Page 138 of The Circle of Exile
His mouth pursed. He hadn’t. But Atharva had known him long enough to be sure that he wouldn’t serve excuses. He was a man of ownership and solutions.
“Those notes might have leaked.”
Zafarji’s usually calm eyes widened.
“The 27th October note for sure has leaked to Momina Aslam. Find out the hole and fill it.”
“I will do that in the next hour and report back, sir.”
“There is a specific part there, the three-hour sightseeing part. Fix that. Create another back-dated note and replace it. Stick to the format this time, skipping the mosque and anything related to Iram. The leaked note should look doctored.”
“Won’t it become even more suspicious, sir?”
“To whom? She already has a lot of clues. Her shouting from the rooftops is not in my hands. But if an inquiry comes knocking at my door, keeping the house clean is in my hands.”
Zafarji nodded.
“Get both the notes to me when they are ready. And please summon the Advocate General of State.”
“Do we share an agenda, sir?”
“Amrohi Associates case. Tell him to bring all the material.”
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“Thank you, AG sir,” Atharva stood to his feet, shaking hands and walking him to the door. The open door was shutting in when Ashraf, his head peon, came jogging, tiffin in hand.
“Is it lunchtime already?” Atharva stepped outside and glanced at the office. Half the staff was gone. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was past two, which meant the first lot of his Secretariat had already finished lunch.
“Madam sent this at 1 but you were not to be disturbed, sir,” Ashraf held the steel tiffin up. “Should I set it up?”
“Yes,” Atharva stepped aside, eyes falling on his Private Secretary.
“Zafarji?”
“Sir?” He glanced up from his computer.
“Did you take your lunch?”
“In a minute.”
“You can do this later.”
“It’s done, sir.”
Atharva nodded — “Bring it to me after lunch. Go, eat first.” He stepped back inside his office and walked to his chair.
“How is it going, Ashraf?” He sat down, unbuttoning his cuffs.
“Everything is quiet today, Janab. Singh sir got chocolates for everybody.”
“Is it?” Atharva smiled. “Why?”
“His son cleared his 12th board prelims.”
Atharva brows rose.
“In our times if we passed the final exam it was worth giving gud to the neighbours,” Ashraf chuckled along. “Salad, Janab?”
