"Insan ki shakal chahay jalay huve bayngan jaisi ho lekin baat achi kar liya karay." Zaman stared at Bazil who was constantly suggesting him to get married.
(One's face might be ugly but one shouldn't talk such.)
"Daik Yara! I agree you think for people and work for humanity. And i agree that there is nothing more important to you than these elections that are looming on our heads." He rolled his eyes. "But see life is given once. You don't get it again and again neither you have an extra life in the bank. So chin up buddy! Work has its own place and your wife has its own. Nothing takes anyone's place!"
(Look dude!)
Zaman just gazed him vacantly and wished to smack his friend's head against the wall next to him,
Na rahay gi baans na bajay gi bansuri.
Emir was already at Zaman's. It was his favourite place to be whenever he would be angry with his mother. Someone really needed to fix that brat.
It was one of those days where sun was glaring out of the clear blue cloudless sky. Temperature was fine, neither too hot nor too cold.
Bazil too had had come to his place to discuss some stuff but due to already present Emir they had to postpone it and banter about something else. But today Bazil choose to roast Zaman and get strangled by him.
"Yaar look at you old man! You also deserve someone to love you and take care of you. Even tho she doesn't deserve a tasteless daft like you."
"Haw haye! Did you really call my Zalmai old? Your one month son is old!" Who could restrain Emir from chiming in.
They together were doing nothing but solely eating his brain away. Weren't his sleepless nights enough to torture him? That now these two were also doing nothing but adding fuel to fire.
He looked nothing like a twenty five years old young man but a devastated soul, a pure ghamgeen aashik who had given up on his undiscovered love and the one being doomed by his foes using different ways.
"Enough of this!" Zaman's voice had the two stop who were now busy in his kitchen.
"Tuje aj phir kya huva ha?" Bazil ogled Zaman who was leaning against the doorway, his arms neatly crossed over his chest. He had a pucker in between his eyebrows.
(What happened to you again?)
"You said that we have something important to discuss if I remember it rightly."
"Gee okay!" Bazil blabbered. "So Emir might grant us some privacy."
Emir was sitting on a stool and eating brownie stopped and looked at him, confused. "Why?"
"You don't study i see. Go and give this time to your books rather than wasting it." This time it was his brother.
"Ok i will leave. Enjoy your romance!"
"Clever kid!" Bazil laughed. "By the way its bromance!"
Once Emir was gone, Bazil shifted his attention back to his mate who was looking at him like a predator looks at his prey.
"Come on Zaman i was just getting your mind off the track. You have been so messed up these days."
Zaman didn't say anything but scowled. It wasn't that he could runaway from him. Bazil was the only person who he was transparent to.
"For the love of Allah just come to living room. We need to talk."
Next two hours they spent with many files, photocopies, pictures and disks of cctv camera footages scattered on the table before them as they linked many evidences with one another.
Bazil's sharp interrogative mind was a helping hand and Zaman's way of thinking. Always coming up with bunch of plans, chaining events after events and ending up with a solid proofs.
After a break to eat something, they were joined by Junaid and Abkaram.
Junaid turned his laptop to the three and showed what he had found. "Bhai, see that car stopped near the Taaj hotel, in the break of the day. I have taken many footages but can't get to the number plate of the vehicle. I even talked to folks around but they didn't know anything about a car like this. Pretty pathetic!"
He resumed the recording "These two lads that stepped down are cladded in black. I don't know but bhai whenever we are on a misson we always dress black. It means he is on a mission too."
"It doesn't go for everyone." Zaman retorted with a straight face. He didn't know why this little shit was even hired by him?
"Probably its only us who choose black when we are about to execute something." Abkaram rubbed his stubble.
"Dumbass! He means that black gives suspicious vibes." Bazil with his assumptions once again!
Junaid gave Bazil a look as if you-got-me-man. Even tho sometimes Bazil and Juniad never got along but for work they were one, they had to.
"Khair. Move on!" It was Zaman, his eyes glued to the screen. Nimra or Zmaryal, only if any of them was alive, it wouldn't have been this puzzling.
A loud sigh.
"Ok the next is that— i am tracing down the number plate. I have zoomed in a lot and now that the image is perfectly ruined but still what do you see? How do you see these digits?"
Abkaram shrugged, "i think its 2 and 4."
"8 and 8."
"It's probably 3 and 8."
"Whatever."
"Really!" Zaman mouthed. "Anyways Bazil see if there are any FIRs registered regarding any cars bein' stolen away with number plate 2488 or 2438."
"I would let you know soon."
"I think we all have night for cognition. Think wisely!"
***
It hunt him. These faces never let him sleep.
In the chilly foggy night, he strolled around in the living room. A dark coloured shawl covered his torso.
He wondered how long will this all go? How many more lives? It had been days and no clue was found. No car was reported stollen.
It only meant that these shady men owned that car in which they had come or may be they weren't culprits, may be they were just some citizens that had come for some work.
But then Junaid's statement did make sense also when he unravelled that these two men had come to the hotel two hours just before his death. What if they were really involved?
His mind was clouded with many notions.
Only musing that was fu**ing his brain was why on earth would Zmaryal choose to end his life.
Didn't he trust the people around? Was he afraid of being exposed? Or was he scared of humiliation and cusses, he'd face afterwards?
Who was really after Nimra's murder? Why would she be poisoned in the hospital? What a twelve years old angel got to do with any of it? Was Zmaryal really the one to inject the syringe of sharp poisen in Nimra's unconscious state? They saw him go into same hallway where Nimra's room was. Even tho camera didn't record him entering her room. Was it his luck that the cctv camera placed there had gone dysfunctional or was it planned? But if he wasn't the one then why would he end up taking his life?
Nimra's parents were still crying for justice. When Zaman had claimed he would bring justice to anyone and everyone in his territory then why was he failing now?
Should he look into elections that were around the corner or should he dug deep into these mysteries to see who was really behind all these series of turmoils?
He vowed once that bastard is caught, would be punished in front of everyone, whole mob would see him rot.
His inner self screamed that somehow rappists of Nimra had something to do with Zmaryal as well.
***
Abkaram had stationed men around and they were finally able to find that car. The man to whom this car belonged was a Professor in Islamia University.
"He is delivering a lecture. He would be free in half an hour. You can wait Sir." The person in admin office said.
"Can he not meet me right now?"
"No Sir he can't come out without completing his duration of lecture."
"Okay! I would choose to wait."
Abkaram took a seat in admin office. After some good thirty five minutes, a person in mid fifties showed up through the glass doors of office. He asked something from receptionist who pointed at Abkaram.
That man walked to sofa and sat next to him. "You wanted to talk?"
"Yes! I would like to speak with you in private."
He looked at his watch. "I have a class!"
"It would barely take 5 minute.
That elderly aged man growled,"fine kid, follow me!"
He took him to a room full of papers and cabinets. It was staff room.
"Whats bothering you kid?" After they were seated on worn, spongey chairs, professor asked.
"You look descent as a teacher. And I know you won't misguide me." Abkaram took out a picture, of a black car. "This is yours. Right?"
"No doubt! What's with it?"
"Its number plate says 2438."
"It does! How do you know that? And why do you have a picture of it?" He squited at the picture through his glasses.
"It was spotted in Charsada two weeks ago, in front of Taj Hotel. Might grace me with some explanations?"
"Two weeks ago? Sorry kid I bought that car a few days back."
"Don't play me for a fool uncle. If you lied, remember that i know where you live. I will not leave you."
"Huh! You have lost it kid. How would you know my home?"
"I know. Its in Naway Kalay. In that street of White Mosque. House no. 16. I even know you took your family out last night."
That man gawked at Abkaram for a while, viciously.
"Now don't play tricks and tell me what your car got to do with all of this?"
"All of what?" Said that man, "and i am not lying. I bought it from Sadar's showroom."
That man told him the exact location.
"Kid, whats wrong?"
"Nothing." Abkaram sullenly stood up. His mind, in an other level of muddle.
***
Junaid from different angles had drawn some sketches. He drew three different sketches from three different angles, placed them separately. Then picked up similarities from the three sketches and drew a forth one.
That forth one sketch was his final one. He hoped it would help them reach the criminal.
Other day Abkaram went to the showroom shown by the professor.
"Pakhair Sir. How can we help you?"
"Can i talk to your manager please?"
"Sure."
Soon a man came to their way. He looked in his late thirties and somewhat humble by the smile he flashed at him.
"What brings you here zwiya?"
Abkaram fished the same picture out. "This car was bought from here a couple of days back."
"Ugh yah!" He took the picture and looked keenly into details. "I think a man of a fine elderly age bought it."
"Yes. Now please can you remember who sold it to you?"
"Yes. It was brought two days before it was sold to that old man."
"Who brought it to you?"
"Uh! He was young. Few years older than you."
"Can you recognise him?"
"May be."
"I would show some rough sketche."
He put the final sketch forward for him to hold. He stared at it for a while.
"Many people come and go. I am not sure." He scratched his temple, "lemme call my employee."
He gestured the boy to come.
That boy meditated for a while, "Sir i am sorry. I can't say anything with surety."
Last spark of hope flickered down. With a surly expression, he sat back into his car and drove him tonthe place where they all mostly met. Where Jinaid spent most of the time. It was an apprtment, leading to secret stairs of basement. It was either basement or Zaman's home where they often made plans.
His shoulders were slumped down, when he entered he saw Junaid doing some work on his computer.
"Did you find any clue?"
Abkaram shook his head in 'No'.
Junaid nodded. "Zaman Bhai said he will have a meeting in morning with us and all the men. We will make a way out. Together. Inshallah!"