The Place of Shining Light

by Nazneen Sheikh

  It took them close to an hour to pull the statue from its spot and for Adeel to dig a deeper pit with the wrench. Adeel wrapped the body in the blanket he’d found in the car and pulled it over to the hole. After they buried the young man, Norbu collected a few wildflowers and threw them into the grave. When Adeel tried to recite the Fateha he found he could not utter the words. His severed faith meant he could no longer indulge in the ritual. Norbu’s lips did not move either.

  “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Norbu. If something happens and there is trouble, or we get separated, you are never to talk about this.”

  “If that happens I will say I did this,” she said calmly.

  “No! You must make a promise on the head of your grandmother.”

  “My grandmother is dead.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t go any further until I have this promise.”

  “I will swear by this ‘buth’ Buddha. Promise there will be no bus to Skardu.” she added.

  “There will be no bus. I am the bus.” Adeel smiled.

  She smiled back. Adeel grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. Her startled laughter was like a tinkling fountain that delighted his parched senses. They straightened the statue and sat in front of it, closing their eyes. No raucous fundamental exhortation intruded. The ear-splitting loudspeaker prayers of the mosque had no place here. Their mutual path was inward and intensely private. The only sound was their breathing. When Adeel opened his eyes, he turned and looked at Norbu’s face, then reached out and tucked back the strands of hair that were spilling over her forehead.

  “He,” she said, extending her finger toward the statue, “will take care of us.”

  “It is just a beautiful statue,” Adeel said, standing up.

  “It is more than that,” she replied. “It is a force that brought us together.”

  Adeel shifted his focus back to the situation at hand. The enormity of the accident filled his head. His adrenaline kicked in and he knew it was time for flight.

  “I have to do something that might not work. I am going to try and bring the car close to here. We will put the statue in it and leave immediately.”

  Adeel drove the car off the path and toward the statue. The ground was bumpy and the tires churned over the uneven terrain. Adeel got as close as he could without the risk of getting stuck.

  “This is going to be very difficult. Bring your shawls,” he instructed.

  He walked toward their shelter, collected his black nylon bag, and tossed it in the car. The ropes they had used to move the statue the first time had been lost in the truck explosion, so he doubled both shawls and knotted them around the neck of the statue.

  “You have to use all your strength. We will pull together,” he told her.

  Norbu grasped the woollen rope. Adeel bent over and placed his hand beside hers. Together, they pulled the statue inch by inch across the wild grass and dirt. They took breaks when he saw beads of sweat descending from her forehead to her chin, or when she needed to rub her chafed palms together. The wool stretched and became as tight as a rope, but it held. Adeel felt the dull ache of strained muscles; he ignored it and continued to pull. When they finally reached the car, he picked up two bottles of water and gave one to her. She eyed the packaged chips curiously. He grinned, realizing she had probably never eaten a potato chip in her life.

  Lifting the statue into the trunk of the car was the most difficult manoeuvre. Adeel bore the brunt of the weight until they were able to roll it inside the trunk, where it lay on its side. Adeel unwound one of the rope-like shawls and tried spreading it over the statue, but he needed the other one as well. Norbu stood watching without any head covering. Adeel opened his nylon bag and pulled out a black shirt.

  “You can wear this like a headscarf,” he said.

  Norbu draped the shirt across her chest like a protective scarf.

  Adeel shook his head. “No. Cover your hair with it. I don’t want us to be noticed.”

  Reluctantly, she tied the shirt around her face like a scarf. Her appearance was comical, and Adeel turned away to hide his amusement. He knelt by the car’s licence plate and scratched at it with the wrench until two of the letters were missing. He then rubbed some dirt over the numbers. When they got into the car, he leaned over, pulled the seat belt across her chest, and snapped it shut. She gave him a dark look.

  “This is so you don’t ever run away from me again,” he teased as he snapped his own seat belt closed.

  He reversed the car and raced down the path to the main road. The gas gauge indicated two-thirds of a tank. The distance to Skardu was 245 kilometres, about a five-hour drive. The prospect of turning back to Chilas to get more gas was out of the question, so Adeel pressed his foot on the accelerator and headed for Skardu.

  As they drove, the waters of the Indus River churned angrily in the valley below. Norbu fell asleep, her head slumped to one side and her chapped hands lying limp on her lap. The strange and new-found intimacy of her presence enthralled him, but he could not afford to be distracted. He had to concentrate on their current predicament and all of its impending hazards. At some point, there would be a search for the dead young man and the car. Distance and time was their only advantage. In some moments, he was confident they would be safe, sure that the region’s placid lakes and towering mountains would provide a refuge; in others, his self-assurance was replaced by a sense of fatalism.

  When the red light of the car’s temperature gauge suddenly appeared, he looked at in in disbelief. They had been driving for close to two hours. There was a Jeep travelling behind him, so he switched on his hazard lights and slowed down. The Jeep overtook him.

  “What is it?” said Norbu, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Stay here. I have to check the car,” he said.

  He opened the hood, knowing that either the engine coolant was not flowing through or the radiator was plugged. The last possibility was that the thermostat was stuck. Regardless, he would have to wait for the car to cool down before he could drive again. He closed the hood and got back into the car, deciding to risk a short drive in search of a broader stretch of road where the traffic would more easily be able to pass. Ten minutes later, Adeel stopped the car again and quickly got out to open the hood. When he heard the sound of a car approaching, he looked up. The sand-coloured Mercedes with the flag rippling from the rear-view mirror sounded its horn as it swung out to avoid his car. As it passed, it rolled to a stop.

  “General sahib wants to speak to you.”

  Adeel walked to the parked car. He couldn’t believe this was his second encounter with the man in less than two days. Surely this was not a coincidence. The call to his mother on Zamir’s phone must have been tracked. Zamir would have been informed about this. The driver opened the door for him and Adeel slid inside.

  “Adeel, what are you up to?” General Zamir asked, pulling out a cigarette and offering one to Adeel.

  “I am fine, General,” he answered, declining the offer.

  “I have had a call from Army Intelligence that a call was made from my phone to a number that is under surveillance. I think you are in trouble, no?”

  Adeel faced his old benefactor and said nothing.

  “So, it’s a secret then? Adeel, I am still your friend. I have been trying to find you! If you’re in trouble I can help. Generals have a lot of power, as you know.”

  Adeel decided to take a leap of faith.

  “Yes, sir, I’m in trouble,” he finally admitted. “I need your help.”

  “Who is in the car with you?”

  “She is my woman.”

  “So you are married?”

  “No, but she is with me,” Adeel replied, unwilling to elaborate.

  The general took a few drags of his cigarette in silence, pondering how to tell Adeel that he was fully aware of his predicament,
and the reason for his flight. The army could put pressure on the isi to reveal information. The brigadier who was Adeel’s control had made a private deal others in his department knew nothing about. Smuggling an antiquity did not fall in within the intelligence department’s mandate. The isi brigadier was engaged in damage control. What Zamir could not reveal were the details of the rough handling and interrogation to which Adeel’s mother had been subjected. He had already made certain that it would not continue. The interrogators were simply retaining her phone in case Adeel made contact. As the general debated where to begin, Adeel spoke.

  “I have something with me,” he began.

  “A five-thousand-year-old sculpture and a woman who is not your wife,” replied the general.

  If Adeel was surprised, he didn’t let it show. “It’s a long story, sir. I don’t want her hurt. The car has a problem. The red light is on.”

  “Who is waiting for you in Skardu?”

  “I am operating alone. I just have to stay out of sight for a while.”

  “Is the car yours?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right. Get your woman and whatever you are carrying. Your transport has been changed. We have a two-hour drive to Skardu. Enough time to discuss this situation properly.”

  NORBU SAT IN the front passenger seat of the general’s car, while Adeel rode in the back. The sculpture rested in the Mercedes’ trunk, nestled in Norbu’s shawls.

  “Why did you take the sculpture, Adeel?” asked the general as soon as the car started moving.

  “You will not understand, sir,” replied Adeel.

  “I know who you are, Adeel. Something has made you step out of character.”

  “Perhaps I have been ready for a change for a long time. Do you really want the truth?”

  “I have seen many things, Adeel. The chaotic situation in this country is beyond even the army’s control. But you are a trained man; you are not a thief. Yet, at this very moment, you are being hunted.”

  As they drove, Adeel bared his heart, telling the general about the events of the past few days. He was aware that theft and manslaughter were both punishable offences. Still, he placed his faith in the goodwill that the general had always extended to him. The general did not say anything as Adeel talked; he only listened pensively as he chain-smoked.

  When Adeel was at last finished speaking, the general leaned forward, stubbed out the remains of his cigarette, and spoke. “Faith changes over time, Adeel, as do our spiritual responses. Yes, Buddhism was the prevailing faith in Pakistan. But this situation you find yourself in is personal. Even without the sculpture it is likely you would have chosen a new path.”

  “The statue has a strange power, General. I cannot explain how it makes me feel. But I want to live like this for the rest of my life,” said Adeel passionately.

  “What about the woman?”

  “She understands. Her ancestors believed in this faith.”

  “I see. Is she responsible for this theft?”

  “No. That happened before I met her on the road.”

  Adeel braced himself for a reprimand.

  “You have blown up a vehicle, stolen an object of value, picked up a female hitchhiker, buried the man she shot accidentally in a secret place, and stolen his car. Adeel, we need a tactical manoeuvre here!”

  “It is definitely a situation, sir,” replied Adeel.

  “How do you want to handle it?”

  “My best plan would be to shoot you and the driver and escape with the car.”

  The general threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  “Good, very good, but my mother would never forgive you.”

  Adeel saw Norbu stir in the front seat. He immediately leaned forward and asked if she was all right. She turned her head and nodded. He caught a tiny smile on her face. A rumbling in his stomach served as a reminder that neither one of them had eaten a meal; all they’d had was the bottled water. The potato chips remained untouched in the other car.

  “Sir? Is there any food in the car? She has not eaten all day,” Adeel asked.

  “Yes, we shall stop for a snack. There is also lots of food in the car. Would you like a whisky?”

  Adeel had a flash of his days at the cadet college, where tales of Major Zamir travelled through the mess halls. He was a man who only observed the protocols of rank with his superiors, never with those under him.

  “Did you know that my father served in the government in Skardu for many years? Part of my childhood was spent there,” the general said, after asking the chauffeur to stop.

  The driver brought out a hamper of food from the trunk of the car, along with plates and napkins. He piled their plates high with food and handed the first one to his superior, who took it and turned to Norbu.

  “Begum Sahiba, please eat,” he said with exquisite courtesy.

  The general had addressed Norbu with the respect accorded to women of a much higher social standing, and her startled response was to lean away. Adeel took the plate from the general’s hand and whispered into her ear furiously.

  “Eat. We have food. We are eating together. You will not make a fuss.”

  “What is it?’ asked the general.

  “Crazy woman will not eat before the man does. She will eat this food even if I have to force-feed her,” Adeel said irritably.

  “Ah! She is a traditional lady. Well, let her wait then. I need a little drink first. You need one too,” the general said.

  The bottle of whisky that appeared was a superior imported brand. The general poured some into two army-issue enamel mugs and offered one to Adeel.

  “Drink up, Adeel. We cannot let the nato forces down,” the general said, smiling at him.

  “It won’t be wasted on me, sir. When we served on the glacier we had access to vodka. They said it was good for the cold.” Adeel peered at the vintage whisky glowing in the mug.

  “Well, God bless the bootleggers of Pakistan for keeping our boys warm in the cold,” said the general, clinking his mug against Adeel’s.

  The government of Pakistan had banned the consumption and export of alcohol, but the law was cheerfully contravened by diplomats who sold their alcohol on the side. Daring thieves also routinely stole from the numerous foreign agencies working in the country. The local Christian population, who were permitted a quota of alcohol, also did a roaring good business by selling to their Muslim friends. The top brass of the army, like the general, had no problem acquiring alcohol.

  “Never undertake a long car trip without a bottle of alcohol, Adeel. It comes in handy as part of a first-aid kit,” the general said, slowly sipping from his mug.

  Adeel emptied his cup in two quick gulps. He felt the whisky scorch his throat and then waited for the fire to light his belly.

  “Feel better now?” inquired the general. “I need to stretch my legs a little and so does the driver, so why don’t you stay here and make sure the lady eats.”

  Adeel and Norbu found themselves alone in the luxurious car.

  “This is very rich food,” she said, turning around to face him.

  “Eat it, Norbu. I will too. This man is my friend and he will help us. But eat quickly.”

  When the general returned to the car, he was holding his mobile phone in his hands. He told his driver that he wasn’t interested in eating, and that he wanted the journey to resume because he had a stop to make on the way. He then turned his attention back to Adeel.

  “The sculpture will be off-loaded in a suitable place. I will make some arrangements for the woman. It seems that you owe your employers another service. Your Control feels that, if you complete the assignment, it will restore your unblemished record.”

  Adeel digested the news in silence. All of a sudden, the stars on the general’s epaulets looked sinister.

  “I am taking her with m
e,” he said.

  “It is out of the question. We are staying overnight in Skardu, then you are coming back with me. She will be kept in a home there until your task is complete. Then you can return to get her.”

  “General, I no longer want to work on these assignments. I am very grateful for your help, but we must part ways in Skardu.”

  “I am the commanding officer here, Adeel.”

  “I respect that, but I no longer work for the army,” Adeel reminded him.

  “The intelligence service is a branch of both the government and the army,” the general said, turning his face away.

  “Pretend you have not met me, General. If you stop the car we will get out right now,” Adeel pleaded.

  “If we stop the car, Adeel, only one person will get out.”

  SEVENTEEN

  KHALID SAT AT A pavement café in Kohsar Market in Islamabad. A cabinet minister had once been murdered there, and the stench of his vicious murder still hovered in the air years later. Yet, the murder did not deter the local gentry from shopping in the vacinity. Khalid had told Faisal to park the car a little distance away on the main road. It was late in the afternoon, and only one other table was occupied. Khalid ordered some green tea. The bank draft sat in his breast pocket. He was waiting for the ambassador to send someone reliable to collect it.

  A row of taxis idled along one side of the market courtyard. This little shopping enclave featured several high-end stores, and very few people shopped there unnoticed. Khalid, who seldom frequented such places, felt curiously exposed. When the shabby yellow-and-black taxi pulled up, he thought the man emerging from it looked familiar. It was the same security man, Saad, who had accompanied the ambassador to the lake and rowed the boat. The man paid the cab driver, walked directly to Khalid’s table, and sat down on the cane armchair next to him. He was holding a rolled-up copy of Time magazine.

  “I believe you have something for me, sir,” he said as he opened the magazine and slid it across the table toward Khalid. He placed a business card on top of the magazine.

  Khalid picked up the card and studied it. He then picked up the magazine and spent a few minutes riffling through the pages.