Heavy, dark wooden bookcases brimming with antique books and tasteful items lined the room’s walls. Except for the occasional rustle of paper, there was creepy silence.
At the back was an enormous mahogany desk, and behind it, Warda was crouched on the expensive Persian carpet, looking inside the bottom drawer. Her moves were urgent but deliberate, and her eyes regularly viewed the wall-mounted clock.
Saleha was seated close to the main door to have a view of the corridor. The mood in the room was edgy and stressful, and everyone jumped when the phone rang in the living room. They dashed out of the study, and Saleha looked perturbed as she picked up the phone and listened to the caller.
“Please hold on, Auntie; I will give her the phone.”
“Warda!” Banou was frantic, “The police have taken your father away. They looked like KhAD thugs. They said that he had killed a police official. Please ask the minister to get him released before they torture him to death.” Banou had started weeping loudly.
Warda turned pallid as her grip on the phone became even more firm. “Mother, I will tell the minister myself. You pack your things and go to Uncle Waleed’s house. I will join you as soon as I get Father to safety.”
Waleed was Saifullah’s cousin and owned a restaurant in Kabul.
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Warda and Saleha knew that the minister could not be contacted for the next four to five hours, at least, as he was on the plane from Moscow and was scheduled to go to the presidential palace from the airport on arrival.
In roughly three hours, the servants would enter, and one of his staff members would deliver the official mail to the secretary. Warda had a heap of papers on the table to photograph.
She suddenly found herself in a critical situation, faced with an unforgiving choice: either leave and search for her father, who was in grave peril, or photograph documents that might contain crucial information for the resistance.
Divided between two overpowering obligations, she glanced at Saleha and returned to the study. Saleha silently went to her mother’s chamber and found her offering prayers. It was three in the morning.
After her mother completed her prayers, Saleha informed her that Warda’s father had been taken into custody for murder. She recounted the events swiftly and emphasised how urgent they were.
“Theirs is a respectable household”, she responded. “He can only kill someone to preserve his honour.”
Rising from her prayer mat, she approached the phone on the side table.
“Hello, Zaman,” she said as she dialled the minister’s secretary. I apologise for calling you at this hour. Please locate a university teacher who was picked up by KhAD about two hours ago. Make sure he is safe until Hadayat returns and investigates the situation.”
After giving him the details, she put down the phone and hugged her daughter with a gentle smile.
“Hopefully, everything will work out well,” planting a kiss on her forehead.
Saleha discovered Warda snapping pictures of the documents as she returned to the study.
“Get some sleep. In three days, you have an exam,” she urged Saleha.
She called Shireen on the telephone to tell her what was happening while Saleha was dozing off on the living room sofa.