Local time – 9:00pm, Saturday 16th June, 2011.
Islamabad, Pakistan.
The halls of the chemical engineering department were empty. Ahmed moved cautiously, aware that a security guard might appear around a corner at any moment. Students caught up on study in the computer suites on Saturday nights. But this building didn’t house a computer room and was locked on weekends. He was sure there would be a security guard somewhere, considering the volume of hazardous chemicals onsite.
Ahmed followed the directions on his hand-drawn map, leading him around a maze of corridors. The building must have been renovated numerous times, with new wings added to the old block at the centre of a warren of classrooms and laboratories. Salman, a former student of the School of Chemical & Materials Engineering had carefully plotted the map to show the most sheltered route into the National University of Sciences and Technology. Tariq waited outside in a van he had borrowed from his father. Another member of the secret society, Mohammed, had picked the lock on the entry door and was now stalking the perimeter, keeping watch.
Ahmed picked up pace. The corridors were dark and silent and had the clean, sterile smell of a hospital. He rounded the last corner and in the darkness of the windowless corridor, could no longer see his map. The pale green glow of an exit sign was the only source of light. His mobile phone became a makeshift torch, glowing over Salman’s squiggly lines and description of the chemical storeroom. It was right in front of him. Salman had suggested the room would be locked, but much to Ahmed’s surprise, it wasn’t. Mohammed’s lock picking skills wouldn’t be needed again that night.
The windowless room was no larger than a small bedroom. He closed the door and turned on the light. Each shelf was crammed with bottles and boxes, a collage of plastic, glass and cardboard. Salman also provided the names of the necessary ingredients, which he assured Ahmed would be in ample supply. Ahmed scanned the shelf for bottles with the correct label, glancing every few seconds at his instructions. It took Ahmed a few anxious minutes to spot the sulphuric acid, stored in bottles inside a box on the bottom shelf. Then he saw the acetone, sitting at eye level in front of him and the hydrogen peroxide nearby. More bottles in a similar sized box. Ahmed stacked one box on the other, and placed his map on top so he could find his path to the door where Tariq was waiting in the van. His heart beat fast. The return journey posed a greater risk; meeting a security guard now and trying to explain away what he was carrying would be a disaster.
With only a few corridors left to navigate, Ahmed felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He stopped still. Could it be Mohammed warning him of an approaching guard? He opened the nearest laboratory door and placed the boxes on a table, taking his phone out of his pocket with a shaking hand. It wasn’t Mohammed. But it was a call he needed to take, as he might not have another chance to get the information he needed. It was his mother.
‘Ahmed, I’m so sorry I wasn’t in when you called. Husna said you needed to speak to me. Is everything alright?’
‘Yes mother. It’s actually quite important though. I had a visit from father today. I need to speak to him. Are you able to contact him?’
‘There is a number I can call in case of emergencies. But it is one of his staff who takes the call and I know your father is not working in the office. He also called me today and mentioned he will be seeing his brother in Karachi.’ Ahmed let out a sigh of relief.
‘Thank you mother. That is fine. I will not bother him if he is working in Karachi.’
He hung up the phone and picked up his boxes. A weight lifted from him and he walked with a spring in his step, though careful to still be alert to his surroundings. His father was not going to be in the meeting of Ministers at the Prime Minister’s residence tomorrow. Ahmed wouldn’t mention this to the others, who had carefully avoided speaking of his father’s involvement. But it was most definitely good news. Mohammed was waiting near the door. Silently they joined Tariq in the van, and drove quietly away.