Chapter #8Mumbai Meetup by: imaj   Four months later
So Europe wasn’t safe. Too close to Fane, and probably too close to the Stellae as well. You’d hopped on the first train to Rome, and from there it was out to Dubai by plane in the guise of an oil contractor who's face you'd stolen in the airport.
The Emirates had been a good place to relax. You took on the identity of an elementary school teacher working at one of the schools for Westerners, abandoning her for dead in the desert and slipping effortlessly into her life. Neither the young woman’s husband nor her friends noticed the difference. Why would they?
You had divided your time between her job and kicking back and relaxing in the sun soaked city. That had maybe lasted for a month before you though you caught sight of a bedraggled figure in a tatty sports jacket waiting outside your school one day. You'd flinched and looked away. He'd been gone when you looked back, but you took the hint and moved on.
Mumbai had been your next port of call, this time in the guise of an Indian computer programmer. Moving further away from the Stellae's traditional areas of operation seemed sensible, even if it was into the heart of the Akshardham's territory. You weren't really sure what whim lead you check on one of your old Stellae email dropboxes when you got there, but you'd found something interesting when you did.
That's why you are here now, sitting in a small coffee bar near the stock exchange with a small gaggle of your new co-workers. They are laughing and joking about your latest project, and the outrageous demands of the client who still can't quite agree exactly what it is they want from the system you are building for them. You join in now and then, mostly for appearances sake.
In reality you are scanning the coffee bar carefully, watching everyone who enters and leaves and keeping an eye out for familiar faces. There's no one you know here yet, just a typically cosmopolitan Mumbai crowd, with Europeans and East Asians mixed in freely with the locals.
Then, alone just as you had asked her to, Aizhan Aliyev arrives in the coffee bar.
Westerners are common in Mumbai now, it's one of the wealthiest cities on the planet and people come from across the world to work here, just like they do with Shanghai, London and New York. Aizhan stands out nonetheless. Very pale and very blonde, in spite of the sweltering temperatures the city experiences all year round, there is something almost ethereal about her. She looks round, looking for you no doubt, before sitting down at an empty table.
"This isn't what I ordered," says Kanj - one of your co-workers in your new identity. His whiney voice distracts your attention from Aizhan.
"It's what I've got here," counters the barista sullenly, pointing at the smartphone she used to place your group's orders.
"But it isn't what I ordered," repeats Kanj.
"Just take it Kanj," you tell him through gritted teeth. You don't really like the reedy little man - it seems like he's always got something to moan about.
"That's easy for you to say Sajiv," moans Kanj. "You got what you wanted."
"Just take mine then," you say, pushing the tiny little cup over to him. You grab your shoulder bag and get up from the seat. "I don't feel like it anymore anyway." You ignore his protests - because, of course, your coffee isn’t what he ordered either. You fumble to hoist the strap over your shoulder and stalk away to the restrooms.
You check both of the cubicles when you enter, making sure they are empty. Only when you are satisfied that you are alone do you dump your shoulder bag on the countertop. Sajiv Bhandari stares back at you, thick black hair in a trendy spiked style and with a narrow moustache and well trimmed goatee beard. He's been a good face to be since you reached Mumbai: comfortably off, with a job you almost enjoy and handsome enough to enjoy easy success with whoever takes your fancy in the city's vibrant nightlife.
You want to keep that face, for a while more at least. You definitely don't want Aizhan telling the Stellae about it, so you concentrate for a moment and your features shimmer and shift until you are looking back at Will Prescott, barely changed from when you first left Saratoga Falls. You won't stand out as your original self any more than Aizhan will.
However, you are a little thinner and less well built than Sajiv, so you unbutton your pale blue shirt and fold it neatly before placing it in the shoulder bag. You tighten the belt on your beige khakis before they slip too far. Then you draw a goofy tee out from the shoulder bag and pull it over your head. It musses up your hair, but that's just another part of the image change as far as you are concerned. Finally you draw a rucksack out from within the bag and unfold it. You push the shoulder bag inside.
Time elapsed since you entered the restrooms - less than three minutes. Unusually slow by your standards but your shirt buttons seemed to keep getting tangled. You've changed enough of your clothes to make it hard to draw a connection between Will Prescott and Sajiv Bhandari - Only your pants remain unchanged and half the men in the coffee bar are wearing khakis just like your own. You run your hands through your hair quickly - making the straw like strands stand even more wildly.
The door to the rest room opens and an elderly man with a thick white beard and a dandruff speckled suit walks slowly in. That was lucky, a minute earlier and he'd have walked right in on you changing. That doesn't stop you berating yourself for not keeping an eye out - or better still, thinking to change in one of the cubicles. You smile weakly at him and leave the restroom, your nerves frayed. What is wrong with you today?
Aizhan is seated with her back to you, facing the doorway. You'd assume she's looking for you, though you can't see for sure. She gives a gratifying little yelp of surprise as you sit down in the chair opposite.
"Siobhan, Will I mean," she says, her eyes fixed firmly on the tabletop in front of you. "I didn't think you would come."
The table with Sajiv's coworkers catches your eye for a moment. Kanj could start an argument in an empty room, but you're surprised his little altercation with the barista has now drawn in the manager. You can hear the heated voices from over there, though you can't make out exactly what is being said. Aizhan says something and you suddenly find it difficult to work out who is saying what.
"I'm sorry," you tell her, turning back to face the Akshardham. "What did you say?" There is something not right here, but it seems elusive, just beyond your grasp somehow. In the background, Kanj yelps in pain as a cup of coffee is spilt over him.
"I said," repeats Aizhan, her voice betraying some irritation. "I didn't think you would come, but now you are here, you should turn yourself in."
You frown at her. You have no intention of turning yourself in, you’re almost completely sure about that. In fact, you're surprised that she would want to meet you just to say that. The feelings Aizhan had for you were just a product of subtle Eldibrian manipulation, but you're surprised at the turnaround in her attitude nonetheless. Then everything clicks in your mind and you realise just exactly what is going.
"I'm surprised to see you here too Aizhan," you tell her, your muscles tensing. "But then, you're not Aizhan are you?"
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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