The Prisoner

by Omar Shahid Hamid

  “Arre, Consendine, no need to worry. Sorry, in my excitement, I forgot to introduce you. Consendine, this is Major Tarkeen. He’s our friend from the Agencies.”

  “Constantine. Akbar consistently keeps mispronouncing your name, but he’s told me a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet with you.”

  Constantine wasn’t sure whether to salute or shake hands, what with Wajahat still clinging to him. Clumsily, he wiped his hand, clammy from Wajahat’s sweat, on his trouser pants and saluted Tarkeen awkwardly.

  “Arre, Tarkeen sahib, didn’t I tell you Consendine was efficient? His first patrol after recovering from his injuries, and he catches a big fish. Sahib, this is perfect. I’ll take both of them out together.”

  On hearing that, Wajahat started weeping uncontrollably. “Sahib, I’m no big fish, sahib, please, I am my mother’s only son.”

  Akbar paid him no further attention. “Arre, Consendine, I have a surprise for you too. Remember the bastards who opened fire on us at the Hajji Camp? Well, I’ve caught the head madarchod.” He pulled the sackcloth off his prisoner’s head, revealing a frightened middle-aged man who, had it not been for his present surroundings and the smell of shit that emanated from his soiled trousers, could have easily passed for an IT technician.

  “But Akbar, I don’t understand. I thought you killed the ward boss that night. Who is this then?”

  “I did. After you went down, I jumped the wall of the compound and put my Klashin on full auto. I shot five of them at point-blank range, including Saad Dittoo, who was the ward boss at the time. But a whole bunch of them got away, including this pig. Meet Adnan Doodhwala. He was in charge of all their weapons. He was the prick who gave the order to open fire on us that night. He doesn’t look like much, but he’s a real slippery son of a whore. Even now, I caught him with a bloody light machine gun. Army issue. Kyun, Tarkeen sahib?”

  “Yes. A very dangerous weapon. It could probably level this thana. Our soldiers go through a six-week course before they use this gun. I’d be very interested to know how he was trained to use it.”

  “Arre, sahib, he’ll tell you everything. When I’m done with him, he’ll sing ghazals for you. Kyun re, who gave you the training to use a light machine gun?”

  Adnan Doodhwala hesitated in answering, not really due to any effort to conceal information, but more due to the fact that he was paralysed with fear. He kept staring at the prominent brown stain that was spreading downwards from the seat of his pants. It was Wajahat who first broke the silence.

  “Sahib, please sahib, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. It was a man from our central headquarters, sahib. They sent him to Orangi to teach two of the boys how to use the big gun. The boys at the ward office kept saying he had served in the army for a while.”

  “Go on. What was his name, and where is he now?”

  “His name was Ateeq, sahib. Everyone called him Tension bhai, but one time I overheard him talking on the phone, and he was talking to a girl, and she called him Ateeq. Ateeq Tension, yes, that’s right. I don’t know where he is now, sahib, but if you let me go, I promise you, I’ll trace him out for you.”

  Akbar eyed Wajahat with renewed interest. “Saale, you think just because you give me one piece of information which may or may not be true, I’ll let you go? You think I’m running a charity house over here? All this does is that it makes you a somewhat interesting person, and that means I won’t thoko you with this other bastard.”

  Wajahat drew a sharp breath, while Constantine patted him on the back. “Arre, chutiya, don’t try and be over smart. Be thankful that you’re getting away with your life. We’ll check your information, and if it’s correct, we’ll still book you, but in a minor case. You’ll get out in a few months. Even this is a huge favor for you, because the government orders are to book you UF bastards in the heaviest cases. At least this way, your mother will still have a son.”

  As Wajahat nodded his assent, Constantine called out for the duty officer to take him away and book him. He sat down on the chair next to Tarkeen and took a sip from the cup of tea that the major graciously pushed towards him.

  “Good work, Constantine.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll book the boy in a small arms case. He’ll get out in a couple of months, and I’ll make sure he’s so grateful to us that we’ll have a good informer on our hands. He’s sharp. We can get good work out of him. What about the other one, Akbar? How many cases are we putting on him? Definitely show the recovery of the machine gun from him.”

  Akbar and Tarkeen shared a look and smiled. “We’re not making any cases on him. Not even the machine gun. I’m mounting the gun on the gate, as a warning to any other wardia bastards who think of attacking this station again.”

  “What? Then what the hell are we doing with him?”

  Akbar shrugged his shoulders and then crooked two fingers and a thumb. “Tuk-tuk.”

  “Akbar, are you crazy? Listen, it’s one thing having a shootout and killing a couple of their bastards. That’s natural. But we can’t arrest him and then take him out and shoot him. There are fifty people in this thana who must have seen you bring him in. There must have been a hundred who saw you arrest him. Why do you want to make all of them potential witnesses against yourself?”

  “I don’t see any witnesses. All of these people saw me arrest someone. Who’s to say who that was? Maybe you and I just ran across this Doodhwala when we were out on patrol later tonight. Maybe he pulled a Klashin on us, and maybe we shot him in self-defence. That’s the case I foresee.”

  “Akbar, for God’s sake don’t do this. It’s not worth it. It will become a big phadda that we won’t be able to cover. If you’re worried about him getting out, then just don’t worry. I will make the cases myself, and I’ll bring such solid evidence against this bhenchod that his great-grandchildren will be married by the time he gets out of jail.”

  “I don’t care about whether he gets out of jail or not. I don’t care if it becomes a phadda. I’ll face it. You don’t get it, Consendine, I want him dead. This madarchod opened fire on us. You almost died! I won’t ever forget that, and I’ll never let these bastards forget. When I’m done with them, they’ll never dare open fire on another police officer ever again!”

  “Akbar, we’re police officers, not butchers.”

  “And what are they, Consendine? Don’t be so naïve. You think this son of a whore, who’s standing here shitting his pants, you think if the tables were turned, he would be as forgiving as you? Am I right, Major sahib?”

  “Absolutely, Akbar. These thugs represent a grave threat to our national security. They have to be dealt with, Constantine. We can’t afford to be squeamish.”

  “Come on, Consendine, we are wasting time. I’ll have my orderly clean this bastard up, and then we’ll take him to the alley behind the thana and we’ll just do him there.” Akbar bent to pick up the prisoner from the floor, where he had collapsed.

  “No, Akbar. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Look, I told you I don’t have a problem killing them in an encounter, when they fire on us and we fire on them. But I can’t do it like this, taking him out of the lockup and shooting him in cold blood. I . . . I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. I understand if that’s what you feel you need to do, but I can’t be a part of it.”

  There was silence for a moment. Major Tarkeen stared at the floor uncomfortably, while Akbar looked at Constantine contemplatively. For the slightest moment, there seemed to be a look of disappointment in his eyes. Then he grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “Heh. Suit yourself. If you don’t want to be part of this, then I suggest you make yourself scarce over here. I have to start working on him. Go to the duty officer’s room and start doing the paperwork that you seem to love so much.”

  The next day

  Akbar and Constantine drove silently in the police pickup, on the way to the SP’s office. Akbar hadn’t spoken with Constantine since his refusal to take part in the shooting. There wa
s a certain coldness to his manner. No rudeness, nothing that anyone else would have been able to pick up, but a reserve. Constantine felt like a child who had failed to live up to his father’s expectations. It was a strange realization that Akbar’s validation mattered so much to him.

  And yet, as their pickup passed the burnt-out hulks of two buses and a normally bustling bazaar that had the look of a ghost town, Constantine couldn’t help but think that he had been right. Akbar’s killing of Adnan Doodhwala had created a firestorm. On hearing the news of his death, the UF party leadership had called a press conference and alleged that Akbar had tortured Doodhwala and killed him in cold blood. The party had called a general strike, and their activists had shut down half the city by force.

  Akbar and Constantine had spent most of their day helping out in other police stations because Orangi itself remained strikingly calm. It showed that Akbar’s tactics had certainly left a mark on the ward bosses. They were loath to try anything in his area.

  Around noon, they had received an urgent wireless message to report to the SP’s office immediately. The message was for both of them, so Constantine surmised that Hanuman had called to enquire into the death of Adnan Doodhwala. He knew that Hanuman had already done his homework. The night duty officer had told him that SP sahib had called at 3:00 a.m., and had spoken to the duty sentry and asked him what was going on. Hanuman was crafty like that. He never stood on protocol and didn’t depend solely on what his subordinates told him. His summons, in the middle of a riot, didn’t bode well. Constantine’s own conscientious objection was unlikely to work in his favor. Only he and Akbar were aware of it, and, besides that, everyone knew that the two of them were inseparable.

  Akbar seemed unmoved by the urgency of Hanuman’s call. He yawned lazily and stretched in the passenger seat of the pickup. “It’s good Hanuman called. I haven’t slept all night, and I needed a break from inhaling all that fucking tear gas.”

  “Why do you think he’s called? It’s almost certainly got to do with Doodhwala.”

  “Who cares why he’s called. So what if it does? Fuck him.”

  They entered Hanuman’s office compound to find a small crowd had gathered outside the gate and was being held back by a platoon of nervous-looking riot police. They were waving UF flags and chanting anti-police slogans. The two men disembarked from the vehicle and put on their berets before entering the office. The smell of burning rubber wafted across. Inside, Hanuman sat behind an enormous desk in a cavernous room. He had a lean, sharp, clean-shaven face with close-cropped, receding hair. His dark eyes betrayed an uncommon intelligence. Akbar and Constantine saluted in unison and took up a couple of seats just opposite Hanuman.

  Hanuman looked up from his desk and spoke in a calm, nasal voice, as if he was discussing the sports pages rather than the grave law and order situation. “What is this problem you’ve created for me? I have protesters outside my office shouting for your head. Their boys have blocked all the main routes to the city.”

  “Heh. There is no problem in Orangi. The fault is with our own SHOs, sahib. They are too scared. Give me a free hand, and your roads will be open in five minutes.”

  “I just spoke with one of their former ministers. This boy who was killed was his nephew. He says he had no criminal record.”

  “He opened fire on a police party with a light machine gun. I think that counts as a criminal act.”

  “Hmm. They say he never fired on the police. They say that you arrested him beforehand from his house, and kept him at the police station for several hours before you killed him.”

  “Of course they will say that. They are lying. Why are you giving so much weight to what they say, sahib? He was a bloody criminal who got killed because of his own actions. These UF bastards just need an excuse to call a strike.”

  “Hmm. I give their version weight because I tend to agree with it.”

  The two men stared at each other from across the table. Constantine could see the blood rushing to Akbar’s eyes, and he intervened in the conversation just as Akbar was about to speak out. “Uh, excuse me, sir, but we know for a fact that he was involved in criminal activities before this as well. My sources tell me that he was also present at the Hajji Camp the night we raided it, sir.”

  Hanuman turned to him. “You’re Consendine, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmm. And you’ve been in this district longer than Akbar, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Almost two years now.”

  “You recently came back after getting wounded, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me truthfully what happened, Consendine. I have heard from my sources that you were opposed to the killing of this Doodhwala character, and in fact there was another prisoner whom Akbar wanted to kill, but you insisted on booking him in a case instead. That’s good. I like your instincts. You have nothing to fear. This has become a very serious political issue, and I doubt if your friend Akbar can survive in this post for long. The UF is naming him specifically and is demanding that the inspector general take action against him. It is their price for stopping the rioting. Tell me the truth, and I will appoint you as SHO in his place.”

  Constantine looked at Akbar, who was staring out the window, apparently unfazed by Hanuman’s revelations. Then he looked back across at Hanuman. “No sir, your informers must have been mistaken, sir. Everything happened just as it’s written in the report, sir. He came out of an alley and started firing at our police patrol. Akbar fired back and managed to hit him, sir. It was a 200 per cent legitimate encounter, sir.”

  “Hmm. Suit yourself. If that’s your story, you’ll share his fate. I had called the two of you in to give you a last chance. As it stands, the matter is out of my hands. The new inspector general took over yesterday, and he has decided to deal with this issue personally. He has called us and representatives of the UF for a durbar at Police Headquarters tomorrow. Be there at 9:00 a.m. sharp.”

  The next morning dawned bright. Constantine hadn’t slept the whole night. He took particular care with his uniform and decided to walk the short distance from his house to Police Headquarters. He had heard that the new inspector general was a real stickler for how an officer was turned out.

  The durbar was an old police tradition. The inspector general would call all ranks and address them directly. The durbar was meant to ensure that the commander of the force maintained a direct link with his men. It was often a grand affair, and the staff at the headquarters, eager to impress the new boss, were putting up an impressive show. A bright canopy had been placed over the reviewing stand to provide shade for the IG and his entourage. Chalk lines had been drawn on the ground to ensure that everyone knew exactly where to stand. Constantine noticed that the burnt-out hulks of old police vehicles that usually littered the parade ground had been removed overnight. The headquarters staff could manage miracles, given the right motivation. He grunted and cursed under his breath as he saw Akbar lining up on the parade ground.

  “Don’t know why the damn IG had to call an entire durbar.”

  “He’s new. He must like all this pomp and ceremony. What difference does it make to you, Consendine?”

  “I wouldn’t appreciate it if the boss fired us in public, in front of five hundred people.” He nodded his head towards the gate, where a cavalcade of cars was entering the parade ground, flying UF party flags. “Especially if he does it in front of those bastards.”

  “You worry too much. I think it’s good. The whole point of the durbar is that the IG hears our side as well. Much better than if the entire matter had been left in Hanuman’s hands. God knows what that devious bastard would have done. Besides, I hear this IG’s a good man. When he was in Balochistan, they used to call him Dr. Death, because he had given the police a shoot-to-kill policy for all criminals. A man after my own heart.”

  “You idiot, that’s not the reason why he’s called Dr. Death. They call him that because he’s death to serve under.
He’s so strict on discipline, that it’s your death if he finds you’ve violated the rules. He’s been known to have publicly handcuffed full inspectors in their own police stations and had them sent to jail. And forget about your Major Tarkeen intervening to save us. If anyone tries to do sifarish with this one, he’ll just double your punishment.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Yes. You’ve really fucked us this time, Akbar.”

  “Thanks for standing with me in front of Hanuman. Look, if you want, I’ll take the whole thing on my own head. You didn’t have anything to do with it, anyway.”

  “No. I’m not looking for a way out. We’re in this together, good or bad. Besides, who knows? You might turn out to be right about Dr. Death.”

  Just then, the bugler sounded the arrival of the inspector general. To their surprise, they saw Major Tarkeen emerge from the same car. The major, still in his civvies, stood unobtrusively to one side while Hanuman introduced the UF representatives to the inspector general. Dr. Death was a tall man with a ramrod-straight back. He had the demeanor of a man used to command. The UF representative, a short, fat man who had been a minister in the last regime, looked like a midget standing next to him. Constantine noted that Dr. Death didn’t greet the ex-minister with the same obsequiousness that other police officers had.

  Akbar and Constantine stood stiffly at attention, and they could see the UF representatives engaged in animated discussions with Hanuman and Dr. Death. They couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but in the few snippets of conversation that did reach them, Akbar’s name was mentioned several times and the UF representatives gesticulated frantically towards them. Finally, Dr. Death turned to address the police officers.

  “Who is Akbar Khan?” His voice was like a cannon shot booming across the parade ground.

  Akbar came forward from the line and saluted sharply.

  “What is this tamasha, Akbar Khan? These people say their party activists will stop rioting on the sole condition that you are placed under arrest.”