Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office (28 page)

“You need to come with us,” the soldier said, motioning to the other soldiers.

Faheem hesitated for a moment, looking around at the armed soldiers. His mind raced with the possibilities.
Did they know about the compound and his association? Maybe they found the bank balance that exceeded three hundred times his monthly salary. Could this be about Kaleem and Dawood?
He wanted to ask questions, but knew that he would not find answers here. As he turned to walk with the soldiers, he tossed the keys to the car into the driver’s seat. They were not going to do him any good wherever he was going, he said to himself, climbing into the back of the covered, faded green pickup.

The transport from Bajaur was quicker than he had expected. The Army soldiers that picked him up from Timergara bazaar were polite and respectful. The same was not true once they got him to Nowshera. When they handed him over to the base military police, he was shackled and tossed into a cell to await transport. No one would tell him anything about anything, but he could only assume this had something to do with Peshawar.

“Soldier! Guard!” Faheem called out to the men smoking at the door. “What am I doing here?”

The two men glanced over unconcerned with his rantings; one even waved his hand in the air that they couldn
’t hear him, before returning to their own conversation. Faheem, angered that he was not getting any response, kicked the cell door causing it to rattle on the hinges. The soldiers turned and strolled over.

“What
’s your problem?” the guard yelled, slapping his baton inches from Faheem’s hands making him jerk back quickly.

“What the fuck, soldier?” Faheem yelled at the
havildar
. “Do they not teach you to respect officers in the army?”

“You
’re not an army officer,” the guard sneered back. “And when you’re in the cell, you’re not an officer at all!”

“What was I brought here for? No one has told me anything,” Faheem said, trying to calm his emotions, hoping to get more information with politeness. “I need to know why I
’m in a cell.”

“That
’s above my pay grade,” the guard replied with a smile. “You’ll have to wait for the Captain to get here.”

“When does he get here?” Faheem asked, his voice rising in anger at the side step of his question.

The guard turned and started walking away without answering, only to have Faheem holler again, “When does he get here?”

Without breaking his stride, the guard called back, “When he gets here. Now shut the fuck up or we
’ll shut you up!”

The comment only infuriated Faheem more. He kicked the cell door again, thinking that it would draw a reaction from the guards again. The guards just kept walking, uninterested in the tantrum behind them.

Faheem spent the next hours alternating between sitting on the rotten wooden bench and pacing in his 4x6 cell. His mind was racing with possibilities.
I know Kaleem is dead, I killed him. Is that why they picked me up? What about Dawood? Where the hell are they taking me?
Each time someone passed, he would try to drum up some conversation that could get information on why he was there or where he was going. No one stopped or spoke to him, no matter how much noise he made. The silence of the other officers made Faheem more jittery.
Can no one speak here? Why won’t anyone tell me anything? Where the hell is this Captain?

When the Captain finally arrived, however, he wasn
’t interested in answering questions, only asking them.

“
Commander Faheem?” Captain Abdul Haleem asked as he approached, flanked by guards on either side. He was flipping pages in a file marked “Classified,” looking for something specific in terms of questions he was to ask. The pages of the file didn’t reveal much as most of it had been redacted to protect confidential operation information. He stopped as he reached the cell and looked up. “Of course you are. Who else would you be?”

“
Why am I here?” Faheem asked.

“Faheem, you
’re on a stopover,” the Captain said. “Someone is in transit to collect you. Don’t know from where or where they are taking you.”

“Can I have some water?” Faheem asked. “I haven
’t been given anything to drink since Timergara.” The statement caused the Captain to look up from the file at him. He cocked his head to the side, looking past Faheem into the cell, and motioned to the bucket of water in the corner.

“They gave you something to drink in Timergara?” the Captain asked. “And you
’re still alive? Surprising,” he said with a smirk, returning to his file. “I’ve been instructed to asked a few questions,” the Captain said. “Are you allergic to anything?” he asked, pulling his ballpoint pen from his pocket and clicking the top.

“No,”
Faheem said. “Can you…” he started to say but the Captain interrupted him.

“Any diseases or illnesses that require medication?” he asked.

“No,” Faheem answered. “Can I…”

“Do you have any heart related issues that we should know about?” the Captain said. His mouth curled up slightly. Faheem didn
’t have any heart issues, but that look made his heart stop beating for a second or two.

“No,” Faheem answered again. “Look, I have…”

“Faheem,” the Captain interrupted again. “This will go much easier the sooner you understand that I am not here to answer your questions. I am doing the asking,” he said. “Are we clear on that?” Faheem nodded, understanding that he was in the position he put many others in.

“Now, that we have that clarified,” the Captain continued, flipping pages in the file looking for additional questions that he needed to ask. Finding none, he clicked his ballpoint again and slipped it into his pocket, before turning and moving back toward the door. He handed the file back to the
havildar
as he passed.

“Captain! Captain!”
Faheem hollered. “I need to use the bathroom.”

The Captain
’s shoes scuffed against the concrete floor as he stopped, looking up toward the sky for guidance. Faheem could see his shoulders lift and drop, as he took a deep breath before turning around slowly and pointing at the metal bucket in the corner. “I would move the other bucket further away. You don’t want to contaminate your drinking water,” he said with a snide smirk, scuffing the soles of his shoes as he started walking again. Faheem turned his head to look at the two buckets in his cell that he had passed multiple times in the past few hours.

This is my bathroom?

“Are you kidding me? The FC have better holding cells than these,” he howled at the Captain, who was just turning the corner out of the holding area. “This is bullshit!” No one was listening to his complaints. Or so he thought.

Two guards approached the cell as a third unlocked the door. They rushed in and grabbed Faheem, putting iron shackles around his feet and hands. “The Captain said to give you an outing,” one of the guards said to him, pushing him towards the door. “Move!”

As they walked him out, they would occasionally push and shove him to make him move faster. After walking about half a kilometer, they stopped outside the base farm. The stench of the animals and their filth was not something that the guards were accustomed to and they pulled handkerchiefs from their pockets to cover their noses. The guard grabbed Faheem’s arm and pushed him into the pen with the cattle.

“This is the luxury bathroom that you requested, Commander,” the guard snarled at him. “We hope it meets your exacting FC standards.”

“You want me to shit here?” Faheem asked, rushing back at the guard, only to be met with a baton squarely to the head, knocking him off balance.

“You have five minutes. Watch out for the bull,” he laughed, pointing to a steer in the corner eyeing Faheem as he stumbled away from the pen door. “He doesn
’t like intruders.”

Faheem looked around the pen for a safe place to do his business. He finally spotted a place he thought would be safe enough, and squatted to relieve himself, trying to block out the stench of filth and animals that filled his nostrils.  He swatted away each of the cows that came to investigate the intruder, until one decided that he was going to join Faheem and dropped part of a cow pie on his shoe, along with a quick spray of urine that landed on his kameez. Knocked off balance by the cow, he dropped his hand into another fresh cow pie to his right and disgust clouded his mind. Gathering himself together, he used the straw in the pen to wipe his hands and himself, and moved towards the door to the pen. The guards held their noses as he neared, commenting loudly, “Oh my God, you smell like shit! Did you roll around in it after you were done?” Another commented, “Maybe we should bathe…” but the rest of the sentence was lost in the thundering propellers of the two Hueys that passed overhead.

“Looks like your ride is here!” the guard hollered over the noise, grabbing Faheem by the arm and dragging him back to the cell. With the leg irons around his ankles, Faheem was unable to move as quickly as the guards demanded. They kicked and pushed him until finally, frustrated with the pace, clutched him firmly from the arms and legs to carry him back. There would be hell to pay if the transport officers found him out of his cell. The guards tossed him back minutes before the transport team came around the corner to collect him.

Five men, all dressed in black from head to toe, came into the holding area, looking menacing as they approached, eyes focused on the man in the cell. The Captain came around the corner a few seconds later with another man engaged in what looked like a casual conversation. Faheem
’s heart raced.
There are no uniforms… who are they handing me over to?
Are they even Pakistani?
As they approached, Faheem was able to make out bits of the discussion, and what he heard made the previous hours in Nowshera sound like a vacation.

“Is this him?” the man asked as they neared.

“This is who you asked for, sir,” the Captain replied, handing him the file.

“Why is he still dressed?”

“Did you not want him dressed?” the Captain asked.

The other officer flipped pages in the file, looking for something. Finding it, he slammed the file back into the Captain
’s chest. “Read the file next time!”

The captain
’s eyes dropped to the file as he pulled it away from his chest. It was there in bold, capital letters – NO CIVILIAN CLOTHING.
How did I miss that?

“Apologies, sir,” the Captain said. “I missed it.”

The other officer stopped abruptly, biting his lip to contain the words that were fighting to escape. The Captain stopped wondering if he was about to get a dressing down in front of his soldiers and a prisoner. Instead, he reached over and ripped the file from his hands.

“That is why you are military police, Captain,” the officer said. “You don
’t understand the obvious,” the officer smiled casually before continuing. “No matter… my boys enjoy helicopter rides — the prisoners, not so much,” he finished as he reached the door of Faheem’s cell.

“Sir, this is your prisoner,” the Captain said.

Major Umer stood at the cell door, gazing in at Faheem, almost examining the prisoner for any marks of abuse. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Sir, he had an encounter with a cow while using the facilities,” the Captain replied with a smile.

The Major’s head jerked to look at Captain Abdul, “A cow?” he said with surprise. “You couldn’t find a bull for him to play with?” he said, smiling. “We’ll need to clean him up before transport, I don’t want that stench in my chopper.”

“Sir, you could just hang him out the side…” the Captain commented drawing a delighted laugh from the Major.

“No, he could fall,” the Major replied. “How would I explain that to my superiors?”

The Major turned his gaze back to Faheem, holding his hand out for the keys to unlock the door. The Captain motioned to the guard for the keys, who placed them in the Major
’s hand. Without hesitation, the Major handed the keys to one of the transport officers asking, “Are the keys to the irons on that?” The guard nodded yes.

“Get him cleaned and dressed for transport,” the Major said, looking at one of the burly men that accompanied him. “
I don’t want any shit in my chopper. Having to transport him is enough.”

The Major stepped back from the door and moved around to the side of the cell, his gaze not breaking from Faheem
’s eyes the entire time. As he stopped on the right side, he nodded at the transport soldier, and with two words, struck the immense fear into Faheem. “Take him.”

As the men rushed in, Faheem tried to struggle from their grasp, but found it impossible to inside a 4x6 cell with six men in it. They drove him to the ground and while one man placed a knee on his chest to hold him in place, the others drew their knives and cut the clothing from his body. The man on his chest rose, clutching the irons on his wrist to pull Faheem up and chained him to the bars on the cell.

“Bring the hose! We have to wash the animal before we can transport him,” one of them yelled. With the pressure hose, they rinsed the shit from Faheem’s body along with a portion of his self-respect.