The night was the 50th shade of black and the large office of Taimur Ibrahim sat in silent, holding its hostage under its snow covered roofs.
Throwing the smoked cigarette in the ash tray, the girl with the blonde hair kept on blazing in her mind. Her beautiful hair tied up in a ponytail. Her beautiful voice cheering him. He was regretting the decision to let her come n close. He knew he was going to waste the time they had spent together. The time he found to be embraced because of her. All of it felt wrong. But he didn't have a choice. He was going to sacrifice his friendship yet again to save the other.
The curtains flapped and the lamp on his desk went out with a spark. He looked around and stood up from his place in hurry. He walked to the door and checked the fuses. The lamp sparked again, but this time in his head. A smirked appeared on his face.
He took out his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. Someone picked up on the first ring.
"Munch Old Town. Girl in blonde. Take her to the basement." Three sentences and his anxiety blew off.
Coming back to the party, Minha and Zoe were celebrating the greatest birthday ever. With the cake and Swiss rolls. The speakers played, "Permission to Dance" by BTS and both of them were scrubbing cake on each other's face. Their body moving to the tune and their feet dancing to the rhythm. The lyrics played on their lips. Zoe was dressed in her black Maxi and Minha was wearing a new white skirt.
"We don't need to worry
Cause when we fall,
We know how to land,
Don't need to talk, the talk,
Just walk the walk tonight,
Because we don't need to permission to dance!"
They sang the lyrics and both of them started laughing at once, "You got to admit that this is the most fun you have ever had." Zoe exclaimed, wiping the cream off from her face with a tissue. The speakers were silent now and they were standing in front of the washroom mirror.
"Yup, definitely. You know, after my brother died I never celebrated my birthday. It's like 4 years now." She said, washing her face. Zoe was now drying her hands and face. When Minha was done she closed the tap and took the towel from Zoe.
"You want to hear a story?" she said, turning her face against the little kid changing into PJs.
"Yes, writer. But it better be good or else your writing can ruin."
"Don't worry. You are not the first fan to admit that." She pressed her lips to control her grin. She could feel Zoe making a face. They climbed up to Zoe's room.
"Once upon a time, in one of small houses in Saudi Arabia, in the city of Mecca. He was the only son to his parents Abdullah and Amina. He was very pure at heart. He was kind with everyone. He used to help anyone in need. He was gentle to everyone, be it a child misbehaving, or an old woman throwing trash at him. He never let his anger overcome his senses and he was made the leader of Muslims. He was always concerned about the people in his neighbor who used to be bad people and he was very annoyed by his environment. He wanted to tell them that they were wrong. But those leaders and their followers were very powerful, rich and cruel. They hated him because of his religion and they wanted to kill him. But the son of Abdullah and Amina was very strong and he always ignored their cruel behavior.
"One day, when the son of Abdullah and Amina heard that one of the leaders of Mecca, the cruel ones, was coming back to Mecca with all the goods and money from trade, he planned to attack them and steal their caravan so the money could not reach their other leaders and they could be weak financially. He thought that this would weaken his enemies and they would not continue their cruel behavior and would stop torturing others in the Mecca.
"But one of the Mecca leaders got to know about the plan of son of Abdullah and Amina-"
"What was the name of the son of Abdullah and Amina?" Zoe interrupted. Minha smiled.
"Muhammad. But we call him Prophet Muhammad." She said.
"Is it about Battle of Badr?" Zoe asked. Minha was surprised. How did she knew?
"How did you know? I didn't even tell the whole story." She said.
"You are a Muslim, right?" Zoe asked her. And Minha knew that if she said yes, Zoe would not like that.
"Of course you are." Zoe crawled on the other side of the bed and Minha was sitting in her own place staring at her deciding what to do.
"Zoe-"
"You should leave, Minha." She said. Her tone was calm but she looked angry. Minha knew if she argued, Zoe would yell at her and she did not want that at around 12.
She stood up quietly and picked up her bag and left the room, not even glancing back at the little kid, who was offended by the Minha's religion like the people in Mecca were in the year 570.
He was walking in his office, his feet directing towards the depth of anxiety level. He knew what he was about to do was wrong and risky. But he didn't have a choice. Or even if he did, he didn't consider either wise.
His phone rang and he picked it up before someone else could hear the ring.
"Sir, she is approaching. Wanted to inform." And the phone died. He looked at the screen and tried to press the switch on button a multiple times. But the screen was black.
'Dang it!" he threw the phone on the couch. Rubbing the temples from his two fingers, he looked under pressure. His hair falling on his forehead and his face sweating. The sleeves of his white shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up. His tie lose. And his coat hung on the corner.
He couldn't make a call to her or send her a message because that could have been noticed. He didn't have an option.
Under the fool moon, the blonde girl was walking with her leather bag's strap down on her arms. She was tired. The mess with Eve and Kay, the accident and her left elbow, the encounter with Rohail, the art rejection, Zoe's denial on her religion. Everything was messed up and her brain was silent right then. She was walking under street lights staring at her shadow in front of her and underneath her feet.
"Ma'am, do you know the way to this address?" someone spoke beside her. She was scared and haunted by the sudden appearance of someone. It was someone with two front teeth broken and white long wavy hair and beard which looked like they weren't brushed since last decade. When she was looking at him, he smiled and looked even more horrifying.
"I am a new resident. I have to go to my son's place, but I can't find the house. Can you help me?" he said with a hoarse voice. She gulped down the risk and took the paper with address on it.
And the instant she took a look on paper, someone's hard hand covered her nose and mouth from the behind and the strong scent loosened her senses, blacking out her vision.
His fingers were working continuously on the keyboard of the laptop. The brightness to its fullest and his eyes wide open reflecting the image of the screen before hm. He was biting his thumb nail. He was nervous but he was confident about what he was doing. His face enlightened with smirk and wide eyes, he knew he was doing the right thing, just the wrong way.
The printer buzzed somewhere from the near when he stood up and took out the documents. While going over it, he looked relaxed. His face calm but it was only Taimur Ibrahim who knew how bad his heart was beating for the girl he was going to lie. He couldn't resist it anymore. He carefully kept the papers in the file and walking over to the corner, he took the coat and his cell phone, shutting his laptop and keeping it in the same bag with the file. Then he turned off the lights and climbed the stairs down to the hall and his assistant handed him the keys to his car. He ran to his car in the parking area and drove to his dad's house.
One thing, Minha didn't knew was that, that small house had a basement. She won't know who kidnapped her.
His phone was attached to the cable on the car's adaptor. He picked up. It read 32%.
He switched it on. Dialing a call, "don't let her wake up. If she does, inject her with the sleeping injection. Don't let her wake up until I come there by myself." He said, "And not one wound. I swear if there's one blood drop loss from her body, I am going to ruin you guys forever." He said, eating his words. "Yes sir." Someone said and the call ended.
He sighed and turned to the corner of the street to the tallest glass building. He grinded his teeth and heaved a sigh to normalize his face and feelings. He picked up the laptop bag and ascended out of the car.
"Hey, Mr. Taimur! Nice to have you back. What can I do for you?" An American lady in the tight uniform and pink face asked him. She was picking up the receiver, maybe to inform Taimur's dad.
"Is dad home?" he asked. And the lady nodded. "Don't inform him. It's a surprise." He felt like drinking his own vomit when he said surprise. The American pink lady smiled.
He went up to his room. The elegant vast palace. The glass eligible lamps hanging down from the ceiling. The Chinese Fanoos lighted up in the Center of the room. It was around 12:15. He knew his dad would be in shower. He walked to his bedroom and looked for his laptop. It was put on charging around at one socket placed at a desk. He detached the cable cord and opened the laptop. Quickly turning on his own, he started playing his finger son the keyboard.
"It might take some time to transfer the data, please wait." The screen read.
He pursed his lips and patted his thigh a double time. Then he stood up and sauntered to the bathroom door. The shower was still turn on. He smirked.
Taking out the printed fake document, he highlighted the bank depositary of $100,000 million.
The laptop rung and the menu bar on the screen displayed a full green bar. The smirk deepened. He put the things back in order and left the fake document on his father's desk.
Climbing back to the hallway downstairs, he met the American woman. "Dad was in the shower. Tell him I came." And he left, filling the long gaps of the Earth to his car. He had to reach the bank.
Accelerating with high speed, the black car drove on the smooth surfaces of Munich and the driver inside had a lot going on in his mind. There was a little traffic but he passed on about them and reached at the bank in about time.
The guard greeted him and he nodded. Wearing the white rolled up sleeves' shirt, he looked pretty casual.
"Mr. Taimur! Great day! Er, night…" the manager said. Without any informal conversation, Taimur jumped right into the topic.
"If my dad calls you and asks for a big depositary from the Hotel's money, tell him it's true that $100,100 million had been deposited to the Hotel's account from an American company." His voice alone sounded so overwhelming that the manager looked terrified. "But sir, there has been no such deposit-"The manager was saying when Taimur slammed the desk. "I heard you recently won a lottery of a really expensive jewelry which resembles the one your ex-wife had. Is it true?" Taimur was saying and the manager's face whitened. As if someone snatched away his soul and left him cold under Taimur's silent violation. He gulped down the lump. "As you like sir, I will tell him that it is true." The poor guy could not even say properly.
Taimur leered. "What is true, exactly?" he brought his ear closer to listen to his words.
"An American company had deposited $100,000 million from the Hotel's account." The banker said.
"And, under whose name?" Taimur asked. The poor guy didn't know the answer to that.
"Under Johnson Peter's name. Got it?" his voice was thunderously calm and silent, being scarier. The guy nodded. Taimur smiled and was moving out when he turned and came closer again.
"The graffiti on Samantha's Diamond hallucination watch was incredibly beautiful. You don't want a graffiti diamond hallucination watch holder to harass you publicly, exposing the kind of relationship you had with her before you married Nana and had two kids under a respectable roof!" he barfed. And he knew he had said enough to ghost the poor guy until the decade's over. The neurons in his mind smiled and electrified the signals, faster.