Intrigue in the Alleyways

After returning from the telephone booth, Imran resumed his place. The man in the jacket was saying to the other man,

"The old man is not crazy; his guesses are not wrong."

"Yeah, whatever," the other man said, slamming his empty glass on the table. "Right or wrong, it doesn't matter. But tell me, if you meet that girl again, what will you do?"

"Oh!" The man in the jacket started laughing. "Excuse me, I did not recognize you."

"Alright! But what if she goes to the police?"

"She would never do that... She would have to admit that she spent a night with me in that house. And then I think she might not even remember the key."

After ordering coffee, Imran started chewing gum. His face seemed completely indifferent to the surroundings. But the reality was that every single word of their conversation was being absorbed into his memory.

"So, will the old man come today?" the other man asked.

"Yes! The decision will be made today," said the man in the jacket.

Both of them got up. Imran gulped down the remaining coffee. He had already paid the bill. They went outside and stood on the sidewalk and then hailed a taxi. A while later, another taxi was following theirs, in which Imran was crouched on the back seat, scratching his head. He often indulged in silly actions even when alone.

Upon reaching Arkham Lane, the first taxi stopped. Both men got out and entered an alley. Here, Imran got a little confused! He had seen them entering the alley, but by the time he paid the taxi fare, he had lost them.

The alley was deserted. As he moved forward, he saw another alley to his right. While navigating through this second alley, he realized that there was a maze of alleys. So, finding it futile to wander further, he returned to the street. He stopped a little distance from the end of the alley and started looking at the colorful covers of the books displayed in the showcase of a bookstall.

Perhaps five minutes later, a taxi stopped right at the mouth of the alley and an elderly man got out and started paying the fare. He had a brown beard on his face. But Imran was startled by the shape of his forehead. His eyes also seemed familiar.

As soon as the old man entered the alley, Imran also quickened his pace. After passing through several alleys, the old man stopped at a door and began to knock. Imran was quite far away and, due to the darkness, there was no risk of being seen. He stood pressed against a wall. The door opened, and the old man, muttering something, went inside. The door closed again. The building was two stories high. Imran scratched his head but he couldn't easily give up the pursuit. Considering the possibilities of getting inside, he reached the door. Without much thought, he put his ear to the door to listen for any sound. But it seemed his luck had run out. In the next moment, the door swung open, and both men stood before him. In the dim light inside, their faces weren't visible, but they appeared quite strong and sturdy.

"Who is it?" one of them said in a commanding tone.

"Am I late?" Imran blurted out.

There was no immediate response from the other side, possibly a moment of hesitation.

"Who are you?" the question was repeated from the other side.

"Three hundred and thirteen," Imran blurted out foolishly. But the next moment, he wasn't aware of what happened. Suddenly, he was grabbed by the collar and pulled inside. Imran didn't resist.

"Now tell us who you are," one of them said, giving him a shove.

"Take him inside," the other one said.

They pushed him into a room where seven men were seated around a large table, including the old man Imran had been following. The old man seemed to be the leader as he was at the head of the table.

They all started looking at Imran with astonished eyes. But Imran, standing between the two men, was glaring at the one in the leather jacket.

"Aha!" Imran suddenly burst into laughter and, rolling his eyes, said to him, "I will never forgive you. You ruined my beloved's life!"

"Who are you? I don't recognize you," the man said in an astonished tone.

"But I know you very well! I didn't say anything! You spent a night with her, and I still kept silent. But I cannot tolerate you stopping your meetings with her."

"Why are you here?" the old man suddenly asked, glaring at the two who had brought Imran. They explained everything. During this time, Imran kept staring at his target, seeming completely unconcerned with the other people.

Then suddenly, a punch landed on Imran's jaw, and he staggered back several steps! He bent down to pick up his felt hat and dusted it off as if it had accidentally fallen from his head. He continued to glare at the man in the jacket.

"Like a dutiful rival in a romantic novel, I could yield in your favor!" Imran said.

"Stop the nonsense," the old man shouted. "I know you well! Were you the one there that night?"

Imran didn't bother to look at him.

"He must not leave here alive," the old man said, standing up.

"But on one condition," Imran said with a smile, "the corpse must not be desecrated."

His foolishly calm demeanor remained unchanged. Three or four men lunged at him. In the next moment, Imran snapped, "Hands up." Simultaneously, his hand came out of his pocket. Those lunging at him paused, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. Instead of a revolver, Imran held a rubber doll! The old man's booming voice silenced them, and they moved towards Imran again. As they reached him, Imran squeezed the doll's stomach. Its mouth opened, releasing a thick, dark vapor that spread in a three to four-foot radius. The men collapsed, coughing violently.

"Don't let him escape!" the old man shouted again.

In the next moment, Imran hurled a heavy object at the electric lamp. With a loud noise, the bulb shattered, plunging the room into darkness.

Holding a handkerchief to his nose, Imran moved along the wall towards the end of the table. The room was in chaos. It seemed like everyone was blindly punching each other in the darkness. Imran's hand slowly crept to the end of the table, and he wasn't disappointed. He found what he had been eyeing from the start. It was the old man's leather handbag.

On his way out, someone tried to block his path at the door, but they ended up on the floor, clutching their front teeth. Imran wanted to get out of the room as quickly as possible because his throat had also started to burn. The vapor from the doll's mouth had now spread throughout the room.

Leaving the sounds of coughing and cursing behind, he reached the outer door. Once in the alley, he slipped into another nearby alley. It was too risky to go onto the street for now. After winding through several alleys for a while, he emerged onto another street. A little later, he was sitting in a taxi, rubbing his lips as if he were removing lipstick stains after meeting a lover.