Chapter 35: "Shady Truths"

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Plot point first draft: May 19, 2021

Burak Kaka gave Salma a playful look. Salma was surprised to see she was blocking the main door from him and had grabbed the handle so he could not open it to push her out. Salma let go.

"She has a point," Spogmae said. "If you permit, sir. I want to hear her out."

Salma peeked around Burak Kaka's towering figure to see her father silently eyeing Spogmae down.

"Hers are a fresh set of eyes and ears," Spogmae explained. "We're short on man-power. Perhaps we can entertain a new perspective to throw them off guard?"

"I don't want my daughter getting tangled in this business more than she already is," Mr. Rahman replied curtly.

"Commander, with due respect, she already knows the generic stuff," Spogmae replied. "Her analysis is on point."

A few moments of silent consideration and then he beckoned Salma on quietly. Salma giggled excitedly and raced around the Green Coat rallying her out.

"Right!" Salma said, thrilled to be of service to the elite agents. "Burak Kaka just told me that if GCA were hundred parts, The Guardian of the Zamarud was given just as much priority as this other – whatever it is – project, let's say project! And that it's existence is a vague secret. Nothing's confirmed to the enemies, right?"

"Correct," her father replied.

"What if the attack on said project or whatever it is, is random?" Salma asked. "And they're just going to design a counter after they've viewed and analyzed your response. If you respond with a lot of energy, they know the fish exists. All they need then is the net to trap it. If your response is, I don't know delayed or defused, or perhaps focused elsewhere as a red herring, they'll be confused."

"God protect me from this one, she's sharp!" Burak Kaka reformed his prayer.

Spogmae looked at Mr. Rahman expectantly. His expressions were hard to read. He just sat back, thinking as he rubbed his chin and lower lip with his thumb.

"Hmm," he said a while later. "And you think this because?"

"We used the exact same strategy, didn't we?" Salma asked. "Made Toryal believe he was winning when they were abducting me and found out about most of his assets he was employing in the States."

"I think it falls perfectly with Toryal's absence from Blue Riverdale," Burak said.

"Where is he?" Salma frowned.

"But he's in the States," Spogmae replied to Burak, ignoring Salma. "Seattle is thousands of miles from Spin Baaz compound that was attacked."

"Toryal doesn't have to be there in person to supervise the attack if he's indeed just shooting in the air to see what the response is," Mr. Rahman pointed out.

Salma fiddled her fingers. Self-doubt had started consuming her out of nowhere. What if she was wrong and it cost life and damage to Spin Baaz – whatever that was? It's not like she had expected her father to take her seriously.

"Our prime problem right now is shortage of agents," Burak said. "So I suppose Pundookey is right in her analysis of the attack being a ruse. Sending anymore agents there is going to be causing an imbalance that is easy to read. It'll almost be a confirmation of Spin Baaz existence and our desperation to keep it a secret."

"What if I'm wrong?" Salma said nervously. "Can't someone take a look at Spin Baaz or whatever and make sure it's secure? Maybe send Dawood Kaka?"

"He's on a holiday with his kid," her father said quickly. "Unavailable."

"Why?" Salma replied. "It's an emergency. Will isn't a child. He'll understand!"

"Can't happen. Also, Dawood isn't exactly unknown to the enemy. And." He turned on Salma. "Thank you for your help Princess, but your job is done here. Spogmae?"

"Yes, sir." Spogmae turned to Salma and grabbed her shoulder firmly. Salma knew she was dismissed.

"What if I'm wrong?" she shouted one last time to let her father know she was just blabbering in excitement.

"It's not on you, Sally. Enjoy your grapes."

Salma stared at the bowl of grapes she'd been holding the whole time.

"Don't worry, we prefer not to listen to kids," Burak Kaka said as Spogmae clapped her shoulder to reassure her then pushed her out of the door.

"We'll determine the best course of action based on facts and intelligence." Spogmae smiled before closing the door. "Thank you for your input."

***

First Draft: April 14, 2021

Zayn checked the coordinates one more time. After the dinner with Hamza and Robert the previous night, as he was getting into his car, he saw this tiny post-it note, sticking next to the handle of the front door. It just had a bunch of numbers; coordinates to a place, and the time of the meeting. It was typically Alex, except, she texted him. Not slip scribbled notes. Someone knew he could read and decipher numbered information like this and therefore sent him a message.

Zayn was careful not to touch too much of the note, hoping that he could get some fingerprints off of it, if and when required. He put it in a zip-lock bag as soon as he could.

The coordinates had led him to a Club-and-bar of sorts. Whoever had contacted him, either did not have much familiarity with him, or did not care that he was allergic to alcohol and therefore, did not drink.

Zayn got out of his car after making sure he was strapped. Shady contacts could lead to all sorts of danger. Over the years, Zayn had learned to be careful and make sure he had the means to defend himself. He scanned the area around the bar. It was quite late but the club was not open yet. The bouncer was turning eager customers away.

What's going on? Zayn frowned.

His phone beeped with a text, distracting him. Zayn's heart warmed at the notification. He swiped the text open.

Bee: Congratulations on the win!

Bee: 2 goals and an assist. Good game.

He started typing a response.

Zayn: Thank you so much, Bee!

Zayn: Means a lot to me that you watched it.

"Dude, it's past midnight!" a frustrated guy shouted, making Zayn look up. "When is it opening?"

"Not now," said the bouncer. "Consider it reserved for tonight."

Zayn saw a hooded figure standing in the doorway behind the bouncer. The tiny hair at the back of his neck stood up. Even from across the street, he knew who the creep was. Zayn's insides turned cold. He should have known. . .

"The hell is he doing here?" he whispered to himself.

Taking a deep breath to gather his wits, Zayn pocketed his phone and crossed the street.

"Where is the sign announcing reservation?" the angry guy's female companion asked.

"I'm telling you, no one is allowed to enter – Sir, excuse me, sir!" the bouncer stopped Zayn. "ID?"

Zayn sighed. Should he out Zayn, or Arethas?

"Let him in!" a voice from the hallway commanded. "He's my guest."

"Yes sir," the bouncer replied nervously. Running his tongue to wet his lips, he turned to Zayn. "Welcome to 'Dark Peach's Song' sir!"

Zayn gave him a tight-lipped smile. A bony hand grabbed his arm.

"Are you a celebrity or something?!" she cried angrily before turning to the bouncer "Why is he special?!"

The girl in her shiny golden dress and heavy makeup was probably upset because of the effort she had made to look nice for the night. The bouncer was raining on her parade.

"Sort of," Zayn said sheepishly.

"Sort of? What the hell is sort of?"

"Look miss, he is allowed –"

"Why? Did he make the reservation?"

"No," Zayn provided promptly.

"Of course he's special," the guy with her said, snapping his fingers in recognition. "It's Grace, right? Arethas Grace."

"I . . . am." Zayn said uneasily. No matter how long people did this. He still got uncomfortable when his fans made a big deal of him being around.

"Penny, it's AG10!" he yelled.

Zayn quickly looked around. He did not want an audience. Not here.

"Huh?" Penny blinked.

"Ma'am, I'm in a hurry?" Zayn tried to politely pry her hand off.

"AG10! THE AG10! FROM LA GALAXY!" Penny's boyfriend screamed excitedly.

"Alright there superman, tone it down a little." Zayn said hastily, faking a chuckle. He was dreading a growing crowd. People were inching closer to see what was happening. "That's right. It's me. You want to go in?"

"Yes! It's my birthday!" Penny cried.

"Alright, they're with me," Zayn turned to the bouncer, hoping to enter the damned building before more people flock around him. "We all go in, or none of us do."

"Sir?"

"I'm already late to that arrangement inside. You want me to delay it some more --?"

"No, please!" The bouncer stood aside, hurrying them in. "You can go!"

Down the hall, a staffer quickly hurried him on to the V.I.P section.

"Can we have a picture, please?!" the guy hollered for the club at large to hear.

Zayn winced. Hoping the over-enthusiastic freak was going to leave him alone after a quick selfie, Zayn smiled.

"Sure. If you promise to stop screaming your lungs out."

The two muffled their squeals of excitement. After a quick picture –which became five on the birthday girl's insistence – Zayn hesitantly accepted Penny's quick hug of gratitude.

"Thank you!"

"Don't mention it." Zayn replied with a forced smile. "Many happy returns."

They awed him all the way. Not bothering to see whether or not the dance floor even had anyone for Penny to celebrate her birthday with, Zayn rushed after the staffer.

His nightmare with his long stringy hair and dirty boots and coat was sprawled on one of the couches. The table in front of him was laden with bottles of liquor. At least five of them empty. He had been drinking heavily.

"Come on, now," he slurred. However, the hand that he beckoned him with was quite steady. "Take a seat."

He took a swig of the wine directly from the bottle before pouring himself a glass.

"Fancy a drink?" He held up the bottle, his iridescent, cold eyes now blood shot and devilish.

"I'll pass."

He barked a laugh.

"Want to stay awake to remember everything, I see?" He smirked.

He was still quite in control and coherent, Zayn realized.

"Want to stay alive," Zayn remarked. "Why am I here?"

"Business," he replied. Putting the glass down, he chose to drink from the bottle directly.

"And you want to conduct it here because?"

"Easily controlled traffic. No spies, no agents," he replied. "You shouldn't have let the love birds in. I might have to behead them later."

"You're doing no such thing!" Zayn spat angrily.

"Correct. I'm not," he agreed. "But if I get in trouble here, they're the first ones on my list."

"You know, I'm under constant watch of the FBI."

"Is that a threat?"

"A reminder."

"It's taken care of," he said. He put the bottle down, running a finger along his mouth.

Zayn raised a questioning brow.

"Your friend in FBI wants him, doesn't she?" He jerked his head to someone behind him.

Zayn looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze. A shock ran through his spine. Derek was getting shit-faced in one of the couches at the far end of the V.I.P section. Zayn's expressions turned sour to see Lenny on his lap.

"He's a customer," Zayn said.

"Owner," he replied. "Bought the place three weeks ago. Buyer on the paper not being him. Coke would be provided to special customers on demand, starting next Saturday. It's being stocked in the cellars as we speak."

Zayn took in a deep breath.

"The price for this information?" Zayn asked.

An evil, crooked smirk deformed his face.

"I like that you're intelligent."

"Cut to the chase?" Zayn suggested, getting tired of his stretched games and discussions.

The smirk gave way to something more grim and sinister as he studied Zayn for a few seconds.

"That Rahman girl," he said. "She's entrenched in lies. I'll need you to free her."

"Right." Zayn scoffed.

"But first, you need to see through those lies yourself," he continued. "Meaning, they never told you who she is, did they?" he asked.

Zayn felt an unexplainable cold seeping into his gut.

"Meaning?" Zayn asked.

The man snorted to see the suspicion in Zayn's eyes. He picked up the bottle again, taking his sweet time to poison his blood with more alcohol.

"Meaning, you've been told about wrong old man." He smirked. "It's her maternal grandfather that you want to know about."

Zayn tried to show no signs of it, but his heart had started racing at an abnormal speed. He had a gut feeling he had been lied to. And he was not sure he wanted to learn the truth.

"What about him?"

"He was killed by a pack of lies and so will be the rest of his kin," he said. "He's the one that made her interesting to so many, and will, to you too, when you find the truth."

***

First draft: December 19, 2020

A hand shot out from the nearby tree to stop Salma. Salma backtracked.

"I need to talk to you," Niall said, then grinned. "And hi!"

"Hey," Salma replied, massaging her forehead to clear her head. "Oh it was your arm. I though it shot out of the tree or something."

"Salma!" Sarah scolded.

"I'm sorry," she said as Niall chuckled. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"You'd also do well to not push your palm in people's face!" Sarah scowled at Niall. "Your vocal chords function normally, don't they?"

Niall cleared his throat, going beetroot.

"Yes, of course."

"Then use them instead."

"Yes, of course."

A moment of silence passed in which Sarah glared Niall down and he became progressively redder in the face and tried to make himself smaller. Poor thing was intimated by the kick-boxing ninja.

"You were saying?" Salma tried to intervene.

"Yes, of course," Sarah said, just as Niall opened his mouth to reply.

Mouth agape, he turned to Sarah.

"What?" Sarah blinked innocently. "You know more words?"

"My God, Sarah, that's enough!" Salma cried. "Go ahead without me! I'll join you later."

"Why, what did I do?" Sarah frowned.

"Nothing, just go!" Salma shooed her off, before turning to Niall. "I'm so sorry. She's . . . well brilliant, but very rude sometimes."

Niall finally closed his mouth.

"I, um." He swallowed. "I understand, I suppose. She's Zayn. Female version."

Salma blinked.

"2.0?" Niall suggested instead.

They burst out laughing.

"I guess I have to agree," Salma replied, amused. "Anyways, you wanted to talk about something. Zayn 1.0, I suppose?"

"Bang on the money!" Niall replied.

"Wait, before you began, I need to know something or it'll slipped my mind," Salma said hastily.

Niall let out an awkward laugh, then nodded.

"Go ahead," he said.

"What happened to Zayn yesterday?"

Niall frowned.

"Yesterday? Meaning?"

"Yesterday or the day before, I dunno," Salma said. "Why's he unfit for the coming matches? How did he get injured?"

He was absolutely fine when the match ended. Then, after the whole Green Coats madness, she was getting really worked up on who or what Spin Baaz was, and how, if at all, her dad was thinking of dealing with the attack that happened on Spin Baaz. She had turned to Zayn's fan pages on Social media to get her mind off of things. She had thought reading up on something silly like what the fans thought of his new celebration style would do the trick, only to end up finding that Zayn was ruled out for the rest of the games due to an injury he had picked during practice that morning. There was no explanation on how he had gotten the injury. The statement just said he got a deep wound in the side and had to get stitches.

Salma had been worried since. She knew of only one wound that he had gotten to the side. That bullet wound had needed an operation to stitch together.

"Oh yeah, that," Niall said. "I really don't how it happened. Zayn said something about knocking into something sharp that cut his side open. It's sad that he'll miss the coming matches, but he seemed in high spirits. I think he knows he'll be back on pitch soon so he's not worried.

Salma said nothing. It definitely sounded like his old wound had opened up with all the rough exercise and Zayn had to cover it up with a lie.

"You okay?" Niall eyed her with concern.

"Huh?" Salma blinked. "Yeah, just bummed out for him getting injured so early in the season."

"He'll be alright." Niall smiled. "And happy to know you asked about him."

"I'd rather you don't tell him." Salma laughed dryly. "So, what did you wanted to talk about?" She changed the subject.

"Right, that. You missed your coffee yesterday –"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry Niall!" Salma pinched her eyes shut.

"It's just a miracle Zayn hasn't asked me about it --"

"That's not," Salma stopped him. "I didn't have a class yesterday and Zayn knew. I forgot to tell him to stop forcing you into delivery service."

"He's not forcing me," Niall defended his friend.

"If you're scared of the consequences when you miss a day, I call that forcing you."

"No, I'm just not keen on wasting time waiting for you, and then drinking an extra cup of coffee to avoid wasting it when you don't show up."

"I'm sorry," Salma said. "And you honestly don't have to do that anymore. I should have told you the other day when Zayn took flight."

"Don't mention it." Niall said. He then jabbed his thumb behind him at the coffee house. "Fancy a coffee?"

"No, thank you." Salma smiled. She would buy herself one once Niall was out of sight.

"Zayn's paying. He would not like you declining his kind offer."

"Don't care," Salma replied.

"Oooff! That's one hard punch to the gut. Poor Zayn." Niall pouted.

Salma chuckled. She figured Niall was right. Zayn was bound to read her declination wrong.

"Get yourself one." Salma smiled. "Also, before your friend starts wallowing in self-pity for me rejecting his coffee, tell him, it's a thing between me and him. Not me and you."

Smiling, she waved at him and took her leave.

The thrilled look on Niall's face told her the job was done. He was bound to call Zayn to let him know what she had said. Hopefully, it would get Niall off the hook and he would not have to act like Zayn's delivery guy each day.

Salma pulled her phone out to ask about him.

Salma: Sorry to hear about your injury.

Salma: Hope you're doing okay.

"No coffee today?"

Salma looked up to see Sarah waiting for her by grounds.

"No," Salma replied as they started walking together. "I tried to cut Niall some slack. Hope it works."

Author's Note:

But will it? Or will it get worse especially now that Zayn's finding out stuff about her ancestors? 👀

You know the drill. Vote, comment and Share.

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