusto than usual when he was standing before a high-ranking Genjix. If Surrett had one reliable quality, he was always properly simpering to the right people.

“Praise to the Holy Ones,” the woman replied. Interestingly, her words were equally limp. She sounded almost bored, which was surprising for someone blessed as a vessel.

Surrett approached her and bent to one knee. He extended a hand. “I apologize, but may I confirm you?”

The woman sighed and held her hand out. Surrett flashed a mark scanner across her palm, and pulled up her bio. His eyes widened. She was a fixer, and a high-ranking one. That could only mean one thing. His eyes scrolled down to the name and the standing. The blood drained from his face, and Surrett found himself fiddling with his tie once more.

“Satisfied?” she said, pulling her hand away and wiping it with a handkerchief.

“It is an honor to receive someone of your standing, Adonis. How may I serve you?”

“How about you sit down in the chair?” she said. “You're not my lapdog. But while you think you are, fetch me a drink.”

Surrett stood up and bowed. “Apologies, Adonis, but alcohol is frowned upon for those serving my administration. May I offer you something else? Coffee, tea?”

Shura rolled her eyes. “Tea this time. A Moscow Mule the next, understood? Now sit.”

Surrett went to his intercom and buzzed Amita to bring in a fresh pot of tea. He took his time instructing her how he wanted it brewed, ordering her to use the finest they had available. He took that time to reach under his desk and palm the panel to begin surveillance in this room.

Surrett was loyal to the Genjix, but the battle for standing, especially among the Adonis vessels and those aspiring to the Council, could be brutal. An unblessed such as him often became collateral damage in their power struggles.

Besides, he owed his loyalty to Rurik, so it was almost his duty to spy on a competing Adonis vessel. This was a dangerous game, but one Surrett could take advantage of if the opportunity presented itself. If he could offer Rurik an advantage over one of his adversaries, it would dramatically help his chances.

“You can stop tapping that keypad under your desk now.” Shura leaned back into the couch. “I disabled the console when I came in. Don't worry; if you do not see tomorrow, it won't be by my hand.”

Surrett froze. He came around and took a seat in front of her abashedly. “If I may inquire, Adonis, how did you break into my office? The security to the administration building, and my wing in particular, is very tight. I have been in my office most of the day as well, yet you were able to bypass my security and come in right when I stepped away.”

“Simple,” Shura said. “Your security detail is amateur. It wasn't hard for anyone with a modicum of skill to slip past the sleeping fools at the gates, the moron at the garage, the incompetents wandering the hallways, the lech at the stairwell, and the old man in front who pisses every ten minutes. As for you stepping away–” she seemed amused, “ –your voicemail and out-of-office email is bafflingly detailed. I'm surprised you haven't been assassinated yet.”

“Those are strictly reserved for internal voicemails,” Surrett said stiffly. “The public has no access to them.”

The Adonis shrugged, just slightly. “Your mail server security isn't exactly top-grade either. That took all of fifteen minutes to access.”

Amita walked in with a fresh tray of tea. His assistant frowned when she saw the tall, beautiful white lady, no doubt wondering how she had gotten into the office. Surrett was willing to bet Amita was going to spend a few hours the next couple of days searching for a hidden entrance. Also, with the Adonis's striking looks, Amita might consider her something more unsavory and gossip with others in the building. He decided to nip that in the bud.

He gestured to Shura first. “How do you prefer your tea, Adonis?”

Amita's eyes widened and she gawked. She was low enough in standing to have never even met a vessel, let alone one of the Adonises. It was one thing to see an Adonis vessel in a video, it was another entirely to stand meters away. They were physically near-perfect humans.

“I am so blessed and honored–” Amita said, falling to one knee.

“Put the tea down and get out.” Shura cut her off with a lazy wave of her hand. She shook her head as Amita beat a hasty retreat. “If I had to sit through this sort of ceremony every day, nothing would get done.” She picked up a cup, blew on it and sipped. “No poison. We're starting off on the right foot, Minister.

“I would never, Adonis,” Surrett stammered. “I serve–”

“Seriously, cut it out,” Shura snapped. “My approval does not give you license to grovel more. Now, before we get down to business, soundproof this room. I'm sure there's probably another recording device I may have missed.”

Surrett hesitated. There was indeed a backup. How did she know? He went back to his cabinet and took out a small gray machine. He placed it on the coffee table between them and turned it on. A low hum laid over the stillness, its resonance filling his ears. The pitch grew higher and higher until it became imperceptible to the human ear. He looked up at the Adonis and nodded. “The room is secure from all listening devices.”

She placed the cup on the table in front of her. “Your primary responsibilities are to push India toward joining the Genjix and to oversee the construction of the Bio Comm Array project. One is progressing as planned. How is the other?”

“The Bio Comm Array construction goes as well as can be expected for a project of this magnitude,” he replied. “However, I am confident–”

Shura took out a tablet and dropped it on the table with a loud slapping sound. She stabbed a finger on the screen, and several lists of blue numbers began floating in the air above it. “The Bio Comm Array was scheduled for its first test run a month ago. Facility construction is three months behind schedule, you're two hundred million Euros over budget, and the project has missed six of its last nine milestones. On top of that, you haven't even acquired all of the land stipulated in the blueprints.”

“The build site is in a residential area,” Surrett replied. “Land acquisition by law requires–”

“That is why the Genjix made you the Deputy Minister of Gujurat,” she snapped. “So you can work around these bothersome laws.”

Surrett bowed, the tie suddenly feeling very tight around his neck. “Since India has not yet officially joined the Genjix, there are obstacles that must be overcome. I apologize for the delays and will redouble my efforts.”

Shura leaned forward. “I report directly to High Father Weston, and we both agree that this project is far too important to the Genjix for politics, so from this point on, I am taking over. You report directly to me, not Rurik. Is that clear?”

Surrett kept his eyes on the ground. His faith told him he should follow a direct order from an Adonis vessel. His loyalty told him he should at least pass this information along to Rurik, the owner of this project and the man who put him in charge. His ambition, though, told him to see how things unfolded. “Your will, Adonis.”

Shura leaned back in the couch and crossed her legs again. “I see you have lobbied to be raised to a vessel.”

Surrett choked on his tea. “Yes, Adonis, but…”

“Of course, given the rising output of the hatcheries from both Costa Rica and Moscow, as well as the new hatchery in Chengdu, attracting a Holy One may prove difficult for those climbing up the standings. One would almost need a sponsor. Has Rurik been supportive of your efforts?”

“I hope, in time, Father Rurik–”

“Perhaps you need a new sponsor.” She smiled.

Sensing an opportunity, he bowed hastily. “It would be an honor, Mother.”

“Good. Serve me well and I will personally see to it. I do not care if you report my presence to Rurik since I am here by the Council's request, but Rurik will make life tiresome for us both. If you do report to him, then I know where you stand, understood?”

“Yes, Adonis.”

Shura smiled. “Good.” She tapped the tablet and slid a finger to the right. Surrett's entire project plan appeared in the air. “I've identified the two most pressing issues: the supply chains are ineffective, and that is affecting the critical paths of the observatory structure.” She pointed at a parcel of land on the northern edge of the site. “Why do we not already own from here to the river? It is absolutely vital we acquire and develop the area all the way to the docks. I don't care if it's residential. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start with finances. What is the current status of your budget?”

Surrett experienced that sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. The Adonis wasn't here to address the project's problems; she was here to take it over. His eyes flickered to the tiny camera hidden in the chandelier. It wouldn't be able to pick up audio because of the resonance disrupter she had him turn on, but it could still record video. He had to find a way to obey the Adonis, serve the Genjix, and yet still raise his standing. At the very least, he couldn't let her take the project away from him.

He was left with little choice. The key would be to find the wedge between Shura and Rurik and be the factor that influenced the winning side. Playing two Adonis vessels against each other was usually suicide, but standing had to be taken, seized, and Surrett intended to do just that. He glanced in the mirror and adjusted his tie until it was perfectly straight.

Conflict bred innovation. This was his chance.