-Here you go, as promised, first update coming your way on 22nd June. :)

Shaam stood in front of the obsolete face of the prison.

“Detective, they are asking for you.” a short man with a thin moustache informed him.

Detective Shaam had been trying to absorb the surroundings. The nature of a crime, he used to say, could only be interpreted by putting yourself in the criminal’s state of mind.

He had one last look at the barren face of the building whose oddly architectured facade seemed to stare down at his grey dress pants and pure white shirt. The building’s blue paint had been beaten by the harsh sun to a dull excuse of its original shade and had chipped at places, showing the unattractive chalky white as a substratum.

They aren’t as weather resistant as they tell you in the commercials, are they?

Many had challenged his ways over the years. But him being unorthodox had not come in the way of his success; 34 cases in the last two years and 33 of them solved. He was only one case short of perfection.

Despite his privy demeanor, he had climbed higher and higher in his ranks until he had become the most revered detective in the country. No one could forget how he had found the son of former Prime Minister, Yousuf Raza Gillani, in a faraway Afghanistan village. His nails were brutally plucked, face battered and bruised, But Shaam had rescued him, nonetheless.

He made his way inside the prison and an immediate rush of bollywood horror movie scenes accompanied him. This certainly looked like a place some spirit would prefer to haunt.

He walked along the corridors outskirting the centred open-air gallery as the inmates screamed at him and jeered from all sides. All of them stood up and held the rotten bars of their cells, jerking and striking them. He didn’t know why they did it, but this had somewhat become Pakistani prison tradition. In the corner of the corridor, a blue and red sign hung, reading

“Inspector General” in english and urdu.

Shaam went inside.

A stocky man sat in his wooden chair, holding a newspaper and concealing himself behind it. The headline read, “Dangerous Murderer Escapes”. Only the tip of his navy blue beret with its floral embroidered silver wreath was visible. Shaam stalled and gazed around while the Assistant Superintendent caught the man’s attention. Bulging files were littered all across his tables with meaningless stamps and signatures. A half empty cup of tea and a couple of traditional rusks sat loitering among their crisp crumbs.

“Sir, Detective Shaam is here.” the Assistant superintendent obliged.

“Send him i-” the inspector’s gurgling voice began but he stopped in the middle of his sentence, realizing that Shaam was already in. “So you’re here, Shaam.” the Inspector general spoke with a look of distaste in his tone.

“Yes, Pasha, I am. And if you do remember me, which you do, then you should be quite aware that I am always on time.”

Both of them stared at each other for a  while. They had worked together before on a few occasions, but neither had gotten along.

“Anyway,” Pasha began. “Let’s get to work.”

So they exited his office and made their way through another corridor. Shaam had expected the same treatment from the inmates that he had experienced a minute ago, but nothing came this time. The inmates sat in far corners of their cells and just stared at Shaam and Pasha with their hollow and lifeless eyes.

They are scared of him.

They climbed a staircase that rose towards the left, suddenly from the middle of the corridor, as if the architect had added them as an afterthought.

Reaching the first floor, they took another right, walking anti parallel to the corridor that they had passed below and reached the same corner from where they had started. The only difference was that they were now one floor above.

“This is his cell.” Pasha motioned with his malacca cane towards a metalic cell door that stood ajar. Inside were two photographers, capturing photographs of the evidence. Other than that, nothing looked peculiar.

“How did he escape.” Shaam asked, looking around the cemented interior of the cell.

“That’s the point, we don’t know.” Pasha sounded irritated. The popularity drop for him was obvious after this incident, and he certainly looked displeased.

Shaam surveyed the room with his soft green eyes; nothing odd. He checked the walls, sliding his bare hand along their length, then tapped the floor.

“Was he present at night on the daily checklist?” Shaam asked.

“Yes.”

“When was that carried out?”

“10.15 pm.” Pasha sounded more pissed with every question.

And yet, he had escaped by 6.30 am.

Shaam then sat on the lonely bunk that creaked under his weight. Most people were scared of using objects previously utilized by dangerous criminals, but Shaam sat there, pondering on how Saleem had planned his escape on this bunk.

Suddenly, as if from a revelation, Shaam stood up with a possessed look in his eyes and began looking at all the meaningless things engraved on the walls of the cell. Jain inmates usually inscribed things on the walls of their cells while idling around. It was their way to kill time.

Shaam saw random curses and names of a few girls on the walls. An enormous variety of writing styles ensured him that it won’t be easy to detect anything leading particularly to Saleem.

He felt with his fingers throughiut the walls till his fingertips blackened with soot. It took him a while to find something worth the mess, but when he finally reached close to the far corner, he found something unmistakably related to this case. He saw engraved on the cement walls:

                          21st JUNE

                  L H R B H W S A G

They had just found their clue, and it was an exptremely cryptic one.

-Don't forget to vote and comment. Seriously need some motivation to continue this story.
-Tentative date for next update: 25th June, 2017.