The Mystery Files - Chapter 10:Where Memories Mix

Within minutes, Ali realized something.

He didn't belong here.

The vast construction site of Haideron Tech Corridor stretched before him like a city waiting to rise from the earth.

Everywhere he looked, enormous machines were at work—tower cranes turning gracefully overhead, excavators biting into the ground, concrete mixers rumbling from one end of the site to the other. 31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT0foMI1U6x

Much of the equipment looked the kind he had only ever seen in documentaries about the world's biggest construction projects.31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3PDcXJotqc

It was obvious Haideron Tech had spared no expense. 31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpiIb6Wi9Iu

If there were better machines anywhere else in Asia, Ali would have been surprised.

The winter air carried the smell of cement, diesel, and freshly turned soil.

The moment Ali stepped onto the muddy ground in his charcoal three-piece suit and polished black shoes, several heads turned.

One of the site engineers blinked in surprise.

"Ali?"

He lowered his dust mask.

"What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be in the IT Division?"

Ali adjusted the collar of his coat.

"The Boss has assigned me to oversee the project's progress."

The engineer exchanged puzzled glances with the others.

"The Boss?"

Another engineer laughed.

"Well... that's certainly one way to keep us on our toes."

Just then, one of the giant dump trucks thundered past, drowning every other sound beneath the roar of its engine.

The engineers instinctively leaned closer.

"Speak louder!" one of them shouted. "You won't win against these machines!"

Ali tried.

"I said—"

Another mixer roared to life.

His words disappeared into the noise.

He gave up and gestured helplessly.

The engineers laughed good-naturedly.

One of them called to a nearby intern.

"Helmet! Gloves! Quickly!"

Within seconds, Ali found himself wearing a bright yellow safety helmet while another worker handed him a pair of gloves.

One of the senior engineers smiled.

"An IT Director walking around a construction site..."

He chuckled.

"Only Mr. Haider could come up with something like this."

Another pointed toward the temporary site office.

"You can wait under the canopy if you like. "

Ali shook his head.

"No."

He leaned close enough to be heard.

"I have to submit the progress report myself."

The engineer nodded in understanding.

"Fair enough."

What followed was four long hours of methodical observation.

Ali moved slowly from one section of the sprawling site to another, recording everything the Boss might later ask about.

He took high-definition photographs of every major work zone, filmed short video clips of the ongoing construction, and recorded voice notes whenever an engineer explained a technical detail that he feared he might forget. 31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0ScKmTsdgr

Every now and then, he opened his tablet, typed fresh observations, checked off completed tasks, and captured another series of images.

He watched surveyors peering through their instruments.

He stood beside teams fixing steel reinforcement with astonishing speed.

Tower cranes swept across the skyline, lifting massive loads high above the site, while concrete mixers rumbled continuously and excavators tore into the earth without pause.

Everywhere he looked, people were measuring, calculating, shouting instructions, marking drawings, or debating dimensions over rolled-up blueprints.

Ali followed patiently, listening far more than he spoke.

Whenever an unfamiliar machine caught his attention, he quietly asked one of the engineers what it was called and what role it played in the construction before adding the information to his report.

The site engineers couldn't have been more cooperative.

They patiently answered every question and made sure he had access to every area he wanted to inspect.

Still...

Ali couldn't shake the feeling that he was completely out of his depth.

A computer engineer had little in common with civil engineers beyond the title itself.

Their conversations revolved around foundations, load calculations, reinforcement, shuttering, and concrete grades.

His revolved around algorithms, servers, networks, cybersecurity, and software architecture.

They were constructing a city.

He was accustomed to constructing systems.

By the time nearly four hours had passed, the winter sun had begun its slow descent across the sky.

A fine layer of grey dust covered Ali's polished shoes, the sleeves of his charcoal suit, and even the shoulders of his coat.

His phone's storage was now filled with hundreds of high-resolution photographs, dozens of short video clips, and enough recorded observations to prepare a detailed progress report for the Boss.

He looked less like the Director of IT...

...and more like an executive who had spent the entire day living on a construction site.

And if he was being honest with himself...

...the visit had been something of a disappointment.

He had expected the old airport.

The abandoned road.

Instead...

...he had found concrete, grinding machinery, relentless deadlines, and corporate ambition.

There were no whispers beneath the engines.

No phantom train horns.

No drifting head calling out to Raza.

Nothing...

...except a future being built miles away from the place that continued to haunt his thoughts.

It was around one in the afternoon.

That December noon in the Port City had turned out to be anything but ordinary for Ali.

He slipped his mobile back into his pocket, picked up his tablet, then unfolded the small scrap of paper Abdul Ahad had handed him earlier that morning.

His phone number.

Ali thanked the site engineers for their cooperation before dialing it.

"Hello?"

"Ahad... this is Ali Siddiqui. I was the passenger you dropped at the HT Corridor site this morning. If you're nearby... would you mind dropping me back to the office?"

There was an immediate warmth in the young man's voice.

"Oh yes, sir. I remember you. I'll be there in five minutes."

Five minutes later, a silver Suzuki Cultus rolled to a stop outside the site.

This time, instead of taking the back seat, Ali opened the front passenger door and sat beside him.

Ahad smiled.

"So, Ali sir... how was your first day at the site?"

Ali let out a weary sigh.

"Imagine asking an English professor to supervise an open-heart surgery."

Ahad looked at him sideways, puzzled.

Ali smiled faintly.

"I head the IT Division... and today I was sent to oversee a construction project."

"Mr. Haider's orders?"

There was unmistakable excitement in Ahad's voice.

Ali nodded.

Ahad shook his head in admiration.

"Sir... Mr. Haider is my role model. Honestly, I think he's the inspiration behind all the engineering students in this country."

He laughed softly.

"And becoming Director of IT at Haideron Tech at your age..."

He glanced at Ali with genuine respect.

"...that's no small achievement."

Ali smiled politely but said nothing.

Ahad continued,

"Today has actually been a lucky day for me."

Ali looked at him.

"I met someone working directly under the man I admire the most."

He chuckled.

"Who knows... maybe one day I'll meet Mr. Haider himself."

Ali smiled.

"If God wills... you probably will."

He paused.

"Ahad..."

"If it doesn't inconvenience you..."

"...could I meet your grandfather today?"

Ahad's hands remained steady on the steering wheel, but he didn't answer immediately.

Ali continued gently.

"You said he knows the old stories of this city."

"I'd like to hear them."

After a long silence, Ahad finally spoke.

"Sir... Dada Ji drifts."

He shifted gears.

"I don't think you'll make much sense of what he says."

Ali wasn't ready to give up.

"Even if I don't understand everything..."

"...I'd still like to see this city through his stories."

Ahad smiled faintly.

"To be honest, sir..."

"...instead of telling you stories, he'll probably keep repeating the same names."

"Names?"

"Farooq..."

He paused.

"...Iftikhar."

Ali turned sharply.

"Iftikhar?"

Ahad nodded.

"Those are the names I have heard since childhood."

Ali swallowed."My father's name is Iftikhar Siddiqui."

He looked straight at Ahad.

"Please..."

"Take me to him."

"My parents also lived near the old airport years ago."

"Perhaps..."

"...your grandfather knew them."

Ahad looked thoughtful.

"So the old airport..."

"...again."

Ali shrugged with a faint smile.

"Maybe."

Nearly twenty minutes later, the Suzuki Cultus stopped outside a modest old house.

Its walls had faded with time.

A small open courtyard stood at the entrance.

Inside, an elderly man sat quietly on a wooden chair, wrapped in a woollen shawl.

The moment he saw his grandson entering with a stranger...

...he stood up.

His eyes widened.

"Iftikhar..."

His voice rasped with age.

He stretched out both trembling hands.

"After all these years..."

Ali froze.

Ahad looked from his grandfather to Ali.

"Grandpa..."

"This isn't Iftikhar."

Ali stepped forward gently.

"Uncle..."

"I'm not Iftikhar."

The old man's expression dimmed.

"...You're not?"

Ali shook his head.

"I'm his son."

"Iftikhar Siddiqui is my father."

Ahad stared silently at both of them.

Ali spoke softly.

"Did you know him?"

The old man leaned forward.

His cloudy eyes studied Ali's face.

"Your eyes..."

He whispered.

"His jaw..."

Then he turned towards Ahad.

"Hadi..."

"His father looked exactly like this."

"My friend..."

His voice faded.

A strange shiver ran through his frail body.

It wasn't because of the cold.

His eyes slowly drifted somewhere beyond the courtyard...

...towards another place...

...another year.

"That night..."

he whispered.

"There was blood on the tracks."

A chill travelled through Ali's spine.

"What tracks?"

"What happened?"

The old man slowly lifted a trembling finger, pointing somewhere behind them, as though he could still see someone standing there.

"He escaped..."

"He escaped the devil's game..."

"Who escaped?" Ali asked.

"Iftikhar."

The old man answered without hesitation.

Then suddenly his strength seemed to leave him.

He collapsed back into the wooden chair.

"But October came..."

"October..."

"1985..."

His breathing became uneven.

"The girl..."

"The boy..."

"The train..."

His eyes became distant.

Almost lifeless.

Ahad rushed to him.

"Grandpa!"

He knelt beside him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gently rubbed his back.

"Enough."

"Please."

"You'll make yourself ill again."

The old man's hands crept over his ears. A tremor passed through his frail body as his eyes lost focus, fixed on something only he could see.

During the drive back, neither of them spoke for several minutes.

Finally Ahad broke the silence.

"The doctors say he mixes memories with imagination."

He gave a sad smile.

"Sometimes I don't know where one ends..."

"...and the other begins."

Ali kept looking through the window.

"What is his name?"

"Tariq Malik."

Ali nodded slowly.

"I think..."

"...he knew my father."

Silence returned.

After a while, Ahad spoke again.

"Ali sir..."

"If you don't mind..."

"...may I call you Ali bhai?"

Ali smiled.

"Of course."

Trying to lighten the mood, Ahad asked,

"Ali bhai..."

"Do you have children?"

Ali laughed quietly.

"No."

"Just work."

"I'm saving to start a software company one day."

Ahad grinned.

"In that case..."

"...I should probably learn programming as well."

"Maybe one day you'll hire me."

Ali laughed.

"Maybe I will."

"But first..."

"I pray you get a proper job as a civil engineer."

Ahad laughed.

"I'll be happy if I somehow manage to get even an internship at Haideron Tech."

"Then..."

"...who knows?"

"...we might meet again."

Their laughter lingered only for a moment before the December afternoon swallowed it.

When Ahad dropped him outside Haideron Tech, Ali remained standing beside the road for several seconds.

Only one conversation echoed inside his mind.

October.

31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ67DuhAwy4r

The girl.

The boy.

The train.

The blood.

Somewhere in the distance...

...a train horn drifted through the afternoon.

31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrhhtbNOgo

ns216.73.217.114da2

Reading Theme:

Font Size:

Line Spacing:

Paragraph Spacing:

Load the next issue automatically