The Shiva Objective by David Sakmyster

 
    ONE
    Agra, India – Oberoi Resort Hotel
    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