October 23, 1999 (Saturday) Chief Executive's Secretariat, Islamabad 09:00 Hours
The Mullahs were quiet. The politicians were sweating in the dark. But the war wasn't over. It had just moved to the ledger books.
"Sir," the Commerce Secretary—a nervous man named Mr. Latif—placed a file on my desk. "We have a critical situation. Sugar stocks in the retail market have collapsed. The price has jumped from Rs. 18 to Rs. 45 overnight."
"Collapsed?" I asked, sipping my tea. "Did the ants eat it?"
"No, Sir. The Mill Owners Association says production is down due to a bad cane harvest. They warn of a famine."
Latif paused, then dropped the bait. "They have a proposal, Sir. To save the country from a crisis, they are offering to import sugar from Brazil. But... the international price is high. They are asking for a government subsidy of Rs. 5 Billion to support the import. They say if you sign the check today, the sugar will be in the market next week."
I put my cup down slowly. I looked at Latif. Then I looked at the file. I started laughing.
"Sir?" Latif looked confused.
"It is beautiful," I said, shaking my head. "It is truly a masterpiece of theft."
I stood up and walked to the whiteboard. "Brigadier Tariq, pay attention. This is how you rob a nation without a gun."
I drew a diagram.
Step 1: The Mill Owners (who are also politicians) hoard the sugar they already produced. They hide it in secret godowns. Step 2: The market dries up. Prices skyrocket. The public panics. Step 3: The Owners come to the Government as 'Saviors.' They ask for tax-payer money to 'import' sugar. Step 4: I give them Rs. 5 Billion. Step 5: They don't import anything. They simply take the sugar hidden in Step 1, put a 'Brazilian' stamp on the bag, and release it into the market.
"The result?" I turned to the horrified Brigadier. "They sell their old stock at the new high price plus they pocket the 5 Billion subsidy. Double profit. And the government thanks them for it."
I turned back to Latif. "Secretary Sahib, do you think I am a naive soldier who only knows how to salute? I commanded the Mangla Corps. I managed the logistics for 100,000 men. I know exactly how supplies 'disappear' between the Quartermaster's depot and the soldiers' mess hall."
I leaned over the desk, my voice dropping to a growl. "The math of theft is the same, whether it is rations or sugar. The godowns aren't empty, Latif. They are just locked."
"So... we reject the subsidy?" Latif asked, trembling.
"Reject?" I smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "No. We verify."
I pressed the intercom. "Get me SSP Zulfiqar Cheema. And tell the Ministry of Information to wake up. I want PTV and the Jang crime reporters ready in one hour."
The Honest Hammer Jaktar Sugar Mills, Industrial Estate, Punjab 14:30 Hours (2:30 PM)
The heat was blistering. A convoy of heavy Army trucks, led by a Police Jeep, screeched to a halt outside the massive iron gates of the Jaktar Sugar Mills.
Behind the police vans were two media vans—PTV News and a press car from Daily Jang.
Inside the Mill, the Manager was calm. He was on the phone. "Don't worry, Sir. Even if they come, they can't open Warehouse 4 without a warrant. And by the time they get a warrant, we will move the stock."
CRASH!
The iron gate groaned and bent inward as a heavy NLC truck rammed into it. The Manager jumped up. "What the hell?!"
He ran outside. He saw SSP Zulfiqar Cheema stepping out of the jeep. Cheema wasn't holding a warrant. He was holding a pair of heavy bolt cutters. Behind him, the PTV cameraman was already rolling.
"Open Warehouse 4!" Cheema ordered.
"You can't come in here!" The Manager screamed, running forward with three armed guards. "This is private property! Turn those cameras off!"
The guards raised their shotguns. Cheema didn't flinch. He drew his pistol in one fluid motion and fired a warning shot into the air. BANG!
"The next one is not a warning," Cheema roared. "Drop the weapons! You are on live television!"
The guards froze. They looked at the PTV camera. They knew their faces were being beamed to the entire nation. They dropped their guns and ran.
Cheema walked up to the massive doors of Warehouse 4. The Jang reporter scribbled furiously in his notepad. Cheema snapped the lock with the bolt cutters. The doors creaked open.
Sunlight flooded into the dark cavern. The camera zoomed in. It revealed a white mountain. Thousands of bags, stacked to the ceiling. Sugar. Tons of it. Hoarded, hidden, waiting for the subsidy check.
Cheema turned to the camera, holding up a handful of sugar from a slit bag. "The Mill Owners said there was a famine," Cheema said to the lens. "Here is your famine."
The Night of Sirens 21:00 Hours (9:00 PM)
The Khabarnama (9 PM News) began on PTV. The lead story wasn't politics. It was the footage of the sugar mountain. The anchor announced: "Chief Executive Orders Immediate Crackdown. Hoarded Sugar to be Seized and Sold at Rs. 15/kg."
I sat in my office and picked up the secure radio. "Phase Two," I ordered. "Unleash the wolf packs."
21:15 Hours Across the Cities (Lahore, Karachi, Rawalpindi)
The city soundscape changed. Usually, the night was filled with the sound of traffic and distant generators. Tonight, it was filled with Sirens.
Wooo-Wooo-Wooo!
Police jeeps and Army transport trucks flooded the streets. They weren't going to the borders. They were going to the neighborhoods. Akbari Mandi (Lahore). Jodia Bazaar (Karachi). Raja Bazaar (Rawalpindi).
Every major retailer, every wholesale dealer who had closed their shutters to hide their stock, heard the knock.
In a posh neighborhood store in Defence, Lahore: A shopkeeper was hastily trying to move sugar bags out the back door into a van. Suddenly, a jeep pulled up. Soldiers jumped out. "Open the godown!"
"It's... it's just personal stock!" the shopkeeper stammered.
The Major kicked the door open. Floor-to-ceiling stacks of sugar. "Seize it!"
The sirens wailed from street to street. Neighbors looked out from their balconies. They saw corrupt shopkeepers—who had told them just that morning "No sugar, Madam"—being dragged out in handcuffs. They saw soldiers loading the "hidden" sugar onto trucks.
And then, right there on the street corner, under the streetlights, the soldiers set up a stall. "Sugar! Rs. 15 per kilo! One bag per family!"
The lines formed instantly. People cheered. They blessed the soldiers. For the first time in years, the State wasn't predator; it was provider.
The Aftermath 23:00 Hours (11:00 PM)
"Sir," Brigadier Tariq walked in. He looked exhausted but exhilarated. "The initial report. We have seized 40,000 tons of sugar in two hours. The retail price in the black market has crashed. Dealers are throwing bags on the street just to avoid arrest."
I nodded, watching the split screen of raids in Karachi and Lahore. The panic on the faces of the hoarders was satisfying.
"But Sir," Tariq's face turned serious. "We have poked the hornet's nest."
"The Mill Owners?"
"Worse. The Transport Union. The President of the Goods Transport Association just went live on Geo News. He says this is 'Martial Law against Business'. He has announced a nationwide wheel-jam strike starting at midnight."
"He says if the Police don't leave the markets, no truck will move tomorrow. No vegetables. No wheat. No fuel."
I leaned back. I had won the battle of the Sugar. But now, the Empire was striking back. If the trucks stopped, the cities would starve in three days. And a starving mob doesn't cheer; it burns.
"They want a siege?" I whispered. I looked at the map on the wall. The roads were about to close. But there was another line on the map. A thin black line that connected Karachi to Peshawar. The old, rusting, forgotten line.
"Get me the Railway Minister," I ordered. "If the trucks won't move... we will wake up the Iron Horse."
Author's Note
The "Shock and Awe" Tactic.
The Cover Story: Attributing his knowledge to "Army Logistics" is the perfect bluff. It shuts down the civilian bureaucrats who assume generals are dumb, while hiding his true identity.
The Atmosphere: The 9 PM news followed by the immediate sound of sirens creates a cinematic feeling of "Judgment Day" for the corrupt.
The Escalation: The victory is decisive, which forces the antagonist (The Cartel) to use their ultimate weapon: The Wheel-Jam Strike.
Next Chapter: The Iron Vein. The trucks stop. The Cartel laughs, thinking they have won. Aditya mobilizes the Pakistan Railways (which is in bad shape) to break the blockade, perhaps using Army engineers to get the old engines running.