Qadar, dressed like a corporate executive in black formals entered the reception of Dr Ling’s office five minutes before the scheduled time of appointment. He was immediately ushered inside. Yasin, the young man from the embassy accompanying Qadar was asked to sit in the lounge. Yasin waited there sipping coffee, reading newspapers and watching television. He was relaxed. Considering his daily routine of going places and doing things, this was pretty awesome. He thought Qadar would come back after meeting Ling, and rested in the lounge. When Qadar had not arrived till it was time for lunch, he went to enquire with the receptionist. Preparing to leave her shift she asked him to wait in the lounge and told him that Qadar would return once his work was over. At three o’clock when it was too late for the frail scientist to have lunch, alarmed, he again went to the reception only to find a new girl there. On his enquiry about Qadar, she looked puzzled, “Who? Qadar? There is no appointment scheduled with anyone with such a name.”

Yasin was aghast. His legs trembling in fear of his boss, he pleaded with her to check the visitors register. She pushed the book towards him and said, “See for yourself.”

All the Chinese characters looked like a maze of nerves inside his brain. “I-I can’t read Chinese,” he said. She raised her eyebrows and asked him who he was and how he had entered the office. She shouted at the guard posted nearby and asked him to deal with the guy from some embassy, who escorted him to the main gate. There was no entry again and he was apprehended as a trespasser.

Yasin, sensing the gravity of the situation, told them that he enjoys diplomatic immunity and pulled out his documents. The guard immediately snatched them and handed them over to his boss. “So what, if you have diplomatic immunity? Your immunity doesn’t cover trespassing or spying here.” Yasin thought if he didn’t inform the chief now, he never may have a chance to do so. He requested them to allow him to call his chief over phone and updated his boss of the situation. Still, he was detained by the security and was sent to the nearby police station.

Sitting in the cell, Yasin deliberated to himself. He was hungry. He was also angry. He wanted to kick Qadar, crushing his balls for his vanishing act. That receptionist bitch! She simply handed him over to the security, as if he was a thief. He was furious. His boss! The most annoying fellow he had ever seen. Always undermining him and assigning him rubbish jobs. Was he supposed to act as an escort or valet to visiting lunatics? Never. He would much rather quit.

One police constable came to him and offered a sandwich and some water. He looked like Buddha to Yasin and he seized the food plate and started feeding himself, ignoring all the people he was mad at. By the time he finished his eating, he was called by the police into the office. His papers were on the table. One clerk told him to sign on a register in which entire thing was written in mandarin. He signed, however, without opening his mouth. “Take your papers and go home. Never return to that office again,” he was warned before being let off.

Yasin walked out of the police station and hailed a taxi. His problems were far from over. Rather he thought, they were just starting now. He had to face the chief and there was nothing he could explain about the absconding professor. He smoked silently preparing himself to receive a heavy dose of scolding. He sighed. He thought of the taxi driver. The driver was from rural China, from somewhere in the north. Probably his hamlet also looked like Yasin’s village. No, Yasin’s was a town. He was from a well-off family. What’s the point? He succeeded in making himself more

miserable than the driver fellow from Snow Mountains. He paid the driver and walked into the embassy. Chief was waiting for him, holding his head in his hands. Even in such a terrible scenario, Yasin felt happy that he could cause trouble to his boss, who otherwise always had the chance and used it often.

“Where is the Professor?”

Yasin shrugged and spread his arms. “Vanished. Simply vanished.”

“How can that happen?” The irritation in the Chief’s voice grew.

“The appointment was only for the professor. I was told to wait in the lounge. When he didn’t turn up even after lunch hour, I enquired. Meanwhile the receptionist on duty had changed. The new one didn’t recognise me and handed me over to security,” Yasin explained. He continued, “Even if you ask the question many times in many ways, my answer will remain same. I was already tortured enough for the day. Please spare me till tomorrow at least.”

Chief stared at him with fury. He understood that Yasin was telling the truth. “You don’t leave the embassy until the professor is found.” With that, he went into the communications room and Yasin, tired of hectic events and anxiety, went to the bunk at the back office to sleep. He removed his shoes but slept with his socks on and without dinner.