by Habib Maya

Created on: July 14, 2009

A Dialogue

One by one the three gentlemen entered the room. Officer Gary Davidson looked up from his desk and flinched immediately. The next second, he smiled and nodded as to allow the three men to sit down. Aslam Shaikh was the one of the three; a thirty-two year old man of relatively dark complexion and stout composure, he was the first one to sit down. Aslam Shaikh was followed by the fifty-five year old Kaki Kalia, a tall man whose left hand was seemingly burnt recently. This was the sight which kept distracting Gary. The third gentlemen was the rotund Nomi Shaikh, the younger brother of Aslam Shaikh, who remained standing.

"Is there going to be any trouble today, Aslam?" The old policeman behnd the desk kept smiling.

"There is already trouble Davidson. And you are at the core of it," Aslam said in a cold voice. A gun was placed at the table by Kaki.

Gary stared at the gun as he said, "your brutal methods Aslam. These intimidation techniques and this violent attitude towards society. This is what brings you here, I am sure."

Aslam waved at Kaki and the gun disappeared. "I'm not here for revenge," said Aslam, "I'm not here to kill or plunder or threaten. I'm here to know if there is a way out."

"I'm afraid you're at the point of no return."

"I'm in deep trouble my friend."

"What do you expect? Being involved in three murders of FBI agents does not come without its own set of consequences," Gary laughed.

"But a terrorist conspiracy Gary? A freaking conspiracy involving threats against the national security of the United States of America?"

"I'm surprised you're still not locked up in a torture cell."

"No it's not that simple. They know my every move, alright. Seven cars, all CIA, parked below outside your house even before I came here."

"They're not CIA, they're FBI. For my protection."

"Protection from who?"

"From you, of course."

"Well, they're listening to every word I utter. Even now. They have a listener in this room."

There was a pause.

"An electronic listener?" Gary was fidgeting with his papers.

"Possibly."

A longer pause took place. Aslam began puffing a cigar.

"So, you're just waiting?" Gary asked.

"No other option, mate," Aslam replied among the fog of smoke, "Business has frozen. Nobody wants to deal with me."

"I remember the first time you set foot in my office. You were what, seventeen? Sixteen?

"Seventeen."

"An immigrant from Pakistan. Fresh off the boat and already in trouble with the cops."

Aslam smiled, "I remember.

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