Chapter 23 _ The Square
1144 Words
"I have to leave the office—the information is all jumbled up."
The prosecutor stood in front of the prosecutor's office building, then got into his car and drove off.
Meanwhile, Susan was sipping her coffee, her eyes glued to her laptop screen as she typed intently. Suddenly, she slammed the laptop shut and jumped. Her coffee cup fell to the floor. Without hesitation, she grabbed her purse, phone, and keys, and rushed to the apartment door. She opened it, stepped out, and closed it behind her.
At the same time, the prosecutor parked his car in front of the tower and headed toward the security room.
Prosecutor: I'm the prosecutor.
Mina stood up from behind his desk.
Mina: I know you, sir... I was here about the girl who was killed in the street.
Prosecutor: Okay. What's your name?
Mina: I'm Mina.
Prosecutor: And what's on this computer? Pornography?
Mina: Of course not, sir. These are security recordings of the entire tower.
Prosecutor: Okay. Are there cameras filming the tower from the outside? Mina: Yes, sir. There are more than ten cameras on the tower's facade.
Prosecutor: I want the recordings from the day of the incident, the day before, and the day after. And don't give me the recordings you handed in earlier that only show the gate, you incompetent fool!
Mina swallowed hard.
Mina: Understood, Your Honor.
He sat down and began scrolling through the recordings. Outside, the prosecutor emerged from the security room, lit a cigarette, and walked toward the gate. He stopped in front of the tower, in the very spot where Mira's body had been found, and shouted loudly:
Prosecutor: Do you see me, you filthy security guard? Do you see me? I'm here!
Mina's voice echoed from inside the security room:
Mina: I see you, sir.
The prosecutor raised his hand in agreement.
Mina's face was pale with fear, and his hands trembled as he gripped the mouse, desperately searching through the footage.
The prosecutor returned to the security room, his gaze fixed on Mina.
Prosecutor: Are you finished? Mina stood up, took a flash drive from the computer, and walked over to the prosecutor.
Mina: Yes, sir.
Prosecutor: There's no need. Let me see from here.
The prosecutor approached and pressed hard on Mina's shoulder.
Prosecutor: Sit down.
Mina complied. The prosecutor stood beside him, moving the mouse. The video showed only Mira lying dead in front of the tower, with the prosecutor nearby, and Mina, Ashraf, and Shadi around them. When the video was replayed, Mira wasn't shown falling from the top, nor was there any car hitting her. Only the prosecutor, the security personnel, and the journalist, Suzanne, remained.
Suddenly, the prosecutor released the mouse, grabbed Mina by the neck, and lifted him up.
Prosecutor: I will sentence you to life imprisonment for treason and harboring a murderer by tampering with evidence if you don't produce the correct recordings!
Mina trembled violently.
Mina: I swear to you, this is all!
Prosecutor: Did Mira fall from the sky in front of the tower, you liar? Mina was pushed onto the chair and fell to the ground. The prosecutor rushed out, got into his car, and sped off recklessly.
A few moments later, he stopped in front of a large hospital, got out of the car, and headed for the entrance.
Inside, Susan stood beside the forensic pathologist, wearing a white coat and a mask. She looked like a doctor. The pathologist was engrossed in the autopsy, his hands buried in the body, meticulously dissecting each part.
Susan: How can someone be killed without an instrument, Doctor? Do you think you can dissect a body without your tools?
The pathologist: (Looking at her, his hands still inside the body) Of course not. But sometimes... He paused... Sometimes I put my instruments aside and use only my hands inside the body to extract an organ.
Susan: What do you mean, Doctor?
The pathologist: I mean... He suddenly fell silent.
At that moment, the door opened, and the prosecutor entered.
– Morgue – Police, Press: Everyone races to get the information first.
Dr. Ahmed puts down his instruments, removes his gloves, and throws them into the medical waste bin. He turns with a slight smile: – Dr. Ahmed: Hello, Mr. Mohammed.
Detective Mohammed: Hello, Dr. Ahmed.
The detective looks towards Susan, his tone formal: Detective Mohammed: Hello, Susan.
Susan fixes her eyes on Dr. Ahmed, her voice sharp: Susan: What do you mean, Dr. Ahmed?
Dr. Ahmed: Based on the autopsy, the cause of death was a deep cut to the neck veins with a sharp instrument. However… there are no traces of the instrument itself. In other words, I relied on my experience to complete the report. Frankly, I deliberately didn't specify the type of instrument—because there was no evidence of it. And also to protect my reputation, if another doctor had examined the body, he would have simply said she was murdered… but without specifying the instrument. I—and no doctor—can say for sure whether it was a knife, an electric saw, or something else. The only certainty is... she was cut to death.
The detective narrows his eyes.
Detective Mohammed: Are you saying the killer wiped away the traces of the weapon?
Dr. Ahmed: I'm not saying that. No one can erase the traces of a murder weapon.
Detective Mohammed: Then how did he hide it?
Dr. Ahmed shakes his head, sighing. Dr. Ahmed: I don't know. This is the first and strangest case I've ever seen. Search the hospital records; you won't find anything like it.
He turns, puts on a new pair of gloves, and resumes the autopsy.
Susan, her voice strained, looks at the detective.
Susan: What are you going to do now?
Detective Mohammed: Tell me... what do you know about this tower?
Susan smiles with quiet confidence.
Susan: A lot.
Detective Mohammed: Then tell me everything.
Susan: Is this a formal interrogation, Mr. Mohammed?
Detective Mohammed: If you want it... then yes.
Susan: In that case, let's do it in your office.
Detective Mohammed: Okay. Dr. Ahmed glances back as he continues working.
Dr. Ahmed: Don't hesitate to call me, Mr. Mohammed, if you think I can help.
At the same time, Susan and Detective Mohammed reply together.
Both: Of course.
-I'm not used to the couch being empty- Where's my dad?
A young man stands at the villa gate, rings the doorbell, and waits anxiously.
Miranda comes out of the villa, walks towards the gate, and speaks to the young man from behind it without opening it.
Miranda: Hello.
The young man: Good evening… I'd like to see my father, please.
Miranda: Your father? Who is he?
The young man says: My father, Mr. Mohammed, is the one who takes care of him.
- Writer
