Dead Reckoning by Ronie Kendig

street a block, she bought some pazham pori and a soda. Then she tucked herself into a table that afforded a partial view of her mystery man and his friend. As she took the first bite of fried plantain, she remembered where the money had come from to buy the snack. She almost tossed it to the nearby dogs. But she was hungry. And tired. She deserved this treat if for no other reason than to spend the money of a man who had tried to control her.
    What was his game? He had tracked her all over Mumbai. Although she didn’t witness the bloodbath at the hotel, she recognized his voice during the shooting spree—the one yelling for the killer to stop. She tilted her head and stared down the sixty or seventy yards to the thick-chested man. The way he leaned on the table, he looked like a relaxed panther. Yet she suspected the eyes behind those black sunglasses were alert to any danger in his environment. Was this just a casual chat, or was the meeting related to the attack?
    Who are you? He knew too much about her not to be government-connected. Embassy? She almost laughed. No way. He was entirely too rough around the edges. He could collapse any peace negotiations just by walking into an embassy. No, this guy didn’t waste time on small talk. All those years with her father helped her know—this guy looked and acted like CIA.
    Shiloh stuck her thumbnail between her teeth. Why hadn’t he stopped her? He’d even given her money. Did that mean he wanted to buy her loyalty? Or her trust? Both?
    Slouched in the chair, Shiloh crossed her legs, and cringed as she sipped her warm soda. She’d kill for a tall glass of ice.Reaching for her food, she heard the scritch of claws nearby and glanced down. The little white and brown dog sat giving her the puppy-dog pout. Shiloh tore off a piece of plantain and dropped it for the canine.
    Movement across the street forced her to abandon the feeding. The table was empty. Her heart tripped. Where was … ? There. Brutus had left the café and was a half-block closer to her.
    Shiloh scowled. What did he know that she didn’t? He had answers. Was it something that could keep her alive? Her muscles twitched to follow him. Counting to ten, she tried to steady her nerves and remain invisible to him. If this man was who she thought, then she was about to step into a clandestine world: spying on a spy.
    Casually, she rose and forced herself to follow him. What was Brutus doing near the Christian college and government offices? He moved at a brisk pace, and after several blocks, her breath labored.
    Then he rounded a corner. She hurried, afraid of losing him. She needed answers, and she was sure she could find out what he was up to if she could keep tabs on the brute. Hugging the building, Shiloh peeked around the corner and spotted him at a vendor. He popped the money toward the seller, tossed a mango in the air and caught it, and then struck out again.
    Shiloh stayed with him. Where was he going? He acted like a tourist. Didn’t he have someone important to interrogate or kill?
    Around one building and then another. Down the street, and up a different one. She stuck close. Cramps shot pain up her calves. Perspiration plastered her T-shirt to her skin. Why couldn’t he just get on with whatever dirty deed he was up to? To avoid being spotted, she crossed the street with a knot of pedestrians, keeping Brutus in sight. A group in front of herstopped and trapped her in the middle of their steamy body heat. Feeling the suffocation of the crowd, she pushed out— and froze.
    Where’d he go?
    Shiloh shoved forward to the curb. She scanned the crevices between shops. Was he hiding? She darted to the other side, straining on her tiptoes and craning her neck. A few staggering heartbeats later, he emerged from a shop with a bag tucked under his arm. Too close. Shiloh hung back and waited for him to get ahead a bit more.
    Suddenly, he spun and came straight at her. Shiloh ducked her head, and with a pounding