Character Snippets
Get to know the Primary Players in Colonel Khan Book 1:
The Mystery of the Falcon Falcon
Aleema Bhatti
Khan set the plated fish before Aleema first. As her fork sank gently through the crackling skin, the sound—crisp, papery—triggered something deep in her chest.
The steam coiled upward, thick with masala and sea salt, and for a moment, the room around her blurred.
She was no longer seated at the island in the luxurious kitchen of the lakeside mansion. She was barefoot on a beach in Dubai...
Aamir Bhatti
...the spotlights snapped to the opening doors of the Empire Room, and out walked Aamir Bhatti from the shadows.
He stood tall, gazing over the crowd, savoring the applause, his ivory long-sleeved sherwani coat glowing like moonlight.
He raised a hand—silence.
“Tonight,” he began, his voice smooth and charismatic, “We bridge tradition...
Anil O'Neill
“Burdens indeed,” O’Neill agreed, “The burden of wealth? Looks? Drugs? A girl? A boy?”
“Don’t be awful,” Amy said, frowning.
“Awful is just boring with a hashtag,” O’Neill shrugged, taking another swig of his drink, “I’d bet on a scandal. The kid's got ‘tabloid tragedy’ written all over him.”
“You seem unusually invested in all these rumors, Anil,” Khan observed.
Faisal Rana
“Who’s the worker bee?”
“Faisal Rana,” Anil replied, “Or ‘Faisal the Faithful’, as he’s known in some circles. Always the loyal assistant.
He may look like an accountant in the back room of a grocery store, but there’s more to Mr. Rana than meets the eye. Ambition can wear many disguises, wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”
They watched Faisal adjust a banner, whisper to staff, and hand Aamir a fresh drink...
Zara Ansari
Amy crossed her arms, “What about Zara? She’s the real genius here.”
“Aah—the prodigy!”, Anil swirled the contents of his tumbler, “Don’t let the designer suits fool you my dear, that woman’s got a heart like a blockchain and the mind of a scalpel. Ambitious, brilliant and utterly ruthless.”
Across the room, Zara Ansari held her own court, chatting up a group of Investment...
Sal Shah
Sal Shah stood framed in the doorway, bathed in the light from the condo behind him.
His dark locks were perfectly arranged, likely by a professional hand very recently. A faint, cloying scent of sandalwood drifted from him. His smile was wide, welcoming, and practiced. His eyes, however, were cold, assessing, missing nothing.
"Gentlemen," Shah purred, his voice as smooth as his gown. "Unexpected. Please, come in."
Javed Bhatti
Javed had escaped the strained atmosphere of the foyer and Aleema’s rebuke of Faisal. He sought refuge in the billiard room. He let a movie play silently in the background on the massive screen in the corner, filling his glass from the nearby bar.
He stalked to the billiard table, chalking the cue with hard, deliberate strokes. Leaning in, he lined up and broke. Javed’s play wasn’t sport; it was an assault.
Detective Enzo Rossi
Sirens wailed.
Detective Enzo Rossi stormed in accompanied by a dozen officers, his trench coat and bushy mustache dripping, a salt-and-pepper stubble glowing under the flashing lights. A coffee cup sloshed liquid in one hand while he barked orders into a large police radio
“Hell of a party Colonel. You sure know how to clear a dance floor.”