The Lawyer

When I noticed that he had taken the route towards the city, I at last dared to ask him what he intended to do. If once, some long time ago, he was ever intimidated by me, I wondered what I'd want to name the feelings that surged in my heart, for I knew his presence was something more than intimidating for me. 

He imparted in his usual flat and detached voice that he was taking me back home to get the required money, and was also thinking about informing his own lawyer so he could offer whatever assistance he could. I proposed that we could involve my father's friend instead. In response he gave me a look from which I gleaned that I better let him do what he thought was right and let him work in his own way. I could only oblige, for I really wasn't in the position to criticise. Quite warily as I stole glances of his face, I told him about Father to see what reaction it would incite, hoping he'd offer a word of sympathy. But he looked at me briefly and then averted his gaze back to the road. 

"I promise once back home, I'll make Father reopen Uncle's case, re audit the files." I spoke in a low voice, somewhat expecting a kind, positive response, staring at my hands as the car ran forth. 

All he said though was, "We'll see about that later."

I felt a desire so strong to do whatever in my power to execute the promise that would not rest until I'd seen it through. I'd never felt so fiercely about anything ever before. A flicker of worry breathed somewhere in the corner of my heart regarding my medical studies, but I had to close the door and focus on the life threatening matter at hand. I would not be able to cope with life itself, studies were inconsequential. 

In two hours we had entered the city, and as Adil wound the car through traffic signals and curves of streets, a sense of foreboding and dread slowly spread over my heart leaving little space for me to breathe. Surprisingly, he stopped at a restaurant with an open kitchen, left the car running and climbed out, headed for the counter. In a couple of minutes he was back with a parcel and as he drove the car forth, he handed me a chicken roll and kept his own box of french fries on the dashboard. Muttering a sincere thank you, I unwrapped the roll and took a bite, realizing for the first time how hungry I was. 

My house felt hollow, dull and a mere edifice that gave space to everything but life. The silence that stretched from the front gates to my father's room creeped me out. Baba Farid offered a greeting and one of the house maids ran to me, informing Father was in a very serious condition. I could only nod in response as I practically sprinted up the stairs, the maid at my heels. It took me only a couple of minutes to locate Father's checkbook in his briefcase. As I came back down, with the maid continuously repeating the same question with her annoying little voice, I felt I didn't want to live anymore in this huge mansion that had the space to host only three people in its seven rooms. When I came out of the front doors and the maid hadn't shut up, I whipped around to face her, my temper flaring and snapped. 

"What?!" 

"Should I call the police ma'am?" Taking a step back in fright, she asked in a small voice, looking somewhat bewildered. Served her right for nagging me like that, I thought and made it clear to her that all she and the others needed to do was to attend to Father and take care of the house while I was away. With a vigorous nod, she backed another step and I turned around and started towards the driveway where Adil stood waiting leaning against the car.  

When he saw me come nearer, he opened the door and got in without a word. I went around to the passenger's seat and settled down. Father had once told me when I had asked him for some extra money for a friend's wedding last year, that he kept a couple blank cheques signed in cases like these, therefore I could write in whatever amount I needed, and leave him in the study in peace. He'd been reading a really thick book at that moment. I flipped the pages back and forth, eyes fixed on the lower part of the cheques, and in the exact middle I glimpsed two of them signed, and immediately taking a pen from the dashboard scribbled an amount of 2 billion. Adil meanwhile turned the key into the ignition bringing the car to life and then steered us out of the house. 

Our next stop wasn't the bank, as I had been expecting, instead he pulled over outside an apartment building standing next to a bakery. As he opened the door and was about to step out, he gestured to me to follow. His cold way of acting, I thought, would never cease to hurt me, and enclosing the despair into the walls of my heart, I came out of the car. Adil locked it making the car burp a beep and then started towards the building.

Pressing one of the similar looking buttons of presumably the bells, he stepped back and waited. As we stood there outside the wrought iron gates, I debated in my mind if I should ask what was going on and what he intended to do here. I stole a glance at his face that was set in a bland show of detachment, with traces of a frown along his eyebrows.

"Why are we here?" I finally dared to ask.

But before he could reply or even so much as grant me a look, there was a loud chaotic click behind the gate. Adil reached his hand to the handle and pulled the gate towards him. I thought he wouldn't reply, but after we entered the dim building and I followed him towards the stairs, he spoke. "Zafar Iqbal is a family lawyer of my mother's side. He'll help shape the plan of action."

"Oh." was all I could manage.

There was no lift in the building even though it had seven floors. I wondered how the elderely, and the children who came back from school carrying a load of bags stuffed with course books, made the trek up to their homes. But I couldn't think too much about it because Adil came to a pause on the first house on the first floor and sounded the knocker on the door. In a moment there was a shuffle of footsteps as if the person was standing near the door and it was bolted open. A man with a receding hairline with a purely white beard stood in front of us with a glass of water in his right hand. His eyes didn't even graze me, and as he took the figure of Adil in, a broad smile went up across his face. 

"Salam uncle." Adil said with a polite nod. 

"Come in Adil." Stepping away from the door, the elderly man made space for us to enter through the narrow doorway. "But how did you think of me after so long?"

"Needed your help." He replied with a meekness in his voice as we walked into the house. Just along the door was an open kitchen, and a living room was arranged in the front hall. Gesturing us towards the set of sofas, the man placed the glass on the counter and turned around to face us leaning against it.

"Really? What's wrong?" His expression morphed into one of mild concern.

Adil sat down on the sofa across from the kitchen and I took a seat on the one beside it. "It's actually a really serious matter." 

"I'm hearing." He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. 

"She's a friend." I saw him jerk his chin towards me. "Her sister-"

"Daughter of?" Zafar Iqbal interrupted with a strange smile coating his mouth. 

I glanced at Adil who looked taken aback more than confused. It took him a moment to respond, that too with reluctance. "Sahir Niazi."

"I knew it." His smile grew.

Adil frowned. "How?" 

"She has the face of her father." He hadn't even spared a glance in my direction, how on earth did he know what the hell I looked like.

Adil turned his neck to look at me, and strangely I felt my heart race in my chest. I stared back at him but as he looked away and voiced his next sentence with a tone of disapproval, I felt as if I'd been rejected for all domains without being considered. "Yes, she does."

And for the first time in my entire life I found resentment and humiliation for the fact that he was my father. Sahir Niazi who Adil had overwhelming hatred for, Adil who was supposed to be my family, my best friend. 

"How do you know my father?" I directly asked Iqbal Zafar, wondering how he personally knew him, looking away from Adil and once again swallowing in the bitter taste of what now was reality.

Iqbal Zafar gave me a forlorn smile. "I was the defendant of Nazir Niazi. A sad failure."

I could only nod. Though I wondered what would have happened if father had lost the case. Would the circumstances have been worse? I could only imagine. The walls of my heart expelled a cascade of overwhelming despair as I realised once again that there was no way I could meet Uncle again. He was gone forever.

He jerked his head and then turned his gaze towards Adil, as if shaking off the old memories that had taken place at the forefront of his mind. "So, you were telling me something?"

"Yeah, " Adil said, "her sister, Niazi's younger daughter, has been abducted from Naran Valley where she had gone with a group of her friends. The captors have asked for the money to be brought to a roadside cafe at the highway."

The face of Iqbal Zafar had wrinkled into a frown. "How much?" He asked.

"2 Billion." Adil stated. 

"As far as I am aware, a few months back a group of kidnappers was arrested from the same area who was found to have been involved in sex slave trade. I-"

My hand flew up to cover my mouth, my heart sinking, mind a whirr of swirling dread. 

Iqbal Zafar turned his attention to me. If he hadn't, if nobody in the room had acknowledged my presence I would have spiralled into a depthless abyss. His gaze tethered my mind and pulled me back. "It's okay, you do not need to worry. I'm not saying for sure it's the same group or of the likes. But there's a chance. So retrieving her from such a group is not going to be as easy as it would have been if it were some casual abductors." He spoke slowly, making sure I understood every word of his. "What I can presume is, they knew your sister was from a comfortable background. So I think if it really is the ase in question, they're going to smuggle her off, but with an additional bonus of a ransom. They do not intend to return her in exchange for money. So we can't not involve the police. We'll need a backup. You understand?"

I could not respond. I turned my neck to look at Adil, and the unexpected trace of warmth in his eyes and the softness of his face brought tears to my eyes. My fingers curled into fists on the sofa, and I averted my gaze back to Mr. Iqbal. I nodded, trying to make his face through the moisture in my eyes. 

"As much as I can decipher the situation, they'd be at a point that if you were to bring trouble with you, they'd be ready to flee, sacrificing the money. So we need to be very careful." He moved away from the kitchen counter and continued as he walked to the center table. "Though one thing is clear, we need the police." He picked the phone from the table and started towards the room on the left, gesturing to us with his index figuring, asking for a minute alone. 

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