“What if his fraudster image was a cover, and he was always a jihadi deep down inside? Or he decided that taking part in this would win him a greater following, get his madrasas extra funding from radical groups? A man can change, Constantine.”
“You are right, sir, but I don’t think this man could change.”
“Let me speak to Hanuman. He will be able to advise us better on how to go about this. No need to tell Jim until we’ve figured out what we need to do. He won’t understand the complexities of the situation.”
Hanuman answered Tarkeen’s call on the first ring, even at this late hour. There was no panic or excitement in his voice as Tarkeen related the whole story. He just answered with his characteristic “Hmm,” and asked to speak with Constantine. Constantine took the phone and walked off into a corner.
“Is what Tarkeen saying true?” Hanuman always liked to double-check his information with another source.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you trust this fellow you’ve picked up? You think he’s telling the truth?”
“He wasn’t earlier, sir, but he seems to have been pretty forthright after speaking with Akbar.”
“Hmm. You think Sheikh Noman is involved in this?”
“I don’t know, sir. My instinct tells me there’s something wrong with this whole picture, but, on the other hand, we cannot ignore this information.”
“Hmm. If you go to him directly, there will be trouble. The sheikh and his friends on the Sectarian Peace Committee have already been protesting against Maqsood’s raids on their madrasas. I had to bribe them with an extra escort vehicle each, just to ensure that they kept their supporters off the streets. If we arrest the sheikh, they will shut the city down by tomorrow.”
“Can you speak with him, sir? He calls you up daily.”
“Hmm. No, if he wanted to tell me something, he would already have done it. If I approach him directly, all these Peace Committee people will perceive me to be biased against them, and that will hamper my ability to negotiate with them when I need to. Isn’t there anyone else who knows him well?”
“Well, the only person who would be able to approach him would be Akbar.”
“Yes, Akbar is perfect for this. Tell Tarkeen to get Akbar out. I’ll speak to the Home Minister and explain the seriousness of the situation to him. That’s the best way. But do it tactfully.”
“Yes, sir.”
Constantine finished the call and went back to Tarkeen.
“Sir, Hanuman says that if we move against the sheikh directly, there will be violence all over the city. He’s probably right. Besides, there would be no guarantee that after taking such a gamble, we would get Friedland back. I think we need to get Akbar out, sir. We can’t finish this without him. He is the only one who can approach the sheikh to get the American back. You can see from the behavior of this fellow that Akbar has some kind of hold on them. He will be able to sort out the level of the sheikh’s involvement and tie up all of the loose strings of this case. I think that is our only option, sir.”
“Talk to him.”
Constantine dialled Akbar’s number.
“Arre, Consendine, that was quick. Is your suspect giving you trouble again?”
“We have a problem. This man here says the American is with Sheikh Noman. How can we get him back? Do you think the sheikh will give him up? Is there any way we can get to him without creating a wider problem?”
Akbar was silent for a moment. “Hanuman is right. Sheikh Noman will raise hell if you try and pick him up. I’ll have to go see him. I won’t be able to do it over the phone.”
“Akbar, the bottom line is, we are out of time. Do you think if you speak to him, you will be able to convince him to give up the American? Because you’re our last chance. The sheikh will know once we’ve picked up these boys, and if they don’t show up to meet him in the morning, he’s supposed to kill the American. Can you get to him?” Tarkeen’s normally composed voice was cracking.
“Sahib, I’ve known him since he was a two-bit con man. He may have become a big man in front of Hanuman and all those politicians, but for me he’s still the street hustler who pissed in his pants when I locked him up the first time. I can get to him. Don’t worry, Colonel sahib, I will get your American back. But I can’t do it from in here.”
The line went dead. Tarkeen put his hands on his hips, and then slowly nodded his head. “All right, it’s settled then. The only way we can resolve this is to get Akbar out. Let’s not waste any time. I’ll call up my superiors and have them talk to Pakora about arranging for his immediate release. He can join us here, straight from the prison. In the meantime, we’ll call for reinforcements. I’m sure Maqsood’s inspector would have informed him that we were up to something in Orangi. Knowing Maqsood, he must already be on his way, to ‘share’ the credit of any breakthrough. That’s fine. We’ll use him to round up all of the other gang members. Since Kana said they all live in this area, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. The police can throw a big cordon around the entire locality, so it looks like some major operation is being launched. The confusion should buy us a few more hours until Akbar is able to contact the sheikh.”
“Yes, sir. If you don’t mind, sir, I will make my way back to the prison. Maqsood will be coming to assist you in any case, and, besides, I will need to be present to expedite the process of Akbar’s release.”
Tarkeen laughed. “Constantine, my boy, still worried about Maqsood? Don’t be. He got my message loud and clear. You have been a tremendous asset to us in this matter. I will not forget that, nor will I let anyone else forget it. You really should come and work with us again, Constantine. You’re too good at this. Now that Akbar will be back, the two of you can team up again.”
“Thank you, sir, but I’m fine where I am. If things change, I will come knocking at your door.”
The two men shook hands firmly, and then Constantine walked down the stairs. As he approached his pickup, he was distracted by the sound of wailing sirens. A motorcade of three police pickups, lights flashing, the men inside them dressed in full body armor like some crack unit, screeched to a halt outside the station gate. In the midst of the pickups was a black jeep with darkened windows, from which emerged Maqsood Mahr, but not until his bodyguards had secured a perimeter for him. Even then, he seemed a bit unsure of himself and stepped out gingerly, looking around repeatedly at the surrounding buildings. Constantine smiled bitterly. It had been a long time since Maqsood had been down to the dregs of the city. You couldn’t really blame him for being a little nervous.
Constantine turned and was about to get into his car, when Maqsood called out to him. Constantine sighed. He had been trying to avoid this particular confrontation. It had been the reason for his haste in wanting to leave.
“Arre, Consendine, bhenchod, what the hell do you think you have been trying to pull? I know everything about how you’ve been actively helping that murderer Akbar Khan! Bhenchod, you think just because you’ve got Tarkeen on your side you are safe? Arre, baba, Tarkeen can only save you from departmental action. Wait till I share my information with the party! They will sort you out. And you know they don’t bother with legal niceties. Your friend Ateeq Tension is fishing for you. They’ll find you in a gunny sack by the side of the road. Your family too. I don’t give you a week in this town, bhencho—”
Without even realizing what he was doing, Constantine grabbed Maqsood Mahr’s lapel and shoved him hard against the car, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. He drew the pistol from his jacket pocket and held it to Mahr’s head. Maqsood’s storm troopers were too stunned to react, so they embarrassingly turned their backs and started searching for snipers on the rooftops.
“Get one thing very clear in your head, Maqsood. I don’t care if you outrank me, or if you’re the most powerful man in the department. I don’t give a fuck about your politics anymore. You can go and report to whoever the fuck you want. Don’t you ever mention my family again. Otherwise the nex
t time I hold a gun to your head, I’m going to pull the trigger.”
The realization that Constantine was deadly serious brought a change in Maqsood’s demeanor. For the first time, there was fear in his eyes. Constantine gave him another hard shove and walked away. At that moment in time, he wasn’t sure what would happen to him but he did know one thing—he would never be afraid of Maqsood Mahr again.
20
Day 4, December 24, 4:00 a.m.
Constantine left Maqsood Mahr in Orangi and went home. He figured that it would take Tarkeen a little time to get everything in place for Akbar’s release. He found some food in the fridge, which he heated up, and settled down for a very late dinner or very early breakfast, depending on how one viewed it.
He showered and changed into a fresh uniform, but the sense of unease that he had felt during the interrogation seemed to continue. The links between Sheikh Noman and the kidnappers and Akbar and the sheikh were too convenient to be mere coincidence. A good police officer never believed in coincidence. Constantine had assumed that Akbar’s information was coming from the tableeghis. What if his source was much closer to the kidnappers? After all, no other officer in the city had heard anything about the whereabouts of the American, and yet, every day, for the past three days, Akbar had been pulling a new rabbit out of his hat like a magician. He seemed to know the kidnappers’ every move as if he was shadowing them himself. And what about the almost reverential reaction that Kana had when he spoke to Akbar? He had even called Akbar “Sheikh.” Constantine knew that Akbar had grown religious in prison, but had he become radicalized enough to be an accomplice to the kidnapping of the American? Could Akbar ever do such a thing? Over the years that they worked together, there was nothing in Akbar’s character or behavior that pointed to this conclusion. True, circumstances changed men, but this was Akbar. Akbar, the cop’s cop, who had taken on the UF all by himself. How could he have anything to do with these second-rate jihadis? And yet, and yet.
No one else seemed to have picked up on these suspicions. Until the American was found, everything else was secondary. Tarkeen seemed to be least interested in the whole affair beyond the recovery of Friedland. He hadn’t been bothered by these revelations, and neither had Hanuman. For them, it was a simple equation. They needed Akbar to get the American back. It didn’t matter to them how he got him back. But Constantine had to know.
The false dawn was breaking as his pickup pulled up to the entrance to the prison. The place seemed to be buzzing with activity even at this early hour. Two cars were already standing outside the gate. The first one was a brand-new police jeep. The plastic covers hadn’t even been taken off the seats. The driver stopped furiously polishing the hood of the car and saluted Constantine when he pulled up next to him.
“Aziz, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen or heard from you in years.”
Aziz couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he tightly clasped Constantine’s hand in both his hands. “Good to see you again, Consendine sahib. Didn’t you hear? By God’s Grace I am once again Akbar sahib’s driver. We have come to pick him up. The gunmen are inside packing his things. The clerk at Police Headquarters called us up an hour ago and told us that we were to pick up this vehicle from the motor pool and bring it here for Akbar sahib. Look at the Almighty’s workings, sahib. The same UF bastards who were after Akbar sahib’s life have now authorized this brand-new jeep for him. Even the IG doesn’t have a car this new! Inshallah sahib, we will be on top once again!”
It was hard not to be infected by Aziz’s pure unadulterated joy. Many years ago this man had tied his fortunes with that of Akbar, shared his triumphs and disasters, and although recent times had seen far more disasters than triumphs, he could now see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The Lord did work in mysterious ways, thought Constantine. The driver was right. Who would have thought such a turn of events possible? Constantine remembered the last time he had seen Aziz. It had been the day Akbar had been arrested, five years ago.
It had happened the day after his meeting with Colonel Tarkeen. He had received a message to contact Maqsood Mahr. His first instinct was to suspect that Maqsood had finally decided to implicate him in the case as well. He had decided to go see Akbar one last time, before talking to Mahr.
It had been a chilly morning, much like the one today, and as he approached Akbar’s house, he saw a line of police pickups stationed on his street. Akbar’s bodyguards were lined up outside. Aziz was among them, tears streaming down his cheeks. Maqsood Mahr, on the other hand, stood to one side, looking even more smug and self-confident than usual.
“Arre, Consendine, baba where are you? I have been trying to get in touch with you since dawn. Arre, baba, you better start responding to my messages; after all, you are still under my command. Anyway, I’m glad you came here. I was calling you because I wanted you to lead the party that arrested Akbar Khan. You’re late now, though. I’ve already sent someone else in.”
“I’m sorry sir, that’s not something I would have done. Akbar is my friend. But sir, I wish to make one request of you. Why are you arresting him? Sir, he is a police officer, and there is no conclusive evidence against him. Please sir, don’t humiliate him like this.”
“Arre, baba, you really haven’t been following the news, have you? The conclusive evidence is there. Ballistics has matched the bullet that killed Sayeen Baba to Akbar’s pistol. There now, what more evidence do you want?”
Constantine had looked at him disbelievingly. “Sir, you and I both know Akbar never fired his weapon. Besides, the bullet in Chandio’s skull was from a Kalashnikov, not a pistol. How could Ballistics have matched the bullet?”
“Ballistics will do whatever I tell them to do. You would be well served to remember that whenever you discuss this case anywhere, Consendine.” Maqsood’s visage turned grim for a moment, as if to hammer the point home. Then, just as quickly, he flashed the fakest of smiles across his face. “Arre, baba, but you don’t have to worry about a thing. You’re on my team now. I have other important work for you.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Shashlik Khan. True, he has agreed to join the new government, but we are going to keep the cases against him alive. The UF hasn’t forgiven him completely. Since you helped to make the cases against him, you will maintain the case files, keep the evidence on record until such time as it is required in the future.”
Constantine had nodded silently, hating himself for acquiescing to this deal. Akbar came out of his house at that very moment. Constantine could hear sobbing coming from inside the house, and several of Akbar’s guards broke down when they saw their commander coming out of the house in handcuffs. But Constantine would never forget Akbar’s nobility at that moment. He did not cry or beg or try to curry favor with his captors. There was the same look of resignation on his face that Constantine had glimpsed after his fateful last meeting with Dr. Death, but he still held his head high. As he had passed Constantine, the two men’s eyes met. Neither man spoke, but Akbar acknowledged Constantine with a slight nod of his head, a gesture that signalled his understanding and forgiveness, for what Constantine was doing now, and what he would have to do in the future.
A lifetime seemed to have passed by since that day. Brought back to the present, he looked at Aziz and smiled again, revelling in the driver’s exuberance. “Aziz, be careful. If you keep polishing that jeep so vigorously, you’ll end up scratching it.”
As Constantine walked towards the prison gate, he passed a second car. It was a sedan, not as new as the jeep but in good condition nonetheless. Constantine recognized it as his boss’s car. Things were moving really fast if he was at the prison this early. His reader was waiting for him at the prison gate, wearing a worried expression. Before he could ask anything, the reader started.
“Sahib, what have you done? It’s a madhouse today. Is everything okay?”
“Why, what’s going on? And what’s the IG doing here?”
Constantine smiled. “Well, as far as we are concerned, Akbar might as well have. Has he asked for me?”
“No, sahib. That’s the other thing. I was expecting that he would start calling for you, but when I asked him if we should contact you, he said there was no need to disturb you. Sahib, have you been posted out?”
“No. IG sahib just wants to ensure the prompt compliance of the Home Minister’s orders. Come, let us see if we can help him out.”
Constantine hadn’t expected Colonel Tarkeen’s instructions to take effect this quickly. But the haste behind the directives underlined how desperate everyone was. Pakora obviously recognized the urgency, which was why he had roused and dispatched Constantine’s incompetent boss to supervise things personally. The desperation to get the American seemed to be getting a lot of people out of bed early this morning.
Inside his office, the inspector general of Prisons was sitting on Constantine’s chair, looking very harassed. He was still wearing his night clothes. Constantine, in complete contrast in his newly creased and starched uniform, saluted crisply.
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