Missing

by Mian Mohsin Zia

  “You’d better recognize it! In any case, you’ll have to take me there and find it,” Z said.

  “Don’t worry!” Faisal intervened on Amber’s behalf, as she looked at him to make a decision and respond. “It’s already late. Let’s meet at noon tomorrow right in front of the Main Mosque in Township Market.”

  “I’ll be there waiting for you both. And just to let you know, Amber, you’ll be paid for your time,” Z said, looking at her.

  “That’s gracious of you. Amber, like the others, hardly ever finds clients who’ll book a noon shift. Most bookings are for evening and night shifts. In recent times early-bird shifts have been added as well, but it’s still rare for noon. She’s lucky, but this booking and time are unexpected, given what she’s renowned for. This is different,” Faisal said with a smile.

  CHAPTER 12

  Z stood in front of the Main Mosque at Township Market in his brown jacket, blue jeans, and black shirt. A car stopped next to him, and Faisal waved, saying, “I’ll just park.”

  Z watched as Faisal parked and got out along with Amber, who was wearing a shalwar kameez, carrying a matching handbag and had her head covered with a dupatta, the long scarf essential to many South Asian women’s outfits. Faisal wore tight, white trousers with a white shirt, pink blazer, and white shoes.

  “It’s very congested here, and parking can be a pain in the a— ” Faisal said, but before he could finish, Z interjected.

  “Yes, I can understand that. So, where’s the shop?” Z looked hard at Amber as he asked.

  “Come along, and I’ll try to find the one where I bought the scarf,” Amber replied as she looked at both men and moved off toward the shops followed by them.

  “These trousers make me feel very uncomfortable. They feel very tight. I guess they’re brand new, as I got them as a birthday present last night. I had an excellent lower body workout this morning, so my thighs feel well pumped up too,” Faisal said, as he adjusted his almost skin-tight trousers, while they followed Amber.

  They passed through the narrow streets with shops facing each other on both sides. Finally, Amber stopped in front of one and looked at it carefully, then she looked at another one, placed her left index finger between her lips while she murmured to herself and gave it serious thought before she moved on further, followed by Z and Faisal.

  “This is what it’s like. Now that you’re here, you can see what we tried to explain to you last night. There are all the shops and lots of stalls like these,” Faisal said while pointing at some.

  “Yes, I can now,” Z conceded, as he looked at the stalls Faisal was referring to. Each one had a wooden floor slung between two pairs of bicycle wheels and carried clothes, socks, toys, makeup, and miscellaneous items for sale. On seeing them, Z said, “It’s good she bought the scarf from a shop and not a stall! That would have made things difficult!”

  “Not just difficult… much, much worse. It was a great relief to hear that it was a shop. These stall owners can move anywhere, but a shop owner has a fixed spot where he operates and is easy to locate,” Faisal said, as they followed Amber, who was continuously staring at the shops and moving on steadily trying to find the one she’d been to.

  “That’s for sure!” Z said in relief.

  “I hope she finds the one she bought it from,” Faisal said, and it seemed that what he’d wished for happened right then because Amber suddenly stopped and looked back at them both with a smile.

  “That one! Yes! That’s it!” she said the moment she spotted the shop and then pointed at the man sitting inside it. “That’s the shop, and that’s the man I bought the scarf from.”

  “Nawab Garments,” Z read on the shop front before they walked in. A fifty-year-old man with an auburn beard and curly hair seated on a wooden chair stood up. He was wearing a shalwar kameez.

  “Are you the shop owner?” Z asked the older man, as Faisal and Amber stood behind him.

  “Yes, Sir. It’s my shop, Nawab Garments, and I’m Nawab. How can I help you?”

  Z took the carefully folded scarf out from his jacket and showed it to the man saying, “Mr. Nawab, please look at this scarf carefully. This lady bought it from you. I want to know where you got it.”

  Nawab held the scarf, looked at Amber, and then at the scarf attentively. Before he could reply, Amber said, “Come on, tell him. Why are you taking so long? You sold it to me for 350 rupees and showed me this label as well saying, it was imported, and you wouldn’t reduce the price.” Amber pointed at Lena’s name on the scarf.

  “Yes, yes! You’re right. I remember it. Yes, I sold it to her. I couldn’t read the writing, so I assumed it was the label and used that as a selling point for the pretty lady who bought it for 350 rupees. She’s right,” Nawab confirmed. Amber sighed with relief, saying, “See, I was right. You quizzed me in front of everyone last night.” She sounded vexed and wanted Z’s attention.

  Faisal cut in, “Amber, these tricks won’t help. Remember, you’ll be paid in any case. Z said that last night, so there’s no need to be a vixen. Honey will take care of you if you want to be served with a cream pie this afternoon rather than tonight — and exclusively at my place. My wife has gone to school to attend my kids’ annual sports day. You can enjoy horse riding all afternoon.” Faisal smiled as he placed a hand on Amber’s shoulder and gently rubbed it.

  “Now tell me. Where did you get the scarf?” Z asked Nawab, ignoring Amber and Faisal.

  “I… I bought it from David,” Nawab admitted diffidently.

  “David? David who?” Z asked, taking the scarf back again.

  “He’s a drug addict and at times brings things that are good enough to be bought and sold. Several others in the market know him too and buy things from him. We never ask where he gets them from, but he sells them to us at a nominal price so he can feed his addiction.” Nawab spoke confidently. “Sir, are you from the police? I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Where’s David?” Z asked, instead of responding to Nawab’s question.

  “He might be at Kamal’s Tea Stall. Kamal has recently started taking drugs. David got him addicted. As a result, nowadays, David is mostly at Kamal’s Tea Stall, where he gets free stuff,” Nawab explained.

  “Please take us to Kamal’s Tea Stall then,” Z requested.

  “Sure. Please come with me.” Nawab motioned them outside the shop, as he loudly called to another man seated in the shop right opposite his, saying, “Tahir, please look after my shop. I’ll be back in a while.”

  Tahir called back from inside his shop, “Don’t worry!”

  “If I’d known I’d be questioned and get into trouble over this scarf, I wouldn’t have bought it. Whenever I got stuff from David, I always thought that it would create a problem someday sooner or later — and see, it’s happening today! But we’re poor people, so we fall prey to money for the sake of our kids. When all’s said and done, we must put food on the table,” Nawab said, as all of them followed him to Kamal’s Tea Stall. “That’s it there… and there’s David,” Nawab said pointing, as they approached.

  It was the same four-wheel arrangement on a wooden floor with a piece of cloth over the top serving as a roof, a gas cylinder lying next to it on the ground, some plastic boxes with biscuits inside, and a few chairs around it, where people were sitting and drinking tea. David, a forty-year-old man in blue trousers and a white t-shirt with a mustache and black, short hair, was having his tea alone. Nawab, Faisal, and Amber stood beside Z as he positioned himself right behind David, put his right hand on David’s right shoulder, and said, “Mr. David!”

  While holding his cup of tea, David looked at Z when he heard his name, and then looked at Amber, at whom he stared carefully from head to toe. Finally, he realized he also had three men standing around him, and he was in for some serious business. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Nawab told us that you sold him this scarf. Where did you get it?” Z showed him the scarf pointing at Lena’s name on it. David looked carefull
y, thought for a second, took a sip to finish his tea, placed the cup down, and tried to stand up. Z was ready for this — presuming he might try to run, which he did want to do — and seized David by his shoulders before he could.

  “Impressive!” Faisal pronounced with a smile at Z’s vigilance.

  “Listen carefully, David. Your attempt to run proves that Mr. Nawab is right. I won’t talk much and waste time. I’ll get straight to the point. Would you like to be beaten up, or would you like to speak up? The choice is all yours. Tell me what you decide.” Z folded the scarf and put it back into his jacket pocket.

  “I’ll speak up, but you must promise you won’t put me in the lockup.”

  “I promise!” Z certified as they sat down around David so he could speak to them all.

  “I stole it from Lucy’s cupboard… I mean, my wife. She refuses to give me money, as I’m a drug addict, so I steal stuff from her — and even from shops and other places — to serve my habit. At times, I’ve been caught red-handed while shoplifting and beaten up, but I can’t stop myself because this drug addiction gets on top of me,” he said and cleared his throat.

  Before he could continue, Z interjected. “Where’s Lucy?”

  “She’s at work now, but she’ll return home around 3:00 pm,” and he cleared his throat again. “I admit, I’m a drug addict, but I’m telling the truth. She’ll confirm it all. Please trust me.”

  “David, my boy, my father used to advise me not to trust two persons — one is a crying prostitute, and the second is a smiling pimp,” Faisal commented when he heard David’s request to be trusted. “Though you’re not a pimp, I shared my father’s advice, because it just popped into my head.” David looked at Faisal as he spoke.

  “That sounds philosophical. Was he a teacher?” Amber asked as if she was impressed.

  “No! He wasn’t,” Faisal replied.

  “Then?” Amber inquired further.

  “He was a pimp, and what a legendary pimp he was! He wasn’t known as a pimp to ordinary men. I never had a good relationship with him, but still, I must give credit where it’s due. He operated so well that not even his family knew that until I joined the business. But today, I’ve had to reveal his identity to you guys, as the occasion requires it.” Faisal smiled as if he was proud of his father’s accomplishments.

  “Despite that, I believe we couldn’t have gelled well together, even without our differences, because — as a great pimp once said — ‘Two pimps can’t dine together.’ There’s excellent logic to this saying if you mull over it, but I won’t go into it now.”

  “I can understand it and can see why two pimps can’t dine together. By the way, who was the great pimp who said that?” Amber asked with interest.

  “Honey!” Faisal giggled, referring to himself as the great pimp.

  “Indeed, you are,” Amber nodded her head in acknowledgment and smiled.

  Before anything further could be said, Nawab intervened addressing Z. “Sir, as David’s confirmed what I told you, can I leave now? I must get back to my shop if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. You’re free to go, but before you do, please provide your contact details, so you can be contacted again to testify what you told me, if necessary.”

  “Sir, of course. Here they are.” Nawab handed Z his business card.

  “Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Nawab,” Z responded as he took the card.

  “Good day,” Nawab said and left.

  “If you don’t mind, can I see the card?” Amber asked as Z was about to put it into his pocket.

  “Sure,” Z seemed surprised at Amber’s request but stretched out his arm to give it to her.

  She took a pen from her handbag and wrote something on the back of the card and returned it to him, saying, “You might want Amber to relieve your stress.”

  Z looked at the card and saw she’d written her number with a heart sign, but without reacting, he put it in his jacket pocket.

  “Shall we also leave as we’ve cleared things at our end?” Amber asked politely, looking at Faisal and Z.

  “Sure, please leave if you want.” Z put his right hand into the back pocket of his jeans, as if he was about to get out his wallet but stopped to listen to Faisal.

  “We’re not in a hurry. Or are you too excited about the noon show at my home? Patience, all in good time, Amber. My wife and kids won’t be returning home before evening, and I’ll let you ride the horse until you get tired, baby,” Faisal said, holding Amber’s hand as they sat next to each other. David was next to Faisal, and Z was next. The next chair where Nawab had been sitting was now vacant.

  “David, you need to take me to your home so I can meet Lucy,” Z said.

  “Of course. It’s not far away. It’ll hardly take us ten minutes to walk there,” David verified and scratched his neck. “But as I told you, Lucy will return home by 3:00 pm, so either you can wait here for a while and then leave for my place, or you can wait at my place. It’s up to you.” David posed the options.

  “It’s 1:12 pm right now,” Z said, as he looked at his wristwatch.

  “What say we eat something first and then leave because Lucy will be home by 3:00 pm, and it’s only a ten-minute walk away,” Faisal suggested.

  “He’s right,” Amber backed Faisal.

  “Good idea. Alright!” Z agreed.

  “Z, while we’re sitting here, there’s something I’d like to share with you.” Z looked at Faisal, who was addressing him. “You know my history and my geography very well, so it’ll be easy for you to understand where I’m coming from. I’ve always dreamt of going to the USA but never made it. Did travel to South Africa, Oman, and other places, but never had a chance to go to the States.”

  Faisal sneezed. “Even my father tried all his life to get there, and eventually, I came to realize why he was so fond of English movies. He wanted to become an international pimp, and I’ve set it as my challenge — or goal — to get to the US one day. Whether it’s a personal goal, or personal or professional rivalry with my father, getting to the US is the ultimate thing for me. Pimps would have to make good money there, and the best part is that they’d be paid in dollars. As you’ve lived in the US, what’s the country like? I’ve only seen it in movies, but how can I get there? I could then become an international pimp! What do you say?” Faisal became more animated as he spoke and waited for Z’s response.

  “America doesn’t need a pimp, and neither does Pakistan,” Z pointed out, and as a result, Faisal’s face dropped. He touched his left hand to the side of his chin, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Having said that— ” Before Z could say more, they heard the Azaan, the Islamic call to worship, and Z realized it was time for Dhuhr, the noon prayer, the second obligatory prayer of the day. “I can understand where you’re coming from and why you’re not in a hurry. Anyways, it’s time for prayer now,” Z said and stood up.

  “You go and pray. We’ll wait here for you and have something to eat in the meantime,” Faisal said straight away while he looked at Amber, who nodded.

  “OK,” Z said and left for the Main Mosque nearby.

  *******

  “I wish I could also offer prayer regularly,” Faisal commented, looking at Z after he returned and sat down next to David. “Here’s your lunch, a delicious Biryani with soda. We ate ours, kept yours, and here’s the bill.” Faisal handed Z a couple of slips with amounts on them. “We also had tea from the Tea Stall. That’s why there are two different slips. I paid on your behalf.”

  “I see, but I ain’t hungry, so you can eat it if you want. Here’s the money and the extra 2000 rupees for Amber.” Z took the wallet out of his pocket, paid Faisal and Amber assuming the rates that Alisha — the prostitute he’d met on the street — had quoted previously.

  “Thanks! That’s highly appreciated.” Faisal took the payment, counted it, and put it into his pocket, while he questioned Z about traveling to the US. “I heard that if you have a good contact in the US, then
it can be easier to get a visa?”

  “Actually, that’s called visa sponsorship. But for any visa, you must have legal documentation and follow the procedure, whether you have a contact there or not,” Z argued.

  “Well, I was wondering if… you could sponsor me as we already have a good association, and I’m always available to help you. But just to let you know — I’m not here for that purpose. It just popped into my head, and I’m just sharing it with you. Please don’t misunderstand me,” Faisal said with a wide smile.

  “Your father was right. Never trust a crying prostitute and a smiling pimp,” Z said politely, as he looked at his wristwatch and stood up. “It’s already 2:40. I guess we should move now.”

  “Sure. Amber and I will leave now, as it’s all up to David from here on. Seeing as you’re not hungry, I’ll take this Biryani and soda,” Faisal said, as he stood up, adjusted his white trousers and picked up the food and drink. Z nodded at him, and all of them left the tea stall.

  *******

  A slim, thirty-five-year-old woman in a Lahore Recycling Corporation uniform carrying a tote bag entered the one-room apartment that David called home. She had a dark complexion, curly brown hair, and a scar on her forehead. As soon as David saw her, he stood up and said, “Lucy, meet Sir Z. He’s here to see you.”

  “Me?” Lucy asked in surprise, as she placed the tote bag on the table right next to the door.

  “Yes, he’s right.” Z stood up, took out the scarf, and showed it to Lucy. “David told me he stole this scarf from your cupboard. I want to know if that’s true — and if it is, where did you get it?” Z got straight to the point sounding authoritative.

  Lucy held the scarf and looked at it. The moment she saw Lena’s name on it, she said, “Yes, that’s true. He did steal it from my cupboard; I can confirm that.” Her confidence was very apparent.

  “How can you be so confident?” Z wanted to check if Lena’s name in Russian was what Lucy used to identify the scarf.

  “See this writing? This is how I can recognize it.” Lucy did what Z wanted and pointed at Lena’s name in Russian.