CHAPTER SEVEN
Around nine the following morning, several men entered the garage. Among them was a senior police officer in uniform. His badges and bearing left no doubt about his rank. The five men snapped to attention and saluted. Accompanying the Secretary were three others, his nephew and two lawyers.
Everyone wanted to see the boy.
Kashem led them downstairs into the underground room. In one corner, Hassan lay bound hand and foot, bloodied and leaning against the wall. The Secretary hurried over, crouched beside him, and gave him a shake. Lifting the boy's face, he burst into laughter.
Still laughing, he turned toward his nephew, "Tiger, are you absolutely sure you don't have a lost brother somewhere? Lost at a fair or any unknown island, when you were little, perhaps?"
Tiger stepped forward and, seeing Hassan's face, laughed as well, "How's that even possible, Uncle?"
The Secretary rose, "With the kind of rogue your father is, God knows where he's been spreading his seed. I wouldn't be surprised if a DNA test proved this boy was your brother."
Uncle and nephew laughed together. Turning to Kashem, the Secretary smiled, "Everything looks fine, Mr. Kashem, but you really didn't have to beat the poor boy this badly. I'm beginning to suspect you're taking out your marital frustrations on him."
Again, the two burst out laughing.
Kashem lowered his head modestly, "Street boys are troublesome, sir. Strong too. Had to tighten him up a bit."
The Secretary motioned for everyone to come upstairs. Back in the garage, he pulled out a chair and sat down. The senior police officer, Tiger, one of the lawyers, and Kashem occupied the remaining chairs. Everyone else remained standing.
Lighting a cigarette, the Secretary began, "I'm sending a doctor and two makeup artists. They're my people. Money's people."
He smiled, "They'll be briefed beforehand. Today, nobody touches the boy. Not a finger. Treat him like a sacrificial bull before Kurbani Eid. Feed him, pamper him, take care of him. I trust everyone understands."
Kashem cleared his throat, "Sir, the situation outside is getting hotter. The media noise is growing. How long can we keep this up?"
The Secretary took one last drag and flicked away the cigarette, "Mr. Kashem, have you ever cooked?"
Kashem shook his head.
"When the oil is properly heated," the Secretary said, "that's when you drop the fish in. That's when it tastes best."
He smiled knowingly, "I'm sure you've never spent much time in the kitchen with your wife. You should. Give the women in your house some attention. Money alone doesn't make them happy."
Tiger shifted impatiently, "Uncle, enough philosophy. What's the plan?"
The Secretary looked around the room.
Sensing his hesitation, Kashem spoke up, "Sir, no problem. They're all our people. Or rather, your people. Money's people."
The Secretary smiled, "Of that, I have no doubt."
He leaned back, "Tomorrow, my nephew will be formally arrested. Tiger, half the city saw you come here with me today. I told you to sneak in alone, but you never listen."
He sighed, "Never mind."
Then he turned to Kashem, "How many men stay inside and who they are, that's your concern."
"As for my plan..."
He placed a hand on Tiger's shoulder.
"The Tiger who entered this garage today will not leave until the trial is over."
The room fell silent.
"And during that time," he continued calmly, "if the opportunity presents itself, we'll arrange things properly for Tiger."
No one dared ask what that meant.
The Secretary stood, "Tiger, go upstairs. Freshen up and get some sleep. Everything's prepared. If you need anything, call Elias."
He paused, "And stay away from the roof, the balcony, and the windows during the day. At night, if you must. Try behaving yourself for once if you intend to live comfortably."
Tiger stood and embraced his uncle. To everyone's surprise, tears rolled down the young man's face. The Secretary's eyes appeared to moisten as well. After releasing his nephew, he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and walked out. The others followed. Only the uniformed officer remained.
He beckoned Kashem aside, "Kashem... the others are reliable, yes? No trouble later?"
Kashem smiled, "Rest easy, sir. Everything's arranged. Just give them some motivation before you leave."
The officer nodded.
Stepping before the group, he smiled warmly, "Well done, everyone. You all have bright futures ahead of you. Keep working hard. Follow your superiors. We'll meet again."
Everyone saluted.
Then he left.
Kashem turned back to the men, "Tomorrow we'll need a lot of people. Nobody should suspect we've been hiding in here all these days. Once the doctor and makeup artists are done, only Arman and Sofi stay."
He looked directly at Ali, "And Ali, no more beatings."
He grinned, "As the Secretary ordered, today our guest receives love and affection. Keep his body happy. Keep his spirits happy."
Sofi hesitated, "Sir... we've been coming and going in front of him. What if he talks someday?"
Kashem laughed, "Oh, Sofi, You're too afraid. He'll never be in any condition to talk. Money covers everything. Relax, son."
At that moment, the garage door creaked open. Everyone turned. A man wearing a white shirt and maroon trousers entered, chewing betel leaf. Three others followed behind him carrying bags and briefcases.
Kashem's face lit up. He rose immediately and spread his arms, "Elias bhai! Where have you been? I saw you at the beginning of the operation, and then vanished."
The newcomer spat red juice into a corner, "Daloga, you think I got no work? From the Secretary's underwear to the crown on his head, everything goes through me."
He pointed behind him, "This gentleman's the doctor. Good doctor. One of the Secretary's favorites. And these two are makeup artists. Very good ones."
He smirked, "Come on. Show me the boy."
Curious glances passed among the others. After Elias disappeared down the stairs, Kashem smiled and whispered, "He pronounces his R's like L's. See, he said “Daloga” i/o “Daroga”."
Suppressing their laughter, they followed him below. Descending into the underground room, Elias stared at Hassan for several moments.
Then he exploded with laughter, "Daloga, where'd you find this one? How'd you get such a perfect match?"
He shook his head, "Tiger's father must've been one hell of a scoundrel."
Still laughing, he turned to the doctor, "Doctor, look at him. Give him whatever medicine he needs."
Then he addressed the makeup artists, "And you two..."
His grin widened, "Make him identical. An exact copy of Tiger."
He checked his watch, "All right, I'm off."
Turning back to Kashem, he added casually, "Leave one or two men downstairs with you."
**to be continue