The Red-Light Area

Hit the rock bottom

On the other side of the town, a Caravan of exquisite cars, predominantly Rolls Royce, had entered the outskirts of the town with a black Mercedes-Benz in its centre. It screamed the powerful aura of a prominent man who was to visit the city to settle some significant business affairs with the government and almost immediately, the army of journalists all belonging to different channels had run to cover the news, forgetting everything about the hot-shot murder case.

The debates of experts on the safety of the citizens and role of police in reducing crime were taken over the screen space by the live coverage of the caravan as the clouds of mystery cleared and a piece of happy news was announced, saying it was not for him─ Ahura Mohammedi had isolated himself from the world, immersed in his grief for the loss of his only son. He was shattered so much that he had locked himself up in a room to peacefully cry his eyes out till his heart’s content. 

The funeral obligations were yet to be performed for the body of his late son was still with official undergoing detailed scrutiny. It would take some time before his Hussein would be handed over by the forensic laboratory, only he was in no hurry. 

How can he bid his son a good-bye when his murderer, the killer was still breathing? He wanted to punish Atri Aronson in the cruellest way possible but the law and order of the country had refrained him and he had to wait for the jury to pronounce their judgement. He would wait, he must wait to watch his son’s killer reduced to ashes before he would bid farewell to his loving child, His Hussein. 

Being a patriotic citizen, he had unshakeable faith in the judicial system of the country yet he could not stop himself from using his influence to accelerate the procedural compliances. Atri Aronson was a politician, therefore, he must have his contacts in the government as well. The party might want to support him, but he wouldn’t let them. He had resolved to get justice for his son and such that phone calls were made and contacts were used to compel people for a favour. Favour in punishing the sinful. He wouldn’t let the criminal win at any cost. 

‘Justice shall be served!’ He had concluded and nothing was to change his mind. “He will be hanged, Hussein. Atri and his sister will be punished.” 

No television. No supper and no sanity. Ahura Mohammedi sat on the couch in his study and looked back over his life when he first held a newborn in his hands. His son Hussein Mohammedi. How he had dreamt for his young man of becoming a famous person who shall serve his nation, and who would see the world differently from what he, himself had experienced.

He has resolved to keep his son away from all the ugliness of life so he could cherish luxury. His son would see a completely different reality—he shall study in various languages, even those that almost no one reads or understand in his country. He wanted to let his son earn all the knowledge, to peruse books which were said to have almost no reading public but hold the treasure of decades and centuries. 

His son shall grow into a complete man, the man his nation would worship. For that, he had to make tough choices exorbitantly─ He forced Hussein to go to university in Spain where the later first came in contact of Juana, a fellow student in the same university only in a different branch. She was an aspiring actress, studying arts and dreaming herself to be a part of a world full of flashlights and glamour. Juana was a hardworking girl with pure talent but without any contacts or money─ and people with no money and sources don’t get the needed recognition easily. Therefore, she had to sleep with people with contacts who were important and promised her a break in the industry way before she opted the s*x concentrated profession. 

It was a part of her world and both Hussein and Ahura knew about it. Hussein had often asked his father to make calls for Juana, but the later had always postponed it for some reason or another. 

Primarily, Ahura didn’t mind the affair as long as it was to remain an affair and became nothing serious and he believed it to be a fling but got the shock of his life when his son claimed to love that woman. He had told Ahura about all of it. How much he desired, Juana. De novo, how could he approve of the relation?

The girl was hardly anything with no recognized background and promising future, and again as a father, he was left with no other option, but to make tough choices. He stopped all the financial transactions of his son for two years, compelling him to leave the woman who was to end up working as a prostitute. Consequently, all the bank accounts were seized except one that was managed by Mrs Umrah Mohammedi, Hussein’s mother. 

Predictably Hussein rebelled, travelled the world with whatever he was left in his last bank account and did everything within his power to make a strong portfolio for Juana. 

In Russia, he met another woman, Susan Aronson, a dancer who had contacts in the glamour industry. Pronto, He befriended Susan and wooed her to help Juana, his lover and she did. She managed to ring a couple of people who offered projects to Juana only to realize that it was too late for the deadly age bar had swallowed another talented soul as the first sign of age appeared, making her unfit. 

The contact with Susan had brought a colourful insight into Hussein’s life along with the game of seduction that always wins over the rationality. They were spotted at various public places holding hands and sometimes kissing. 

Susan was a daughter of the Russian home minister and belonged to a powerful background. The fact made Ahura happy, but his happiness short-lived since the heart filled with sadness when the news of Susan being engaged to her childhood lover, Adrian reached his ears yet the contacts weren’t thrown in complete vain. 

Susan had a cousin who was as beautiful and intelligent as Susan was. The girl had completed her law degree and was to practice in the city. She had a brother who was an emerging politician and parents who had powerful contacts with prominent people over the world─ and the next morning, Hussein woke up to find all of his bank accounts restored and was suddenly showered with more money than he could have ever expected. He was to enjoy all the luxury if only he was to listen to his parents and marry, Kiara Aronson. 

“I have no objections with your connections with prostitutes. You can visit them occasionally but I need a respectable girl to be introduced as my daughter-in-law in public. I hope you wouldn’t let me down.” Ahura had said before sealing the deal. 

Deals. Ahura has been making deals all his life. The recent one was with a foreign country located somewhere in the middle east that was to share its crude-oil reserves with the city in exchange for a handsome sum. 

Sultan Abu Usman, the man of virtue and Chief External Affairs Minister of Sahababad, an independent province had announced his overpowering presence to seal the deal that was proposed by Ahura Mohammedi. 

Sahababad was located at the South-eastern part of the Arabian Peninsula on the coast of the Persian Gulf which was barely two hundred and eighty miles away from Dubai, the capital of the Emirate of Dubai; with the population of merely two-crore and eighty lakhs habitats as permanent residents. It was one of the presidential towns ruled over by the Al Said dynasty, the former sultanate of the region and the most influential house of the land. 

The presence of Al Said dynasty on the land was said to be immemorial and that it was known to be there since rising of the time. It had developed the region to what it had become then, with its expedient natural resources: one of which was crude oil, it had become one of the top crude-oil supplying presidential towns of the Al Said dynasty and now, it had opened its arms for many foreign countries, including the city as well. 

Sheikh Iblis Bin Al Said, the crown prince of Sahababad and third son of the king in line to rule the Sultanate had accepted the proposals and had sent his delegated to go through the official procedures. 

To finalize the deal, the official team of Ministry of External Affairs, Sahababad, along with its minister had entered the city with an army of diplomates for a scheduled meeting with the Government.  

It took around an hour for the caravan to enter the main city and the same amount of time was enough to make it become the talk of the town. Within hours, the whole murder drama had subsided down in a mist as the news of a new oil deal overtook the screen space as people celebrated it like a festival. 

The economy was expected to grow at the cost of lives. 

~~~

“There had been hushed murmurs in the town that some troop of Arab delegates had been invited to settle an oil deal with the nation which was proposed by Ahura Mohammedi and the convention was to be organized in the Brilliant Centre near the Parliament House that was owned by Hussein Mohammedi. It was also known that some of the Arab delegated had already occupied hotels in the town, a week prior to the arrival of their minister and had been active ever since.” I listened to the news reporter howling standing amidst the crowd, behind her cars were seen to be moving in alignment. 

“You think it’s really beneficial? The crude-oil deal? I am expecting a price down.” The waitress chatted, helping me with another round of drink. I promptly locked the phone, muting the reporter and said nothing. 

My tongue was silent but the brain was screaming as it contacts the dots. One group of Arab diplomates was staying in the Hotel Elysees Union, some fifteen minutes’ drive away from the Red-light area and some of them had, reportedly, visited the Prostitute street many times during their stay for a week. Many among them had also gifted perfumes and other valuable properties to the ladies working in the area, all of the items had been brought from Sahababad and were highly expensive. Middle East-Egypt-pyramid and gift. The words felt interconnect without any logic. 

I hurriedly unlocked my phone and called Raien. He picked up after the fourth ring and asked what it was straightway. I might have spoiled his show for he sounded agitated.  

“How long will the Arabs in Hotel Elysees stay? Whose duty it is to cover them?” I questioned him all of a sudden.

“Peterson. It is the final call and their stay in the town is prolonged for a couple of days only. The chief has arrived. Sealing the deal and they are gone. Why are you asking?” He answered looking panting and I shook my head citing it was nothing when I knew it was meant to be everything.