CHAPTER EIGHT
Around nine that night, Tiger came down to the garage.
Pulling up a chair, he lit a cigarette and looked at Kashem, "I want to have a word with the boy. Any problem with that?"
Kashem frowned, "What do you want to talk to him about?"
Without answering, Tiger rose. Drawing his pistol from his waistband, he disengaged the safety and let the weapon hang loosely from his hand.
Kashem stood as though to stop him, but Tiger raised a hand, "No."
Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and looked back, "What's his name?"
"Hassan," Kashem replied. "His name's Hassan."
Tiger descended into the underground room. Hassan lay curled on his side like a sick animal. Handcuffs bound his wrists. A lone chair stood nearby. Pulling it over, Tiger sat beside him and poked him in the stomach with the barrel of his pistol. No response. He jabbed harder.
Slowly, Hassan opened his eyes and raised his head.
Tiger smiled, "Get up. We need to talk."
Rubbing his eyes, Hassan sat up, "What're you putting on airs for?" he muttered wearily. "What've I got to talk about with you? Let me go. Why drag me into all this madness?"
Tiger laughed softly, "Because you're a nobody, You are unclaimed. Whether you live or die makes no difference to anyone. So stop squirming and listen carefully."
Hassan lowered his eyes, "Fine. Talk."
Tiger leaned back, "You're still alive because we want you alive. Nobody's planning to kill you. You've already figured most of it out, but let me spell it out anyway."
Tiger stop for a while, then speak again, "What I did, I did in anger. Doesn't mean I want to go to prison. If money alone could've buried the case, we wouldn't need you. I've got plans. Big plans. Plans even for strays like you. So I need to stay outside."
He pointed at Hassan, "Your job is simple. Stand before the judge."
"Confess."
"Go to prison."
"Two years. Three years, maybe. And then you'll walk free."
Hassan chuckled, "Walk free so I can die in some crossfire or staged accident? Why not say that part too?"
Tiger raised a hand, No. I told you, dying isn't in the cards. Not for now. The game starts tomorrow."
"Be ready."
He stood up, "If you've got any last requests, make them tonight. Not because you're dying. Because life's about to get very uncomfortable."
Hassan leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.
His voice sounded strangely tired, "You got any stick?"
Tiger burst out laughing, "Typical stray dog. Still craving gutter poison. No stick. Tonight you'll get the good stuff. Eat, get high, and sleep."
He turned and headed toward the door. Then Hassan called after him.
Tiger stopped, "What?"
Hassan smiled, "I think your old man must've been one hell of a bastard. Looks like he ruined both our mothers. He married yours and ended up with a fool like you. Didn't marry mine. And I ended up a nameless stray."
He grinned wider, "Otherwise, how do we look so damn alike?"
Tiger came charging back. His boot slammed into Hassan's chest, knocking him flat. A second later, he planted his foot on Hassan's throat and pressed the muzzle of the pistol against his forehead, "You son of a bitch. You talk about my parents?"
Hassan didn't resist. He only laughed and talk slowly, “Yes, your parents! You have I didn’t.”
Tiger's eyes narrowed. Still Hassan laughed. Finally, Tiger stepped away.
Coughing violently, Hassan wiped tears from his eyes, "Truth hurt, Buddy?"
The laughter returned. Wild. Uncontrollable.
Tiger stormed out of the room. His whole body burned with rage. Because the truth was, his father's reputation had always been rotten. Scandals Mistresses, Secrets. Time and again, his uncle the Secretary had cleaned up the mess for the sake of Tiger's mother. Even Tiger's sister had once become entangled in a scandal severe enough that she had been quietly shipped abroad. His father's disgrace had repeatedly threatened the Secretary's political career. And all his life, Tiger had sworn one thing to himself. Whatever else he became, he would never become his father. And until now, he hadn't. People had complained about drugs.
About violence. About gangs. His mother and uncle had heard it all. But never women. Never scandals involving women. Which was why, when the accusations finally surfaced, nobody could quite believe them.
Least of all Tiger himself.
CHAPTER NINE
It had happened only a few weeks earlier.
It was a Friday.
Tiger and a handful of friends had attended the graduation ceremony of a private university. He wasn't a student there, but everyone knew that the strings behind the campus politics were often pulled by men like him. The ceremony itself was taking place in the auditorium on the second floor. Meanwhile, Tiger and six of his friends occupied an empty classroom nearby, drinking whisky and beer, laughing loudly as music blared from a phone.
At some point, one of the boys casually tossed an empty beer can out into the corridor. None of them saw the girl. And the girl never imagined anyone would be inside that classroom.
Mina and her friend Rupma had just stepped out of the auditorium. They were walking down the corridor when something hard flew out from the next room and struck Rupma squarely on the forehead. She cried out in pain. Looking down, she and Mina found an empty beer can rolling across the floor.
Without a word, Mina picked it up and marched toward the classroom, "Who threw this?" she shouted.
Seven young men turned to look.
Rupma stopped at the doorway, one hand pressed against her forehead. From where she stood, the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana hit her all at once. Instinctively, she chose not to enter.
At Mina's voice, the seven exchanged glances. Neither Mina nor Rupma recognized any of them from campus.
After a brief look among themselves, the boys shook their heads and resumed their conversation.
Mina's anger flared. Rupma, however, smelled trouble. Not just alcohol. Something worse. She moved to pull her friend away, but Mina had already walked deeper into the room.
Throwing the can onto the floor with a loud clang, she demanded again, "I want to know who threw it."
For the first time, Tiger raised his head and looked directly into her eyes.
Then he stood, "Who threw it?" he asked his friends.
One of them a young man in jeans and a green T-shirt rose to his feet. Among the seven, three were outsiders.
Tiger and the two boys who had come with him.
The boy in green was one of them, "Brother, I did," he admitted.
Tiger pointed toward Mina, "Go hear what the lady has to say."
The boy, Sohel walked over unsteadily, his eyes glazed, "What happened?" he slurred. "Why all the shouting?"
Pointing at the can lying on the floor, Mina asked, "You threw that? I guess."
Her voice hardened, "Go and apologize to her."
Sohel blinked. His education had never carried him very far, and his drunken mind even less, "What?"
Mina pointed toward Rupma say with full of anger face, "Apologize to her."
Sohel burst into laughter, "For what? Oh, come on. Don't annoy me."
Fury consumed Mina. Grabbing his collar, she shook him violently, "You drunk bastard, I said apologize!"
The other boys rose from their seats.
From behind, Rupma shouted desperately, "Mina! Come on, leave it!"
But Mina wasn't listening.
A moment later, she slapped Sohel across the face, "Apologize, you son of a dog!"
Seven drunken young men. And one of them had just been slapped by a girl. Mina never realized how catastrophic that moment would become.
Without a word, Sohel struck back.
Rupma screamed.
One of the others lunged toward her, but she had already broken free, running toward the auditorium and shouting for help. By the time she returned with students and teachers, everything had already happened.
The classroom door stood open. Inside, Mina lay on the floor. The boys rushed toward the gate. But Tiger and his friends had already fled the campus. On their way out, they had even beaten the gatekeeper who had tried to stop them after noticing blood on their clothes. Mina was rushed to the hospital. She survived less than twenty-four hours. Shortly before dawn, she died. The campus erupted. Students poured into the streets.
Protests spread like wildfire. Mina's father, a schoolteacher known for his honesty and quiet courage, refused every attempt to silence him. He filed the case. And under the combined pressure of enraged students and one stubborn father's determination, the police were forced to act. The inve-stigation moved swiftly. The names emerged.
Tiger And Sohel.
They were identified as the principal accused. Two others were arrested. But Tiger was the nephew of a Secretary. And that single fact was enough to set an entire machinery into motion.
Power.
Influence.
Money.
Many rushed forward to save him. Foremost among them, His uncle.
The Secretary.
And the Secretary, in turn, unleashed his own people. His people.
Money's people.
**to be continue