THE VISITOR
‘But who is he?’ I asked, about to hit the roof.
‘The man refuses to tell me his name, Miss,’ croaked the receptionist.
‘Okay. Send him in.’ I gave up and slammed the receiver on the cradle.
I was already feeling dejected. I could not find an important file. I was apprehensively
searching for it in my cabin when the strong scent of breeze entered my nostrils. I stopped
fidgeting with the papers and looked up. There was a young man standing at the entrance, his
eyes searching for someone. As they caught sight of the nameplate on my glass cabin door, a
smile flickered on his lips and he started towards my cabin at a brisk pace.
He was dressed professionally, wearing a white shirt, a grey tie, matching coat and pants. He
opened the door and said, ‘May I enter?’
‘Yes.’ I replied, scrutinizing him from head to toe.
As he got himself seated in front of me, I noticed that he was short, or at least shorter than I
was. He was wearing Gucci glasses and seemed to be in his mid-thirties. From his
expressions, this man looked unreliable and deceitful. I tried to stay calm, wiped a bead of
perspiration from my forehead and looked inquiringly at him.
He smiled again and said:
‘Madam, I am Peter Baker from Google. Congratulations!’
The remark made me blurt, ‘Excuse me?’
‘I am from Google,’ he repeated, his hazel eyes twinkling, ‘I have some great news for you.
You have been our billionth visitor this week.’
I could not suppress another confused, ‘Excuse me?’ At this, he took a deep breath and
began.
‘Madam, I perceive that you are unaware of our policy. We have weekly prizes for every
billionth visitor to Google. You have won…’
He left the sentence trailing in mid air. He was trying to be dramatic but he quickly started
again when I looked at him.
‘Madam, you have won air tickets for two, to Venice! All you need to do is sign this
document and get ready for the trip!’ he said, beamingly.
‘Okay, but it will take sometime for me to read the document,’ I said cynically.
He looked reluctant and reeled off, ‘Madam, I do not see why you need to read the document.
All you have to do is sign it and give me Rs.10,000 for your accommodation in Venice. See
this space? You have to sign here.’ And he thrust an open file at me, pointing at a small box
at the end of a page.
I was dubious about whether or not to trust him.
‘Please sign here, Madam.’ He said curtly.
He looked furious, and in an instant, I realized that he was a fraud. How could I be the
billionth visitor for that week when I had not been visiting ‘Google’ since the previous two
weeks? The documents were probably forged. Maybe he was trying to trap me into
something illegal…
I exhaled deeply.
“Wait, I have to call the security officer.”
He stood up so abruptly that I had to stop speaking.
‘NO!’ he almost shouted and then looked rueful.
‘Why not?’ I asked pleasantly. I knew I had hit the nail on the head. I picked up the receiver
and looked at him derisively but he had already advanced towards the door.
‘Wait! The guard is on his way. Would you not like to meet him, Mr. Peter?
He gave me one last, angry glare and stormed out of my cabin. As soon as he got out, he
broke into a sprint. I quickly alerted the guard at the main gate through the intercom.
Some moments later, I called my secretary who filled me in with the news: my bluffing
visitor had been caught running out of the turnstile of my department entrance, and that he
was on his way to the police station and the police wanted me to give them further details.
I heaved a sigh and resumed my search of the lost file.
MEHAK ZAHID
XI A
2007-2008