“That’s not what you used to say when they were working for you. People were getting killed back then as well. But you weren’t willing to show the admirable concern that you do now. I seem to remember a conversation we once had, when your viewpoint was very different. You used to justify everything the jihadis did, just because you needed them. Now they turn their guns upon an American, and you suddenly awake to realize all their faults? At least these jihadis have some principles, Colonel sahib, unlike you. But that’s my personal opinion. You can disagree with it if you want. You may be right. You are the expert on the subject, after all.”
“That was a long time ago. Times change, situations change, policies change. We all have to look after our own self-interest. It is no longer in the national interest to support their activities. If you support these jihadis so much, why are you helping us?”
“Kya karoon, sahib? What to do? I guess it’s part of my natural curiosity as a police officer. We can never let go of an interesting case. Or perhaps I’m also looking after my own self-interest. Besides, in spite of Consendine’s hospitality, I am growing tired of my present luxurious surroundings.”
“What do you want?”
“What are you offering, Colonel sahib?”
“I can get you out of here. Immediate release. Reinstatement, with full benefits. We’ll have the police withdraw the charges. We can also recommend you for a good posting. We’ll even have a word with the UF leadership not to veto your appointment. You’ll work exclusively with us.”
“Hmm. Not bad. What else?”
“What do you mean, what else? This is a sizeable package by any standard, Akbar.”
“Come on, Colonel sahib, now it is you who is being naïve. These are all the things I had before I was put in here. You are just restoring to me what was mine by right. What about justice for what happened to me?”
Tarkeen examined his fingernails before answering. “You can’t be serious. I think the time you have spent in here has detached you from reality. Justice from whom? I’m going to have a hard enough time convincing the UF to allow you to get out. You expect us to hold them accountable for what they did to you? The old days are gone, Akbar. The UF is here to stay. No one is interested in their criminality or their terrorism. The only thing that matters now is the jihadis. The United Front has declared that they are with the president in this fight. That means they have a blank cheque to do whatever they want. The president depends on them as his sole political support in this city. As far as we are concerned, as long as they remain on board with us, they can rape and pillage this city to their heart’s content. I think I may have overestimated your intelligence, Akbar. This is your last chance to get back in the game. Take it.”
Akbar stared Tarkeen straight in the eyes, and held his gaze. Constantine had a sense of déjà vu. He had seen the same fierce determination in Akbar’s eyes once before: that day in Orangi, at the Hajji Camp.
“Colonel sahib, I understand the ground realities of the situation all too well. But you forget that it is you who came to me, and you still have an American journalist to find. If he dies, you, the UF, the Don won’t be worth a pile of dog shit. I’m the only one who can get him back for you. You know that, too. So why don’t you cut out your posturing, and don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor.”
Tarkeen swallowed hard and pursed his lips. “Very well. What do you propose?”
Now Akbar smiled. “I’m not unreasonable, Colonel sahib. I never have been. I don’t propose you overturn the system for me. I know all of the UF’s sins have been washed away. I have far more modest demands. Don’t worry about the party. I have my own back channel to them. They won’t oppose me. In fact, they’ll welcome me. But they weren’t the only ones who screwed me over. I have a grudge against your pet, Maqsood Mahr. Look sahib, I know he kisses your ass ten times a day, but we are all practical men. If I come back out, there can’t be two stallions in the same field. And well, honestly, if you ask yourself truly, Maqsood was never much of a stallion. More of a donkey, really. I always did better work than him. But now, his incompetence has become a liability. Otherwise you wouldn’t have needed me. Now, I do feel that I should be, how shall I put it, compensated for the time I spent in here. After all, stupidity and incompetence should be punished, shouldn’t it?”
All of a sudden there was a spark of interest on Tarkeen’s face. “Yes, incompetence and stupidity cannot be tolerated.” He repeated the words like an automaton. “How much?”
“Well sir, it has been two years of my life. I’m even willing to grant that he can be allowed to work in Karachi. After all, he is a good provider. But I will be completely independent, and you will keep him in check if he tries to come after me. As for how much, I want to put a fair price. Say, one khokha.”
Constantine gasped out so loud that both men turned and looked at him. Colonel Tarkeen was amused and turned to bargain with Akbar as if this was an everyday trip to buy vegetables in the local bazaar. “Your price is too high, Akbar. Reduce it a little. Make it half that. Where will he get such a large amount?”
“Arre, Colonel sahib, why do you need to worry? You don’t have to raise the money. He’s a resourceful fellow. I have to make up for two years of unemployment. I have to pay my informers. Besides, this is just my demand. Seeing as how you are saving his skin, I think you are entitled to some compensation as well. Don’t you?” Akbar grinned like the Cheshire cat. That was the ace up his sleeve.
The colonel nodded appreciatively and looked at Constantine. “Yes, I think you’re right. Don’t you agree, Constantine?”
“Absolutely, sir.” Constantine couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
“May I use your mobile, Constantine? You never know who’s listening to mine.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Constantine dialled Mahr’s number and handed the phone to Tarkeen, putting it on speaker. Mahr, thinking it was Constantine on the line, let loose a stream of abuse and threats in his trademark bullying tone.
“Bhenchod, who do you think you’re fucking with? You think you can avoid my calls? You think you can do a setting with Akbar and that bald bastard Tarkeen, and I won’t find out? I told you not to cross me! When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were directing traffic in the goddamn desert!”
Tarkeen allowed him to complete his tirade, and then spoke in a frosty tone. “Hello, Maqsood.”
Maqsood started stuttering. “Sir! Sir, I’m so sorry, I thought it was Consendine! I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean any of what I said!”
“Shut up and listen for a change, you imbecile. You have fucked this case up enough as it is. Now I have to try and salvage the situation. Akbar needs to pay his informers and you owe him compensation anyway for what you did to him. Make arrangements for the immediate delivery of, oh, two crore.”
“Sir, two khokhas! Where am I supposed to arrange that much money from? And why do I have to pay Akbar, sir? I will go broke!”
Please, Maqsood. I think we all know that you are in no danger of going broke. I know how much your weekly take is. After all, I’m the one preparing the corruption enquiry on you. I don’t think this represents more than three or four weeks’ takings for you. As for Akbar, well, you have to accept him as part of the equation. We cannot solve this case without his help, and if that’s his price, then that’s what you have to pay.”
“But sir, if he gets out, he’ll ruin me!”
“We all have to adapt to the ever-changing realities of this world, Maqsood. Besides, I don’t think Akbar will be too concerned about you, just as long as you keep your nose out of his affairs. Now, have half the money sent to me, to distribute immediately, and the rest I’ll tell you where to deliver.”
There was a pause as Mahr debated what to do next. But there was never any real doubt about his answer. Maqsood Mahr was a defeated man. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Maqsood, one more thing. If this bald bastard finds that you have tried to harm Constantine in any w
ay, you will be the one directing traffic in the desert. I hope I have made myself perfectly clear. You know I don’t like to repeat myself.”
Akbar, who had thoroughly enjoyed the entire exchange, chuckled and thrust his hand out for Tarkeen to shake. “Ah, Colonel sahib, you remain a maestro. It’s good to be working with you again.”
“I don’t think Maqsood is an issue anymore. Even for you, Constantine. But we need to turn to our problem.”
“Very well, Colonel sahib. Tell me, what do you have?”
“We got the boy’s number. As you said, Maqsood’s men had recorded it as part of standard procedure but hadn’t investigated it any further. In the days that Friedland was living with the family, there were only six numbers that were called only once, and which were traced to the booster towers in Orangi or Nazimabad. Three in each area.”
“No sahib, you can disregard the Nazimabad numbers. The boys involved in the kidnapping are definitely from Orangi. My informers confirmed that last night.”
“All right. So now there are three numbers. Now what?”
“Sahib, tell me, are any of the numbers you have in a sequence? Similar to each other?”
Tarkeen looked at a list he had been carrying in his hand. “Why yes! There are two numbers, 03232435008 and 03232435009. But that’s amazing! How did you know that?”
“My information is that one of the gang members works at a convenience store that sells prepaid SIM cards. He has been providing them SIM numbers in bulk, thirty or forty at a time. That’s why they are in sequence. Because they were sold together. I don’t know his real name, but he is known as ‘Kana’ in the locality, because he has only one eye. The other one is a glass eye. You can get the exact address of the shop from the mobile phone company who distributed this sequence of numbers to them. But from what my informers have described, the shop is located in the area on the far side of the Pirabad Hill, near the Pathan madrasas. Consendine knows it.”
“Near the Hajji Camp? Yes, I know that area very well.”
“Yes. Exactly there. Colonel sahib, if this Kana works in a shop there, I’m sure we can trace him easily in the locality, because he lives around there as well. If we manage to pick him up without the rest of the gang being alerted and then break him quickly, so that he reveals the American’s location, we have a good chance. But it has to be done very carefully. One false step, and they will kill the American. I would suggest that you don’t contact the local police station, because that will blow our cover. Ask Consendine whatever you need to know because he knows all the nooks and crannies.”
Tarkeen thought about it for a moment. “Okay, let’s do it. I will get the shop details from the mobile company. But Constantine, I am going to take you along with me, because I want someone reliable to guide me in the area. Akbar is right. I can’t trust the local police. In fact, the only person I’m going to inform is Hanuman. Timing is everything. We must move tonight. We’ll start interrogating him as soon as we pick him up. Akbar, let’s hope this works out for all of us. I am going to strongly recommend to the Home Minister to give you a posting where you can work with us. I am sure he won’t say no to us. As for the money, where do you want Maqsood to send it?”
“Sahib, I trust you. Ask Maqsood to give the money to Amir Sheikh for safekeeping. He’s a bookie we both know and trust. Does a lot of sports betting, cricket match fixing, that sort of thing. If the American doesn’t come back alive, the bookie will refund the money to Maqsood. After all, I wouldn’t want poor old Maqsood to suffer a loss for no reason. Heh. And don’t worry about the Home Minister. He and I are about to become very good friends.”
Tarkeen raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I’m glad to see your pragmatism has returned. I always told you that the only reason Maqsood ever took the lead from you was because your ‘idealism’ held you back. I’m going to be looking forward to working with you again. Excellent. But I want to be able to contact you at any time, tonight, in case we run into any hitches. Has Constantine allowed you to smuggle in a mobile phone?”
Akbar picked up the phone that Constantine had given to him the previous night. “He did even better than that, sahib. He gave me his. Consendine, if you’re with Colonel sahib, we’ll be in touch. I will pray for all of you, and for the American, tonight.”
Constantine nodded. The business concluded, the meeting broke up. Akbar saw them to the door, and they picked up Major Rommel from outside and started walking to Constantine’s office. The major looked downcast, and Constantine’s heart went out to him.
“Major sahib, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you ever since I first met you. Why are you named after a German general?”
Rommel burst out laughing. “It was a practical joke on the part of my grandfather. He fought with the British forces in North Africa in World War II. He always used to tell me that the Indian army soldiers fighting in Africa hated their own British officers, who were mostly incompetent. But they all idolized the enemy general, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, who was brilliant and ran circles around their commanders. My grandfather said that Rommel never let any of his opponents dominate him, and that’s why he named me after him. I personally think my naming had as much to do with him wanting to piss off my grandmother, who wanted one of the more traditional Islamic names.”
“But Rommel was ultimately defeated, sir.” Constantine said this very solemnly. Rommel looked up and gave him a withering look, and then both men started laughing. “It’s always like that with our elders, isn’t it, sir? They name us thinking one thing, and we turn out completely different. I told you my father named me for some old West Indian cricketer and hoped I would become a man of the cloth. I never played a day of cricket in my life, always hockey, and I ran as far away from the church as possible. I ended up here.”
The two men smiled. Over the past few days, a mutual respect had developed between them. In different ways, they were both victims of the same situation. The major turned and shook Constantine’s hand. “Thank you, Constantine. You have really taught me a lot in these past few days. Good luck to you, and to Akbar. I wish we could have met under better circumstances. You’re a good man. I would have been proud to have had you in my unit in Kargil.”
“Major sahib, I keep telling you, you’re in the wrong business. You are too nice a fellow to work in intelligence. And please, don’t make a saint of me just yet. I revel in my sinful existence.”
The major climbed into the driver’s side of the jeep, put on his Aviators, waved one last time and then drove away, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
17
November 5, 2001
A cloud of dust rose as the police pickup sped along the single-track road. The barren landscape was occasionally punctuated with a few dry shrubs. There was no sign of any human habitation as far as the eye could see. The desert wind was dry and hot, like the devil whispering in one’s ear. The policemen in the back of the pickup huddled together, trying to keep their faces low so as to avoid the blast of the wind and the dust.
Inside the pickup, things were not much better either. The windows of the cabin had been rolled up, ostensibly to facilitate the cooling of the air conditioner. But the AC unit had long ago given up the battle against the fierce desert heat, so that the inside of the cabin now felt like a furnace. Constantine tried to open the window, but the swirls of dust almost blinded both him and the driver. They took turns dipping their handkerchiefs in a bottle of water and dabbing their faces with it. It wasn’t much, but it brought momentary respite from their hellish environment.
Constantine was wracked with guilt. It clung to him like a pungent odor. He imagined that his driver and the bodyguards at the back could also sense it. He imagined that they all knew what he had done and now felt nothing but contempt for him.
He tried to shut his eyes but got no relief. The bumpy road made it impossible to rest. Besides, every time his eyes closed, Akbar’s image would appear in his mind, and he would replay the scene of their meeting the
previous night. For two full days after the IG’s meeting, Akbar had worked on every single informer and source that he had, to figure out a way to get Nawaz Chandio. The problem was not that Chandio had disappeared. Far from it, he kept popping up at various places, in the city and in various rural districts. The problem was to arrest him by playing according to the ludicrous rules that Dr. Death had devised.
Constantine was exasperated. “Blast it, Akbar, how the hell are we supposed to get him by sticking to these instructions? Arrest and disarm his guards, but not him. How are we supposed to do that? I thought Dr. sahib had cleared Nawaz’s arrest with the CM that day at the meeting?”
“He did, but then the CM called him back privately, and requested certain conditions. Nawaz can’t be humiliated in any way. For instance, if he were to be arrested by a lowly DSP like myself, that would be a humiliation. Plus, their tribal supporters would take it as an affront if their prince was arrested while his brother was the CM. They don’t understand Dr. sahib’s concepts of law and order. They only understand that it would be a stain on their honor. Besides, it would be politically suicidal for Yousaf. The fidayeen would suspect that Yousaf had done it deliberately, because he was afraid of Nawaz’s popularity.”
“Why did our IG accept them? He claims he never accepts any kind of political interference in his police work.”
“The CM literally begged Dr. sahib. Yaar, Dr. sahib is also under a lot of pressure these days. He called me again after the meeting that day. He looked like hell. Thanks to Maqsood’s shameless blubbering in front of the press, the UF is now making an issue out of this incident. They are saying that Dr. Death was very quick to sanction the police encounters of their ward bosses, even for the smallest of infractions. But now that the law is being broken by a powerful feudal, he is not so enthusiastic about pursuing the matter. That fucking Maqsood. He has no balls. Imagine, going to the press yourself and admitting that Chandio humiliated him in his own office. Khasi bhenchod.”
The Prisoner Page 22