The Secrets We Live In: A Novel

by Fazle Chowdhury

  He dreamed of a moment so long ago when Aylin surprised him by changing into the pink silk lingerie, entered his bathroom as he showered, and stepped in with him. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets and fell on her soft, smooth breast as the water flowed down her body. Zain remained surprised as Aylin took the wet towel out of his hands and nearly emptied the shower gel on his body.

  The landline rang again. Zain jumped out of the shower.

  “Sir, your car is ready,” said the voice.

  He looked at the clock and realized he had to hurry. Drying himself with the lukewarm cloth, he but longed for the relaxation he was only beginning to enjoy.

  Dressed in his dark blue suit, Zain made way to his ride. Much to his disappointment, the white 2010 Lexus pulled in. Mazaar was driving it. Zain opened the door himself.

  “Really, Mazaar?”

  “Sir, it was either this or the 2003 B-mer.”

  Zain shook his head but realized that the seats were superbly in great condition.

  “Take me to Solstice and, this time, wait for me nearby!” he instructed.

  Solstice was a popular restaurant in one of the quieter areas of Paris. It was famous for its exclusivity. Built around a dark brown glass rectangle, it had just enough space around it separating from one glass wall bordering the restaurant and another where guests enjoyed a light stroll before exiting the premises. Its long-time owner prided herself on the authenticity of her extravagant multicultural dishes.

  “Mazaar, have you noticed there’s a brown Ford Fiesta that’s been behind us for some time now?”

  “Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve got something for them to feast on.”

  Mazaar drove in the left-most lane of the Rue Vaugirard in the 15th Arrondissement, bypassing each car without a scratch. Mazaar didn’t slow down but drove through street and pedestrian areas alike. He slowed to a mere twenty-five miles per hour to blend in with the other cars on the street. Zain looked back. The car was gone. Mazaar reached under his jacket and pulled out a 7.65 × 17 mm cartridge Walter PP revolver. He checked to see if he had a full load. He drove for a while with no one tailing. Then he wiped the sweat off his forehead using his coat sleeve. He eased his foot off the gas pedal. Looking left and right, he pressed the accelerator to full speed through several blind alleys. Then, he pumped the brakes and put the car in park in the middle of an unknown side of the city.

  "Sir, we’ve lost them. I’ll wait right here for now but take this phone to call me when you are done.”

  A TracFone with a camera and full battery power. It was a small burner phone that could fit inside two fingers and a thumb. Zain told Mazaar that wasn't necessary.

  “I don't know how long I'll be in there. Keep an eye out and message me if you suspect anything."

  Zain entered the restaurant and headed towards the reception. He was here to see his friend, Chloe Kamikazed—the owner of Solstice. They had been friends for more than twenty years and had experienced thick and thin together. Zain was still shaken by what had happened last night as sometimes his hands trembled. He laughed to himself, thinking that sometimes the best days are the ones where you don’t do anything but come to a place like this. The bandage on his arm was a reminder that this nightmare was a reality.

  Kamikazed was that perfect tonic. Since they were teenagers, they had known each other, and she never minded if he showed up at her restaurant unannounced. Thanks to the painkillers, the pain in his arm was beginning to fade. It wasn’t enough, but it brought at least a little relief. He continued his way to the lobby. He'd been so busy lately that he hadn't had time to stop by for months, but this was always his favorite place to be whenever he needed time away. The host smiled as she recognized Zain.

  "Good evening. I wasn't expecting to see you tonight, Mr. Ambassador."

  "Sorry, Juliana, I just took a chance tonight. Is Chloe around?" Zain asked.

  "I think she's at her office but let me give her a quick call and see."

  Zain stood back and waited as she called. He looked around and noticed all the waiters were walking funny. Possibly due to some kind of injury on their bodies. Oh, Chloe, he said to himself. When are you going to get rid of that psycho chef?

  Chef Allard was eccentric. Everyone in the restaurant knew it. It was no wonder he couldn't keep a job at any restaurant for long. Solstice was the longest he'd ever been at one place, and only because of Kamikazed’s tolerance. Zain didn't know why she insisted on keeping him when she was losing waiters one by one because of the injuries he inflicted on them.

  "Mr. Ambassador—"

  The host hung up her phone.

  "Chloe is on a phone call with her accountant at the moment, but she said she should be finished soon. Would you like to head to her office now?"

  "Sure, I don't want to keep you from doing your job, though. I could go there myself."

  "It's not a problem."

  The host smiled and walked Zain over to the fourth floor of the restaurant.

  "We haven't seen you here in quite some time, Mr. Ambassador,” she said as she walked in front of him.

  “Well, you know how it is, Juliana,” said Zain, shrugging.

  “You want to leave the work, but it follows you.”

  "It’s so good to see you,"

  she turned to face Zain and left him with an intoxicating smile as she went back down the stairs. Zain entered the office.

  "I take it Chef Allard is driving you crazy," joked Zain.

  Kamikazed was delighted to see Zain. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Realizing she was still on the phone, he quieted down.

  "Can we make this quick? I have an appointment."

  Kamikazed quietly gestured to Zain to come closer. Then she covered her microphone and whispered to him.

  “You are such an asshole!”

  Turning her attention back to her accountant, she asked,

  "Oh, do you have an update on my audit?"

  Zain leaned against the wall, wondering if this would take long. He knew he should've walked out and waited in the hall until she was finished with her conversation, but it was too late.

  "Just tell me about the findings in the report!"

  Kamikazed took a cigarette out of her holder and lit it.

  "I don't have all day," she yelled out.

  Silence followed, with Kamikazed occasionally nodding her head. "Right. Got it." And that's it? Ok, I don't know why you took so long. A simple text message will do next time."

  More silence.

  "Yes, I know you like to go into great detail, but I am trying to run a business here. I can't just stay on the phone for hours only to find out this conversation could've ended in minutes. Thank you again!" she said, ending the phone call.

  "Does this madness ever end?"

  She took a puff of her cigarette, Zain coughed, finally gaining her attention.

  "You are so impatient," she said, rolling her eyes.

  "Long enough to hear you passed your audit." Zain smiled and approached Kamikazed. She got up from behind her desk kissed his cheek.

  "You finally found time to visit," she teased.

  "It’s been crazy hard," Zain laughed.

  "Sorry, I didn't call ahead of time."

  "Since when do you need to call to stop by?"

  Kamikazed noticed the bandage underneath his jacket sleeve.

  "What on earth happened now?"

  "Long story."

  "Spill it…"

  She grabbed her phone and pressed a button.

  "Reserve table 84 in fifteen minutes."

  She looked up at Zain as she hung up the phone.

  "Are you hungry? Wait. Don't answer that. You're eating with me, and I won't take no for an answer. Now, while we give them a few minutes, why don't you tell me what happened?"

  "Where do I even begin? A man was killed at my mansion. Or that someone shot me while I was leaving the police station? Yes, that's how I got injured. The bullet hit my arm, but it's nothing serious."

/>   Kamikazed 's phone buzzed with a message that the dinner table was ready.

  "Come with me. I want to hear more.”

  "Where are we going?"

  Zain followed Kamikazed through a door in her office. He'd been there countless times, and he thought he knew every room in the restaurant. They stepped into a secretive room where the seats were red velvet, matching the red curtains that hung over darkened windows. The room was dimly lit with candles that guided the two to their table.

  "What is this place?" he asked.

  "This is what happens when you stay away for far too long…I had this room built a few months ago for meetings with my close friends," she smiled.

  "What do you think?"

  "Nice. Very nice," Zain nodded.

  "I guess you wanted to make sure no one could ever look inside."

  He pointed out the windows.

  "I don't call it a secret room for nothing," she laughed.

  "I asked this new sou chef I hired to prepare something; if I knew you were coming earlier, this could have been a seven-course meal."

  Zain watched as the waiter brought out the meal and placed it on the table.

  "Judging by the lack of bruises on this waiter, I'm going to assume this chef is harmless."

  "You didn't really think I would allow that psycho to make my food, did you?” she laughed.

  “Enough about what's going on with me—tell me more about what happened," Kamikazed pressed.

  Zain took a deep breath and let out a loud sigh.

  "It's been one thing after another. I was having a party—you know, the ones you never show up to, but I forever invite you to. I thought it would be the perfect time to catch up with one another. I should've known nothing would go right when I kept being taken away from the party to have meetings. It drove me insane. And just when I thought I could finally enjoy the party, this strange old man came out of nowhere. I've never seen him before. He crashed the party, walked around the garden, and collapsed. His clothes were dirty and torn."

  Zain saw the image of the dead man in his head.

  "I don't understand how this could've happened. You know how security is. How was this man murdered on my property? It doesn't make any sense."

  "You don't know how he got on your property in the first place?" Kamikazed asked.

  Zain shook his head.

  "I have a 24-hour weaponized security system that checks every single person who walks in and out,” said Kamikazed.

  “What kind of security system do you have in your mansion?” she asked.

  “I’m telling you, Chloe, not one guard remembers seeing this man walk up. Why would someone want to murder anyone? And why do it at my party? That's not all of it, either. I still don't know why a gunman on a motorbike shot at me when I was at the police station. He must've been following my car when I left. Chloe, it was scary," said Zain.

  "And you say no one knew you were going to the station except the police?”

  “Well, Salima knew and a few others in the security.”

  "Hmmm, whomever the assailant was, he knew the exact moment I would be walking outside. The way he kept firing that gun, I'm lucky all I got was a small injury."

  "If anyone else were telling me this story, I would find it hard to believe. However, coming from you, I'm not surprised it happened."

  "You're not?" Zain was shocked.

  "Zain, when you told me about your appointment as ambassador here, what was the first thing I said to you? I gave you a warning. You didn't want to believe me, and you said it was my imagination running wild."

  "Yes," said Zain,

  looking down at his feet.

  "And by the way, when you left the station, the guards weren't with you, were they?"

  "No. They wanted to come into the station with me, but I told them not to. I thought I was safe, considering I was at the police station."

  Kamikazed shook her head about Zain’s naivety.

  "Do you remember I started having this feeling that your life was really in danger? It started when you moved your residence from downtown and into the city's outskirts. Your mansion doesn't fit in the area where you had it built. I don't mean to sound harsh, but you are living in an undesirable neighborhood. I'm surprised your security allowed you to move there."

  "Why don't you tell me how you really feel about my decisions?" Zain laughed lightly.

  Kamikazed shook her head.

  “It’s not a joke, Zain. It isn't. Someone shot at you! A man was killed at your home…”

  "Will you let me tell you what I came here to tell you?"

  There was an annoyance in Zain's voice.

  "Sorry, but I have something more important.”

  Zain took a deep breath, wondering how he was going to explain. "Chloe, I think I saw Aylin."

  Kamikazed was bewildered at the mention of Aylin's name. She waited

  a few seconds for Zain to get to the punchline, but when he didn't laugh, she knew he was serious.

  "Are you sure you weren’t just fatigued?”

  “No, not about Aylin,” Zain said.

  “I mean, it’s been decades since her death, yes?"

  Zain had pressed himself to say the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. He knew this wasn’t the first time he thought he’d seen her. For Aylin was real, she was there—he was sure of it.

  "She was right in front of me. She's married to Edward Blakensoff—you know, the real estate tycoon. He brought her to my party."

  Kamikazed 's eyes opened wide in shock.

  "How can that be, that she's alive? Remember, there were no survivors aside from the ones they found after the whole area was bombarded. She wasn't on the list of survivors."

  Zain closed his eyes, wanting to forget that memory. It was the spring of 1990. He begged Aylin to stay in Rolle and not leave. She did not listen to him. Headed to be with her mother in Dubai anyway. Rumor that her flight was on the route had stopped by Vrancea to refuel when the earthquake happened. She disappeared soon after.

  "I’ve been trying to forget that day for so long. I haven't told you this, but lately, Aylin has been coming into my mind. Sometimes even when I'm awake in most unsuitable moments. When Edward introduced me to his wife, he said her name was Brianna. And then, she acted as if it were our first-time meeting. I thought it was Aylin. I am almost sure it was."

  " Something doesn't sound right. Zain, are you sure this isn't like the other times you swore you saw Aylin, only to find out it was some other woman?"

  "Chloe, I know what I'm saying sounds crazy, but I know it’s Aylin. I could tell by the way she looked at me—her eyes, even her hands, it feels like her."

  "Let's say what you are saying is true," Kamikazed began.

  "What I'm saying is true!" Zain interrupted.

  "She was at my party. She was there! I talked to her."

  "All right, let’s say she was there… ”

  Kamikazed went along.

  "What does her being at your party have to do with you coming here?"

  "Chloe, we go back a long time, and if there's one person I know who can help me, it's you."

  "I don’t understand," said Kamikazed.

  "No one except Aylin and I knew this, but before she left, I knew she wanted to tell me something, but she never did. Can you find out anything?"

  "And you didn't think of asking her this when you saw her?" Kamikazed asked.

  "I wouldn’t even know where to begin. She says she is Brianna now, and I honestly don’t know how to find her. Her husband is a friend of mine. I can't let him know all this."

  "Zain, this is complicated, and I don’t know about this. Something feels off to me."

  "Why not, Chloe? You knew of Aylin. Hell, you even saw me pursue her. Do I wish she didn't marry Edward? Yes, but there's nothing I can do about that now."

  Kamikazed did not like what she was hearing.

  "I don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you. I think you should worry more abou
t your own safety now and forget this."

  She leaned in close to Zain.

  "I hear a lot of talk from the people who come in here. Lately, I've been hearing how some officials will summon many of the ambassadors because of the refugee crisis in Europe. That should be your priority, not a woman who has been dead for many years.”

  " There isn't anything my government can do about that; it's out of my hands."

  "How can you say that Zain? You are the chief representative of your government here in Paris. You must have some idea."

  "Why does everyone think that?”

  Zain sighed in frustration.

  Kamikazed was also losing patience.

  "You say you don't, but you can voice your opinion!"

  Zain put his hands to the side of his face and shook his head.

  "Is it so much to ask for just one day to not have to deal with my work?”

  "I'm not trying to push work down your throat, Zain. But hearing there was an attempt on your life scares me.

  Kamikazed was undoubtedly worried. She had seen other diplomats like Zain—bolstered by an ability to build relationships in Paris, rather than formal diplomatic training—face similar consequences. She had seen other negotiators involved getting killed overseas—especially those who remained committed to improving ties with all parties for the greater goodwill.

  Before Zain could speak, Kamikazed asked,

  “Have you heard what happened to Linnie Juds?”

  Zain thought that the name sounded familiar but ultimately couldn’t place it. But Kamikazed pressed on. She went on to say that Juds, assistant to Ambassador Bagratuni, was stepping out of the car near Hexagone Balard when she was shot five times in the head and once in the chest. A military officer was also shot after coming to her aid.

  “Do they know who did it?” Zain asked.

  Kamikazed shook her head. She wondered what Bagratuni’s assistant was doing near Hexagone Balard. Was she actually holding meetings with officers in the complex?

  “Word is that some defense agreements with multiple arms suppliers were in line to be signed, but for some reason, there has been a pause. I suspect Bagratuni’s assistant may have been facilitating that.”