Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 33

7 years ago

Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 33

“Protection indeed,” Daniel spat, “Who protects himself by drinking poison?”
“I didn’t say I was protecting myself.”
“Whatever you are talking about now?”
“Did it ever occur to your tiny, tiny brain that I’d rather have the poison kill me than watching you drink it and die? It is better to have one person die of poisoning than two. I realise that having me die from the poison is the only way to stop you from drinking.”
Daniel’s eyes opened a little bit wider than normal, “You’re kidding me, right?” He wasn’t sure if Lot was messing with his head or being serious. But he knew the detective was one who didn’t always make unnecessary jokes. He watched in awe as Lot poured himself another cup and drank. With the way the detective swallowed as he drank, Daniel supposed that the tea must have been deliciously rich. He found himself swallowing saliva.

So much for poison! He wanted to reach out and drink from the goblet of uncertainty but he still had reservation about that tea; the liquid could really contain poison. And Lot could really be having a death-wish. Come to think of it, the man volunteered to investigate this case for free, Lot didn’t always do anything for free, he was definitely sure about that. He watched Lot pour the third cup.
Without drinking, the detective placed the cup of tea on the table. This was not helping a bit, for Daniel could not take his eyes away from the steaming, cold beverage. Lot placed his briefcase on the table, opened it and came out with a sheet of paper. Daniel recognized the sheet as the one the detective had extracted from the corpse’s pocket. Lot placed the paper on the table and pushed it across to Daniel.
“Read that and tell me what you think about it.”
Daniel picked up the paper, dragged his eyes off the tea and looked at what he was holding. He said to Lot immediately, “This one is burnt in half. I’ll need the other half before I can make any sense of what is written on it.”
“I don’t have the other half, that is how I found it. Just read the half as it is.”
“It won’t make any sense.”
“Just read it.” Lot snapped.

The first thing Daniel did was count the lines on the paper. They were twenty-five. The sheet of paper was unarguably a full foolscap carefully burnt in half. Why the person who did it would perform the act in the first place totally eluded him. He noticed that the detective was studying his face curiously, so he began to read the insensible text. As he read, he tried to acquire the habit of thinking – something he had never done much before.

I don’t want to ramble too—
it is at this moment impera—
may quite be a chance that—
you read this note; because—
my life is somehow being th—
I should have called, really—
isn’t as hushed as it initially—
may linger behind these stult—
words that come out of my m—
new line from which we ca—
privacy; a safe-house well pa—
compound and we can freely—
the walls grow unnecessary ea—
you will notice when you see—
day between midday and 2—
when you call, I shall be wai—
I expect that the other partie—
of the truth over there. But V—
the truth – we have to act—
I really hope the plan wor—

After this, Daniel noticed that the next lines appeared to be a quote of some sorts. He felt like he knew this one but his mind could still not place its origin. He read on:
*In the beginning*
There is a tid—
In the affairs—
Which, taken a—
Leads on to f—
He read these twenty-five lines all over again, trying to connect the missing links, but as much as he tried, he could not. However, his mind continued to bring him back to the last five lines. The only complete line among the twenty-five was the twenty-first; the one bearing an asterisk:
*In the beginning*
These were the first three words of the Bible:
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth
Although the remaining four lines were incomplete, Daniel felt like line twenty-one was inappropriate to its successors. He held the paper like a feather in his hand and looked at the detective’s eyes.
“It makes no sense, sir.” He told the detective.

Lot nodded, shutting his eyes. When he opened those hard eyes, he said, “I’ve got to complete it for the note to make sense.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? Through divine intervention?”
“Through using the brain,” Lot replied sharply, “Try that some time, it works wonders.” Lot expected himself to get the work done in fifteen minutes as soon as he started deciphering the content of the note, because that was the average time required any simple code of this nature which was devised by anyone lacking in significant education in any branch of higher symbolism; by comparison, more ingeniously composed required days, weeks, even months to penetrate.
“Thanks for the advice, sir.”
“You’re forgetting something very important, dear Famous.”
“Please remind me, sir.”
“This note is the link to everything. Trust me on that. Without this note, I’m afraid the murder would never be solved. Resurrect Sherlock Holmes and he won’t be able to solve this case without connecting the dots in the note first.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Turn your attention to the note you are holding and read line 20.”

Daniel did as he was told; he turned his gaze to the burnt paper, counted the lines and stopped at number 20. He saw what he did not notice earlier; it was the line immediately before the biblical three words he’d pondered over moments ago. He read line twenty out loud:
“I really hope the plan works.”
“ ‘out well’ “ Lot added, “ ‘I really hope the plan works out well’. I can bet my life’s saving that that was what the writer wrote.”
“And that’s the link?” Daniel asked, apparently not impressed yet at the detective’s discovery. Of course, anyone could guess out that particular line. It was straightforward enough.
“That line shows that Jamal’s death was carefully planned. And the plan lies in what is written here. I’m going to find out everything, Famous.”
“Do you know who wrote the note?”
“Nobody can know that until this note is cracked. As a matter of fact, cracking it may not even reveal the identity of the writer.

The person who scribbled this note left no forwarding address, and no subscription.”
“It could easily have been written by Mr. Jamal Malik himself.”
“Or by his murderer. We’d only be speculating if we wasted more time arguing about who held the pen. Don’t you think we’ve got some people to question?”
“Who are we questioning first?”
“The maid.”
:Should I go and call her now?”
“Please do.”
Daniel rose. When he reached the door, Lot called him, “Famous.”
“Yes?”
“When you bring her you’re going to ask the questions.”
Daniel was visibly surprised, “Why me? Isn’t that your job?”
“I want to concentrate on deciphering the note while you work.”