The Boardroom
The table was glass.
It was a long slab of frosted glass. It looked like ice. It looked like something that would shatter if you hit it hard enough.
Esha sat on one side. Zaviyar sat at the head.
Across from them sat five men.
They were the investors. The Board. The money.
They looked like vultures. They wore grey suits. They had grey hair. They had grey skin. They smelled like expensive cologne and old paper.
The room was cold. Zaviyar always kept the rooms cold. He said it kept people awake. Esha thought it just made them mean.
She rubbed her arms. The silk of her blouse was thin. It offered no protection.
"So," the man in the middle said. His name was Sterling. The same Sterling she had terrified at the gala. He looked at her. He didn't look scared today. He looked hungry. "We hear rumors, Zaviyar. We hear the Roys are launching something big."
"Rumors are free," Zaviyar said. He leaned back in his chair. He spun a pen in his fingers. Spin. Spin. Spin. "Facts cost money."
"The fact is," another man said, "Project Icarus is real. We have sources. They say it's a cloud killer. They say it's faster than our system. Cheaper."
The man looked at Esha.
"They say it will make Khan Global obsolete."
Esha felt the eyes on her. Heavy eyes. Judging eyes.
She looked at Zaviyar. He didn't look at her. He kept spinning the pen.
This was the test. He was letting them attack her. He wanted to see if she would bleed.
Esha sat up straight. She put her hands on the cold glass table.
"It won't make us obsolete," she said. Her voice was steady. It was the Anya voice. "Because it won't work."
The men laughed. A dry, scratchy sound.
"It won't work?" Sterling asked. "Arjun Roy is a visionary. He hired the best team in Silicon Valley."
"Arjun Roy is a boy," Esha said. The words tasted like acid in her mouth. "He is playing with toys he doesn't understand. He rushed the development. He cut corners on security."
"How do you know?" the third man asked. He was fat. He was eating a mint. Crunch. Crunch.
"Because I looked," Esha lied. "I analyzed their beta structure. It's unstable. It's flashy, yes. But it has no bones. It will crash on launch day."
She felt dirty. She was lying about her cousin's work. His work was perfect. It was beautiful code. She was the one who was going to break it. She was the instability.
But she couldn't say that.
"You sound very sure," Sterling said. "Zaviyar trusts you. But we don't know you, Ms. Sharma. You come from nowhere."
"I come from winning," Esha said. She looked him in the eye. "I am telling you, gentlemen. Do not sell your stock. Do not hedge your bets. When Icarus crashes—and it will crash—the Roy stock will plummet. Ours will double."
She paused. She let the silence hang there.
"If I am wrong," she said, "you can fire me. You can sue me. But I am not wrong."
The men looked at each other. They looked at Zaviyar.
Zaviyar stopped spinning the pen. Slap. He put it down on the glass.
"She speaks for me," Zaviyar said. His voice was low. Final. "If she says it crashes, it crashes."
The meeting went on for another hour.
Boring. Numbers. Projections. Quarterly earnings.
Esha stopped listening. She watched the rain hitting the window. Tap. Tap. Tap.
She felt hollow. She felt like a shell. She was saying the words, but there was no one inside.
Finally, they left.
The men shook hands. Their hands were dry. Like paper.
"Good meeting," Sterling said. "Let's hope you're right about the crash."
"I am," Esha said.
The door closed.
The room was quiet. Just the hum of the projector fan. Whirrrr.
Esha slumped in her chair. Her back hurt. Her neck hurt. The lie was heavy.
"You were good," Zaviyar said.
He was still sitting at the head of the table. He was watching her.
"I was lying," Esha said. "Icarus is good technology. It's better than ours."
"It doesn't matter," Zaviyar said. "History remembers the winner. It doesn't remember the code."
He stood up. He walked over to her.
He sat on the edge of the table. Right in front of her. He was close. His knee brushed her leg under the table.
"You look sad," he said.
"I'm not sad."
"You are," he said. "You feel bad for him. For Arjun."
Esha looked at her hands. She twisted the fake ring on her finger.
"He is my... he is a person," she said. She almost said cousin. "He worked hard."
"He is the enemy," Zaviyar said. He reached out. He lifted her chin with his finger. He forced her to look at him. "Do not humanize the enemy, Anya. It makes it harder to pull the trigger."
His finger was warm. His eyes were black.
"Why do you hate them so much?" Esha asked. "It was eighty years ago. Your grandfather is dead. His father is dying. Why does it still matter?"
Zaviyar dropped his hand. He looked away.
"Because they took everything," he whispered. "And they never said sorry."
He looked like a child then. A hurt child.
Esha wanted to touch him. She wanted to fix it.
She stopped herself.
You are the enemy too, she thought. If he knew who you were, he would hate you more than Arjun.
"I need a drink," Zaviyar said suddenly. He stood up. "Come."
"It's 4:00 PM," Esha said.
"It's dark outside," Zaviyar said. "That counts."
The Office Bar
Zaviyar had a bar in his office. Of course he did.
It was hidden behind a painting. A button was pressed. The painting slid away. Bottles. Crystal. Amber liquid.
He poured two glasses. Scotch. Neat.
He handed one to her.
"Drink," he said.
Esha took it. She smelled it. Peat. Smoke. Fire.
She took a sip. It burned. It felt good. It burned away the taste of the lie.
Zaviyar leaned against his desk. He loosened his tie. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
He looked tired. The mask was slipping.
"My father beat me," he said.
Esha choked on her drink. She coughed.
"What?"
"My father," Zaviyar said. He looked at his glass. "He used to beat me. With a belt. When I got a B in math. When I cried."
He swirled the liquid.
"He told me Khans don't cry," Zaviyar said. "He told me we have to be hard. Because the Roys are soft. He said our hardness is our weapon."
Esha didn't move. She didn't breathe.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
"Because you look like you think I'm a monster," Zaviyar said. He looked at her. "I am a monster, Anya. But I was made, not born."
He walked over to her. He took her glass. He put it on the desk.
He put his hands on her waist.
Esha froze.
"You make me feel human," he whispered. "I don't like it."
He leaned in.
He kissed her.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate. It was angry. It tasted like scotch and grief.
Esha stiffened.
Then she melted.
She shouldn't. She really shouldn't.
But his hands were warm. His body was hard. He felt real.
She opened her mouth. She let him in.
It was a mistake. A massive, terrible mistake.
He pulled her closer. He pressed her against the desk. A file slid off. Whap. It hit the floor. Neither of them cared.
His hand moved up her back. Into her hair. He gripped her hair. He pulled her head back.
"Tell me to stop," he groaned against her neck. "Tell me to stop, Anya."
Esha closed her eyes.
She thought of her father. She thought of Arjun. She thought of the code waiting to destroy him.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
She was a traitor. She was a liar.
But right now, in the dark office, with the rain hitting the glass, she didn't care.
She grabbed his lapels. She pulled him down.
She kissed the enemy. And she liked it.
The Phone Call
Later.
Much later.
The office was dark. The city lights were on.
Esha was buttoning her blouse. Her hands were shaking. Her lips felt swollen.
Zaviyar was sitting in his chair. He was staring at the ceiling. He looked wrecked.
"Go," he said. His voice was rough.
"Zaviyar..."
"Go," he said. "Before I regret this."
Esha grabbed her bag. She ran.
She ran to the elevator. She ran to the lobby. She ran into the rain.
She got a cab.
She sat in the back seat. She was wet. She was shivering.
Her phone rang.
It was the encrypted phone. The brick.
She didn't want to answer. She wanted to throw it out the window.
She answered.
"Papa," she said.
"Is it done?" Vijay asked.
"The code is set," Esha said. "Launch day."
"Good," Vijay said. "I have news."
"What news?"
"Arjun called me," Vijay said. "He is worried. He wants to meet."
Esha closed her eyes.
"Meet who?"
"You," Vijay said. "He wants to meet the new strategist. He wants to meet Anya Sharma. He thinks he can charm you. He thinks he can make a deal."
Esha laughed. It was a hysterical sound. A broken sound.
"He wants to meet me?"
"Yes," Vijay said. "Tomorrow. Lunch. At The Wolseley."
"I can't," Esha said. "He will recognize me up close. The gala was dark. Lunch is daylight."
"Wear sunglasses," Vijay said. "Wear a hat. I don't care. Go to the lunch. Gain his trust. And then stab him in the back."
"Papa..."
"Do it, Esha," Vijay snapped. "Do not fail me."
Click.
Esha dropped the phone.
She looked at her reflection in the cab window.
She looked like a mess. Her hair was wild. Her lips were red.
She had just kissed Zaviyar Khan.
And tomorrow, she had to have lunch with Arjun Roy.
She was going to hell.
She was pretty sure she was already there.