“Please keep in mind, though, that this is the best we can do, but without any evidence, we won’t be investigating further,” Joseph said categorically.
“I understand, and I hope you’ll find some. Otherwise, I may have to approach the higher authorities myself.” Z’s response was short and to the point, though he thought: I can’t approach any higher-ups unless I have substantial evidence to prove my point, but I’ll say it anyway to put Joseph and his team under pressure. They might come up with something positive.
“Well, that’s your right, and I can’t stop you from contacting the higher-ups — or even the media, but for that, you must prove your claim first,” Joseph said with aplomb.
He doesn’t seem fazed by my warning at all. He looks honest and dutiful, Z thought.
“In any case, thanks, Mr. Z. We’ll let you know if we find anything. I think we’re done for now.”
“I appreciate that, and I’ll be waiting anxiously to hear from you,” Z said, as he stood up.
“Rest assured. Best won’t let you stay anxious for long.”
*******
As Z came out from the bank’s ATM after withdrawing some cash, he spotted a young girl standing alone at the corner on the bank’s right, where he was heading toward his hotel. Her face was uncovered. After he’d taken a couple of steps, a car came and stopped near her. She spoke to the driver, and as Z walked past the car, she got in, and it departed.
A motorbike came from behind him with two young guys in t-shirts and jeans on it and stopped unexpectedly close to him. The one behind the driver got off and showed Z a gun, saying, “Give me the money you’ve got, or I’ll shoot.”
Z raised his hands and inched nearer to him to get within range, while saying, “Please! Please, don’t shoot!”
“Give me the money, you moron,” the young man repeated aggressively.
“I’m giving it! I’m giving it!” Z answered urgently while ensuring the guy was well and truly within his range. Using his left hand, Z grabbed the gun from the side, twisted his hand to make the gun rotate away from himself, and twist the young man’s finger. The guy cried out in pain, and lost his grip of the gun, as Z exerted even more pressure. The gun fell out of his hand onto the ground, and he fell to his knees. Z kicked the gun to get it out of his reach and punched him, so he fell to the ground. Then he kicked the other man on the motorbike. He, along with his bike, fell over, giving Z enough time to disappear from the scene. It was a perfect demonstration of a self-defense technique that Z had learned and taught his trainees.
*******
No women are standing on either side of the road today, Z thought, as he inspected both sides of it. However, when he noticed police on patrol, he realized he wouldn’t see any women offering themselves there that day.
He explored further, not just the streets he’d already been to, but other streets and markets in C-Block and D-Block to see if he could spot anything suspicious. He made notes and marked a few things on the piece of paper he carried with him.
At one stage, when he came across a stall selling shawarmas, he realized he was hungry. Their aroma was irresistible. He lifted the grey hood back off his head and let it fall to his shoulders, and then ordered a shawarma. While he was eating it, he noticed a boy next to the stall watching the shawarmas being made, and the people buying and eating them.
“Excuse me. Who is he? Do you know?” Z asked the stall owner, busily serving his customers at the stall.
“You mean that kid? He’s always hanging out around here,” the guy retorted while handing some cash to someone. “He’s a pain in the neck!”
“Why? What happened?” Z asked while looking around.
“He’s always asking for free shawarma,” he said with a shake of his head.
Z decided to buy another shawarma When he turned around, the boy had left and was strolling down the street. Z ran after him, calling, “Hello! Excuse me!” The boy stopped and looked back. Z jogged up to him, saying, “This is for you,” and handed him the shawarma with a smile on his face.
With big eyes, the boy seized it with both hands. As soon as he did, Z turned around, covered his head with the hood again, and left.
*******
Later that night, Z was again walking around both sides of the road to see when the Gmet Bakers, Gmet Restaurant, pharmacy, the other restaurant, and the shops closed. It may look strange to be walking here and there without any reason and may catch someone’s attention. It’s already late, he thought, as he noticed a truck and a motorcyclist go past at 1:45 am, while he was alone on the footpath.
He walked toward the payphone and stepped inside.
“The Gmet Restaurant and the Gmet Bakers close down at midnight, and their staff leave at about 12:40 am. The pharmacy also closes at midnight, and their staff leave by 12:20 am. Only a few cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes and rickshaws pass this area after midnight, which means that if Lena came here to this payphone around 2 am, she couldn’t have shouted for help. In any case, she wouldn’t have wanted to make any noise, and alert those she was hiding from. Makes logical sense. Had it been daytime, or even nighttime with traffic and people around, she could have shouted for help to grab someone’s attention. However, if she was alone on the road, she had to ensure she was quiet when she ran to escape.
“And then… when she spotted this payphone, she decided to make a call, which she did. But why was the call disconnected? It must mean she was chased.” Z stood in the phone booth and looked around while he spoke to himself, envisioning the scene.
*******
After returning from the payphone, Z worked out in his hotel room with his SpinGym, and did a headstand, handstand and a Peacock Pose (Mayurasana), while he was thinking about how everything was set up. Several thoughts floated into his mind. No guts, no glory. No legend, no story. Nothing seems to be going in the right direction for now. I’ll have to do it myself, even though Joseph is trying. Otherwise, we don’t look like we’ll get anywhere.
That was when Z heard some heavy knocking on another door. He looked at the clock and saw it was 2:55 am, which surprised him. He went to his door and looked through the peephole. He could see a woman knocking on the door of the room across the corridor from his, though he could only see her back. The door opened, and she immediately stepped inside. Her entry seemed awkward, though, as if she’d pushed something so she could enter. Then the door closed.
“What’s going on?” Z murmured and decided to wait to see if the door opened again and someone came out. After ten minutes, it did, and the same woman came out. An older man in pajamas holding his wallet stood behind her with despair all over his face. The woman held some money in her hands, placed it in her purse, and then covered her face with a veil while the man closed the door. “That’s the same one,” Z murmured, realizing it was the same woman he’d met twice on the street. Before she could move off and disappear from his sight, Z opened the door and said, “Excuse me!”
The woman stopped just a couple of steps away and turned, but before she could say something, Z went on. “You were right the other day. I shouldn’t be shy. Why not come inside?” Z took some money from his wallet and handed it to her, saying, “You’ll be paid more than you expect for a job well done. Here’s 1500 upfront, and there’ll be another 1500 once the job is done to perfection.”
“That’s a good boy. No need to be shy and no need to worry about perfection. It’ll be above and beyond your expectations,” the woman countered confidently with a smile, as she took the money and uncovered her face, asking, “Shall we go in?”
“Sure, after you,” Z said, as he made way for her to enter his room.
“Shall I get you a soda?” Z asked, pointing toward the refrigerator when they were sitting at the table.
“Hold on a second.” She got a phone from her purse and made a call. “Just wait. It’ll take me a while. I have a customer. I’ll give you a ring once I’m done, so you can come to pick me up then.” In the meantime, Z got tw
o cans and placed them on the table in front of the bed.
“Thanks! You’re very courteous, whereas most clients I visit aren’t. You handed over the money easily. At times it’s troublesome with clients, who are good for nothing, but still want to do something — like that older man in the other room,” she said as she took a sip of soda.
“Listen, I want to know something, if you could help,” Z said.
“You want to know something, or you want to do something?” she asked and looked at herself, which made Z realize where she was coming from.
“No, I don’t want anything. I just want to know something,” Z said, as he took the picture of Lena from his wallet and showed it to her. “I’m looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”
“Oh, I see… you’re one of those who prefer imported stuff,” she responded as she looked at the picture.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, I haven’t, but you can get imported stuff quite easily. It’s not so limited that you can’t get it.”
“I’m only asking about this girl. I ain’t asking about anyone else,” Z clarified.
“Since these imported chicks came, they’ve simply spoiled the party for us. Everyone now asks for imported stuff… clothes, wine or even these— ”
“Listen, take this 1500, and you can leave,” Z interjected before she could finish and handed her the remaining 1500. She snatched it.
“Amazing! Some clients don’t give money that easily, even if the job has been done and others hand out money without having the job done at all!” she remarked as she stood up and headed toward the door.
“Listen!” Z said before she’d opened it, and then went on after she turned and looked at him. “You said, I can get imported stuff easily. Do you know where I can find that?”
She smiled and said, “Men will be men! You see, it’s only about having imported stuff and no one particular after all. You need to change your mindset — local can be just as good as imported. In fact, even better. At least, I can guarantee that in my case, but these movies on the internet have just changed the preferences of men like you.” She walked toward Z and stood right in front of him with her legs spread and bent over, so she was at his eye level and spoke, “Why not give it a try? But you’d have to pay again, as you lost the opportunity you had before, and Alisha doesn’t give it for free. An opportunity wasted is an opportunity wasted.”
“I’ll give you another 3000, but this time you have to answer my questions first,” Z said, sounding as if her charade had no impact on him.
“OK, as you insist.” She felt rejected and assumed a normal posture. “There’s a guy called Faisal Israr, who’s better known as Honey. I’ll tell you about him, but first, you must understand one thing. For locals like me, some girls are independent operators, and some aren’t. But for imported stuff, there are no independent operators. This could work in your favor if you’re looking for a particular person or someone in general.” She decided to sit down. “Honey is the most well-known pimp. In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say he’s the Uncrowned King of Pimps in Lahore. He’s unlike the others in the business in terms of how he looks, the way he dresses and the way he talks.”
“Where will I find this Faisal… this Honey?”
“Every night at 9 pm he goes to Tony’s Soda Bottle Stall next to the Kotha Pind Graveyard, which has a village feel, even though it’s part of B-Block in Faisal Town.”
“No detail is too small for me! I want to know every single detail you can tell me about Faisal. And bear in mind, there’s an extra 1500 making it 4500 rupees for this second opportunity if you provide information in minute detail,” Z emphasized.
“Why not? When a client is so generous and appreciative of a job well done, Alisha is much more inclined to ensure his satisfaction,” Alisha said as she began and shared every single piece of information she had about Faisal.
Z listened all ears, and once she was done, she said, “By the way, it’s been great doing business with you. Here’s my number in case you ever change your mind and want to give a local a try. I bet if I’m that local, you’ll forget about the imported ones.”
You’re still thinking along the same lines, but you’re so wrong, Z thought as he took her number, and she left.
CHAPTER 11
“Keep the change,” Z said, juggling his package as he handed money to the rickshaw driver and looked at Tony’s Soda Bottle Stall next to the Kotha Pind Graveyard. He spotted a guy matching Alisha’s description of Faisal. Heading toward him, he could see the back of a guy with thick black hair wearing a checkered blazer seated in front of the stall on a wooden stool.
“Happy Birthday, Faisal,” Z said when he was standing right behind him.
“Thank you! Do we know each other?” Faisal asked as he turned and looked at Z. He had a pale complexion and round face and was well-built though of average height.
“No, we don’t, but do we have to know someone to wish him a happy birthday?” Z asked as he handed him the package. “Here’s your birthday cake — Black Forest, the one you love the most.”
Faisal stood up, took the cake, and addressed the guy at the stall, “Hey Tony, get my brother a bottle of soda.” He looked straight into Z’s eyes and said, “You’re the first one to wish me a happy birthday, and there are still three hours left to midnight and the 11th of March! In honor of your gesture, Honey offers you any girl you’d like for free tonight.”
“No, I don’t want that, and I didn’t wish you a happy birthday or bring this cake to you for that,” Z immediately replied.
“Throughout my life, I’ve never had anyone wishing me a happy birthday with such sincerity without expecting something in return. You remembered my birthday and bought a cake for me in good faith. That makes me feel super special. Your gesture is highly appreciated. Up to this point in my life, I’ve felt people only remembered me for my supply of girls, but you’ve changed that,” Faisal said as he signaled Z to sit on the other wooden stool and enjoy the soda served by Tony, the stall owner. “By the way, what’s your name, my brother from another mother?”
“Zia, you can call me Z.”
“And you’d better call me Honey, not Faisal, as I have a supply of many honeybees that men desire,” he chuckled, referring to his business.
“Listen, Faisal or Honey — whatever you prefer — I’m here for something serious, something important, not for your lewd jokes,” Z said.
“And you know what? You look and sound like a local, but you aren’t. Honey can spot that easily because Honey’s eyes haven’t seen you in the town before,” Faisal said and took a sip of his soda.
“Honey, your full name is Sheikh Faisal Israr, born in the suburbs of Lahore on March 11, 1980, but your ID card has 1979 as your birth year. Your father, Israr Ahmed, used to run a canteen at the Lahore Railway Station. He was fond of movies, especially English ones, and you used to accompany him to the cinema. You were never interested in study and were fond of Carrom, even though your father wanted you to study. In this regard, at times, he used to scold you. As a result, you ran away from home one day and have never met your parents since. You went to Karachi, where you joined a local gang and became a thief, but one day you got caught.”
Faisal sat motionless with his soda bottle in his left hand as he listened to Z with rapt attention. “Because you were a minor, you somehow managed to get out of prison and returned to Lahore. You tried to live a normal life, but the dirty man inside you never let you do that. You joined the IQ Hospital near Akbar Chowk as a lab technician, met a woman named Azra, five years older than you, and got married. But your lust for women and money drove you into selling X-rated DVDs. When Azra found out about that, you forced her to act in one of your X-rated movies shot for locals. For several months you did that successfully, but that wasn’t enough for you. You then decided to upgrade, sell Azra, and serve as her pimp. One day, Azra went beserk, and you killed her.”
Faisal rested his soda bottle
on the table and listened with great surprise. “After killing Azra, you fled to Sri Lanka, from where you went to Dubai, Oman, and then South Africa. In South Africa, you met a guy named Xavier Frances that you trapped in the name of friendship and brotherhood, and then ripped thousands of dollars from him. Later, when Xavier discovered what you’d done, you ran away and returned Pakistan. Currently, you’re married with Saniya, have two kids, Moosa and Yahya, 9 and 7, respectively. You live in Juditional Colony next to Johar Town, but your wife doesn’t know what you do exactly, as she still believes you work in the night shift as a lab technician at the IQ Hospital.”
Z took a sip of his soda and then added, “You change your cell phone number every year, so it doesn’t get circulated too much. Your current number is +9230— ”
Faisal interjected before Z could finish, “Goodness me! Honey only said something based on his observation that you haven’t been around for very long, and you present Honey with a post-mortem of his life! Hey, Tony, get my brother Z your special lemon soda with a grilled chicken platter from the Spicy Chicken Stall,” Faisal ordered. “Come, tell me, how can I help you? What brought you to Honey, the King Pimp?”
“I’m looking for this girl.” Z showed him Lena’s picture.
“No, she’s not part of my supply, and I bet if she’s not in my supply, she won’t be in anyone else’s supply, as I’m in the lead, and I know every single piece available in the city. But look here, I’ll show you something, so you can pick and choose,” Faisal said, as he took a photo album out of his blazer pocket and showed Z. It contained almost 300 pictures of girls.
“I’m only looking for this girl,” Z said, and showed him the picture again, but looked through the album to ensure Lena’s image wasn’t in it.
“I don’t need to look twice. Here you’ll get Russians, Chinese, Filipinas — and locals naturally. Once a girl comes in and is tried out by Honey, he never forgets her. I don’t need to double-check. Honey is the one who not only recognizes a girl by her face but can even recognize a girl by her vag— ”
Missing Page 13