Samar stepped back to let Adil precede him. He gave Amaal one last look and made his way out of the house.
“What’s happening in Haider’s house?” Samar asked aloud.
“What?” Adil opened the passenger door of his Innova and settled inside. Samar got in and started the car. “There was some movement there yesterday.”
“Maybe cleaners. Iram is here now, maybe she is cleaning it up.”
“That house has been sealed by SMC.” Samar turned the wheel and meandered down the porch and the estate road, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“I think she claimed it back.”
“You think or she did?”
“Are you still sore about her?”
“1. I will never not be sore about her. And 2. Don’t use Atharva’s topic-changing tactics. You butcher them.”
“You need a smoke.”
“I haven’t smoked since 2005.”
“That is why you’ve not acted human since,” Adil laughed.
Samar let the jibe pass. One day ago, he would have laughed along. Today, he did not like it. He did not like his partners, his friends, his brothers-in-arms thinking that about him. And some petty, small, red-raged part of him wanted to show them just how not human he could be.
That equipment and the files would have incredibly important information for these lies to flow so easily. Or they had always flown so easily, and he had taken them at face value? Now Samar could not put anything past them.
————————————————————
“It’s only a 10-minute thing, this woman wants to tell you something about Awaami’s zafran scam…” Murtuza whispered to him, a tall man walking beside them.
Samar looked at Murtuza and nodded, striding across Amira Kadal. They crossed into the small settlement at the end of the old bridge. He followed Murtuza, the tall man now trailing behind him as they climbed up the steep wooden steps of a little house.
They cleared the dark stairs and emerged on the first floor. There stood Sufiyaan Sheikh, gazing out of the long windows, an armed man whispering in his ear. Samar stopped at the top of the stairs, not even trying to act shocked. He wasn’t a great actor.
“The woman.” Samar gave a nod, sending a chilling look to his man. Murtuza shrank, a better actor than him.
Sufiyaan Sheikh turned, covering one full, tall window. He was as tall as him, but built like a bull, half his face hidden by his beard. He adjusted his pathani’s hem and walked forward.
“Samar sahab,” he smiled. “Welcome.”
Samar stood, unmoved. Sufiyaan Sheikh nodded at the armed man by his side, who in turn nodded at the tall man behind Samar. They quickly left the floor, their footsteps thumping down the stairs.
“You too.” Sufiyaan Sheikh flicked his gaze to Murtuza.
“Oh… uhh…” the bastard acted like a pro, stealing glances at him. Samar did not spare him any. And Murtuza finally took quiet steps back until he was running down the stairs too.
“We both have heard about each other, but let me make a formal introduction.” He came closer, his hand held out. “Sufiyaan Sheikh.”
Samar glanced from his face to his outstretched hand. He kept his own bundled behind his back.
“Samar sahab, party rivalry and election battle on one side, eventually, we all have to work together. Whoever comes to power, the other will be sitting in the opposition.” He smiled, looking like a perfectly sane adult man. Samar knew otherwise.
He finally loosened his hand and pushed it out for a shake.
“Sit,” Sufiyaan pointed to the floor cushions arranged around the long, low table, taking one himself. “Please.”
“I won’t be here for long. Get on with it.”
