At His Mercy

36-Adam

The grand ballroom is packed to the rafters with the glitterate of Lahore's whose who. Designers and politicians, actresses, entraupanuers and sports celebrities have all descended on the PC in true style.  Up and down they are photographed traversing the red carpet in their designer gowns, dazzling jewellery and beautiful partners, dropping the names of fashion designers left, right and centre.  Of course the show of wealth is everything my mother imagined, it seems her prophetic assurances have paid off. 

Aya wanted to arrive early to avoid the photographers in true inconspicuous fashion, but Ami-ji wasn't going to entertain the idea.  she had some sort of vision of us all arriving together, I tired to convince her it was in poor taste and would distract from her cause.  she needed to take centre stage.  Aya and I would attend, but only in the role of guests and patrons.  Not organisers  of the event. 

So we're arriving separately, in our own car.  while Ami-Ji woos the press with her grace and style, Aya and I plan to slip into venue undetected.  But it is exactly this tactic that causes a frenzied storm of camera flashes and cries for out attention as we emerge from the 4x4.  how could I have overlooked the fact that Aya draws the attention of everyone and everything within a 50 meter radius.  she radiates a quiet confidence and has that rare demure beauty that instinctively draws the eye.  

We take a few questions and then to my surprise Aya begins to talk about the charity and its importance and impact on the local district and  the need for further support. I listen to her speak and can't help but admire the way she handles the press.  She doesn't get flushed or caught off guard when they probe into our relationship.  'Oh come on, I think it would be unfair to distract ourselves  from the main purpose of the event, next time we meet I promise I'll reveal more about my husband and how we met.' then she winks at the camera and moves on.  I slip my arm around her waist and guide her inside.  It's clear that Aya has sparked their interest.  she is a new face and a beautiful one at that. The fact that she is intelligent and doesn't talk too much about herself is clearly piqued their interest. 

It's not long before we are sat at our table.  At my request Ami-ji has arranged for the official who is in charge of planning permissions to be sat at our table. I would have him pinned at mid forties, he is dressed in a sharp suit, a full head of hair and the most snake like eyes I've ever seen. Despite this there is there is no denying that he's a cleaver man, who doesn't speak much which instantly has me thinking.  I see his gaze drift over to Aya on a few occasions as we are talking, at first I think nothing of it, but then feel myself becoming irritated. His straying  attention doesn't cease.  It is clear that it is becoming a one sided conversation. His unveiled boggling at Aya has my back up immediately and I turn to look at her, she is leaning in to listen to the woman sitting beside her. It's at that very moment that she noticed us looking in her direction and straightens. Of course it would be impolite to not make an introduction. I find myself grinding out the words as Aya leans into my shoulder.
'Aya, this is Mr Ramiz Mukarji- from the buildings commission.'
I see the recognition in her eyes, she knows the name, has heard it at the dinner table at home.

''Oh, you must be the man who is giving my husband such as hard time!' she says and then waits as the official begins to smile at her '- see I thought that was my job!' she says teasingly and he begins to laugh.

'No, No, its not like that-' he protests but then he sees the sparkle in her eyes and stops understanding that she is baiting him.  He turns to me and begins to splutter some half excuse. As Aya leans over to my side, I see his eyes flicker to her cleavage and I'm not sure how I manage to not take a swipe straight at him.  My heart is pounding and I suddenly feel the urge to take him by his tie and lift him off his feet, instead I take Aya's hand which is on my shoulder and kiss it.  

'I hope you can find a way to work it all out' she says with a pointed look at Mr Mukarji, 'I would hate to see the project delayed any further, especially with all the media attention now on the project'

I see his eyes narrow ever so slightly and then he smiles, instantly I am reminded of a idiom I once read of 'the smiling face of a tiger' and again-a feeling of revulsion so strong grips me.  it's the outwardly kind but inwardly cruel look the predator gives the prey before it pounces.  Mr Mukarji is not a man that is ever held ransom to anything. His watch, his suit, his assured quiet confidence tells me he is used to getting what he wants and in this very moment he has only one thing in his vision. 

I turn to look at Aya who has resumed her conversation with the woman beside her.  They speak in quiet hushed toned as before. A unsettled feeling of foreboding sets in and I find myself gritting my teeth.  I level with the man and cut off Aya from his line of vision 'We should look over the plans again' I say in the most calm voice that I can muster. . . . .

It's as we are leaving that I begin to scan the ballroom for Aya, 'A quick visit to the ladies room before we will leave' was what she had said before we were to head back home.  moving to the doors to the ballroom, I checked my watch, it had been 10 minutes! 

'Which way to the closest ladies room?' I asked a waiter as he passes me by, then moved into the direction he pointed in. It is as I am stood outside the ladies room that I hear the sound of broken glass from inside, without thinking I open the door.  
Mukarji has Aya pinned to the wall, his hand at her throat. The other  is gripping her wrist at her side. His face   baring down on her.
The colour has  drained from her face and there is the undeniable look of panic and fear in her eyes.