My Kidnapper's slave

Chapter 1 : A New Trade

“Will you keep it down?” hissed Kadhir, glaring at his uncle from the top of the pipe.

“I am trying to,” whined Manohar, glancing up at his nephew with eyes filled with pained tears, “These pipes are slimy and I keep slipping.”

“I told you not to come with me,” snapped Kadhir, cursing his softness at having let himself be convinced by his uncle, “Wait here.”

He quickly scrambled up the pipe and reached the roof, agile and sure footed. Swiftly unwinding the knotted rope around his waist, he lowered the rope over the low wall. Grunting at his uncle’s added weight, he jammed his foot against the wall to avoid slipping. If the fat man wasn’t the only living relative he had, he would have gladly let the rope go.

“God,” panted his uncle, speaking when they were within earshot of each other, “I swear that these houses are getting bigger over time.”

His bald dome appeared over the wall and Kadhir could practically hear the creaks as he threw an old knee over the wall and plopped on to the terrace.

“Hush,” warned Kadhir, watching his uncle billow his lungs like a winded rhinoceros, “They would hear the thud downstairs.”

“They would definitely be asleep,” said his uncle, wiping his scalp, eyes closed with tiredness.

“We can’t bet on that and if you don’t get up right away it will be dawn before we come out.”

“I never was this strict with you,” complained Mano, rolling over and trying to get up. He pushed and grunted but his paunch did not rise above the ground and he looked at Kadhir from under his lashes.

Kadhir slapped a palm to his forehead and bent to lift the heavy man up. “The next time you suggest that experience would help me, remind me that experience can’t stand up on its own.”

“Well, you don’t get experience at a young age and people above sixty generally don’t get a stand up on their own.”

Kadhir put the inside of his cheeks between his teeth to stop the grin spreading his lips. This was how his uncle had always been. Nonchalant at the times of a job and try as Kadhir might, he just never seemed to think that a job needed focus and concentration. But then he himself never understood where he got this seriousness, considering his uncle had never taught him.

It might be the series of failures that he had always seen in his childhood. Of course, whenever they had been caught, there had been two options. One, go to jail with his uncle or starve alone outside. He did not think he really had a choice. Despite everything, he had always been fed and not to mention trained in stealing so well that the victim won’t even know when his wallet is stolen right from his hands. Studying at delinquent school did not necessarily attract offers from other schools.

At 10, he was already well versed with picking pockets and crying when he was caught. He had a marvelous snivel which stirred sympathy even in a rock. At 15, he had developed in to chain snatching but he had desisted it when he had seen a woman fall and get dragged along with his vehicle due to the resilient chain. At 20, he began a new business.

It was a moment of great brilliance, really. He would steal for others. No not the poor people but people who deserved to be helped. The pay would not be great but the job satisfaction was great. He remembered laughing at this point. Anyway, there were so many people out there who thought that their rightful things were locked with others. All he did was retrieve the things for an amount.

The risk of him running away was virtually non-existent in this business for the things that he was sent on an ‘assignment’ on were not priceless except to the owner himself. He had once even stolen a nightgown from a monster in law for a girl. There was only one glitch in this business and it was that he could not advertise for it. The word by mouth system was his only path and it had taken a couple of years for it to build.