SIkander

by M. Salahuddin Khan

  “Well, that was an education.” Elmer remarked. “Anyhow, Mr. Khan and, um, Mr. Khan, welcome to Carolectric! We’re truly honored to have you today and we’d like to offer you a short presentation about our company. But before we do, some tea? Coffee?”

  Tea and cookies were brought in and placed on the table in front of the two men. From a slot in the ceiling at the far end of the room, a screen emerged, the projector came to life, and the presentation proceeded. Elmer and Seymour described their business, its recent performance, current condition and projections for the next five years, all in considerable detail, pausing courteously as needed, to answer questions, each of which was acknowledged to be “excellent,” “great,” or “good.”

  “Mr. Elmer and Mr. Seymour, thank you for a comprehensive presentation. I’m still absorbing much of what you’ve described…” Sikander gathered his thoughts as he counted out on his fingers what else he would need. “Can you please provide me with a hard copy of your material, the names of ten of your best customers for references, a list of key personnel in the topmost level of management, and references from your largest suppliers?”

  “We’d be delighted. May I call you Sikander?” asked Elmer.

  “Of course.”

  “And please call me Gordon, and this is Glen. Salman and I have been back-and-forth on terms, and I think we’re all clear but it probably wouldn’t hurt to review them directly with you.”

  “Certainly. I have a term sheet here that I think matches up with what’s been discussed,” answered Sikander as he pulled copies from his briefcase and handed them around. Everyone reviewed the document, affirming that the deal was as expected.

  “That leaves us with how you propose to operate the company,” said Gordon.

  “Before you go on, Gordon, Salman’s been clear,” Sikander answered, “that you have strong feelings about how the company will be managed. Let me assure you, Gordon, I wouldn’t be paying this kind of money to disturb something that operates as well as your company does. That’s why I want to know about your most valued managers. We’d like to incent them to remain with us after you sell. And we’re certainly not interested in chopping the thing up to sell off the parts. So please don’t be concerned. Your baby will be in good hands!”

  Gordon smiled and exchanged glances with Glen. “Well then, I think we should get you the things you asked for and we can start the lawyers on drafting contract language. Meanwhile, we can’t let you leave without a tour of our facility.”

  “Lead the way!” Sikander responded enthusiastically.

  The four of them proceeded out of the boardroom. Gordon stopped by his assistant’s desk. “Julie, I need you to put together a few things for me,” he said, and itemized most of the things Sikander had asked for. He told Sikander privately that the management summary would be sent to him directly via e-mail.

  The tour gave Sikander some new ideas for automating certain functions in Javelin’s warehouses. Meanwhile, he continued asking intelligent questions.

  As it was summer, some members of the management team were on vacation, but others were present, and Sikander was pleased to meet them. Gordon presented Sikander and Salman as potential customers to keep the proposed transaction confidential. When they got back to the office, Julie had already assembled a package for the two visitors.

  The visit was wrapped up. They said their good-byes and drove back to Salman’s house where Rabia had gathered their luggage so that the family could begin the rest of their vacation. There was just one issue.

  Sikander and Rabia had a general sense of what they and the children wanted to see, but they had left specific plans until now, not knowing how long things might take with Carolectric. The serious business of planning the rest of their vacation was upon them.

  “I really want to see the natural parts of this country, Sikander. I know they have some beautiful national parks,” Rabia said.

  As the children had different ideas, a compromise was reached and the vacation began with a scenic drive to the famed Disney World theme park, followed by a couple of delightful days taking in its entertainment. Ayesha was more than disappointed at failing to meet Space Mountain’s strict height requirements. After additional visits to nearby Busch Gardens and Cypress Gardens, it was time to drop the car in Orlando and fly out to California.

  The family continued the vacation, flying from one location to another, renting cars and exploring each locale. For Rabia, the majestic sheer face of Yosemite’s El Capitan and Half Dome and the regally magnificent serenity of Sequoia’s General Sherman tree, were the high points. She also enjoyed the wilds of Yellowstone, where the children waited patiently for almost an hour to be rewarded by Old Faithful’s enormous jet of steam hurled skyward to a height of over fifty meters. Despite his delight and fascination with just about everything he saw, one place beckoned Sikander more than any other—the place that had such a shaping influence on who he had now become—New York.

  Flying into the city two days before the family was due to return to Washington for the flight home, they took a cab into Manhattan, taking rooms at the Pierre Hotel, close to Central Park. The following morning Sikander decided he would go alone to Ground Zero. After breakfast, leaving Rabia and the children to indulge themselves with the Pierre’s legendary buffet, he quietly hopped into a cab. Less than half an hour later, he was standing at the corner of West Broadway and Vesey Street, gazing out at the excavated chasm where the twin towers had once stood. It was being readied—after much dispute—for resumed construction of the barely begun Freedom Tower.

  In every respect the space was nondescript. Still dumbstruck after so many years, it was incapable of speaking the unspeakable horror it had witnessed. Yet here it was, the epicenter of a geopolitical tsunami that had spread out from this spot, and on that terrible day swept up and transformed so many lives across the globe, including Sikander’s. His mind projected and replayed haunting TV vignettes of the tragedy, layered over the scene in front of him, as if by doing so, he might glimpse some explanation, some meaning. But the place was devoid of any. It was just there.

  New York had many other things to offer a first-time visitor. The children relished their ride to the top of the Empire State Building and although the Statue of Liberty was not open for ascent to the crown or torch, the family took the trip out to Liberty Island just the same. Poor Qayyum couldn’t get over how a statue could also be a building. But for Sikander, no place touched him quite like Ground Zero.

  With the month over, the family flew back home.

  Back in Peshawar, with memories of the trip fresh in everyone’s minds, Sikander and Rabia discussed the relocation that was sure to be needed with any acquisition of Carolectric. The trip had done a great deal to allay Rabia’s lingering fears that Sikander might, in any way, suffer from having been a terror suspect and a Guantanamo detainee. Both she and Sikander were convinced, the children were enthusiastic, and the decision was made to move forward with all speed to acquire Carolectric and with almost equal speed, to move Sikander’s family to America.

  Due diligence was completed. Sikander had no difficulty arranging the financing for the transaction and Electrodis International was formed as the locally acquiring U.S. company, following which it was capitalized as planned. By September 2006 Electrodis owned Carolectric Corporation.

  The transaction completed, and promises of frequent visits back-and-forth lovingly given to Sofie, Noor and the rest of the family, Sikander, Rabia and the children said their parting salaams, before flying back to America—this time with Jamil, who traveled on a business visitor’s visa. Everything was set for an orderly transition of control.

  With a theatrical flair, Gordon Elmer arranged a ceremony to hand over the keys to the new owners and as a matter of private symbolism for the way it had altered his life, Sikander, asked that the date of Monday, September 11, be chosen for the event. He had already arranged for an apartment in Henderson, which would give Rabia time to research the
local real estate and pick either a lot for construction or an existing home. Jamil stayed in the apartment with them during his visit.

  About a month earlier, Gordon Elmer had held a meeting with his direct reports to confirm that he was going to step down and that a transaction was underway in which Electrodis International would be buying Carolectric. He had been honored by a special retirement party at the beginning of September and was back that Monday to participate in the ceremony. Management and staff were all present.

  Gordon met Sikander and Jamil at the reception foyer. He introduced his seven senior management team members to the brothers. Sikander and Jamil shook each man’s hands warmly while simply nodding, equally warmly, to the two women.

  Gordon made a speech to the assembled staff introducing Sikander and Jamil as the new owners. He talked about what it had meant to him to create and build Carolectric and how much he’d valued having them as employees. He said a few words about how everyone could rely on the new management to continue in the best traditions of the company. Sikander followed him, offering his vision for Carolectric and how pleased and excited he was to have the opportunity to be working with them all and leading the company in its next phase of growth. As he wound up his speech, Gordon turned to Sikander.

  “Mr. Khan, we’d like now to hand you the keys to Carolectric!” A door leading from the warehouse into the reception area swung open and a man came through grinning cheerfully and holding a golden key about a meter long. “Being a key,” Gordon said, “we thought it would be best if it was presented to you by our director of security. Mr. Khan, please meet Jim Mahler.”

  Sikander was listening to Gordon while looking down, in the stance of someone politely absorbing what was being said. As Mahler’s name was mentioned, he looked up reflexively. His knees turned to jelly, his complexion paled, and he broke into a cold sweat. Briefly, he gripped Jamil’s arm to stop himself from falling then equally quickly, regained his balance.

  Jim Mahler’s natural grin morphed into a fabricated one. His heart hadn’t beaten this fast in years. Slowly, stiff-lipped, he raised the large key and presented it to Sikander. For the two men, the event became a theatrical parody—complete with audience—of Sikander’s liberation from Mahler’s clutches over four years earlier.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mahler,” Sikander said, wearing a stone-faced smile, as he held out his hand to take the key before passing it to Jamil.

  Exhibiting no evidence of his inner reluctance, Mahler’s hand came out to meet Sikander’s. The hands shook each other, devoid of owners.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Khan,” came the reply.

  Chapter 19

  Redemption

  THE KEY CEREMONY OVER, concluding with appropriate fanfare, all the gathered employees—including Mahler—finally dispersed and returned to work. Sikander struggled valiantly to avoid revealing any sign of the withering impact of the encounter with his onetime tormentor, but even the simple act of walking proved challenging. It took all his conscious effort to remain upright as he and Jamil went up to the executive suite conference room with Gordon, Glen, and the other senior management staff for a planned in-depth briefing about the company’s new direction. Once inside the room, Sikander hurriedly approached his seat at the head of the long table and promptly dropped into it, not completely masking the tumult that was raging in him.

  “Are you okay?” Glen’s question further heightened Jamil’s anxiety having earlier felt Sikander’s hand briefly, but unexpectedly grip his arm.

  “I’m fine. I think I was having a dizzy spell. Huh! Jet lag probably,” Sikander feigned. “Please, let’s continue.”

  Lost in his present situation, Sikander let Jamil do most of the talking. From time to time he nodded intelligently and threw in the odd question to appear insightful, but his mind was spinning, consumed by thoughts of Mahler.

  Here was a man who had transgressed the bounds of human decency while serving in Army Intelligence, but who was now in this job, living an ordinary life with an ordinary purpose. An impenetrable wall had existed between the two men in Guantanamo, and despite being sometimes only centimeters apart, a yawning gulf had separated them. Now, Sikander was on Mahler’s side of that wall.

  With the meeting finally over, Gordon Elmer said his goodbyes to his colleagues and to the new owners before taking a limousine back to Raleigh-Durham and a flight to his summer home in Vail, Colorado. His retirement had begun. After reviewing priorities and plans for 2007 with department heads, by early afternoon, Sikander and Jamil were done for the day. They drove back to the apartment.

  “What went on back there?” Jamil asked.

  “Hmm? Nothing. Just…jet lag, I guess.” Sikander deflected, adding an unconvincing yawn.

  “I don’t think so, Sikander bhai. It looked like something else to me and I think you should talk to a doctor. Have you found one yet?”

  “No. We’re going to be doing all those things in the next week or two. We still have to find a house, remember?”

  Whatever it was, thought Jamil, Sikander clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Jamil let the subject pass. He was scheduled to go back to Pakistan at the weekend to be there a few days before Ramadhan. There would be time to discuss anything if it was serious. The brothers arrived at the apartment and began planning the rest of that week’s tasks.

  Rabia had mastered the kitchen. She set to work preparing something, but not up to her usual standard. Several specialty utensils still needed to be purchased before she could demonstrate any of her considerable skills with Pakistani and Afghan cuisine.

  Sikander couldn’t put Mahler out of his mind. Despite his attempts to relax, his anxieties failed to evade Rabia’s ever-watchful eye. Her love for Sikander had only grown over the years, and always conscious of how lucky she had been to be given a new start with his return from Guantanamo, she was compulsively on heightened alert when it came to the slightest deviation from the norm with him.

  “Sikander? Something wrong?” she asked.

  “No. Why?” replied Sikander, feigning mild surprise.

  “Are you sure? You’ve been looking worried today,” she probed.

  “It’s nothing. Really. Probably jet lag, but I think I’m getting over it now anyway.”

  She seemed to buy it. Sikander took advantage of the moment to change the subject.

  “I haven’t spent enough time with the children lately. You know? Just playing with them? That should help me unwind.” He didn’t wait for an answer but turned directly to Ayub who was thumbing through a copy Architectural Digest.

  “Ayub, we’re looking for a place to live, near a good school for you.”

  Ayub dropped the magazine on the coffee table in front of him. “Yes, I know. I don’t suppose we’ll find a rare one that does cricket?” he asked. “I’d like to try for a school cricket team if possible.”

  “It’s not an important sport in America, bettha. I think you know that. But they do have others that you’ll be able to get into. There’s soccer, basketball, ice hockey, American football, and baseball. That’s quite a selection, isn’t it?”

  Ayub was unimpressed. Cricket was his country’s national obsession. “How about playing at home?” he asked.

  “Well, I suppose we could get Jamil Chachu to bring cricket gear on his next trip back. There are lots of parks around here, so we shouldn’t have trouble finding a place to play.”

  “I suppose.” Ayub shrugged resignedly. “When do we start school?”

  “We still have to select one, but first we have to get your physical exams done and sort out a few other things. It shouldn’t be more than a week or so. We’ll get Qayyum into the same school if possible. That’ll make life easier for Ammee-jan to take you there and back.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I want to be driving in this part of the world just yet!” Rabia called out, having overheard the conversation from the kitchen.

  “Rabia, if you can drive on the streets of Peshawar, it won’t be so bad. Yo
u just have to get used to looking in a different place for the rearview mirror. The rest is natural. But you do still need to pass the test here.”

  “Well, I could try it…hope you don’t mind if I wrap the car around a streetlight.”

  They performed the maghrib prayer, ate dinner, and followed with isha. The children were sent to bed and Sikander, Rabia, and Jamil sat in the apartment living room. Although it was late, the doorbell rang. It was Salman, who had come over to check up on them and to enquire how the day had proceeded.

  “So, a captain of American industry now, eh, Sikander?” Salman had a gleam in his eye. “Congratulations to you and Jamil! You’ve pulled it off. Your mother will be proud and I’m sure your father—Allah grant him peace—would have been.”

  “Thanks for all your help and encouragement, Salman!” said Jamil. “We couldn’t even have tried this without you.”

  “You’re welcome! It was fun for me too! Actually, I came over because Sabrina and I would like to invite you all to our place on Friday evening. Jamil, you’re traveling back on Saturday, right?”

  “Yes, and frankly I’m missing home already. I can’t wait to go. Sikander bhai, Rabia bhabhi, I don’t know how you’ll be spending Ramadhan here. It’s hard to imagine doing that without family and friends.”

  “Oh, thanks!” chimed an indignant Salman. Jamil dutifully apologized.

  “So? Get much work done today?” asked Salman.

  Jamil’s eyes darted to Sikander recalling his brother’s unexpected behavior when receiving the key. Sikander didn’t want the experience dissected. Ignoring Jamil, he fixed a silent gaze on Salman. Salman began to feel uneasy. Checking himself, Sikander moved quickly to prick the bubble.

  “Rather smoothly,” he said, lightheartedly. “Now that I’ve seen how this kind of thing is done, I almost feel like starting my next deal!” he joked. “In fact, Jamil will tell you, I was so giddy that my head even spun briefly while they were handing me a symbolic key!” Sikander chuckled.