"I believe not. And I'd like to make sure it's kept under wraps, so I need someone in charge whom I trust." Trust. There it was again. "You've seen the mess on the streets. We don't want to add to the drama by giving the newspapers a story that might inflame people."

Faraz thought of the boys on the street; what kind of accident and whose involvement would inflame them further?

"It's a plum job too, Tibbi, lots of opportunities there," Wajid said, sweetening the request, blurring the lines of who was really doing a favor for whom. "Faraz?" Wajid sounded subdued, almost anxious-the very idea of that impossible-as he waited for a response. "I wouldn't ever send you there if I had a choice ... and I wouldn't ask, but ..." A silence that said, But given everything I've done for you, it's the least you could do. "Well? Can you take care of it?" But it wasn't really a request.

A cleanup wasn't difficult; Faraz had followed orders like this before, given them when he had to. He looked up, his eyes coming to rest where the corner of the wall met the ceiling, holding it up, pinning it into place.

Three

The superintendent of police, City Division, didn't sound tired when he called an hour later. He would have been awakened if they'd lost an officer, but no one would have bothered him about the injured protesters. "Good news," the SP said, sounding less than pleased, before announcing that Faraz was being posted to Tibbi Station, in the walled city, as the new station house officer, effective immediately. "They're sending a man for you. Be ready," he said.

Excerpted from The Return of Faraz Ali by Aamina Ahmad. Copyright © 2022 by Aamina Ahmad. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.