Scene 18 – The Wood Comes Calling

The 50th floor of the skyscraper Emirates Office Tower. The black phone on Sabiha’s desk rang. It always had made her happy. But today, she looked at the number that flashed on the caller-ID with a sense of absolute terror. It was “The Wood” calling her! This was trouble. Should she pick the phone? Or just let it ring and die. Inspite of the excellent air-conditioning she began to perspire. Eyebrows raised, worried lines on the forehead. Aiyo Raaama!! What should she do? The ringing finally ended. There was no answering machine for the black phone. No one anyway ever left names and numbers when they called this number. No point in leaving around information that could connect up things when in trouble.

Everyone knew The Wood. Inspite of him moving to Karachi, he still was operative and controlled a lot of business here. And everyone knew what he was involved in. Sabiha didn’t want any of that. He surely wasn’t calling for some human resources. She now regretted booking the condo in Burj Al Arab. That must have put her name on the radar. She cursed herself for not being more careful. She should have maintained a low profile. Getting involved with The Wood could mean anything. Anything. And that could mean coming under the radar of international agencies. Interpol. CIA. And she so wanted to get to the West as soon as possible. She just recently had read the proposal to increase H1B visas. She read about the amnesty given to illegal immigrants. She could manage so easily to be underground for a couple of years. She sure didn’t want to run to Portugal with someone and then go to Mumbai handcuffed. No way. Sabiha sighed with a sense of anguish. This was not good at all. She hoped it was a wrong call. The call perhaps was not meant for her. A wrong connection. She prayed it was so. She wiped her forehead and reached for the buzzer. She needed something to drink. Her throat was dry as a desert.

She almost lost her balance and fell off her chair as the black phone rang again flashing the name of the The Wood. It would make no sense not to pick the phone and speak. She couldn’t avoid them. The doors would be knocked soon. Broken too, if need be. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and picked the phone.

Sabiha: [very softly] Hello……

Caller: Haan, hello. Main bol rahan hoon

Sabiha: [wiping her forehead] haan….. yes…..

Caller: Aap pehechante hain ke kuan hoon?

Sabiha: Haan…

Caller: Theek hai, theek hai…. Naam lene ke zararoot nahin.

Sabiha: OK.

Caller: We need to meet.

Sabiha: MEET???????????????????

Caller: Yes, we need to meet. There is an important discussion we need to have. Do you have a visa to the West Indies?

Sabiha almost dropped the phone. West Indies? It was fairly close to Florida, right?

Sabiha: No

Caller: Get one! I will call you back in a week.

The Wood disconnected the call. Sabiha stared at the phone in her hand. She couldn’t make sense of this. Why West Indies of all the places? She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad. West Indies. Why? Didn’t make any sense. But she was going to be meeting The Wood. She shuddered. Can she disappear in a week without trace? Just get out? She shook her head. She could run, but she wouldn’t be able to hide. The tentacles of The Wood were all over. Everywhere. She collapsed into her chair wondering what to do. Whom to call for help? Whom to call for advice? Who? And a name came to her mind. She managed a smile, a very small one.