Circle of Fire

by S. M. Hall

  ‘Is he like a religious leader, then?’

  Lubna averted her eyes and opened the bathroom door. ‘Remember, the men will eat first,’ she said, as she went out onto the landing.

  ‘Lubna,’ Maya said, as they were going out of the door.

  She hesitated. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Did you hear about the kidnapping this morning?’

  ‘Yes, I heard.’

  ‘Do you know anything about it?’

  Lubna raised her eyebrows and shrugged. ‘Why should I know anything?’

  ‘Because the police think it was done by Muslim extremists.’

  A sharp look of anger slashed Lubna’s face. ‘Who told you that?’

  Maya gulped. Before she could think of a convincing answer Lubna stepped forward, her eyes glowing.

  ‘We are faithful to Allah and His prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. Why is it that in this country, if you believe in something, you’re called an extremist?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Maya said. ‘I didn’t mean to make you angry.’

  Lubna raised her eyebrows and sighed. ‘I’m not angry. But you must learn to guard your tongue. People here are sensitive. Come on, or the men will have eaten all the food.’

  Maya nodded, eager to get back to the kitchen where she might pick up some useful information.

  Khaled and Nazim were sitting at the table. They’d been joined by three other guys and, as Lubna had predicted, they’d eaten most of the food. There were only a few bits of chicken left, but there was rice with vegetables and Lubna served Maya with a heaped bowl.

  They sat apart from the men on two chairs by the sink. Lubna settled a book on her lap and was soon absorbed in the text, her lips moving as she read. Maya tried to look as if she was interested in her food and not in their conversation, but her ears were straining.

  Nazim was speaking in low but excited tones. ‘Omar’s coming to the meeting. Now that woman’s out of the picture, if he gives the order to go, we’ll do it. With Allah’s guidance we’ll light up the skies, brothers.’

  For a moment nobody spoke, but Maya could feel the tension and a palpable sense of excitement. Then Khaled said, ‘We don’t know how much the woman passed on before she was taken out. What if the Security Forces know all our plans?’

  A lad with his back to Maya reared up and scoffed. ‘We’re not going to let one woman dictate what we can do.’

  ‘They’re raiding houses, rounding up brothers. We have to avenge their honour,’ another of the boys said. ‘It’s war.’

  ‘The woman should be sacrificed,’ Nazim declared, adding emphasis to his words with a violent throat-cutting gesture.

  The bowl of food slipped out of Maya’s hand onto her lap, spilling some rice onto her jeans. She looked across at Nazim, sending daggers of hate towards his brain. He turned his head and stared at her. His mouth skewed into a tight, sneering smile, vindictive, nasty, but his eyes showed something else. It was hard to fathom, but she thought it was a glow of triumph.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lubna asked her.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she managed to say. ‘I was up early. I feel a bit light-headed. I need to get some fresh air.’

  Khaled got up. ‘You’ll have to excuse us, we need to get ready for the meeting.’

  After the guys had trooped upstairs, Maya opened the kitchen door and stepped outside to reach in her pocket for her phone. Glancing around, she checked the yard was empty, closed the door behind her and then punched in Simon’s number.

  Her heart raced while she listened to Simon’s phone ringing.

  Please answer, please.

  She held her breath, desperate to hear his voice, but when she did, it was just his voicemail message. After the pips she whispered, ‘It’s Maya. I’m in Leeds and—’

  She stopped abruptly as the door behind her creaked. A small, dark figure stood at her shoulder.

  ‘What you doin’ out here?’ Nazim asked.

  The phone nearly slipped from her hand. ‘I . . . I . . . er . . . was just phoning my family.’

  ‘Were you? Don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘They . . . er . . . they weren’t there. I was just leaving a message.’

  ‘So, finish it.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’ll do it later.’

  ‘What you doin’ here? Who invited you?’

  ‘I’m Khaled’s cousin.’

  Maya tried to sound offhand, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much she was trembling.

  ‘I haven’t seen you around here before,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I live near Derby.’

  ‘So, why you here now?’

  He was watching her closely. One eyebrow rose, the scar on his forehead wrinkled. Ten different answers shot through her head, but she found she couldn’t speak.

  He chuckled. ‘Khaled never told me he had a beautiful cousin in Derby.’ He licked his lips and brushed close to her as he moved past. ‘Kept that to himself, didn’t he? Funny you should arrive today when Omar had business in Derbyshire – important business, momentous.’

  While speaking, his eyes examined her face, recording the slightest twitch of a muscle, assessing the meaning of every expression. Panic surged through her as his gaze swept the contours of her face and body. Her throat dried, her nerves sizzled. If he suspected who she was, she was in deep trouble.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he walked across the yard. Suddenly he turned.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ he said, with mock politeness. ‘I’m meeting somebody important. They are down there waiting for me. Top secret.’

  She caught a glimpse of a twisted smile before he opened the red door and disappeared, closing it firmly behind him.

  Glancing back, she saw Lubna at the kitchen window watching her. Her mind racing ahead, she went back into the kitchen and grabbed the bag into which Lubna had put the remains of their meal.

  ‘I’ll take this out to the bin,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lubna replied, smiling.

  ‘Then if you come upstairs I’ll give you some books and some of our leaflets to study.’

  ‘OK. See you in a minute.’

  Outside it was raining lightly now, a strong, musty smell rose from the bin as she opened the lid. She dumped the rubbish inside and then, in a few quick steps, was standing in front of the red door. She bent down and yanked the handle; this time it opened. In front of her was a flight of stone steps leading down to a cellar.

  Taking a deep breath, she edged carefully down the stairs. Halfway down, she stopped and listened. She couldn’t hear anything.

  A few steps from the bottom she paused, and listened again. Her heart was racing, blood thundering in her ears. If somebody came up the stairs she knew she was vulnerable, an easy target – no protection, no weapons. How could she explain what she was doing? But she had to get closer. She had to know who was down there, who Nazim was talking to. She hardly dared admit it, but wasn’t there a tiny flaring spark of a possibility that Pam was down there?

  That thought drew her onwards. Slowly, quietly she descended into the bare stairwell. Still nothing, no sound. She trod lightly, feeling her way into the darkness, until suddenly a violent spear of light blasted her eyes. She put up her hand to shield her vision, but she couldn’t see round or through the dazzling beam.

  A cold, steely voice sent a shuddering chill through her. ‘Ah, Maya, we’ve been waiting for you.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maya couldn’t see a thing. All she could make out were shadows. Then she was grabbed from behind. She screamed as her arms were pinned to her sides.

  She was sure it was Nazim holding her, breathing hot air onto her neck.

  ‘Shut up! It’s useless to scream. Nobody can hear you,’ he spat.

  ‘Sit her down,’ the man in command ordered.

  She was jammed into a chair, hands clamped hard onto her shoulders.

  ‘Where’s my—’ she started to say, but a hand pressed the w
ords back into her mouth.

  ‘Let’s get this straight. I ask the questions,’ the man in charge said.

  She peered into the light, trying to see the owner of the voice.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m Soraya.’

  Fingers dug into her neck, forcing her head back. She could hardly breathe, a horrible gurgling sound came from her throat.

  ‘Let me ask you again. Who are you?’

  ‘I . . . I’m Soraya,’ she croaked.

  ‘Why have you come here? Who sent you?’

  She couldn’t answer. Her tongue was stuck at the back of her throat; she thought she was going to swallow it. In panic, she pushed against the chair, writhing from side to side. Then suddenly she was released, her head lolling forwards. A face loomed in front of her: grey beard, dark hooded eyes. She was sure it was the driver of the silver Mercedes, the man who’d watched as she and Pam ran past him.

  ‘You’re too curious, Maya, too curious for your own good,’ he said.

  ‘My name’s Soraya,’ she told him. ‘I came to learn how to be a good Muslim.’

  The man stooped down until his face was level with Maya’s. ‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘What I want to know is, who sent you?’

  His mouth, buried in his grey beard, was soft and pink, it twisted into a half-smile. Maya couldn’t stand it. She lunged forward trying to swipe at him. Immediately her arms were grabbed and forced up her back. She yelled out in pain.

  The bearded man leant forward and hissed into her face, ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘Stop!’

  It was Khaled. He was standing somewhere behind her. ‘Why are you torturing her?’ he asked.

  ‘Do you know who this is?’ the man with the beard demanded.

  The dazzling light was turned away. She saw Khaled standing in front of her, his white shirt glowing.

  ‘Yes, it’s Soraya, my cousin.’ He stepped closer and spoke angrily to Maya. ‘I told you not to disgrace me. Asking questions all the time. There are some things a woman cannot know.’ He grabbed hold of her hand. ‘Come with me. You can stay in the women’s room and study.’

  He turned to the man with the beard. ‘I apologise, Omar. Her parents sent her here because she’s becoming rebellious. She’ll soon learn our ways.’

  So it was Omar, the leader of the Allied Brotherhood. She could see his sunglasses in his top pocket. He was the crazy driver, the man who’d been watching for her and Pam, waiting for just the right moment to call his army. He was staring at Khaled, his eyes blazing, his white shirt open at the collar, stomach bulging over his black suit trousers, black shoes sparkling. Everyone in the room was silent.

  Omar fingered his beard and shook his head. ‘She may have fooled you, Khaled,’ he said. ‘But we know her true identity. This is the daughter of our captive. The woman who tried to ruin all our plans.’ He swivelled his head to look at Maya and gave a short, mocking laugh. ‘No doubt you have come to find your mother.’

  Maya dropped her head and closed her eyes, defeated.

  Khaled stepped forward. ‘What?’ he shouted at her. ‘You told me a pack of lies?’

  She opened her eyes and glared at him, but said nothing.

  He threw back his head and stood tall. ‘Omar, I can’t believe it. She said she was my cousin Soraya, that her mother sent her to be educated. She’s the same age and looks like Soraya, but I admit I haven’t seen her for a few years. I can’t believe I was such a fool.’

  ‘You have put our organisation at risk,’ Omar told him. ‘You are either a fool or a traitor. We’ll see.’

  Omar nodded, and another bearded man in a long grey robe stepped forward and pointed to Maya’s jeans pocket.

  ‘Phone,’ he said.

  Reluctantly Maya handed over her mobile.

  ‘And one more thing,’ Omar said. His face came close to hers, she smelt a faint waft of stale sweat. He was no taller than Maya. His dark bushy eyebrows, the wiry hair of his beard, the pink wetness of his mouth filled her vision. He reached down, took her wounded hand, held it up and examined the bandage.

  ‘Oh dear. We must get you a clean one,’ he said. Then letting go of one hand, he took the other in a tighter grip, his fingers pinching her ring. ‘I need something, a little trinket. Hm. . .This will do.’

  Maya tried to snatch her hand away but he held it firmly.

  ‘If you don’t give me the ring I’ll take something else – a finger, perhaps.’

  His soft tone didn’t change, but Maya saw that his face was hard as stone. Her fingers stiffened as he pulled off her ruby ring and put it in his pocket.

  With an imperious wave of his hand, he snapped out orders. ‘Come, leave her,’ he said. ‘We have more important things to attend to.’ Then his tone turned to ice as he spoke to Khaled. ‘You stay with me. I’ll deal with you after the meeting.’

  When they had gone Maya closed her eyes, her fingers touching the place where her ring had been. She rocked and swayed, her mind replaying the last few minutes – padding down the stairs, nervous, hopeful, then that voice hitting her like a slap of cold water, singing out her name.

  It had been a trap, Maya realised. Omar had been waiting for her, but how did he know she’d go down to the cellar? Did Khaled betray her? No, he’d tried to save her. She remembered the look Nazim had given her in the yard, his mouth twisted by a cruel smile, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He knew she’d follow him.

  She rubbed at her neck, sore from rough hands; her arms hurt, too, where fingers had dug into her flesh. Anger smouldered in her like a slow fuse until she exploded into action. She dashed across the room, belted up the stairs and pulled at the door. Of course, it was locked. With clenched fists she hammered and yelled. There was no response.

  Sadly she turned away and went back down the stairs, then prowled around looking for a way to escape. There were no windows or doors, just blank brick walls. How was she going to get out? Slumping down on the floor, despair came over her like a giant net.

  The cold of the concrete floor seeped into her bones and she sat shivering in her thin T-shirt and jacket. What an idiot she’d been to think she could act like a secret agent – she was crazy. But, she asked herself, was it any wonder? What other girls lived with kidnapping threats, had their every movement monitored by security officers, had their mother seized by terrorists? Of course she was crazy, crazy enough to risk everything.

  She thought about what Lubna had told her – the Qur’an teaches that nothing is random, everything is God’s will.

  Well, for the moment she had no choice, she had to accept her fate. All she could do was sit and wait to see what happened. Perhaps Simon would trace her phone message. Perhaps Khaled would sneak in and release her.

  She pulled up her knees and hugged herself against the cold. She wouldn’t think, she wouldn’t allow herself to remember. But the walls began to close in on her, pictures shadowed the dim corners, long-forgotten memories stirred.

  It had been dark in that cellar, dark and cold. Day after day she’d had to stay quiet and still. Every time her father left, her mother grew anxious, watching and waiting for him to return. Sometimes there was gunfire, sometimes screams. Her mother would sing softly – a half-remembered song came into her head, words of a language she had tried to forget. And then, with a shock, she remembered her mother’s eyes – they were green, the same colour as Khaled’s. She couldn’t picture the rest of the face – the details were buried, blanked out – her father, her two brothers. She had no recollection of them. For so long she had locked away the past, feeling guilty that she’d survived.

  Pressing her lips together she breathed noisily, sucking in and out, refusing to cry. It wasn’t the right time to remember. Later, perhaps, when all this was over, but she had to deal with the present – she had to escape. Jumping to her feet, she stretched her limbs and started exploring the room again.

  The furniture was jammed together; a table against one wall, chairs at eac
h end, a desk with papers spread upon it. Receipts, bills, the same leaflets she’d seen upstairs and beneath them, a newspaper with a big advertisement circled in red ink.

  Omar’s Carpet and Antiquities Warehouse

  Massive Clearance

  Carpets and rugs at Trade Prices

  48 Queen’s Road

  Saturday July 7th

  The word CANCELLED had been stamped across the advert.

  Underneath the newspaper Maya saw corners of a photograph sticking out. Lifting the paper, her stomach tightened – they were photos of Pam. Some had been copied from newspapers and enlarged, some looked as if they’d been snapped secretly by a surveillance camera – Pam walking into MI5 HQ, Pam driving her car. Then she uncovered a photo of the cottage and one of herself and Pam running through the wood. It was painful. Her mind exploded: she was back on that path, caught in mid-stride, the smell of the wild garlic around her, the warmth of the sun on her face and Pam right next to her.

  She shook her head. She had to focus, to stay in control. There were two possible ways out of the cellar – she’d find a way to open the door, or persuade someone to help her. How long would Omar keep her prisoner? What did he plan to do with her? She tore at her fingernails with her teeth.

  Damn! If only she hadn’t been so stupid. If she’d let Helen or Simon know what she was doing, then she might have back-up. But she hadn’t thought things through. She’d come unprepared and was now a prisoner, just like her mum.

  She walked over to the stairwell, her mind a flickering horror film – hostages shot, beheaded. Would it hurt? Would she die instantly? She kicked at the wall. She wouldn’t give in to such sick thoughts.

  Looking up the stairs she saw the red door at the top. If she could find some sort of tool, then maybe she could work on the lock. Turning round, she went back into the room and over to the desk. She opened all the drawers, but there was nothing in them apart from a few tea bags and rolls of duct tape. In a small pot on top of the desk she found paper clips, and was in the process of straightening one out to see if she could pick the lock, when the outside door rattled and footsteps rapped down the stairs. Her neck went icy cold, she stiffened with fear, but it wasn’t Omar or any of his heavies – it was Lubna carrying a tray.