CHAPTER ONE
Hassan retched violently, vomit spilling from his mouth in great heaves. Never in his life had he endured such a beating. He had no idea what crime he had committed, or why they had taken him. At the time, he had not even realized they were policemen.
Now he hung upside down from the ceiling, his body swaying helplessly as blows rained down on his back and stomach. In the beginning, he had asked again and again why he had been brought here, but no one had bothered to answer. Only one of them had spoken.
With a cruel grin stretched across his face, the man had laughed and said, “You’re a nobody, you’re just unclaimed human, you bastard. A stray dog from the streets. What would you do with the truth anyway? So shut your mouth. Stay quiet, and take the beating.”
CHAPTER TWO
Since morning, a white HiAce van had been circling the area around Uttara Railway Station. After a while, it stopped near the Abdullahpur bus terminal and lingered there for some time. Nearly half an hour later, the van pulled away and headed back toward the airport.
One of the men inside made a call. The moment the person on the other end answered, he barked into the phone, “Where the hell’s your lead, you son of a bitch? I don’t see anybody.”
The voice on the other end trembled, “Sir, I’m sure I saw him. Around the railway station. But I can’t remember whether it was Airport Station or Kamalapur Railway Station.”
The caller’s jaw tightened. He spoke slowly, each word bitten off with contempt, “You think this is some kind of joke? Cut the call.”
He ended the call and turned to the driver, “Head straight to Kamalapur rail Station. No more stops.”
CHAPTER THREE
The noon call to prayer echoed across the city just as the van rolled into the parking lot outside Kamalapur Railway Station. Five men climbed out. All of them wore white shirts and khaki trousers.
The man who had made the phone call turned to the driver, “Don’t leave the van. Keep the engine running. And keep your phone in your hand. If I have to call twice before you answer, I’ll put you in a crossfire. Understand?”
The driver grinned, “Yes, sir.”
The man smacked him lightly on the head, “Don’t smile. This is a serious operation and situation also damn serious.”
The five gathered in front of the vehicle. The one giving order was Detective Branch Inspector Kashem, with him were Sub-Inspectors Ali and Sofi, and two constables, Arman and Kusum.
“No point running around blindly,” Kashem said. “Let’s ask the cops or Ansar guards on duty. They'll know where the street dogs gather, bunch of bastards.”
“Yes, sir,” the others replied in unison.
With a nod, Kashem sent Arman to fetch one of the Ansar guards. The man approached and stood before them. Kashem glanced at the nameplate pinned to his chest.
Ayub Khan.
Placing a hand on the guard’s shoulder, Kashem lowered his voice and said, “Mr. Khan, we’re here on a confidential operation. As you can see, we’re in plain clothes. Now tell me, where do those dogs usually hang out?”
Ayub Khan blinked, “Sir... are you here to catch dogs?”
Sofi snapped impatiently, “You idiot! Not dogs. The street kids, unclaimed boys and girls. Where do they gather? Where can we find them?”
Recognition spread across Ayub Khan’s face, “Oh, that what you are looking for.”
He pointed toward half a dozen boys loitering near the station gate.
Kashem frowned, “Anyone older? Around twenty, twenty-two years old?”
“Of course, sir,” Ayub Khan said with a toothy grin, “They sit beside the public toilets at the back. Real troublemakers. Spend all day getting high and making noise. They harass the passengers and, if they get the chance, harass us too.”
Kashem felt a quiet satisfaction. No matter who he picked up, there would at least be an excuse. An accusation. Even if it was an accusation against all of them. It would do.
They only needed one man.
Smiling, Kashem removed his hand from the guard's shoulder, “That’s exactly why we came. Listen, Mr. Khan. We’ll go in first. You and your men stay behind us. Backup. We’ll rough them up a little, maybe slap a few around. Might even take one or two in. Just handle the crowd, all right? Go tell your team leader and get everyone ready.”
Once the guard had gone, Kashem turned to his own men, “Change of plans. We have a complaint now. We’ll use that to start a conversation. Show them some heat and they’ll lose their temper. Arman, you identify our man. Everyone, take another look at the photograph. If you find him, you and Sofi move in. I’ll be watching both of you. Ali and Kusum you keep the others distracted. Ask questions, threating them, whatever. Your job is to keep the mob busy. Is that clear?”
A subdued chorus answered, “Yes, sir.”
Kashem chuckled, “What’s with those voices? We’re not going out to steal something.”
The others smiled awkwardly. They studied the photograph one last time. Arman and Sofi led the way. Ali and Kusum followed. Kashem brought up the rear. Everyone knew him as Daroga Kashem. Mercy was not a word associated with the man. Not entirely, perhaps. He possessed some compassion but only when money was involved. And money was the reason for today's operation.
For Sofi, this was the first time taking part in something like this. Truthfully, he had no idea who they were after or why. Kashem had shown him a photograph and given him a simple instruction: Bring him in. Or rather, someone who looked like him. The uncertainty gnawed at Sofi, but he never questioned Inspector Kashem. He owed the man too much.
Months earlier, Sofi had stumbled into a trap and committed something that could have cost him his career if the department ever found out. Kashem had buried the matter neatly and promised him that no one would ever bother him again as long as he stayed close and followed orders without asking questions.
And so, here he was. Part of an operation he understood nothing about.
Arman and Ali were veterans. They had worked with Kashem many times before. They knew what lay behind these operations.
Money.
Influence.
And if anything went wrong, Kashem would make it disappear with the snap of a finger.
Kusum was experienced too, though he had never been involved in work like this. Kashem knew the man needed money. That had been enough. He had shown Kusum the same photograph and delivered the same instructions. Bring him in.
Not necessarily him. Someone who looked like him.
The amount of money promised had silenced every question before it could be asked.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sofi walked straight into the public restroom. Outside, Arman lit a cigarette and took up position near the entrance. Ali and Kusum stood some distance away, watching the group of street kids. Beside the toilets was a small motorcycle parking area, where Inspector Kashem wandered over, pretending to inspect the parked bikes. A few yards behind them, three or four Ansar guards stood ready. Kashem cast a discreet glance around. The setting was almost perfect. The crowd was thin. Everyone was in position.
Ali and Kusum approached the gathering. There were seven or eight boys and a couple of girls. Most of them were barely conscious, sunk deep in intoxication. Heads drooped. Eyes half-closed. Bodies swayed lazily. Scenes like this were nothing new to Ali. Years of experience had taught him how to deal with addicts. Whether they came from the upper classes or the gutters, intoxication reduced everyone to much the same state.
Ali was a hot-tempered man by nature. Courtesy had never been among his virtues. In fact, he avoided it whenever possible. And these were people from the streets.
Why bother with manners?
His voice cut through the haze like a whip, “Hey, you bastards! Couldn't find anywhere else to get wasted? I’ll beat every last one of you bloody. Get up, you pigs!”
Without waiting for a response, he snatched up a stick lying nearby and started swinging. Kusum joined in. Slaps, punches, kicks their blows scattered the group in every direction.
At first, the dazed youngsters could hardly comprehend what was happening. Confusion gave way to panic. Shouts erupted. Bodies stumbled to their feet. And then, still dizzy with drugs and fear, they began hurling curses back at Ali and Kusum.
Chaos exploded.
**To be continue...