"Boss, this morning we received a call from Mr. Atlas asking you to provide assistance to Mr. Hardin in his upcoming mission next month." My P.A. Shikhar informs me.
"Details?" I inquire.
"No details were provided. Just because they tried reaching you through your phone, it seems you were not available; hence, I put up this email. Looking forward to a positive response." He further adds. As if Mr. Atlas did not just order me indirectly, and why not?
"And what happened to the shipments to Indonesia?" We have been receiving threats regarding our arms shipments.
"They reached safely, but something was off. Please check the mail I am forwarding to you now. It was marked, indicating it was for you only." means rendezvous; these personal mails are never merry and 90% of the time bring bloodshed, and I am beyond prepared for it as it has been a while since I was in a true action. Working behind a desk might be safe and stable, but the thrill of danger, keeping your life at stake, and swirling daunting feelings of maybe not coming back alive to your brothers and then overcoming and returning as the winner is what I live for. The expressions of fear and realization of being near death on the faces of my enemies bring joy and merriness that these personal mails usually lack.
"Hm. Turn the car to the XYZ warehouse." After reading the mail, I understand it is indeed urgent and cannot be postponed for later.
"Sir, meeting with Mr. Shekha-
"Reschedule it." Not that it was that crucial anyway. That thirty-eight-year-old man acts like a typical old hag, which just bores the hell out of me.
I started replying to emails. It is four past fifteen. I am slightly hungry, which reminds me that I once again forgot to have my lunch and now don't even have time for snacks or even a cup of tea. Sighing a long, breathy sigh, I wonder about this mail. The restlessness is unsettling. I rarely was asked to present somewhere unless the risk was too high to bear or straight up connected to our mafia. But then it should have been Ethi receiving this sort of message. Contacting me only indicating towards the demand of listening ear before he has a bullet in his skull, something Ethi does not have patience for simply because he thinks if someone cannot even use his braincells to even manage to meet him or contact him through whatever fucking means in difficult times and letting the situation have control over him, then he doesn't deserve to be in his mafia. Well, he is sort of right. I pretty much wish to save my time and sleep off by not killing and filling my already fully filled plate by adding the trouble of looking for another suitable man who can efficiently handle the warehouse.
After another 35 minutes, we finally reach.
"Hello boss." I shoot him a deadly glare, to which he visibly flinches.
"I hope you are doing well." What the fucking fuck is this man saying? For sh*t sake, I am not here to ask how well he is doing in his life. He can become prime minister, for all I care. or just die. Better let me kill him. This man better have some serious shit to discuss, or I will fucking torture him to his last breath, which itself will be at my mercy.
"Stop beating around the bush, Khalid." Sternly and slightly glaring at him, I quip.
"Sorry boss. Sure."
With that, we came to our conference room, which is soundproof and comes in handy when actually not. This just makes my suspicion stronger. I went and sat on the Head chair lazily.
"I am sorry, boss, for the inconvenience I have caused you, but this was indeed important, and not only our shipping ports have some serious bugs to clear, but also 137 children of age between 2 and 5 years whose lives are also in danger to protect." His tone tensed, not failing to display the seriousness of this unprecedented yet easily predicted situation. Mafia and bugs are nothing new, but children grab my attention.
I stay mum, so he continues.
"During the last shipments of ours to Indonesia, we faced some problems—nothing major though. I personally went there with my men, who apparently had one man we recently recruited and are being trained with. His behavior was too suspicious to ignore and move on.
And his physique was also not that of a beginner but somewhat that of an experienced man. I had one of my trusted men spy on him, and then we got to know he was here to gather our information related to our shipments and routes; he even had bugs in my office to listen to our conversation. Luckily, I had no time to be in my office lately, and my phone was also trapped, and that's one of the reasons I used my personal email to contact you. Here is the file with all the information my men could gather. Though not too much can be discerned from this, He is in cells if you desire to meet him. I tried getting the truth out of him, but Fucker won't utter a word. I have my doubts about who he might be working for." This is the third time we have found bugs in this basement, but there is nothing common except the mark, which doesn't seem to match with any of our enemies.
More recently, the small local gangs seem to gang up on us, not that they can win nor compete with us, and finding these bugs and all this shit is nothing new but intriguing. Who can be daring enough to stand against us? I have my guesses, but they are just guesses. This is pioneering that someone has been this close to our shipments. That's concerning and gives me one more reason to turn my guess into certainty.
"About children?" I probe further. Lives of these unknown children is my topmost priority.
"These local small gangs kidnap children between the ages of 2 and 5 and make them beg on the roads." Again, what is so unusual here then?
"But this time the information I received is that they prepare these kids to be slaves and sell them once they are 5 or older as per customer demands." This has never occurred since we took the whole charge to end these sorts of shitty activities. fucking filthy bastards.I will kill each one of them.
"And I have—suddenly, a crying voice interrupted our conversation. A kid's crying voice. I looked at him with a raised, questioning brow. We don't bring children to such places.He should have known it better.
"I am sorry, boss. Please excuse me for a moment. We can't let anybody come in-" Not in a fucking mood of listening to his pleas. So i simply said.
"Go."
After around 2 minutes, he came back with a child in his arms, not more than 2 years old.
He is not holding her properly, as if he will get burned if he does. Dickhead. Why even birth kids when you can't even look after them? If he can't control his hormones, he should at least use protection. That will not only save him the task of raising a kid but also save the kid's life from ruin.
This bleak world is not a very ideal place for anyone to nurture themselves by themselves without getting into shitty circumstances with stone-hearted people around. This world is no longer a shade of gray; it is black, pure dark pitch black. You don't see goodness anymore. No humanity, no kindness, no true emotions—just money and power to survive—to get over with one single day at a time.
"She is one of those children I picked up from the road after I received the information. A day before yesterday. Every day I bring her here, keep her here, and feed her well. She doesn't eat anything; she had one bread in the last three days. I had her here, gave her some coins, and left her where she was supposed to be before any member of those gangs came to take her back and the children along with her to their bases. I have many times attempted to take some information out of her, but except for "no tell," she doesn't utter a word. Not for food, water, or even the washroom.
And there is a tattoo along with a number written on it on her inner thigh, but when we look for the meaning behind the tattoo, it is similar to the ones we found on these bugs, just in another language, which is Greek." Interesting. For a change we are in a cold war with some really shrewd minds. This is going to be fun. I smirk devilishly internally.
Their tattoos are in Mandarin, decoding the word "human". Preparing children to be slaves, human trafficking, but then again never hearing of preparing people for poaching means the more screams they get, the merrier they become but they are being readied.. It is possible only when you are dealing with them. Again them. Disciplining, not allowed to speak, not allowed to tell, no access to basic requirements. Them, only them. Everything these days indicates them. Motherfuckers. My head is going to burst. Shitttttt. I need rest.
Taking my attention back to this girl, I could not help but feel calm amidst the chaos of my mind.
She is not looking at me, but her body is vehemently stiff, and this shit piece of a man sitting before me is not even holding her properly, as if she has gotten some skin-touching contagious disease. It reminds me of the times when I held my only pair of twin brothers in my arms.
Innocence. A sight so impossible to witness in our world.
Naive. Rare luxury.
Adorable. Something my devil twin brothers never had.
I can feel emotions building up in me. Those two months, those sleepless nights, those longing eyes, those lacking warmth in our abode. Those days when my five brothers and I somewhere lost some part of ourselves, precisely our innocence. We were turned into monsters. Walking satan. Only if I can take her home can I bring that warmth back, and her aura is radiating. She will be the only princess of our dark realm. I can't. My world is so unhealthy for her.
"Put her here and leave." Being the top-notch selfish person that I am, I can at least have her in my arms until I again realize why I can't. Even though a sacred soul like her doesn't deserve to be in the vicinity of a sinner, Here, I am talking about having her in my arms. Selfishness is at its pinnacle.
"Bos—
"Don't make me repeat myself, Khalid". Chiding him in an angry voice.
With that, he was clearly cynical about leaving her alone with me, as he should be.
I stand up from my chair, heading towards her. Bending down, I forwarded my hands to take her just to witness her starting to shiver out of cold or fear. Cold can't be the reason she was not shivering until I forwarded my hands for her.
I still take her for ignoring her current state, which apparently moves in unknown emotions in me.
Sanity. I can sense my sanity coming back to me. That's it. Tears started brimming in my eyes. She is here. With me. And she will be. That's it. I am not letting her go.
"Hey princess, what is your name?" I ask her in a gentle tone.
"No tell." she replies in a tone which sort of sounds robotic. As if trained to speak like that only. .
"Look at me."
"No awoed." Awoed, what is that? Allowed maybe she is trying to say. Obedience she was given practice for.
"How old are you?" I tried again.
"No tell."
"Are you hungry?" My devils, even in no-talking terms, will respond to this. I'm hoping she will do too.
"No tell." What the fuck?
"Would you like to go home with me?" Taking a deep sigh, I asked the most dreadful question. Which I fully acknowledge I should not. And don't remind me of my brothers. They will fucking ambush me with their deadly stares. Who cares?? She will be the princess, my princess. The one who will rule my kingdom. My brother's as well. After all, she is my cute little sister. Only sister.
"No 5."
"There you will have brothers, toys, food every day, and everything else you want, I promise." Maybe bribing her will make her say something or do something. Even better is a yes. Now, please say yes. Kids are malleable, so cajoling her can't be that tough.
"No 5." What is it supposed to mean now? No 5. First, she is answering in syllables, which itself makes this one-sided conversation fruitless. Oh damn. Shit, how can I turn into an unwitting person instantly? They traffic when they are 5, and she probably, most definitely thinks I am taking her home to be my slave. Fuckkkkk...need another approach, or maybe demonstrating it would change her perspective more. I will fucking torture each one of those Motherfuckers who did this to her and all the children still suffering there.
I am not letting her go. Come hell or high water. Even if I have to go against Ethi, Ethi, Shitttt. He will kill me if I take her home without his approval. Without his knowledge. That, too, is a female child.
But I will. I found her, so the decision has to be mine alone. But Ethi and Aksh. Even Aksh will not have my back. I gulped, imagining their reaction.
You can do this.
I called Ethi. It's 7 p.m. already. My usual time is to get back home.
"Where the fuck are you, Adik? And why the fuck did you reschedule the meeting with Mr. Shekhawat? Now fucking answer me." He is already a raging bull. What should I do? But I will have to. I can. Oh, my truly loved ideal, Satan, help me.
"Bhaiya." I hope this endearment, which I use only when I am emotionally asking for his presence, will make him understand that I need him, which he not so surprisingly did.
"On my way." He answered, and I can hear him rushing out of the doors by the way the door of his cabin snapped.
"Ji bhaiya, I am fine. Please don't drive rashly. I am waiting." It takes 45 minutes from the office to here, which I suspect he will cover in 25–30 minutes with his rash driving.
I sit in silence with her on my lap, patting her head slowly, just to make her feel relaxed in my presence.
Fifteen minutes are gone. Equal remaining. I sigh a deep sigh.
I should try striking up a little conversation in the meantime; maybe I can make her speak or make her eat. Anything.
"Princess, would you like to eat something? Food, snacks, anything, or some sort of juice or shake?" Snacks and these drinks might make her finally look at me and get her to eat something in her stomach. I dropped a message to my P.A. man to get all that unhealthy stuff in some extra amount for my devils as well. We don't keep all this at home. Neither are they allowed to have. It is unhealthy because Aksh is a health freak and older than us, so we have to obey his nonsense decisions.
She is highly malnourished, explaining that she was not being fed well. Or at all. One bread in the three days, very succinctly say why.
"W-w-w-waer." She whispers, though I cannot hear.
"Sorry, what, baby?"
"No hit. Solly." Her fear is man.
"No, no, I will not hit you. promise. I could not hear you; that is why I am asking you to repeat. Please don't be scared of me. I will never hit you, nor will I let anyone else hurt you." I rarely explain things to anyone; here, this probably two-year-old is making me do it.
"Waer."
"Water. She is asking for water." Suddenly, I hear Ethi's voice. He is here already. It's freaking 20 minutes only. My head snaps.
"Sir, everything you asked for is here, and here is water. Lakshay, my bodyguard, handed me over everything I asked for, which must have been taken from Shekhar.
"Hm. Leave." I said it in my stoic, heartless tone.
Finally daring to look at Ethi. I stand up and meet his gaze. For exactly 5 seconds, he took me in to make sure I was fine. One of his habits. He so unknowingly does. Though his eyes, as usual, are blank,.
"Bhaiya."
"Let's go home." The same fear-cripping tone. Everyone is scared of us. We, his brothers, are not ostracized from it.
"Bhaiya, please, I want to take her home with us forever. Agree or not, I will." I affirmed it in a respectful yet hard and firm manner.
He just stares at me as if confirming if I really use that tone with him. I myself was shocked. But not much.
He moves his mobile phone out of his pocket and dials someone's number.
"Malik, clear the entire area. No man should be there beside three of my bodyguards." He ordered his PA, Arjun Malik.
"Let's go."
"She will go with me too." Stubbornly, I reiterate.
He didn't say anything and just walked out of the conference room. Taking it as my clue, I walk out with her in my arms, embracing her safely.
As soon as we sat in the car, she was fast asleep. Tired. Only water she had. I was hoping she would get curious looking at all the stuff, but.
Everything was similar in the car ride way back home. Just more peaceful, more serene, and more relief—my hunger was long forgotten. And there was one more sound of breathing. It was beautiful.
Because Ethi's bodyguard is driving, we can talk.
"Bhaiya, please take her guardianship." Another attempt to go in vain. He did not even listen to me. I can bet.
"Okay, just look at her once, and if you don't feel anything, I promise I will not pester you and will accept whatever your decision is going to be."
Another futile effort. He is always busy checking emails with that ruthless and cold look. I can't. This is now getting on my nerves.
For once, can't he put his phone aside and pay some attention to his surroundings? His always rude and business-like attitude is at times so unbearable that I want to just shout at him.
So I decided to keep Mom for the rest of the journey. I will not, at whatever cost, disrespect him. He is older than me. And when angry, I have this tendency to speak my mind, which apparently spits just bullshit at times, which I don't mean at all.
"What was she doing there?" He asks questions out of the blue and, surprisingly, has a very calm and low voice. Maybe she is sleeping; that's why.
"Khalid had brought her there to take out some worthy information when he got the information about 137 children being stuck with local gangs that abduct children between the ages of 2 and 5 and make them beg and also prepare them to be slaves. Involved in the human trafficking of children, basically. And somehow those sandbaggers we caught in the last month have relations with these gangs. The tattoo they had is in Mandarin, and the tattoo she has on her inner thigh is in Greek. But the meaning is not different. What I found a little weird is that she answered my question in English. These gangs around here speak their mother tongue, or simply Hindi. They don't know English. Concluding that they are having a foreign connection and that even children are being taught a language that they themselves are not comfortable with. which brings me to our enemy; they have been quiet for a while now. I can't be sure completely, though. I will have to dig into it."
"Hm. Do it after the weekend."
Again, that business-like tone. And this time I could not contain my anger and spit it out with an equally structured tone.
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