Atharva held his hands out at the absurdity. And Samar smirked at him. What was that? Old memories? Womanising with… Amaal stopped herself from going there. Samar had told her this in confidence, baring the lowest part of him. She could not throw it in his face, even in thought.
“Let me speak to her tomorrow,” she offered, pulling herself out of this emotional mess that her mind was. She never let emotion cloud her work.
“I will speak to her.” Atharva declared.
“No. Neither of you is equipped to deal with human resource issues. The last time you two ‘spoke’ to somebody she was ready to up and leave KDP.”
Samar burst out laughing.
“This is not funny.”
Samar wheezed, his chest rippling and wrinkling as his head went back in one of those rare laughs. At least somebody was enjoying this.
“This is insane,” he pinched his eyes, still vibrating. “Some ex of yours let your wife run away and did not tell you.”
“My wife would have been home with my son that day had she said something!” Atharva thundered. And Samar’s face went grave. The room plunged into silence.
“I have been under a lot of stress,” Atharva’s voice softened. “I did not mean to come here like this and scream at you both.”
“What is happening with the Usama Aziz protests?” Samar gave him an opening to switch topics.
“That’s way down on my list of problems right now.”
“The blast in PoK?”
Atharva cut his eyes to her.
“He was here with me when we got the news.” She defended. There were secrets she kept from Samar for Atharva the Chief Minister, but there were some that she couldn’t, purely by virtue of living with him.
“It is sealed, Atharva,” Samar swore to him.
“It better be.”
“I know what it must have cost you to bring her back. I don’t know all the details. But I know enough, and I will take it to my grave. I give you my word.”
Atharva sighed, then went and lowered himself on the chair next to Samar’s.
“The CM of Gilgit-Baltistan, Dilshad Khan. He was the senior Mir’s co-conspirator.”
“In the trafficking of kids?” Samar asked what Amaal already knew. The CM of Gilgit-Baltistan, along with Iram’s biological father, the Mir of Nagar, and Sayyid Butt had cracked the conspiracy. They had contacted Aamir Haider and Mohsin Sheikh here and sent Iram and her twin brother, Noor across. Noor had died, Aamir Haider’s son Sufiyaan had taken his place, and Iram had been left out of the loop, given to Aamir Haider’s wife in exchange for the son they took.
“When everything was lost and Sufiyaan died here, like a fool I went and threatened Sayyid Butt with his mother,” Atharva told Samar. “To scoop information. To get something out of him to trace Iram’s parents. But then Iram’s car got wired. I have a hunch… more than a hunch, that Dilshad Khan ran the mission on Butt’s request. To finish any lingering evidence of their misdeeds.”
“Didn’t he realise that Iram was there in his town for months?” Amaal asked.
“No. That was my greatest challenge. To take her out of there from under his nose.”
“And did he figure it out?” Samar frowned.
“He will, soon enough. These things can’t remain sealed for long. The airport was closed but there is ground staff, engineers, ATC. Somebody would slip up someday. And this man lives off exploiting information.”
“It’s a good thing then that she is never setting foot there ever again,” Samar said. “Have you tightened her security?”
“Shehzad is out. I have to get a replacement. For now she doesn’t leave the house, not without me, at least.”
“But she will, at some point.”
“We’ll see then.”
