26th February 2031
Gulshan-2 — 09:00
Everyone was already in the car—everyone except Sohel, who stood outside with his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the street.
"Come on, Sohel," Naser called from the front seat. "The caretaker can take the package. We'll grab it when we're back."
"No way, Naser. I'm not leaving without it. Oh—there it is."
A delivery bike rolled to a stop in front of him. The rider hopped off, clipboard in hand. Sohel signed quickly, accepted a long guitar bag, and slung it over his shoulder with a satisfied grin.
Inside the car, his friends groaned.
"Really, Sohel?" Mitali snapped. "You made us wait an hour… for a guitar?"
"It's not just a guitar," he said with mock indignation. "It's my guitar. Anyway—let's roll, we're late."
They gave him the kind of look that could curdle milk but didn't push it further. On the way, Sohel casually mentioned that two of his friends would be joining them.
"They're already in Pabna," he said. "We'll meet at the hotel."
No one objected.
---
14:21 — Ratnodweep Resort
The car stopped at the resort's entrance. Two porters stepped forward to unload their bags while Naser informed everyone he'd booked five rooms.
"Freshen up," he told them. "Meet at the restaurant by 15:00."
Sohel's room was on the third floor, overlooking the gardens. Inside, he locked the door, pulled the curtains, and set the guitar bag on the bed.
He took a shower, changed into fresh clothes, then returned to the bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out the guitar—only to set it aside without even checking the strings.
His hand slipped into his pocket and came out holding a small pick. He pressed the corner seam on the back of the guitar bag.
Click.
A hidden compartment swung open. Inside lay an HK416 rifle, an M17 pistol, and a KM2000 combat knife.
Sohel checked each weapon with practiced precision—slide, chamber, magazine—before strapping on a shoulder holster. The M17 slid smoothly into place under his arm, the knife disappearing into a belt sheath.
The rifle went back into the compartment. The guitar followed, concealing the arsenal.
---
By the time he reached the restaurant, his friends were already seated in a corner booth.
"You're late. Again." Tahmid shook his head. "How the hell are you in the army with time management like this?"
"Sorry," Sohel replied easily. "Shower took longer than I thought."
Naser leaned forward. "Where are your new friends? Thought they were meeting us here."
"They should be around," Sohel said. "They told me they're staying at the resort too—"
He stopped when two figures approached their table. One was a young Japanese woman, early twenties, with a straight bob cut and a round, cheerful face. The other was a clean-shaven white man, blond hair cropped short, grey eyes alert.
"Hi, Sohel. We've been looking all over for you," the woman said. She turned to the others. "Hi everyone. Sohel may have mentioned us, but let me introduce ourselves properly. I'm Sergeant Naomi Kobayashi, and this is Sergeant Jacob Williams. We trained together in Tokyo."
Greetings went around.
"So," Sohel asked Naomi, "how's Shero?"
Naomi sighed. "Weird lately. Collecting junk, but… he's better with people now."
Jacob suddenly remembered something. He reached into his pocket and produced a small box.
"Ann sent this for you."
Sohel opened it to find a sleek pair of glasses. He inspected them, a smile breaking across his face.
He slipped them on. "Beautiful. Tell Annabelle I said thanks—and congratulations."
"Alright, enough chit-chat," Naser interrupted. "I'm starving. Sit, join us."
Naomi smiled. "Gladly."
They ate, chatting about how they'd spend the next few days. Afterward, the group decided to explore the area.
"You guys go ahead," Sohel said. "I'll catch up in about an hour. Naomi, Jacob—you too."
They nodded and left.
---
Back in his room, Sohel's instincts prickled. Something was off.
He closed the door quietly, scanning the space.
Tapping the rim of his new glasses, he murmured, "Wake up, Aria."
The lenses lit with data overlays. A calm, synthetic voice replied, "Aria at your service, boss."
"Scan the room. Tell me if anything's missing."
A faint hum filled his ears. Moments later: "All items accounted for, boss—except your rifle."
Sohel's jaw tightened. "Damn. Should've swept for bugs earlier. Aria, scan for spyware."
"Scanning… one microphone in the bedside lamp, one camera in the dressing table drawer handle."
"Thanks, Aria."
"Certainly, sir."
He dismantled the bugs with quick, silent efficiency, pocketing the parts.
"Aria, get me a rental car. Now."
"On it, boss."
Without another glance at the room, Sohel left. His pace was calm, but every step carried the weight of someone who knew this was no longer just a trip.