Missing

  “Even though the whole scenario sounds very messy, nothing’s impossible. I don’t want to give you false hope, but except for giving it a try, we have no other choice, do we?”

  “Maybe,” Z said. His thought processes had started working in the direction that he should opt for.

  “Pardon!” Joseph said, unable to figure out what Z meant.

  “In simple words, the police found nothing, and there was no progress until I found the scarf on my own and presented it to you. In a similar fashion, the police may spend days, weeks, or even months after this FIR is lodged, and in the end say, ‘Sorry,’” and Z cleared his throat.

  “If there’s no progress or even if they don’t get me to Lena alive, the police have nothing to lose. It’s just another case to them, but it’ll be a lifetime of guilt for me — and I can’t afford to bear the burden of losing someone dear to me again.” Z simplified the scenario based on Joseph’s response.

  “I understand that, but we’ll try our best,” Joseph replied emphatically but politely.

  “Well, I couldn’t sleep all night, and I have a severe headache right now — I’ll visit you once I can.” Z wanted to get off the phone as he had a very clear vision for the future.

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Please visit the Police Station once you’re better, so we can get going. Bye for now,” Joseph said.

  “Goodbye,” Z replied and ended the call, so he could think hard about the situation he was in.

  The police will do as expected. They just want to complete the formality, so they have a clean slate and can’t be accused of doing nothing. Even if I raise my voice, they’ll be cleared by just saying they cooperated with me, and if nothing happens, then that wasn’t their fault. They want to hide any potential failure behind the excuse that they tried but to no avail. That’s what happens worldwide, he thought.

  What if I approach the higher-ups or try another medium? Would that guarantee people will deal with me genuinely on merit and can be trusted? And even if that happened — regardless of the probability of it happening based on my experience here so far — would that guarantee Lena’s safety? Nobody else has anything at stake, so nobody else has anything to lose. It’s me who would lose Lena. I lost Angel — and I can’t afford to lose Lena, Z resolved.

  Above all, I’m not up against just one person. Undoubtedly, I’m up against a system. It’s professionally operated, though I don’t know for how long it’s been going on or how deeply. No one can be trusted, as I’ve already found out — Madame knew about my findings. It’s better to go on my instincts and not rely on someone else. I’ve got this golden opportunity, so I shouldn’t let it go. At least, I have a chance to deal with Madame. I have no other choice, as this seems to be the best option available, he concluded.

  Before he’d finished thinking and deciding what to do, Z’s local phone rang again. He picked it up, and when he saw “Private Number,” he reckoned it would be Madame.

  “Hello!” Z answered.

  “Good afternoon. I hope you slept well last night,” Madame greeted him.

  “I didn’t, and I won’t until I get Lena.”

  “Initially, when you came here searching for her. I thought you’d roam around the streets like a mad dog, keep visiting the Police Station, keep inquiring about her, and eventually get sick of it, drop it, and return home. But that wasn’t the case. You proved me wrong. It’s rare for people not to quit, regardless of hope, until they make it happen. That’s what made me decide to deal with you directly. You won’t settle for less and I won’t settle for more,” Madame made her conditions clear.

  “It’s good you realized that soon enough. You must have dealt with people in the past who gave up and didn’t show their character. But this time you’re dealing with the wrong guy. And I appreciate your acknowledgment that I won’t settle for less than Lena, and you won’t settle for more trouble than I can create.” Z sounded confident and optimistic, regardless of his situation and what he’d been thinking just moments before the phone call.

  “My boy, you’re a tough cookie! It’ll be fun dealing with you!” is comments did not faze Madame in the least.

  “Do you honestly think I’m gonna deal with you without having proof that Lena’s with you?”

  “Don’t act like a child! Do you have any other choice? Still, I’m gonna give you a chance to meet Lena. But why only Lena? Why not me too? That would be fun!” She giggled. “I’ll have Lena right in front of you — and I will be too — but you won’t spot us, I bet, you naughty boy.”

  “Only time will tell.”

  “You sound way too confident, but if you fail as you will, you won’t be getting any second chance, and you’ll do as I say to get Lena and find out what I want from you… which was your other question last night. I don’t like any question to go unanswered.”

  “Only time will tell,” Z repeated.

  “Tomorrow afternoon at 4:30 at Lahore Railway Station, a train will arrive from Peshawar. Be sure to meet us there and do bring Lena’s scarf as well, so she can have it back.” Madame giggled again. “Ah, to spell it out! I’m asking you to bring the scarf, only because that will prove we came and collected it, so you can’t complain and cry like a little kid.”

  “Do you honestly think I’ll complain? I wonder if you’ll complain about dealing with me?” Z still sounded confident and optimistic.

  “Your words will best answer that — only time will tell. But make sure you bring the scarf and place it next to the trash can in the sitting area at the back of the platform the train arrives at. One last thing for your convenience: look for us in Economy Class. You see how fair I play, Kiddo. See you at the station,” Madame said, as she cut the call.

  *******

  At the platform where the Peshawar to Lahore train was about to arrive, Z quizzed Faisal, “Do you remember everything we discussed?”

  “Yes, don’t worry! Honey will take care of everything,” Faisal replied in his skintight, red pants and white, button-down shirt and holding his sunglasses.

  “I’ll put this bag right next to the trash can in the sitting area,” Z said, as he pointed where he was going to place the black leather bag he was holding. “You keep watch from that tea stall and don’t blink for a second. I want you to spot whoever picks up the bag. I’ll approach the train as it arrives and look for Lena in the Economy Class.” Z pointed Faisal toward the tea stall where he was to stand. They heard an announcement for the arrival of the train, so they parted and took up their places.

  They looked at each other from a distance and nodded when the train finally arrived and stopped. As Z ran toward the train, he uttered, “I seek refuge in the light of Your face by which all darkness is dispelled. Everything is powerless without Your support.”

  As the railcar doors opened and the passengers exited, what he saw shell shocked him. “Masterstroke!” he uttered.

  He looked at Faisal, who was also baffled. The Economy Class was carrying female students from the Peshawar University of Islamic Studies and Management. All of them were wearing burqas — the long, loose garments covering their entire bodies from head to toe that women in many Muslim countries wear in public. Being in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan and keeping in mind the pride and honor of women in Islam, Z couldn’t stop any female, let alone uncover her face to see if she was Lena.

  He could feel the women passing by him, and soon the platform was filled with women in black burqas, which made it impossible — not only for Z but for anyone — to spot a particular person. When Z realized this was why Madame was so confident that he wouldn’t be able to spot her and Lena, he looked back toward the bag and also toward Faisal, who was having difficulty with the crowd of passengers in burqas too.

  Z rushed toward the bag, and so did Faisal, but they could barely even see through the swirling crowd to spot it. There were women around them, moving and crossing their paths that they couldn’t push — they could only move with the flow. By the time Z reached the
spot where he’d placed the bag, it was no longer there. “Darn! You played a masterstroke, Madame,” he conceded, while he ran his left hand through his hair and looked around in disbelief.

  “Madame?” Faisal queried when he heard Z.

  “Yes, Madame was here,” Z clarified.

  “Don’t tell me. Are you mad? You had me here telling me someone called you to exchange Lena for money, and that’s why I came. If you’d told me Madame was coming, I wouldn’t have dared to stand by your side, no matter how much you offered me.” Faisal sounded confused and distressed. “Listen, brother from a different mother, why are you after me and no longer want me to be seen alive?”

  “Listen to me first. If I’d told you it was Madame, you wouldn’t have come. I couldn’t trust the police, so I told you everything, except that it was Madame. I wanted someone to accompany me to keep an eye on the bag, but never knew she’d have a different plan in mind,” Z said as he placed his hand on Faisal’s shoulder. “I kept you away from the scene so you could monitor from a distance and not been seen. Think about that!”

  “Money lost and nobody caught,” Faisal said crestfallen.

  “There was nothing in the bag,” Z countered.

  “What? But you said you had money in the bag.” Faisal sounded surprised.

  “That wasn’t the case. Madame wanted me to bring Lena’s scarf, so I brought the bag to let her believe I’d come with the scarf, but the bag was empty. We outsmarted each other. I didn’t get to spot her, as she predicted, nor did she get the scarf. But one thing’s for sure — Madame has had the last laugh.” He removed his hand from Faisal’s shoulder and adjusted his glasses as he looked around.

  “What’s next?”

  “We’ll both do well. Burn together in hell,” Z asserted.

  *******

  With food waiting on the table, Z walked around in his hotel room, pondering how Madame would react, contemplating what would happen next. Will she even make contact? he wondered.

  “She will make contact,” he said to himself.

  Before he ran out of patience, his phone rang, and he immediately responded, “Hello!”

  “Good evening!” Madame greeted him. “It’s a pity we came to meet you, but you didn’t receive us. Bad manners! And you even came with an empty bag. You naughty boy! Still, I don’t mind.”

  “You tricked me,” Z accused her.

  “Really? Now don’t start crying, Kiddo. I told you, we’d be right in front of you, and you wouldn’t spot us. So, you see, time has taught you who was right and who was wrong.” She giggled again.

  “Just for your interest, I knew you wouldn’t spot us, and I knew you’d cry. That’s why I asked you to bring Lena’s scarf for us to collect to prove we came. Still, the empty bag fulfilled its purpose. At least you can’t claim that we weren’t there.”

  “What do you want from me?” Z wanted to cut the crap and get to the point.

  “That’s a good boy. Now listen and listen carefully. I won’t repeat, and you’ve got no choice. This coming Saturday, the day after tomorrow, at 10:30 in the morning, Inspector Joseph Best will be at the Press Club. Once he comes out from the Press Club, you will shoot him.” Madame came to the point, loud and clear.

  “Do you sincerely think I’m gonna shoot him?”

  “Do you sincerely think you have any other option?” Madame fired back. Before Z could retort, she went on. “Open your hotel room door, and under the carpet outside, you’ll find an envelope.”

  Staying on the phone, Z followed her instructions and collected the envelope. “Now open the envelope, and you’ll see Lena’s picture to prove my custody of her.”

  Z opened it immediately while holding the cell phone between his left shoulder and ear so he could use both hands to take out Lena’s photo. She was wearing the same scarf proving that Madame was right in saying she held Lena captive.

  “So, you see? Madame never lies. I came with Lena, but you couldn’t spot us, so this lets you know she’s well — if you do as I say.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Z queried.

  “You’re lucky to have the privilege of dealing directly with Madame, so congratulate yourself on being honored.”

  “I want to speak to her. I want to hear her. Please!” Z insisted.

  “All I could do to accommodate you, I’ve done already. This isn’t a movie scene where you make requests, and I entertain you! The choice is all yours —you either make it or break it for Lena. Above all, beggars are not choosers. You’re at the receiving end. You’ve come so close to Lena, and yet you’re still so far from her. ‘Yes’ or ‘No?’” Madame asked and waited for Z’s response.

  “Yes! But why Joseph Best? How will it be done? And when shall I get Lena?” Z felt helpless. He had no other option but to stay alive in the hunt — there was no way he could say ‘no’ and not be in it.

  “Before, I answer ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’ I’ll answer ‘When?’” Madame said, pausing a moment. “As soon as you shoot Best,” and she giggled. “How? You’ll be provided with the details. Why? Because GOD’s done with Best on earth and if you don’t, someone else will. People no longer useful are of no use. Madame likes smart men like you,” and she laughed again.

  “What if I don’t?” Z posed a question.

  “Kiddo, you will, because you’ve got no other option, have you?” Madame paused for Z’s response but carried on anyway. “Kiddo, every now and then, you shame yourself by questioning like a child. The more I train you to act like a man, the more you try to act like a kid. And don’t forget — there’s no obligation. If you don’t want to, we can end this right here, right now.”

  “Got it. Tell me about the plan.”

  “That’s like my boy. Saturday at 10:00 am, go to Gmet Restaurant’s parking lot. Near it, you’ll find an unlocked white Suki parked next to the green belt of trees. Because it will be morning, there won’t be any other cars, so you’ll easily spot it. Get in. You’ll find the gun and a bus ticket inside its glove compartment. Drive to the Press Club. Wait for Joseph Best to come out, and as soon as he does, shoot him. Shoot to kill, and if Joseph Best survives, then Lena won’t. Because of the main road and traffic, once the gunshots are heard, there’ll be pandemonium, which will help you to escape. Drive to the Super Express Bus Stand and board the bus. You’ll find further details in an envelope stuck underneath your bus seat.”

  Madame cleared her throat before continuing. “I’ll just tell you a few things, so you focus on the given task and not waste your time on other stuff. For starters, if you’re thinking of checking your hotel security cameras to figure out who placed the envelope under the carpet, don’t even bother. Power cuts and other factors were kept in mind before the envelope was placed there. The same goes for the security cameras for parking the white Suki. Your Madame takes good care of everything, so don’t waste time.” Madame giggled as she cut the call.

  “She’s certainly a step ahead in everything, I had the hotel cameras in my mind but she… ” Z said and looked around. The food was still on the table, but he had too much going on his mind.

  *******

  Next afternoon, a baffled and pensive Z entered the Madni Mosque in Faisal Town’s C-Block to offer Friday prayer. With butterflies in his stomach and jangling nerves, he was at his wit’s end. The moment he stepped into the mosque, he could hear the Imam, the leader of worship in a mosque and provider of religious guidance in a Muslim community.

  The Imam was finishing what he’d been discussing and ending with words that had Z all ears. “I seek refuge in the light of Your face by which all darkness is dispelled. Everything is powerless without Your support,” the Imam said as he finished. The Azan announcing the call to prayer was due to be given by the Muezzin. He was the person appointed at the mosque to lead and recite the call to prayer for its every occasion of prayer and worship for an accurate schedule of prayer.

  Z finished the Friday prayer and waited for the Imam to leave, so he could spea
k with him. After a few minutes of waiting, Z stood up when he saw the Imam greeting others and walking along with the Muezzin to leave the prayer hall.

  The Imam was robust, in his mid-fifties, tall, dusky, bearded, and with a cap on his head covered by a white headscarf. The Muezzin following him was of the same age, of medium height with a pale complexion, glasses, beard, and a cap on his head covered with a red and white checkered headscarf.

  “Excuse me!” Z called out, and the two men stopped and turned toward him. Z moved closer and greeted them politely, “As-salamu alaykum! Imam Sahab and Muezzin Sahab.” He used ‘Sahab,’ a polite form of address for a man in Urdu.

  “Wa-alaykumu-s-salam!” both men responded politely.

  “I’m Z. I mean to say, Zia.”

  “I’m Abdul Rasheed Khalid,” the Imam responded, as he shook hands with Z.

  “I’m Mohammad Sharif,” the Muezzin introduced himself and shook hands as well.

  “I’m pleased to meet with both of you, Imam Sahab and Muezzin Sahab. I offered the Friday prayer, and as I entered, I heard you say, ‘I seek refuge in the light of Your face by which all darkness is dispelled. Everything is powerless without Your support.’

  “I’ve been saying this as an invocation, as I could only recall this part from listening to my mother using it during the Tahajjud prayer when I was a kid. My mother used to offer prayer regularly, and when I was young, at times, when I woke up at night, I could hear her saying it. These words stayed in the back of my mind, and I always say them. When I heard them from you, I wondered about this invocation. Could you elaborate, please?” Z asked without pausing, as he was so keen to know about it.