Showdown at the Club

As soon as the man carrying the handbag stepped out, two men approached him from the club compound's park.

"How did it go?" one asked.

"Got it," said the man with the bag.

"Are the papers in it or not?"

"I didn't open it to check."

"You idiot."

"How could I open it there?"

"Give it here... give it here," he said, taking the handbag from him. Then he exclaimed, "Oh! Why is this so heavy?"

He tried to open the bag, but it was locked.

"Let's go from here," the third man said. "No need to open it here."

After reaching outside the compound, they got into a car. One of them started driving the car.

Passing through the city streets, the car headed down a deserted road. Once out of the populated area, they turned on the car's interior light. One of them, who seemed quite old but more strong than his companions, began to unlock the handbag with a thin wire. As soon as he lifted the flap of the handbag, the two men sitting in the back seat jumped spontaneously. Something jumped out of the bag and hit the driver on the head, and the car narrowly avoided crashing into a tree on the side of the road. The speed wasn't too fast, otherwise, they would not have avoided a crash. Three large frogs were jumping around inside the car.

A thick curse escaped the old man's mouth, and the other man started laughing.

"Shut up!" the old man yelled at the top of his lungs. "You idiots. Because of you..."

"Sir, what could I do? How could I open it there? I was also worried the police might be around."

"Don't talk nonsense. I had already confirmed there were no police officers there! Do you think I'm an ordinary man? Now, that boy's death is certain. Hey, stop the car." The car stopped.

The old man thought for a moment, then said, "Who else was with him at the club?"

"A beautiful woman! Both were drinking."

"That's not right! Imran doesn't drink."

"He was, sir."

The old man fell into thought again.

"Let's go back!" he said after a while. "I will kill him there at the club." The car turned back towards the city.

"I think he must be dead by now," said the man sitting next to the old man.

"No! He isn't as foolish as you," the old man snapped. "If he has deceived us, he wouldn't be careless himself."

"Then he must have left the club by now."

"Don't argue," the old man roared. "I will find him and kill him, even if he is in his own home."

********************

Imran sat for a few moments, then got up and quickly went outside. He heard the sound of a car starting just outside the compound. He went back inside.

"Where are you running off to?" Lady Jahangir asked, her eyes heavy with intoxication.

"Just digesting my food," Imran said, looking at the watch on his wrist. Lady Jahangir closed her eyes and started humming.

Imran's eyes remained fixed on the watch. He got up again and walked towards the telephone booth. He picked up the receiver, dialed a number, and said into the mouthpiece, "Hello, Super Fayyaz... Imran speaking... You can move out now."

After hanging up, he returned to the hall but didn't sit next to Lady Jahangir. He stood for a few moments, looking around, then sat at a table where three men, whom he knew, were already seated. They didn't mind his company.

For about fifteen minutes, Imran laughed with them, but his eyes kept darting towards the entrance door. Suddenly, he saw the old man from whom he had snatched the handbag with the documents a few days earlier. Imran engaged even more intently in the conversation, but soon after, he felt a sharp jab in his right shoulder. He glanced sideways and saw the old man standing next to him, with his left hand in his coat pocket, pressing something hard against Imran's shoulder. Imran quickly realized it was likely the barrel of a revolver.

"Mr. Imran!" the old man said very politely. "Would you please step outside for a few minutes?"

"Ah, Uncle!" Imran chirped. "Sure, sure! But I have a complaint against you, so you shouldn't have any complaints either."

"Please come," the old man smiled. "I regret that fool's action."

Imran stood up, but now the revolver barrel was pressing into his side. They both went outside, and as soon as they reached the park, the old man's two companions joined them.

"Where are the documents?" the old man said, grabbing Imran's collar and shaking him. The park was silent. Suddenly, Imran grabbed the old man's left hand and delivered a strong punch under his chin. The old man's revolver was now in Imran's hand, and the old man was about to fall when his companions caught him.

"I said, where are the ten thousand rupees?" Imran shouted.

Suddenly, eight to ten men jumped out from behind the henna hedge and attacked the three men, starting a dangerous struggle. The three fought fiercely.

"Super Fayyaz," Imran shouted, "the bearded one."

But the bearded one jumped and ran. He was about to leap over the hedge when a flash from Imran's revolver struck his leg, and the old man got stuck in the hedge.

"Oh my God," Imran yelled, throwing the revolver and clutching his face.

The two others were captured. Fayyaz lunged at the injured old man, who was still struggling to escape, and dragged him by the leg out of the hedge.

"Who is this?" Fayyaz shone a light on his face. Hearing the gunshot, many people had gathered in the park.

The old man wasn't unconscious and was writhing like an injured snake. Imran bent down and pulled off his fake beard.

"What!" Fayyaz almost screamed. "Sir Jahangir!"

Sir Jahangir tried to get up and run again, but Imran's kick stopped him.

"Yes, Sir Jahangir!" Imran muttered. "A spy for a foreign country... a traitor to the nation..."