Written by ‘ZH’ and ‘HA’. Genre: Shughali Suspense

When Detective Afridi and his sidekick, Detective Razzaq arrived at the scene of the crime, the police had already cordoned the house off with yellow tape that said “CAUTION! DO NOT ENTER!”

The chief policeman, Inspector Imran Khan, spotted them and motioned them to come into the house. “It’s good that you could make it, boys,” he said grimly. “This one’s a bad one!”

Detective Afridi ignored the formalities and said, “What happened here?”

“Younis Khan, a college music professor, is missing. He was supposedly a musical genius. He’d mastered the piano at the age of 3, the guitar at the age of 3 and a half, and the violin at 4. Then he slacked off and did nothing for 15 years before deciding to join college and take up music again.”

“Isn’t this a missing persons case?” Detective Afridi said. “Why call us?”

Imran Khan shook his head. “This is a very unusual case. We are all dumbfounded. You see, we suspect that Younis Khan was kidnapped from this house. But we’ve been through every inch of the place, and we have no idea how the kidnapper could have entered the house.”

Detective Afridi grunted. “What about the front door? Or the windows?”

Imran Khan sighed. “That’s the whole mystery. Every door, every window in this house was locked from inside. So it’s almost like the professor came in, locked the doors – and then suddenly went missing!”

“You are right,” agreed Detective Afridi, “this is a very sinister case. Have you got any suspects yet?”

“No, of course not!” Imran Khan said. “That’s your job!”

“Oh yes!” said Detective Afridi, looking distinctly ruffled. “You know they don’t call me Boom Boom Afridi for nothing! I have been in a lot of highly successful cases!”

“Yes I know” he said, “I am assigning you to this one as well. Get to work while I talk to the media!” Imran Khan stormed out of the room.

Detective Razzaq whipped out his magnifiying glass and his heartbeat sensor. The heartbeat sensor was a pair of silver-coloured headphones attached to a small metal box, with a screen which showed detection of heartbeats. At the side of the box was the sensor.

Detective Razzaq swooped around the room looking at everything and sensoring it.

“Stop doing that Detective!” yelled Detective Afridi. “A heartbeat sensor won’t help us one bit. WAIT!”

Detective Afridi stuck his nose in the air, and said, “Do you smell that smoke?”

Detective Razzaq slowly nodded, and both of them followed the delicate trail of smoke to the kitchen.

“It’s coming from the oven!” Shrieked detective afridi, his finger pointing accusatively to the oven. Both of the detectives ran up to the oven to look inside. The oven was coughing up big clouds of smoke, and there were great big orange flames inside visible inside, behind the little door. Detective Razzaq’s heartbeat sensor strayed to the oven as he stood by it, by force of habit.

“My God Afridi!” said Detective Razzaq, a look of horror dawning on his face, “Someone’s heart is beating in there!”

Detective Afridi’s face went ashen as he stared first at the oven and then at Detective Razzaq.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” Afridi roared. “Turn the oven off! Or do you want to wait for the heartbeat monitor to go silent first?”

Detective Razzaq gave him an ugly look, and then fumbled around with the oven knob. He examined it close up, then turned to Detective Afridi, a new look of surprise on his face.

“Afridi, the oven’s not even turned on!” He exclaimed.

“What?” Afridi said. “Wait, if it’s not turned on, but it’s on fire, that means….”

“…somebody must have set fire to it on purpose!” Razzaq said excitedly.

Grabbing a wet towel, Afridi opened the over door, grunting as a gust of hot air singed his eyebrows. Razzaq threw in water from a pot, and with a loud hiss, the fire went out. Waving out the remaining smoke, they looked in, and….

The oven was empty inside.

Razzaq was starting to say something, when Afridi pointed to the heartbeat monitor. It was still showing a heartbeat, and the heart rate was getting faster and faster!

Razzaq turned white, and would have bolted from the room had Afridi not held him by the shoulder. Afridi put his finger to his lips, and looked at the oven.

“You can come out now,” he said loudly. “There’s nowhere to go.”

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a pair of hands came up…from behind the oven!

“Please!” A low, urgent voice said. “I have to get out of this house right now! You have to help me! I have to get out without Inspector Imran seeing me! He cannot see me – the whole conspiracy leads back to him!”

The man climbed out from behind the oven and faced both the two detectives. He was a tall spindly man with short brown sweeping hair piled in a limp comb-over, and fair skin, black with soot. The wrinkles on his forehead showed his age.

“I am sorry, but I need to get out of here as fast as possible!” Whispered the man urgently.

“I can’t let that happen!” Announced Detective Afridi importantly. “You cannot leave the scene of crime!”

There was a flash of anger on the man’s lined face. “Who are you anyway?” Inquired the man.

“I am Detective Afridi,” said the detective, brushing soot off his tweed jacket grandly as he spoke. “The best detective in the world, with a number of successful cases in my name, and the most trusted professional of Detective Imran Khan.”

Detective Razzaq cleared his throat.

“Oh, and this is my colleague,” said Detective Afridi, waving an impatient hand in his side-kick’s direction. “Now tell us who you are!”

The man shot a deep, careful look at Detective Afridi’s plump face, then hung his head in despair.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell someone who’s working for Detective Imran who I am.”

Detective Razzaq’s face turned a blotchy purple with anger. “You will tell us who you are, or you’ll regret it!”

Detective Razzaq raised a fist at the cowering man, before the man shrieked, “Okay, okay! Meet me at the restaurant down the road tomorrow at midnight and I shall tell you who I am.”

Before Detective Afridi could do anything, the man reached out and turned the oven knob to full blast. Thick smoke suddenly billowed out of the oven, surrounding the two detectives and making them fall to the ground in coughing fits. Through his tears, Afridi saw the man crack open the window and slip out. Right before he left, he turned to both of them and whispered frantically, “Remember! Tomorrow! Midnight! Be there, and DON’T tell Imran!”

The two detectives crawled out of the smoke-filled room. Afridi turned to Razzaq, a disgusted look on his face. “Well?” He demanded. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

Razzaq looked stunned. “But…but…he surprised us…both of us….”

Detective Afridi shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder who let you graduate from Detective school, Razzaq! You’re about as useful as a spoon with a big hole in it!”

Scowling, Razzaq followed Afridi out of the house.

————-

Ten minutes after midnight, Razzaq and Afridi were sitting in the small restaurant a block from the crime scene. Afridi was on his second cup of coffee, and he was scanning the entrance of the restaurant with restless eyes.

“Where is this guy?” Afridi said, looking at his watch. “He’d better show up! He doesn’t know who he’s messing with!”

Finally, the door opened. A tall, gaunt man wearing an oversized trenchcoat and a black fedora hat came in. Without saying a word, he strode over to the two detectives and helped himself to a seat. He signaled to the waitress, who automatically brought him a black tea with no sugar.

“You’re a regular customer here,” Afridi observed.

“We are very short in time, so I must be brief and curt,” the man said. “Yunis Khan is dead – has been dead for 6 months now. I have definitive proof that Imran Khan was behind his murder, which I am willing to provide you. The conspiracy is very deep, and the motives horrifying. Moreover, you must realize that now that you are involved, you are no longer safe either. Imran….”

Just then, the restaurant door flew open. Imran Khan barged in with two officers, his weapon drawn and pointed at the man in the Fedora.

“Officers!” He shouted. “Arrest that man! Now!”

The man glanced up in horror, and accidentally knocked over his drink. The two officers rushed over to either side of the man and heaved him up as he struggled. The officers brought the man to face Imran Khan.

“You’re coming with me,” Imran snarled into the man’s terrified face.

Imran practically wrenched the man’s arm off, and dragged him out into the night.

————-

“I know what you are trying to do,” Imran muttered to the man.

They were standing in a dim dark room, the man’s hands handcuffed behind his back, a gun pointing to his head. The two officers were standing close by, in case of trouble. They looked terrified in themselves.

“You know what I’m trying to do? I know everything of your crookedness. I know that Yunis Khan has been dead for half a year, and I know who’s behind it,” said the man slowly.

“Shut up Malik!” Imran spat, “you know nothing! And if I ever see your face around here again, there will be trouble! I don’t want to see you around here ever again!”

Malik limped to the door. Before disappearing into the night, he turned and said, “You will regret this.”

————-

“Wow I can’t believe we got a chance to meet him, and still didn’t find out the big secret!”
moaned Afridi to Razzaq, as they ambled down the dark street. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know Afridi…hey do you have any chewing gum?”

Afridi reached into his pocket, then frowned.

“Wait a second. There’s a piece of paper in here. It says ‘look under the oven.’ How interesting….” He turned to Razzaq. “We gotta look into this right now!

Afridi and Razzaq hurried back to Yunis Khan’s house. “What do you think it could be?” Razzaq said.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Afridi said. “I think our good friend might have left us a good clue, that’s what I think!”

Suddenly, Afridi stopped in his tracks, holding his arm out to stop Razzaq. They were less than a block away from the house.

“There’s a police car parked outside the house,” Afridi said, rubbing his chin. “And I bet there’s a cop sitting inside it. I guess Imran has his boys guarding the house like a hawk. What a sneaky cheese!”

Razzaq kicked the ground in frustration. “What now?” He said.

“Why, my dear incompetent sidekick,” Afridi said, clapping him on the back. “We’ll just have to find another way into the house!”

Ten minutes later, Afridi was jimmying the lock on the backdoor of the house. They had sneaked into Yunis Khan’s neighbor’s yard, out of sight of the police car, and climbed the fence into Yunis Khan’s house.

Afridi gave a twist, and with a click, the tumblers of the lock suddenly turned. “Get the torch out and keep it pointing down,” Afridi whispered, easing open the door. “If that cop outside sees any lights in the window, we’ll be surrounded by Imran’s boys in blue within minutes!”

They moved quietly into the kitchen. Afridi got down on his knees. “Gimme the torch,” he said, and he shone it under the oven.

“You see anything?” Razzaq said.

“Get down here,” Afridi said. “I think you should see for yourself.”

Razzaq got down and peered under the oven. “I see it,” he said. “It’s a gun. This is good! Where there’s a gun, there might be fingerprints!”

Afridi nodded grimly, then said. “You still aren’t looking. What’s to the left of the gun? In that corner?” And he pointed the light there.

Razzaq squinted. “It looks like a pen or something. Oh no, wait a minute.” He frowned, and then suddenly turned white.

Bathed in Afridi’s torchlight lay a human finger, cut off at the knuckle.

————-

Afridi gasped.

The finger was almost freshly preserved, the skin still soft and still its natural colour, and the nail still perfectly clear. Even though the finger was shrouded with dust, there was no sign of it on the gun.

“The gun is in regular good use,” Razzaq observed grimly.

“We can’t say anything before we examine it. Hand them both to me.”

Razzaq pulled on a clean white glove, pulled out both the gun and the finger, and handed them to Afridi, who took them cautiously. Afridi held the gun to his face and narrowed his eyes.

“Shine the torchlight on it. Wait – that’s it….”

Afridi struggled to read the name on the gun.

“Hmm. This is a Samsung 2.2 Rifle, the avantgarde model. The person who owns this must be very rich. As rich as a chief police inspector, would you say?” Afridi turned the gun over and peered at it. “The Samsung 2.2 rifle model is a year old model, and this is one of the first editions. I don’t know why the owner would go for this flashy gun. It’s mostly used for cheap movie props and stuff,” said Afridi.

“I think you should look at this finger too,” said Razzaq, who meanwhile was examining the finger. “The fingertip is really rough and callused. I can’t work out why, though.”

Afridi reluctantly took the finger.

“This sort of roughness is basic. I think that the owner either played the guitar a lot, or played cricket a lot. But that depends on whose finger it actually is,” Afridi added darkly.

“Wow!” Exclaimed Razzaq, gobsmacked. “How can you work that out? That’s genius!”

“Elementary, my dear..uh..Razzaq,” said Afridi wisely, obviously enjoying the praise.

“Be quiet!” Warned Razzaq urgently.

Suddenly, there came the echo of distant, almost maniacal, laughter.

————-

“It’s coming from in here,” said Razzaq already on his knees, peering into the oven, the flashlight in one hand.

“There’s some sort of a tunnel down here…or an opening…oh no!” Realizing too late that he had leaned over too far, Razzaq tipped over into the oven and the opening, yelling as he went.

There came the distant thud of Razzaq hitting the floor, when Afridi tucked the gun and finger into his pocket, and climbed into the oven to save his accident-prone sidekick.

Afridi hit a carpeted floor, which muffled the shock. He heard muffled cries, and turned round to see Razzaq bound and gagged.

Suddenly he heard a footstep, and looked up to see a tall, skinny man looking down at him.

“We meet again,” Imran Khan chuckled, holding his pet chihuahua.

————-

“You couldn’t leave this alone, could you?” Imran said. He was grinning, and something about his expression made Razzaq feel very uneasy. “No, you had to go behind my back with your investigation! Well, you ever get the feeling you stuck your nose where it shouldn’t belong?”

Razzaq had managed to spit out the gag. From his position on the floor, he blurted out, “A detective’s nose belongs everywhere!” Then he realized how silly that sounded and turned bright red.

“Careful I don’t let my pet chihuahua loose on you, boy,” Imran said, stroking the dog. “He looks like an overgrown rat but don’t let that fool you. His bite has made better men than you cry for their mamas.”

“Let’s stop the cute banter, Imran,” Afridi said. He pulled out the finger and the gun. “You’re sitting in some weird secret room in Younis Khan’s house. We know this finger belongs to Younis Khan, the violin prodigy. And I’m willing to bet the naala in my shalwar that this gun belongs to you, although I’m sure you’ve dusted off your fingerprints! I think this case is closed, wouldn’t you agree?”

Imran clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Detective Afridi, despite your cleverness, you’re way off. I’m disappointed. It seems you don’t even know half of what’s going on.” He paused. “I did not kill Younis Khan.”

“I think we should ask Malik that question,” Afridi said quietly.

Imran grunted. “Do you know anything about Malik’s background? He used to be one of my boys! I kicked him out of the force after I caught him planting a murder weapon at the scene of a crime! He was a corrupt, rogue officer, and now he’s a nobody wanting revenge on me!”

“I don’t believe you!” Afridi said. But Razzaq sensed he was suddenly not as confident as before.

Imran raised his finger, pointing upwards. “As God is my witness!” He said. “You can do your own research, but I speak the truth!”

“HA!” Razzaq shouted from the floor. “Don’t listen to him Afridi! I know a rat when I see one! And I’m not talking about the dog either!”

Afridi seemed to be thinking, rolling the finger between his fingertips like a pencil. He suddenly looked up. “You raised your left hand just now,” He said to Imran. “Are you left-handed?”

“Yes,” Imran said. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Afridi smiled. “Three things. I think I believe you’re innocent. I think Younis Khan had no idea about this room behind his oven. And – I think Younis Khan is still alive.”

Razzaq gasped. “What? How do you figure that one out?”

Afridi swiftly turned to Razzaq, and explained, “This gun can only be used by right handed people. Why would he be as stupid as to own a gun that does not even work?”

Imran approved, with a nod, “that is very clever of you, Afridi, remind me to promote you next time.”

Razzaq, who was still as gobsmacked as before, muttered, “But if Imran and his pet rat are innocent, then what is he doing down here?”

“Actually,” added Afridi, “that is a very good question.” Squaring his shoulders, he walked up to Imran, looked him in the eye, and screamed, “What are you doing here, in somebody else’s oven for heaven’s sake!”

Imran glanced quickly to the floor, and said, “Gentlemen. I have not been entirely truthful with you.” Imran looked up and stared both of them in the eyes hard. “However, you must be aware that I will never be able to tell you the entire truth. I know that you are some of the most unusual detectives, but you will not be able to find the reality, which is, funnily enough, stranger than fiction.”

Afridi frowned, and looking puzzled he said slowly, “You have still not answered the question. Why are you down here? Why are you so involved in the case of an ordinary music teacher? This is veeeeerry fishy to me!”

Imran, who had been stroking his pet chihuauha, narrowed his eyes, and said, “You still don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“Get the fact that this whole case was a set-up, this whole investigation a fake?”

Afridi gasped.

“Yes, you heard right, Afridi. Instead of a music teacher, Younis Khan was the best contract killer the world had ever seen. The number of people he has killed is astronomical to think about. He was incredibly dangerous, and so highly trained and skilled that he worked as a spy too for the Russian boys.

Younis Khan was such a big threat to my corporation, to the police empire I had tried so hard to build, so that when he emerged, I hated his guts.”

Imran spat on the floor, incidentally very near to where Razzaq lay, before continuing.

“I hated him, he hated me. Then, one evening, I got the brilliant idea. I made all the phone calls and the midnight meetings, and did all the arrangements, until it was settled.”

Imran Khan smile, and said, “Younis Khan now worked, and killed, for me.”

Just on his last word, a colossal crash rocked the room, as when of the walls of the chamber came crashing down. A new indistinct dark figure beyond the rubble chuckled ominously.

————-

Afridi gulped.

Razzaq gasped. “Afridi! Look at your chest!”

Afridi looked down. A red dot was hovering on his shirt, right over his heart.

“Don’t move!” Imran said, winking. “Don’t move, coz my boy’s got his sniper rifle aimed right at you! One word from me and your ribcage is going to shatter into a million pieces!”

Grimly, Afridi raised his hands above his head.

The figure snickered, shifting in the shadows from one foot to the other. The rubble crunched under his heels as he did so.

“Let me guess,” Afridi said. “The person who just burst through the wall like a bulldozer is Younis Khan.”

Imran didn’t reply but grinned, stroking the chihuahua.

“There’s two ways this can go down, Imran,” Afridi said. “Either you turn yourself in right now, or I make a move and get shot and you have yet another death on your conscience.” Beads of perspiration were building up on his forehead. “And trust me, I have no intention of seeing you walk out of here.”

“There’s a third way it can go down,” the voice in the shadows rasped. Slowly, the red dot on Afridi’s chest swiveled and settled right between Imran’s eyes.

Imran’s grin suddenly disappered, turning into a startled frown. “Wait a minute,” he muttered. “You aren’t Younis Khan.”

————-

“Ha,” the figure muttered quietly, and dangerously, “Finally figured it out, have you, Imran?”

“No,” whispered Imran. “It can’t be you!”

Afridi, now the third wheel in the proceedings, shrieked loudly, “You can’t hurt me!”

“I wouldn’t want to,” rasped the figure, finally stepping into the dim light.

Imran gasped. It was Malik.

“So. You thought you could get rid of me, didn’t you?”

Imran, frowning, said, “I told you to stay out of here, I threatened you, yet you’re still here! Clearly, someone needs to teach you a lesson in obedience.”

“Really? And what makes you so sure that you’ll be able to do that again Imran?” Malik drawled.

“I can get away with so many crimes, so many disappearances, that you should fear the amount of power I have!”

Afridi and Razzaq followed the talk and swiveled their heads, as if at a tennis rally. Afridi, suddenly confused, said “But I thought you were only this powerful because of Younis Khan! The so-called music teacher who brought us into this mess,” Afridi added. Razzaq nodded sadly.

“Exactly. The days in which you blackmailed and controlled the rest of us through fear are over, because your so-called worker, Younis, has vamoosed with all your money!” Malik said triumphantly.

“What?”

Imran tensed, as Malik carried on.

“And conveniently, all of your boys are scattered, in the streams around this place. You are all alone, and I can finally do what I have been waiting to do all these years.”

Imran held his breath.

Malik reached into coat. He brought out a gun – it glinted in the light of the overhead lamp. Afridi’s keen eye – despite the tense situation – recognized it as a Philips .18 revolver, an antique, and a highly prized gun indeed.

“You’ve made my life difficult, Imran!” Malik grinned. “I’m no murderer, but somebody has to punish you for your sins!” He was loading a single bullet into the chamber of the revolver. Suddenly, he snapped it closed, and whirled the chamber. “Russian Roulette anyone?” He said, smiling.

“You wouldn’t….” Imran whispered.

“Of course I would!” Malik said. “Here’s how it’ll go down, old friend. There’s only one bullet in this revolver. I’m going to fire the gun three times.” His grin got wider. “Let’s see if that bullet has your name written on it!”

“Ahh,” Afridi said from the side. “Not to be a hair in the soup, but do you think that revolver is reliable? I mean, it’s a great gun and all, but it IS an antique….”

Malik pointed the gun at him, scowling. “You want first dibs on this bullet, detective boy? I don’t mind – I’ve got enough to go around!”

“I should mind my own business,” Afridi said, giving a nervous giggle and stepping back. “Please go ahead – sorry for the interruption.”

Malik turned the gun back to Imran. Imran gave Afridi a glare that would have burned a hole in an oak tree. “Thanks, Afridi,” he said. “That was very helpful.”

“No problem!” Afridi said cheerfully.

Malik squeezed the trigger. The rocker on the gun moved back, and….

Click.

“Well!” Malik said, watching drops of sweat suddenly appearing on Imran’s forehead. “Beginner’s luck, eh? Two more chances to go!”

Grinning like an ape, he squeezed on the trigger again, and….

Click.

“My, fate’s keeping an eye out for you tonight!” Malik cackled, although he looked a bit disappointed. Imran had turned as white as a sheet, and was gripping the Chihuahua too hard – the poor thing had started squirming in his arms.

“Oh well, third time lucky! Here goes!” Malik pulled the trigger, and….

KA-BLAM!

The sound rocked the walls of the room. When Afridi opened his eyes, at first he thought he was seeing things through the smoke. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, growing more and more perplexed.

Imran was still standing, looking almost comical with one finger in his ear and the other holding the dog. Malik, however, had been thrown ten feet behind, and was now sitting, holding his hands over his mouth. Lying next to him were what remained of the gun, as well as what looked like Malik’s front teeth.

————-

“The gun blew up!” Afridi said, amazed. “I told you it was an antique, you imbecile!”

“Afridi!” Razzaq said, still tied up. “Imran’s getting away! We’ve got to stop him!”

“What?” said Afridi, searching for Imran around him dumbfoundly.

Razzaq rolled his eyes, and said, “Imran is getting away, to your left!”

“Oh!”, said Afridi, finally catching up. “Well, then let’s go get him!”

“I can’t exactly get him if I’m tied up, can I?” said Razzaq in frustration. “Look, we’re wasting time, you go and get him while I deal with Malik over here.”

“Alright,” said Afridi, “but you make catching Imran sound as easy as catching a yo-yo!”

Afridi ran out after Imran, leaving Razzaq behind, and swerved round the corner, panting as he went. Imran was just a distinct dot in the distance in front of him, and Afridi ran faster, huffing and puffing as he went.

Imran looked behind him, and caught sight of Afridi. “You’ll never catch me! You’re just an amatuer offiicer!”

“Just you wait, Imran!” Afridi panted as he ran. “I’m coming!”

Afridi dodging old ladies and swerving cars, finally caught up, and at last, Afridi had Imran cornered in a dark alley.

“So,” said Afridi. “We meet again. Thought you could avoid me, didn’t you? Thought you could never get caught, didn’t you? Well now, Imran, you’re gonna pay for your crimes.”

“Ha!” Imran, screaming with mirth, hardly noticed the brand new gun sneaking out of Afridi’s pocket. “You think you can take on me? Even the authorities and the government haven’t unearthed the plots I’ve been involved in!”

“Well, times are changing,” muttered Afridi grimly, as he brought the gun up behind his back, still undetected.

“Oh, really? And what do you think you are going to do, eh? Make a complaint with the local authorities? Send me to jail?” Imran cackled at his non-existent humour.

“No.” Afridi swooshed the gun from behind his back, and pointed it straight at Imran’s forehead. The gun was an Apple 0.54 pistol, the latest in the range. Imran gulped.

“I’m going to kill you. Once and for all”.

————-

“I guarantee you, Imran,” Afridi said with gritted teeth. “This gun is not going to blow up. And it has enough oomph to send your head flying to the moon!”

Imran slowly raised his hands above his head. “Of all people, Afridi, you should know that aiming a gun at an officer is a crime,” he said. “You’d better kill me while you have the chance, coz after I get through with you, you’ll be spending the rest of your days in a cozy prison cell.”

“Oh I’ll kill you, all right,” Afridi grinned. “Police officers like you are just wasting space on this planet! You belong ten feet under the ground. Let’s see how much your corruption helps you down there!”

“Who isn’t corrupt?” Imran exclaimed. “Everybody’s corrupt! That’s the way of life, at least in this country! The only difference is that, unlike you, I stopped crying and just got used to it!”

“Give me a reason to kill you,” Afridi demanded. “So you do admit to the frauds, the murders, the bribes, the whole nine yards?”

Imran stared at him defiantly. “Weren’t you listening, Sherlock? I’m the one who invented the perfect murder! The one that cops can never get to the bottom of. How can they, when the cops themselves were the murderers! Haw haw haw!”

Afridi slowly lowered the gun. With a click, he put the safety on, and tucked it back into his pocket.

“What…what are you doing?” Imran said.

“It turns out, I’m pretty good friends with the Chief Justice,” Afridi said, still grinning. “And if there’s one thing the Chief doesn’t like, it’s corrupt cops.”

Slowly, Afridi dug into his pocket and brought out a tape recorder. He pressed a button, and their conversation started playing back. Imran listened to himself confessing to corruption, his eyes suddenly growing very wide.

“You’re going down, boy,” Afridi whispered.

————-

Imran stood speechless.

Afridi gave a booming laugh, and said, “I thought you would be shocked! You just didn’t realise that I was one step ahead of you this whole time! And when the Chief Justice hears this recording, you’ll be out of here!”

“Wait a second,” said Imran, slowly recovering himself and grinning, “the Chief Justice won’t get the recording, if I kill you first. Yes…it will be easy to feign an ‘accident’ out here…”

“No, you can’t!” said Afridi defiantly, “Don’t forget, Imran, that I have you cornered!”

“And don’t you forget, Afridi, that I am the Chief of Police, and have been in the business since you were three….”

Suddenly, Imran moved so fast that he was appeared blurred around the edges, as he shot his hand into Afridi’s pocket, and pulled out the gun, before Afridi realising what just happened. Squaring his shoulders, Imran lifted the gun to straight between Afridi’s eyes.

“I bet you’re feeling brave now” muttered Imran, with a sneer. Afridi started hyperventilating, and his eyes grew wide.

“Right, well I’ll make it quick,” whispered Imran.”Just to end your misery. One…two…”

Afridi closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.

BANG!

In that split-second, Imran doubled over and cried out in pain, as Afridi wrenched his head around, and saw Razzaq running towards them, a gun held high in his hand.

“Afridi!” Cried Razzaq, as he got to Afridi’s side and panted, “Are you all right? I’m sorry I came so late, but the boys back there took so long to take care of. What happened?”

Afridi, hid eyes still wide from the shock, answered, “I recorded Imran’s confession, and then he tried to kill me! Well, at least that’s more to tell the Chief Justice.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Razzaq nodded, his gun hanging limply at his side. “We’ll get this mess straightened out. And you be quiet!” He added disgusted, nudging Imran with his foot, who was lying doubled over and whimpering on the floor. “The shot was only in the stomach, you won’t die!”

“You know, Razzaq”, said Afridi, smiling slightly, “I think that’s the best aim of yours I’ve seen to this day!”