It was around two in the afternoon in Karachi. A day had passed since that cannonball of a letter was received. Sheikh Abdul Haadi had neither slept a wink nor had he eaten a grain. The sheer lack of information on the letter and what his men could gather was also not an encouraging sign. He had spent his last twenty-four hours praying and checking on his colleagues every half an hour to see if they had found any clue. He was on the brink of losing hope. His growing concern for the lead preacher's disappearance and possible murder was not only because of the fact that Sheikh Muhammad Soleiman was the best preacher his organization had to offer, but also the realization that the preachers next in line after Soleiman were nowhere near him in terms of intellect and experience. It had taken Sheikh Abdul Haadi years to take Soleiman to that level. Preparing a new leader like him would take a lot of Abdul Haadi's time and in the meantime the expeditions would have to be stopped because a group could not be sent without a leader. Sheikh Abdul Haadi had sensed that his time was near and had decided to pass the baton of leadership of the organization to preacher Muhammad Soleiman and had been waiting for the right moment to announce it. But recent events had shook his world quite badly.
Another half an hour had elapsed and like clockwork, Abdul Haadi reappeared with a walking cane in the computer study room of his Madrasa and asked, "Any word of Soleiman?", and again the answer remained the same. He made his way back to his office with a long face. As he sat down, he felt the monumental organization his teachers had entrusted to him crumble around him. The disturbing image dissolved as his office telephone rang. He took a few heavy breaths and stabilized his voice before receiving it. He answered the phone, "Assalamu alaikum, the office of Hizb ul Muballigheen, how may we help you?"
The voice on the other side was severely distorted. Abdul Haadi could make out a boyish voice with a thick accent. Among the many scratchy noises, he heard the boy say, "Hello, can I speak to any man responsible at the Hizb ul Muballigheen"
Being the president of this organization, Sheikh Abdul Haadi had earned a lot of well-wishers but had also made a lot of enemies in the other sects, sadly a harsh number from his own sect as well. He was accustomed to prank calls from young boys of other sects and religions or in some cases calls came from the boys from his own sect, from the families who are either of some opinion that differs from that of Sheikh or are simply too ignorant to understand the level of respect that they are liable to give to a man like Abdul Haadi. The calls usually started with greetings, asked for the President and ended with derogatory remarks from the caller aimed towards the receiver. The calls concluded with the initiators laughing like they have won a war on one side and Abdul Haadi, realizing how much wrong there is left to be corrected, on the other.
He reluctantly responded while bracing himself for any insults about to be hurled him. "President of the organization, Sheikh Abdul Haadi speaking", he said. There was a long pause. Finally, the caller spoke, "Pleasure to meet you, I am Bilal."
Abdul Haadi knew this was anything but a prank call. "My dear boy, the pleasure is mine, how may I help you?" he said with a tired smile on his face.
There was another long pause. The caller broke the silence with a ground shaking revelation. He said, "Your preacher Soleiman gave us this number. I am one of his students. Have you heard from him?"
The Muballigh almost dropped the telephone receiver and jumped to his feet despite his deteriorating health. "My son, please don't hang up!" he said, "We received a letter yesterday, written by Soleiman's colleagues that they were attacked and they had to escape without him. Tell me! Where is Soleiman!?! What happened to him!?!"
He had just remembered that Preacher Soleiman had casually informed him that the place he was visiting was quite stranger to the modern technological advancements and had no mobile towers installed so the only way to communicate was through payphones outside the place. The caller was most probably using a payphone as well. After a few agonizing seconds, Bilal responded, "I got wind of the attack and warned the Teacher Soleiman, he barely escaped."
Abdul Haadi let out a sigh of relief, stretched his arms to the heavens and thanked God. There was hope. He thanked Bilal for the call and asked a final question, "My boy, when did this happen?"
Following the usual pause Bilal replied, "Monday"
"This is not the first time this is happening. Our people are known to do this to foreigners very often. I am sorry, I have to hang up now. I think I'm being watched." the student rapidly said.
The old Muballigh looked at the calendar and understood that the incident took place five days ago. He thanked Bilal again and requested the boy to keep him updated, to which he gladly agreed. The phone call concluded. Abdul Haadi called all his colleagues to his office via intercom to consider the options they had at the table and resources they had at their disposal.