David Sakmyster
The Shiva Objective
"Let the splendor of diamond, pearl and ruby vanish. Only let this one teardrop, this Taj Mahal, glisten spotlessly bright on the cheek of time, forever and ever."
ONE
Nina Osseni entered the luxurious lobby from the street, feeling immediately refreshed by the blast of cool air. She pushed her sunglasses up into the sleek curls of her jet-black hair, while her long, golden-tanned legs moved swiftly, cat-like, her Italian leather high-heeled sandals barely making a sound on the polished marble floors. She wore an ostentatiously bright red sundress, cut low to hint at her ample chest, while her eyes — the color of her subtle emerald earrings — flashed left and right, taking in everything, sizing up the hotel staff and guests, determining who might become a threat.
She ignored the elegant tapestries, gold-trimmed walls and the small party of well-dressed high-rollers at the front desk. The bubbling fountains likewise made no impression on her as she headed toward the private elevator, following the strides of a massively-built man wearing a white turban and sporting a spindly black beard.
She was not unused to luxury, living for the past year on a ninety-foot yacht, sailing the Caribbean and then the Mediterranean, in the employ of a man who spared no expense for the members of his team, members with certain abilities like hers. She and her colleagues, all of them psychic to some degree, were well-suited to pursue the world's most elusive — and dangerous — mysteries. Or objectives, as her boss insisted on calling them, a stickler for using the common lingo. As if anything was common about what they could do.
But Nina had no illusions about this assignment, and as she smiled demurely at her escort and stepped into the spacious elevator, she held her little faux-diamond studded purse in both hands and leaned back against the wall as her escort pressed the button for the penthouse suite.
Her fingers caressed the gems on her purse, drawing comfort from the knowledge that inside, next to a credit card and her passport, was a black Walther .22 loaded with nine rounds of Remington High Velocity bullets. A girl's best friend at a time like this. And as she slid out of one sandal to flex her toes, she felt the reassuring touch of another friend on her inner thigh: a .45 PCP tucked under a leather garter.
She was surprised that no one had yet searched her, expecting to at least have to give up the gun in her purse, but confident that with their cultural prudishness they'd miss the other one. Apparently they were careless. Or was it something else?
Either way, one wrong move by anyone up there and she was going to transform into a dual-wielding assassin and put down anything that so much as breathed wrong. And then she'd get down to business and find out what was really going on.
Maybe I'll do a little fishing now, see if this oaf knows anything.
"So," she said as the elevator's vertical thrust caused a moment of disorientation. "I hope your employer isn't going to be upset that I answered his invitation and came alone, without any of my teammates."
His shoulders gave a slight flinch. But he remained silent while the lights on the elevator panel switched from floor to floor.
"I can understand," Nina continued, "if he's ticked off — disappointed at least. I mean, he asked for as many of us as could be spared, hinting that the object he's seeking might be quite difficult to locate. And then I'm the only one that shows up? I'd be a little miffed, myself." She smiled and scratched a black-painted fingernail against her lower lip. "But if you're only to get one of us, believe me, you could do a lot worse."
The man made a grunting sound. The elevator slowed. The doors opened and he turned, making a slight bow as he swept his big arm into the penthouse foyer.
Nina shrugged and walked out, turning as she blew him a kiss. When he straightened up, she caught sight of something inside his suitcoat. Not a gun — it was wooden and thin with an intricate design. Then she calmly strode into the waiting hallway toward a set of intricately-carved mahogany doors that opened at her approach. Framed in the doorway were two more goons in black suits and turbans.
And packing heat, Nina thought. Of the more conventional kind at least. She stepped past them, nodding demurely as she entered the next room, a lavish office, complete with plush cushions and pillows on the floor. Gold-trimmed tapestries on the crimson walls depicted elephants and their riders charging into battle. A man, concealed mostly in the shadows at the far side of the room, sat at a massive oak desk. By the angle of his head, Nina could see he gazed out the opposing wall-length window overlooking Agra — and specifically, the Taj Mahal.
In the bright sun of midday, the marble walls and columns of the magnificent attraction seemed a shade rosier — a common optical effect Nina had read about before coming here. The mesmerizing structure appeared to change colors along with the time of day, just one more in a slew of impressive architectural features about the Taj Mahal, one of the modern wonders of the world.
Nina had learned more than she ever imagined about the architectural marvel in the last week as she and her teammates were able to determine that their mission most likely involved it in some way. But they hadn't found anything definitive and were unable to discover the true reason for this summons. Turning away from the view, her eyes caught sight of two more bodyguards lurking in the shadows at the other corners of the room.
Finally she faced the desk — and the man in the white suit stood to greet her. He was in his late fifties perhaps, long wavy hair, dark but sprinkled with distinguished lines of grey. His eyes were hooded, deep-set, yet confident and powerful.
"Ah," he said with a soothing voice. "Nina Osseni. So glad your employer could spare you."
She moved forward, holding out her hand, but he merely grinned. His hands stayed in his pockets for an uncomfortable moment, and then he took one out to motion to a velvet-lined chair one of the bodyguards was sliding into place for her. Lowering her hand, she nodded and graciously took a seat, making a show of slowly crossing her legs.
So he's done his homework on me, she thought, confirming her fears. Smart.
"I am Davarius Malmud, as I'm sure you've guessed. Or perhaps," he said, showing off several perfectly-matched gold teeth, "you already knew that. Seen me in the news? Or… in your dreams?"
There wasn't a hint of amusement in the look Nina sent him. "I know you didn't mean that as a pick-up line, so I'll let it pass. But no, we didn't need to use any psychic abilities to learn about you, as it turns out you're pretty much a media hog." She set her purse down on the floor and crossed her arms. "Davarius Malmud, financier and… well there's not really a word that encompasses everything you do. Real-estate Mogul perhaps, but you dabble in casino ownership and run a fleet of luxury cruise liners. You've got a seventy percent share in this hotel, and you've been at the top of India's elite circles for decades."
"You're too kind."
"And there are of course, rumors that you also engage in arms deals with… less than savory parties."
Davarius never changed his expression. "But we're not here to talk about me."
"No." Nina leaned forward, keeping her focus on him while peripherally she tracked the motions of the other four men — five now that her elevator escort had appeared, shutting the office doors behind him as he blocked the exit. "So, tell me Mr. Malmud, what do you need the services of the Morpheus Initiative for?"