Local time – 7:00pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
‘Maybe we should leave the car somewhere a little less obvious,’ Alex suggested, as Phil pulled the four wheel drive into the empty museum parking lot.
‘Sometimes you are most conspicuous when you’re trying not to be,’ Phil grumbled. Alex could tell he was worried about the next step of their journey, but his arrogance didn’t allow him to show it. She couldn’t help but show her own fear. Her hands shook as she put the iPad away in her bag. Henry noticed and smiled encouragingly.
‘It’s OK Alex, don’t look so worried.’ But he looked scared too, as did Josh. Phil waited impatiently for the three of them to get out of the car. Alex felt a cool breeze when she opened the door, the humidity of the afternoon dissipated by the evening wind.
The museum before them was a striking, white, columned building, surrounded by neat trimmed grass. It looked like any Western museum might, except for the oval topped windows, which were the only concession to the architectural style of the Indian sub-continent. A large red sign on the side of the building said simply ‘Army Museum’.
Phil lead the way, marching towards the front entrance like a visitor who was racing back to retrieve a forgotten coat. On the front lawn, there was a large gun-like contraption, which was apparently a huge missile launcher, and an old army jeep pulled up on the grass. Alex was drawn immediately to the gold statue of a soldier, which virtually blocked the main entrance to the building. The statue stood three meters tall, the man standing proudly, holding an upright gun in both hands. On his head was a turban, not a helmet, and a large plaque beneath the statue read Khuhadad Khan VC. 1888 – 1971. Alex was only given a moment to acknowledge they were in the right place, before Henry pulled her resolutely forward.
‘It closes at 7:00pm. Quick, we have to get in before they lock the doors.’
Alex couldn’t believe how lucky they were to get to the museum literally at the moment it was closing. She hadn’t considered how they might break in, but at the pace Phil was moving, he might have just thrown himself at the doors like a human battering ram.
Once inside, Alex realised immediately that they would have to find somewhere to hide. She didn’t need to point this out to the others, as Phil was already opening every visible door. There was no one manning the ticket desk, nor were there any staff patrolling the rooms. They stayed close together; hurrying past exhibits of guns, large photo boards and military uniforms. There was no doubt a security guard somewhere, or a tour guide ready to close up for the night. Alex was prepared to behave like a lost tourist if they came across anyone. But cover was not needed. The front half of the building felt smaller than it looked from the outside, and they crossed the front rooms without running into anyone. As they left the old section, and moved into a modern extension at the back, Alex noticed a large sign above them that read ‘Nuclear Exhibit.’ Her skin tingled as she registered what this meant. Was it possible the nuclear exhibit had a replica of a weapon, that wasn’t actually a replica? Could someone really have hidden it in a place so open and obvious?
She didn’t have a chance to suggest this to the others; Phil had found somewhere to hide. A frosted glass door took them from the main foyer of the nuclear exhibit into a hallway housing the male and female toilets. When the door shut behind them, Alex realised they might just have backed themselves into a corner, but it was too late to move somewhere else. It was suddenly clear there were other people in the building. The sound of footsteps rang out across the tiled floor. Three, maybe four, people were walking swiftly away from the nuclear exhibit, towards the front of the building. One of them spoke fast – clearly a Pakistani. Alex had no idea what the man had said, but it sounded like he was ordering the others to do something. Phil directed Alex, Henry and Josh into the first door – the female toilets. Perhaps the men were security guards, arranging for the doors to be locked. Henry and Josh scurried down the row of eight cubicles, checking there was no one in the bathroom. One side of the room had western pedestals, the other had the traditional hole in the floor. It didn’t take them long to realise they weren’t alone. Josh’s sharp intake of breath, and Henry’s shocked face made Alex jump. Phil rushed down to the last cubicle to see what they were looking at. Alex could sense what she was going to find before she saw it.
Draped across the toilet in the last cubicle was a security guard. He wore a light blue shirt, navy pants and thick, black leather boots. He had been shot in the neck, and blood was dripping from the bullet wound, pooling on the tiled floor. The three men outside weren’t security guards. And they weren’t tour guides either.