"Are you?" What the hell was this? If he checked, surely he knew that she wasn't the best psychic on the team, not by far. And also, the main reason Mr. Waxman recruited her was for her other skills… skills involving firearms, martial arts and all sorts of ways to stealthily take out threats.
Davarius nodded. "Nina Osseni. Daughter of Antonio and Belinda, Italian citizens who gained some degree of fame by their… tragic demise."
Nina shuddered. Don't go there… Her eyes started to lose focus — and for a second, she saw: the interior of a wooden shack, with one small window looking out over the tip of a mountainous country, barren of all but some cactus trees. Two Latin-looking men, sweat-stained t-shirts, standing at the door, laughing. Machine guns on their backs. Blood and dirt on their hands. They point, speaking unintelligibly to themselves while in the center of the room, a little girl sits in shredded, filthy clothes, shivering despite the heat.
"On a family vacation in Mexico fifteen years ago, they were abducted by low-level thugs, members of a cartel. Held for ransom. But their relatives were poor, and the Italian government was not forthcoming."
Nina stared at him, her lips trembling. Why was she letting him continue?
"When it was clear the ransom wasn't going to be paid, the couple was taken out back, and who knows exactly what happened, but their heads were returned to the Italian embassy. Their bodies… well, I'm guessing only their daughter might know about that. Their daughter… who was only seven at the time." He gave Nina a poor, pitiful look. "But you made it out, didn't you? Wound up at the American Embassy, where surprisingly, you asked for an agent of the DEA by name."
In Nina's mind: standing in a doorway, as the man in the blue suit knelt in front of her, and she held up a collection of pages. Drawings. Sketches. Maps. Everything he needed to locate the cartel's headquarters, including where the men would be when the agents arrived.
Davarius clapped his hands. "Yes, I'm glad you were the one to come. Training from such an early age, working closely with government agencies. Military, international divisions, espionage, and then… on to your current assignment. They were quick to appreciate your talents — talents that I'm guessing first appeared after your tragic experience on that vacation. Two years in captivity, biding your time, honing your skills. And then-"
"Enough!" Nina narrowed her eyes. "Your point?"
Davarius spread out his arms. "Point's been made. You'll do nicely. My clients will be very excited."
This has gone on long enough. "All right, what the hell is this? I know you've already been down there — below the Taj Mahal. I've seen it. You… and others. Carrying weapons, moving through the shadowy corridors, and into…" She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to see it. "…some sort of large chamber or arena of some kind. And I saw your psychic down there. Glimpses only. He was running. He was tired, scared, and-"
His laughter cut her short. Then he clapped his hands. "Oh, I definitely think this will be fun. You're already proving to be much better than Chaudhry. I can only imagine how long you'll last."
"What?"
"He made it the longest — fifteen hours. In six hundred years of recorded results, no one's ever made it that long."
Nina shook her head. Other images were appearing, fluttering about, half-formed, in her mind's eye. Rooftop chases under a full moon, arrows flying into darkened alleys, pursuit through crowded bazaars and out into lush jungles, then down into labyrinthine tunnels, fitted with traps and cruel devices at every turn.
She whispered: "It's a… game?"
Davarius merely kept smiling. "An ancient one. Time honored and tested. The early Mogul emperors — Shah Jahan included, led an annual hunt, releasing a hundred Bengali tigers and chasing after them on the backs of warrior elephants. Often they would hunt humans, prisoners who would be sent out with just the shirt on their backs — and perhaps a knife to keep it sporting. Give them a head start, and then allow the nobles to hunt.
"Humans of course, were a step up for the hunters. Maybe not as physically threatening as a Bengali tiger, but potentially much more cunning." He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "But still, over time, as the frequency of the hunts increased — with more and more players being invited, often paying a handsome fee for the privilege… well, what can I say? Regular humans just aren't that challenging any more. We've tried bringing in the best and strongest. Ex Navy Seals, Olympic athletes, former assassins… the works. But sadly, our hunters are too good and the prey too weak. But that's all going to change. Soon. You see, I realized there was a more worthy adversary, one that would be a true challenge."
Nina let her mouth hang open. "Psychics."
Davarius nodded.
"So that's it," Nina continued. "You got the idea after working with Mohammad Chaudhry. Then you put him in the game. That's… that's monstrous."
"More like genius. You should have heard the hunters talk afterwards! How they had been so invigorated by a true challenge. Chaudhry kept foreseeing their plans, staying one step ahead. Hell, he managed to actually kill six of our best hunters before the others collaborated and set a trap he couldn't foresee. But until then, he made them adapt and think out of the box." Davarius beamed. "You can't argue with success. That experience was like a drug. And now they want more — a lot more."
"And of course, they'll pay a lot more."
"Of course."
"Which is why you wanted all of us. The whole Morpheus Initiative."
"Yes, that would have kept the game clicking at a high level, maybe using one of you at a time, playing the game once a month, until I could have found more… talent."
She had to keep him talking while she sized up her options. "So this Shiva artifact — it was all just a ruse? There's nothing down there?"
"Oh, it's there all right. A two-foot tall statue of the god himself, all four arms and three heads. Cast in obsidian. It's set in the center of the underground arena."
"And?" Nina shook her head in confusion. But her fingers had opened the purse. She was reaching inside.
"And," said Davarius, "I was expecting you to ask the right question, which you haven't done yet."
"Which is?"
He smiled. "How do you win the game?"
"Ah. Well then," she tightened her grip on the .22, simultaneously reaching under her dress for the .45. "How do you win?"
"Simply touch it," Davarius said. "Think of this as Capture the Flag, only this time it's a thousand-year-old statue and all you need to do is set one hand on it and the hunt's off. You win."
"And what do I win?"
"Why, your life of course."
Nina bristled. "And you think my employer will just let you get away with this?"
"No of course not. In fact, I hope he'll come looking for you. With your colleagues."
She shook her head. "They'll ask the right questions. They'll be cautious, patient." Where I wasn't.
Davarius shrugged. "Well, if they get scared away, that's that. I'll go to Plan B. It will be more expensive, but I'll send my elite hunters out for them. I'm assuming you people go back to your own homes or hotel rooms on occasion and your employer has no reason to post heavy security. We'll get them, don't worry." He raised a hand, snapping a finger.
"But we'll start with you."
The men suddenly moved, lurching toward her as if they'd been statues just granted the power of life.