Then Again

Chapter 29 - The Mistress

The icy autumn air was no hindrance for the throng of people still bustling by shops and carts. Even at such a late hour of the night, the people of Rawalpindi were very much awake and enjoying their late-night folly. Shoppers leisurely roamed the street, trying to pick the next place where they can find a bargain, while many were lining food carts to get a bite to eat after haggling their way to a new purchase. The small crowd was warped in their individual little bubbles that no one noticed a man clad in dark clothing standing at the corner of The Refreshment Centre whispering into his cellphone. Few glanced twice at the odd man wearing sunglasses at this hour.

Even Sikander hadn't realised that the man across the street was focused only on him and his companion. Sikander was busy taking in the sight and sounds of Sahar, deeply focused on their conversation. The strange man tried to get close but retraced his steps in fear of getting caught by Sikander. Only God knew what would happen if Sikander got a whiff of him. Instead, he informed the person on the other line of his location and details of what he was witnessing.

"Madam, I can't seem to make out the face of the other person with Mr Sikander. But I believe it is a woman. She seems to have her head covered with a scarf," the man informed the caller with haste.

"Are you sure it's Sikander?" a woman's voice echoed in his ear.

"Yes Madam, it is! The license plate number you gave me matches the one I'm seeing right now too".

"Are you sure that there's a woman with him", it surprised her to even hear that Sikander would be in this part of town, at this specific hour, and that too with a woman. "Can you check if she's one of mine without getting closer?" the woman asked with anticipation.

The man tried to inch forward, staying beyond the glow of the restaurant's sign. It was difficult to get closer without compromising his position. "Sorry, Madam. Can't get closer without being seen. I can't make out the face of the woman, she's turned towards Mr Sikander. As for identifying if she's yours, I can't tell. Her jacket is covering her wrist, so I won't be able to make out if she's wearing one of your bracelets". He ducked back into the corner as a woman walked by, glaring at him. The crowd was dwindling, but some idle shoppers still roamed the street.

"Fine, don't get any closer. If you see them leaving, tail them and see where he goes. Then call me back for further instructions." Without waiting for a confirmation, she cut the call.

It was time to get back to the task at hand. She was on the hunt tonight, her target, Mr Ali. The sound of fast-beating deep house music rang in her ears, although she was far from the DJ's station. Picking up her purse from the sofa nearby, she stuffed her cellphone in and took out a glass vile. Unscrewing the cap, she spread out a white substance onto the back of her thumb and sniffed it. The surge of coke coursing through her bloodstream helped her loosen up for the party.

She made her way back to the main dance floor, picking up a glass of smuggled champagne from one of the many servers, and began searching the crowd for her primary target. She needed to meet Mr Ali, but it needed to look like an accident, a meeting by serendipity. Mr Ali was a smart man, but a man, after all. She needed to make him think it was a total coincidence and have him recognise her.

Eying the server with hors d'oeuvre, the plan unfolded in her mind. She tapped his shoulder diverting his attention from other partygoers. He looked at her with surprise, she was an exquisite piece of art best found on the covers of Vogue. The waiter couldn't think of any reason for tapping his shoulder other than for more champagne. The woman winked at him and tilted her head as if asking the waiter to follow. He followed her, keeping a suitable distance so he could watch her hips roll with each step she took. He wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. For the server, it was a dream come true for this woman to even acknowledge his existence. They reached the kitchen of the farmhouse, which was quieter than the dance floor. No one was back here, not even the staff, since much of the buffet was laid out in another room.