Dunking Ink (8)

A vast hall lit bright and utilised to cater for the services upstairs, waiters in white coats busy at work. She could see the lights of the city, Hulumalé and the runway lights further in the distance through the tall glass panels facing east. These glass panels weren’t covered. Firal was confronted by a group of bearded men standing in a row. Her handful of chips removed and tossed on a table.

A tall man in the middle asked, “Who are you?”

She cringed with a smile flirtingly, “Firal.”

“Where’s your invitation card?”

She picked it from her bag and passed. Another checked it and nodded.

“We are looking for an uninvited guest. Did you see a woman?”

She laughed shyly, “Yes, I did.”

“Can you describe her!”

“She wore dyed hair…golden brown…”

“More specific…”

“At first…she appeared streak…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, then she called me…wrapped in an orange gown with golden cuffs…”

“You have sharp eyes. Where do you work?”

“At the bank,” she told him.

“Are you a spy…a financial spy or some sort?”

“A spy! Aha-ha, no…” she flipped.

“Check her bag!”

Another guy emptied the contents of her bag on the table. Kiyaveli picked her mobile phone and shoved into her hand, “Open it!”

She did and passed to a guy who took it. He ran his fingers skillfully doing a checkup, “Who is Rosa?”

“She works at the bank,” Firal replied.

“Are you wearing a hex?” asked Kiyaveli.

“A hex?” cried Firal.

“An amulet?”

“No,” she confessed quite confused and holding a modest smile.

“Check her body!”

Two guys grabbed her arms. Another pulled her vinyl up on the midriff and slid her panties down to the ankles. She cried shakily, “Hey! What are you doing?” He slipped the top down to expose her tits. She wore nothing and nothing in her bag.

“Strange,” he uttered, “Something’s not working right here.” Kiyaveli waved and the two guys released her. She quickly corrected herself. She couldn’t help laughing however, on the back of her mind she was growing deeply concerned and scared. A beautiful night turned dreadful without a hunch. How could she step into a situation like this!

They crowded to have a secret talk. One of those beards ran downstairs with her identification card to take photocopies. He returned in few minutes and whispered few words. The phone assessor deleted several calls and location history. Shook his head and returned the phone.

Kiyaveli turned to face her, “I understand you’re married to Moha. You are twenty-six years old with three kids!”

She nodded.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be here. Now we’ll let you go. Take your possessions, your phone, your bag and go. We keep the chips and the invitation card. Remember! You will not whisper a word to anyone about this party. You never came. You were not invited. If you did, we will know and you will face grave consequences.”

By then she was gradually recuperating from the incapacitation.

Then two bearded guys ushered her to a lift on the south-east side and descended to the ground to see her out. It was one-thirty in the morning.

Firal walked out of the hospital yard to the side road. It was awfully quiet. She picked her mobile and rang up her friend. She rang and rang but there was no answer. Eventually, she gave up and climbed a taxi.