PART 5
Asad's mind strategized on how to keep an eye on Zoya and her companion, Ricardo. As he brushed his har with his fingers, his pager went off again.
"Another message?" He logged on and received a short message: AT LEAST ONE PERSON OF THE GANG IS ORIENTAL. IMAGE NOT AVAILABLE.
"Oriental?" Asad scrunched his eyebrows, "Ricardo is definitely not oriental, but Ms Farooqui is from Chinatown. Hmm…interesting. So, she might have the connection there. Perhaps there is someone else on the ship she has connections to." He got up and exited the office, a bit worried and disheartened. Worried that he had been fooled by Zoya and disheartened as he really though she was an innocent young girl, just a little brattish, but belonged to a good respectable Muslim family. He was seldom wrong about people; this time he had made a mistake.
"EXCUSE ME!" A woman's bag was scattered on the floor outside the elevator. The woman was bent over and gathered the contents. A spiral notebook had slid away towards the nearby stairway.
"I am sorry ma'am," Asad apologized and kneeled down to help gather her belongings. Lipsticks, make-up, tissues, a photograph, a folded letter, gum, lots of pens and pencils, and a phone littered the floor. He tried to pick the things carefully, but the woman as if in a hurry, just shoved everything in her bag.
"My notebook?" She looked up, horrified, "where is my notebook?"
"Aap?" Asad was shocked to see Zoya again. It was none other than her highness, Ms Chinatown!
"Allah mian! What's wrong with you? Aap phir mere peeche peeche aa rahe hain?"
"This is a ship ma'am, not your New York, where one never sees the same person twice!" He stood up and brushed his hands.
'Whatever!" She looked around frantically, "where is my notebook?"
"Is this what you are looking for?" He picked the spiral notebook from the top of stairway, "looks like it's very special?"
"Yes, it is," She snatched it from him and shoved it back into her bag.
'What's so special about that notebook?" Asad's radars were on full alert.
"None of your business Mr. Khan. Aap meri cheezon mein kuch zyaada hi dilchaspi le rahe hain. Aren't there any other passengers on this ship?" She hung her bag on her shoulder and stepped into the elevator.
"Well none are as clumsy or stupid as you are." He smirked, "or thankless for that matter."
She hesitated as she pressed the button, glanced at him and smirked back, "weren't you just doing your job? I bet you are getting paid a handsome amount of money to keep an eye on me, right?"
'What?" Asad was baffled, "I am sorry, my job description doesn't involve rescuing brainless damsels in distress!"
The elevator doors shut behind her; it shot up to the 5th floor- the CASINO.
Once inside the elevator, Zoya clasped her hands and shut her eyes. Yes, she was grateful to him, and yes she had been stupid, but if he was abbu's private detective, there was no way, she would let him have the upper hand. She was determined to succeed in her mission and dodge abbu's spy as well as she could. A part of her was glad that Asad was there. Even if he was abbu's agent, he made her feel secure in these foreign surroundings. At least, no one would be able to harm her as long as he was around.
"Paid for rescuing her?" Asad rolled his eyes, "she is really strange. Wo samajhti kya hai apne aap ko? Queen of England? Or rather Chinatown?" He slipped his hands in his pocket and shut his eyes. The vivid image of her bag flashed through his brain.
"NOTEBOOK!" He snapped his fingers, "the bag contents looked harmless, but why was she so possessive about the notebook? Perhaps, I can get some hints from the book." He decided to follow her to the casino. Casino- a favorite hangout place amongst cruise goers, especially the ones loaded with money. If there were any drug dealers on board, that would be an obvious place for them to lounge. Ms. Zoya Farooqui was also headed to the casino. He would have to be cautious; she would get suspicious if she found out that he was spying on her.
At the casino, Zoya searched around for an interesting table, to try out her luck. She had never gambled before and looked lost amongst the various slot machines, black jack tables, Russian roulette tables.
She purchased a few coins and settled in front of a slot machine.
"Hi! Remember me?" A tall man of Chinese decent smiled at her from behind. He stretched his hand out at her.
"I am sorry, I don't remember," Zoya squint her eyes. He looked familiar but she couldn't place him.
"Rob Chen! Emily's cousin!"
"Oh yeah! Now I remember." Zoya shook his hand, "from Hong Kong? Right?" She smiled back at him.
"Good memory!" He grinned, "we met in New York last year."
"Well, you have good memory too."
"That's because I don't forget pretty faces."
Zoya pulled her hand back, her smile faded.
"Hey, don't worry. I am not flirting with you," Rob laughed, "I am actually gay, so you are just like cousin Emily for me. By the way, I have moved to NY now."
"Oh…don't worry Rob. I have a lot of gay friends at Columbia. I am glad you have moved to the best city in the world. What brings you here?"
"Vacation! My dad gifted me this vacation after I graduated from college. How about you?"
Zoya was about to reveal the truth, but then hesitated, "same here. This is my 21st birthday gift by my father."
"Wow! That's incredible. So, you are good at these slot machines? I have not won a thing yet."
'Uhh. Not really. Haven't played much."
Zoya and Rob got along well; she felt as if she was back home amongst her group of friends. Asad watched them from a distance. They looked so comfortable with each other. The oriental man looked younger than he expected an International drug dealer would be. Asad scanned his details: ROB CHEN from USA, born in Hong Kong. Address: A Chinatown address again! Asad wondered if he was really on the right track or was he getting carried away by Ms. innocent-but-not-so-innocent? Her bag hung from her seat; he was tempted to check her notebook but decided to wait for the right opportunity.
A few other groups around the roulette tables caught his attention too, but for some obscure reason, his gaze fleeted back in Zoya's direction. She was obviously having a good time with the Oriental man. Even though, they sat at the slot machine, they were happier conversing with each other. Asad was sure, the two were not strangers, and when Zoya took her notebook out to show something to the man, he became more curious.
He tried to get closer without raising any suspicion. He couldn't see what was written in the pages of the notebook. His best guess- it was a list of distributors they were discussing. These days, criminals had resorted to old-fashioned pen and paper because the risks of a digital trail were too high.
Later, Rob got up and came back with two drinks. Asad noticed that once they started sipping on their drinks, the man urged Zoya to play at the slot machine. Very soon, the machine started spitting out winning coins; an ecstatic Zoya began to enjoy her winnings. She felt a little heady, but winning was addicting and she refused to quit. Rob just laughed and patted her back, "way to go Zoya. You are a pro at this."
Asad clenched his fists in anger; the Oriental man was definitely acting a bit weird, but Zoya seemed to play along. She was enjoying her drink and winnings.
"Crime bhi ek nasha hota hai," Asad mumbled to himself. He got up from the barstool, where he had stationed himself and walked towards the slot machines. Perhaps, he could bust them and confront them right away. As he got closer, he saw the man slap her open notebook and then hastily shut the notebook and stuffed it back into her bag. He looked around sheepishly, collected her winnings and swiftly walked away from the slot machines. Asad had never expected the man would take advantage of Zoya; just a few minutes ago, they seemed so comfortable with each other.
By this time, Zoya could barely stay upright; her vision was blurry and speech slurred. She looked around, confused, "RRR-Rob? We arrre winnning." She tried to get up but her feet felt like jello. Before she could collapse on the ground, Asad caught her wrist and pulled her closer. She passed out in his arms murmuring Rob's name repeatedly.
"Looks like this Rob dude was here to rob you Ms Farooqui!" Holding her snug, he helped her walk towards the elevator. She kept collapsing in his arms, her fingers clinging to his shirt. She was in no state to walk back. Asad finally picked her up with both his arms and took the elevator to her cabin.
Zoya was completely smashed.
He carried her to her bed. He fingers were still entwined with his shirt buttons. One by one, he untangled her fingers from his shirt, removed her sandals and purse. He covered her with a blanket and sat down beside her. She looked so innocent, almost angelic while asleep. His mind was conflicted. What he saw, what he believed and what he wanted to believe were all out of sync.
Her room like her was a mess. Her luggage was still scattered on the floor. He gathered all her belongings and put them away carefully. He made sure that her passport and travel documents were all secured in the closet carefully. He folded her clothes, arranged them in the drawers, hung her jeans and capris and placed the roller suitcase in a corner, out of the way. Next, he picked her handbag and was tempted to check out the notebook. As he slid his hand inside, he felt something powdery on his fingers.
A bag with white powder fell on the floor when he opened the notebook. He recalled how the Oriental man had been playing with her notebook just before he left. If Asad had not bumped into her near the elevator, he wouldn't have known that the powder was an add on to her bag's contents.
"Cocaine!" He rubbed a small amount of the powder on his gums till they went numb. "Crooks!"
He picked her notebook and was astonished as he turned the pages. There were no contacts, no phone numbers and no addresses. There were hand drawn cartoons throughout the notebook with the initial 'Z' at the bottom. He was amused to see wonderful caricatures with funny captions and innocent characters splashed all over the notebook.
"She has a good sense of humor," his lips broke out into a smile, "and she draws well too." With a sense of relief, he pulled out the photograph and the letter from her bag.
There was an Istanbul address on the letter. The photograph looked old- two little girls, one perhaps a toddler and the other an adolescent girl.
Behind the picture, he saw a handwritten note, 'To my darling Zoya, From Zeenat aapi.'
There was a letter written in Urdu. It looked like a handwritten invitation to Zeenat's nikaah. It was dated seven years ago. Zeenat was urging to see her family at her nikaah. It was an emotional letter and seemed like Zeenat had been separated from them for quite some time.
Asad felt misty eyed as he folded the letter, "tho Zoya iss liye apney ghar se itni door aayi hai." He placed the letter and photograph safely in her bag and gazed at Zoya, "so maybe I have been wrong about her."
He touched her hand gently and nodded his head, "I will help you get to your destination Zoya. I am sorry I have been wrong about you. First, let me take care of Rob!"
….to be contd…
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