The Demon and the City

afternoon would be convenient. I'll talk to your employer. Paugeng, isn't it? Very well. I'll send a car."
    And before Robin had a chance to speak, the system closed. Robin, wondering, dressed and left to catch the downtown tram.
     
    She got into Paugeng early that morning, the unreliable tram running like clockwork this time. It seemed much later, the result of rising at dawn. She found Mhara still sleeping. One arm sprawled above his head; the gentle face seemed vulnerable and, somehow, younger. Robin did not want to wake him. Instead, she went to sit at the edge of the cot. His fingers were bound up, as usual. Robin wondered: Why doesn't he try to free them? The dangerous clawed hands were limp in sleep.
    "What the hell is going on?" Robin whispered, consulting her sleeping oracle. "Can you tell me?"
    The blue eyes opened suddenly. The face was one she did not know: animal and alive. Then the experiment was yawning. There was no reproach in his face for waking him up.
    "Did you say something?" he asked politely.
    "No," Robin whispered.
    "Then I must have been dreaming," the experiment said, and smiled. They ran through the tests and checks in silence and then Robin tidied the lab. She wanted to establish some degree of order, somewhere.
    Jhai paid her a visit halfway through the morning.
    "Could I have a quick word, Robin? Thanks." Her face was calm, concerned, neutral.
    "I had a call from Giris Sardai," Jhai said. "He wants to see you—did he call?"
    "This morning. He said he'd speak to you and that he'll send a car. Is that okay? I'm really sorry, Madam Tserai—Jhai. I didn't know how to refuse."
    "It's all right, Robin. It's not your fault. I told him we'd be glad to help. I gather there's a problem? Their daughter's missing—your friend?" Robin nodded, dumbly. Jhai purred, "That's such a worry. But you mustn't let it upset you. I'm sure everything's going to be fine."
    "I'm sorry I'm taking time off—" Robin began again.
    "It isn't a problem. George Su can cover, it's just an afternoon and you've got the link if anything happens, haven't you? Anyway, I won't be able to see you again today; I'm flying to Beijing later. So don't worry. Go and get this sorted out. And obviously, Robin, there's no wage payback, or anything. I'll square it." She left in a flurry of silks, leaving Robin standing in suspicious gratitude behind her. Jhai had been very decent, really. Jhai was always so sweet, and yet—there was always something so calculating behind it. Perhaps Robin was just envious of her employer's wealth and beauty and talent, but still . . . Jhai never quite rang true. Anyway, Robin told herself, firmly, that wasn't her problem.

Six
    The forensics lab had come through with a positive ID on the murdered girl. She was, scandalously, one Deveth Sardai: the daughter of a prominent socialite with links to half the city's aristocracy.
    "Went a bit off the rails, if you ask me," Sergeant Ma said lugubriously.
    "You knew her?" Zhu Irzh's elegant eyebrows crawled upward; he had not pictured Ma's social circle as being so elevated. Ma looked slightly abashed.
    "Only from the papers."
    "What papers?"
    After some evasion, it turned out that Ma was a fan of the cheaper, glossier press: the sort of magazines that turned up in supermarket racks, their pages displaying film stars' lovely homes. Deveth Sardai, it seemed, along with her artfully Bohemian lifestyle, had featured regularly. Ma took an example from his desk drawer. Zhu Irzh stared down at a strong, willful face with heavy brows: Malaysian, he estimated, with a Westerner's blue eyes. Unless she had worn contacts.
    "She isn't married, it says. Any mention of boyfriends?"
    "No. Girlfriends, though."
    "She was a lesbian?" Zhu Irzh asked, vaguely intrigued.
    "Fashionably so," Ma told him. Zhu Irzh smiled; it wasn't the kind of comment he expected from Ma.
    "Well, any of her contacts could prove helpful. Better start making a list. I suggest you ring the magazine. Meanwhile, I suppose I'd better ask the captain to break it to her parents. Though since they haven't reported her missing, I don't suppose they were that close, but even so . . .they'd probably like to know what happened to her."
    In his office, Captain Sung regarded Zhu Irzh with his usual inexpressive gaze and the demon found himself fidgeting, like a child on the carpet of the principal's study. The captain made Zhu Irzh uncomfortable; he could not shake off the impression that Sung was thinking