One Tablespoon War

Chapter 6

'Excuse me sir, could you tell us when was the last time you spoke to your father?'

'Sir, here, here,'

'Excuse me, could you answer a few more questions?'

Ali Zain was being bombarded by questions coming from the hoard of news reporters that stood in front of Quaid-e-Azam International Airport. He had tried his best to keep his return to Karachi a secret, but it was nearly impossible to hide anything from these journalists who reached everywhere within a fraction of a second, buzzing around like a swarm of bees. He avoided all the questions being thrown at him until he found what he was looking for: a black Toyota Altis. He had called Maria to pick him up from the airport and take him to their office; that girl was like a ninja. Even Ali Zain had to stop and give credit for her ability to get out of every sticky situation.

'Mr. Jabbar refuses to answer any more questions, thank you very much,' Maria announced, smoothly. She held the door of the passenger side open for him to slide into, and then shut it behind him. Maria was now addressing the news reporters, but Zain could not make out what she was saying. He squinted through the tinted glass windows, trying to lip read but, as if she had been prompted, Maria immediately turned her back to him, continuing address the crowd that had been growing bigger every second.

When she came and sat down next to him, he asked her what all that was about.

'Oh, nothing,' Maria said, dismissively.

'Must have been something,' Ali Zain pressed on. 'You were talking to them for nearly fifteen minutes.'

'You'll see,' Maria replied. Ali Zain took the hint and fell quiet. For the next twenty minutes, there was nothing but silence between them. Maria broke the silence by turning on the CD player: Linkin Park's The Catalyst blasted out of the speakers.

A few minutes later, they drove into the parking lot of AZM Lawyers & Co.

'Welcome home,' Maria sang, grinning at him. She was greeted by a stone cold stare. 'Uh, hello, time to get off.'

'Oh, yeah,' Ali Zain mumbled, struggling to open his seatbelt. He had completely zoned out for the last part of his ride from the airport. Blushing a little, he got up and straightened his wrinkled shirt. 'Well, then, I'll be up in my office, Maria, I've got a lot to do,' he spoke, seeming distracted already. 'If you need me, well, try to make do without me for a day.' He gave her a tired smile and traipsed into the building.

Behind him, Maria stood still, watching him disappear at the top of the staircase. She pulled out her mobile phone, an iPhone 4S. 'Soon, I'll be having enough money to buy thousands of these.' Smirking at the thought, Maria held her phone to her ear.

'Hello,' she spoke. 'Thought you would like a little update.'

**

'HIGH SECURITY BUILDING BREACHED.'

Ahmed had been on his way to a meeting when he was caught dead in his tracks upon seeing the flashing headline. He stepped back, coming in front of the television mounted on the wall in his hallway.

'The meeting of the National Assembly at the Parliament House in Islamabad had been underway when a man dressed in black was caught trespassing. Upon interception by the security, the man opened fire. Only one man was killed.' The reporter supplied, looking ironically jubilant while she delivered the deadly news.

One man was killed. Who?

Ahmed did not have to wait very long to get an answer.

'Syed Azharullah Shah, leader of the opposition party (Muslim League-F), received a bullet straight into his chest. He died on spot. Prime Minister, Mir Khuhro Khan, condemns the attack on a fellow member.'

Someone will die tomorrow. I know who it is. Ahmed suddenly remembered the words of his President. He had presumed that they meant the President himself, but in light of Shah's death, he thought differently.

I want you to help me overcome the chaos that will arise later. Could he be right about that too?

Come tomorrow, you will have the biggest case of your lifetime. He had been right about that part, at least. During investigation, every case can be resolved by one of the few strategies they teach you during training. Ahmed, however, had never dealt with anything even remotely similar to what he was dealing with now.

That couldn't have stopped him, though. If there was one person who could solve all of this, it was him.

He wouldn't sleep till he found out who the murderer was. Let the rest of them take care of the mayhem. He, Ahmed Jatoi, wouldn't rest until he found out Azharullah Shah's murderer. He wouldn't reward him with any free time until he found out where the President was.

After all, he had never failed any client, and this: this was personal.

This was war.

 **

---> Photo on side for Maria Irfan!