The SONG of SHIVA by Michael Caulfield Page B

passed before they were both satisfied with the details of each other’s story. Lyköan could see how Whitehall’s deal with Jimmy might have been made untenable by the revelation that he was passing information to the Thai military. For now at least, their separate arrangements with the young Thai middleman would appear as before.
    Lyköan had switched allegiances almost as easily as he might have changed his shirt. Whitehall may have looked like the more appealing ally, but it had been an unwelcome choice between the lesser of two evils. Operating on instinct alone, he had thrown in with someone who claimed to be working for the good guys. But was he? And who were they?
    “Until we have reason to alter our original plan, we continue to do our jobs and keep our eyes and ears open,” Whitehall was saying. “As far as we know, all the conspiratorial designs originated with the Thai nationals. They appear to be targeting Innovac for some reason, but who knows? Until we know more, you and I are going to act like choir boys visiting the Vicar for Sunday afternoon tea.”
    “That’s been my intention all along,” Lyköan agreed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “Which makes two of us,” Whitehall acknowledged weakly.
    “Looks like we’re finished for now. Want to go downstairs and grab some lunch?”
    “It might not be wise to be seen alone together at the moment,” Whitehall replied, “and risk raising suspicions. Someone might put two and two together. Gordon and Narayan are staying here at the hotel. I only asked you up this morning because P&J swept the room only yesterday. In the future, meeting outdoors would be safer. As always, the less said over the phone the better. And watch yourself on the way out.”
    “Think I’ll take the stairs. Avoid the elevators.”             
    “That’s the spirit,” Whitehall agreed. “See you at Primrose, Monday morning. Stiff upper lip now, lad.”
    Leaving Whitehall at the door, Lyköan headed for the stairway. Once inside the stairwell, footsteps echoing crisply off the bare cement, he descended at a run. The transition from struggling businessman to corporate spy had been utterly seamless. It was doubtful that any of this could be considered either ‘Right Intention’ or ‘Right Conduct’ in the context of the eight-fold path. While he may have thought he had opened Whitehall like a can of tuna, Whitehall had just as surely turned Lyköan into his accomplice. If that were true, to what purpose?
    Preoccupied with this inner discourse, he carelessly threw the ground-floor door open and stepped out into the hallway that ran between the hotel’s two main elevator banks. Once past the last elevator, he made a quick turn at full stride and stepped out into the lobby. Near the revolving doors at the front entrance, four men were standing in huddled conversation.
    Lyköan recognized three immediately: Gordon, Narayan, and the Thai Minister of Health, Narit Intatha. The latter had become something of a local celebrity through innumerable TAI epidemic television interviews and newspaper photos. The fourth face was a mystery, but from his clothing Lyköan thought he might be another Thai official, businessman, or cop. As if an electrical current had pulsed through him, he instinctively sprang back, bolting into the first available open elevator door.
    “Watch it!” a voice cried, an instant before he slammed full-body into one of three exiting passengers, crushing the instep of the woman who had shouted the warning and sending her laptop crashing to the floor. With irritated expressions, the other two passengers sidestepped around him and exited.
    Damn it , damn it , damn it ! In a low, barely audible voice, he was finally able to get out, “Aw Jeez, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking...”
    “That hurt!” the woman announced in a voice sure to draw attention. He stooped to retrieve the computer, almost hitting her chin with the back of his