by S. M. Hall
As Uncle Ali denounced the terrorists, Maya looked across at Khaled. Had she been following a false trail? Had he deliberately double-crossed her?
She watched as the police marksmen waited. The TV camera zoomed up to the doorway.
‘It’s believed five gunmen are holed up in the farm guarding Ms Brown. A specially trained intelligence officer has been negotiating with the terrorists for Ms Brown’s release, but so far it’s thought that the terrorists’ demand for safe passage to a country of their choice has been denied. The fear is, of course, that if security forces storm the building, the terrorists will simply blow themselves up along with their captive.’
The camera panned round the farmhouse again. Maya fixed Khaled with a deadly stare. If he had lied, she swore to herself that she’d kill him.
It was a stand-off at the farm, with no action to capture, so the camera switched back to the newsroom and another dreadful story – a bomb had gone off in Bali. Reports about the victims made Maya want to cry. She looked at a photo of a young medical student who’d just finished her final exams and was on holiday celebrating with friends. Her mother brokenly described her beautiful daughter and said how proud the family was of her. ‘The first girl in our family to go to university and she was soon to be a doctor.’
How could the terrorists do it? How could they not care? How could they see young people out enjoying themselves with all their lives in front of them and blow them up?
Uncle Ali was furious, practically spitting at the television. ‘These terrorists are not Muslims. They are murderers,’ he said vehemently.
Vaguely Maya was aware of Mariam coming into the room. ‘I’ve made the bed up in the spare room. Whenever you’re ready, Khaled will show you where it is.’ Then she turned to her husband. ‘We have to cash up,’ she said.
Uncle Ali, still muttering, followed his wife out of the room.
As soon as they’d gone, Maya fired a question at Khaled. ‘Are you sure my mum’s not in that farmhouse?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Security forces have been known to be wrong.’
‘I don’t want to play games. I want to know. Is my mum here in Leeds?’
‘Yes. She’s here.’
‘How do you know for sure, if you don’t know where she is?’
‘I know they brought her up to Leeds. Omar boasted at the meeting that she was his prisoner.’
‘Have you seen her?’
‘No, of course not.’
Maya’s mind was going round in circles, she didn’t know what was true any more. Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, ‘Was it you who gave her away? Did you get Omar’s men to kidnap her?’
Khaled’s eyes widened. ‘I was trying to help her!’ he said indignantly.
‘You pledged yourself to kill.’
‘I’m not a killer. I had to volunteer. It was the only way to convince the Allied Brotherhood I was one of them. It’s the ultimate sacrifice – to die for the glory of Allah, praise be His name.’
‘Would you do it – would you plant a bomb and blow people up?’
‘Of course not. I was counting on your mum to disrupt our plans. I was giving her information, remember?’
‘Yes, I remember. Information about destruction, plots to blow up innocent people.’
‘But are they innocent?’ Khaled countered. ‘Did the British do anything when their government invaded Iraq, when they interned Muslims without trial?’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Maya challenged.
Their eyes met, full of anger and bitterness. Khaled sighed. ‘Sometimes I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Thousands of Iraqis were killed when your country and the US invaded.’
‘England’s your country too,’ Maya said quietly.
They both fell silent, watching the TV that had flashed back onto the farmhouse surrounded by police. Maya tried to work out how the fact that the Security Forces thought her mum was inside the farmhouse changed things.
Khaled seemed to read her mind. ‘The siege at the farm gives us a bit more time,’ he said.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Omar will have a false sense of security.’
‘Yes, but he knows I’m free and searching for my mum.’
‘With respect, he’s probably less concerned about you than about the Counter Terrorism force. He’ll know that their resources are concentrated on the farm at the moment, so he won’t be expecting a rescue attempt.’
‘Haven’t you got any idea where my mum is?’
‘Not yet,’ Khaled said.
Maya sat back, thinking. An image came into her head. The advert in the newspaper for Omar’s carpet sale with the word CANCELLED stamped across it.
‘Is Omar a good businessman?’
‘I guess so. He makes a lot of money.’
‘So why do you think he put an advert in the paper for a sale at his warehouse, then cancelled it?’
Khaled shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Maya jumped up. ‘It’s because that’s where he’s got Mum – in his warehouse on Queen’s Street.’
Khaled looked sceptical. ‘That’s too easy and it’s too public.’
‘How far away is it?’
‘A few streets.’
‘I’m going there.’
‘That’s madness. There’s no way your mum is there. And if she was, she’d be guarded.’
‘I know. I need a gun.’
Khaled looked at her. ‘You think one girl with a gun is going to beat Omar’s men?’
‘Yes. Can you get me a gun?’
‘You can’t do this.’
‘Tell me how to get to Omar’s warehouse. Have you been there? Do you know the layout?’
Khaled hesitated. Maya moved closer, staring at him challengingly. He looked down at the floor, then met her gaze. ‘All right. I’ll tell you everything I can, but you have to promise me you’ll wait for the right moment. If you go without a plan you’ll screw everything up.’
Maya gritted her teeth and glared at him. ‘I’ll wait – but not for long.’
Chapter Seventeen
Heavy banging on the shop door below sent Khaled rushing to the window. He peered out.
‘Omar’s men.’
Mariam came scuttling into the room, followed by Uncle Ali.
‘What’s happening?’ she shrilled.
‘It’s Omar’s followers,’ Khaled told her.
Uncle Ali started to rant. ‘What do they want? Thugs! Omar always thinking he’s such a big man.’
‘Be quiet!’ his wife told him. ‘Quick,’ she said, pulling at Maya’s arm. ‘Come, I’ll hide you.’
Uncle Ali’s eyes were wide with surprise as Mariam hustled Maya across the landing and opened the door of a narrow cupboard. While Khaled ran downstairs, she shoved Maya inside and slammed the door.
Maya held her breath as footsteps stamped into the shop below, then several sets of feet tramped up the stairs. Her heart stopped as they passed in front of the cupboard door. Somebody spoke loudly, a door banged, then the sound of voices faded.
She waited, her pulse racing, her breath trembling in her throat. Would Omar’s men search the place and find her? Mariam and Uncle Ali had no reason to protect her – if they gave her away, she’d be back in Omar’s clutches.
A door opened and footsteps went into the kitchen. She heard the sound of water running, a kettle being filled, the clink of glasses. Inside the cupboard she was squashed at an odd angle, surrounded by coats, long brushes and bulky things she couldn’t quite see. Her back was aching, her neck stiff, but she dared not move a centimeter.
Light footsteps tip-tapped from the kitchen. A rattle of china and a drifting smell of onion and garlic told her that Mariam was sweetening Omar’s men with food and drink. A door banged shut. Now she couldn’t hear anything except the buzzing of what she thought was a refrigerator or ice chest behind her. She tried to look at her watch, but it was too dark. She tried to breathe deeply but it was hot and airless, suffocating. Almost at
breaking point, she distracted herself by humming a tune in her head.
Edging her toe slightly forward to relieve the pressure in her legs, she felt something near her shift and bump. Panic swilled in her stomach like cold soup; at any moment she’d be discovered. Her ears were on stalks, swivelling to pick up the tiniest sound. The click of a door sounded, then voices and footsteps going down the stairs, and finally, the welcome bang of a door below.
She hoped it was Omar’s men leaving, but nobody came to release her. It had all gone quiet. What the hell was going on? She was just beginning to think she’d risk opening the cupboard door herself, when there was a rustling outside and light flooded in.
Mariam stood there looking flushed and relieved. ‘Come. They’ve gone.’
Maya staggered out onto the landing, her legs tingling with pain. She bent to rub them, and when she straightened up, Mariam was staring past her into the cupboard.
‘I’m so sorry you were stuck in there with all that paraphernalia,’ she said. ‘You must have been half-suffocated.’
‘No problem,’ Maya replied. ‘It was the least of my worries. Thanks for hiding me.’ She looked towards the kitchen. ‘Where’s Khaled?’
A frown furrowed Mariam’s face. ‘He’s gone with them. I listened at the door while they were talking. They told him he had to help find you. They said, if he doesn’t find you and hand you over to them, he’ll regret it.’ She clasped her hands. ‘They blame him for letting you into the bookshop. They’re frightened you know too much and you’ll go to the authorities. Omar’s men are not to be trifled with.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Maya said.
‘You cannot help it. It’s them. They’re in the wrong. They are evil.’
‘Thank you,’ Maya said.
Mariam took Maya’s hands in hers. ‘It’s all right. Khaled’s clever. He’ll think of something.’ Pulling Maya forward, she guided her into the kitchen.
‘Did they say anything about my mum – where she is?’ Maya asked.
‘They were laughing about the Counter Terrorism forces looking in the wrong place.’
‘Did they say she’s here? Did they say anything about the warehouse?’
‘They have her, but they didn’t say where. Soon they might move her to a safer place.’
Maya threw herself back against the kitchen wall in despair. ‘I’ve got to find her, or she’ll disappear forever.’
Mariam pulled Maya to her and hugged her. ‘We’ll get her back. Khaled will help.’
‘Will he?’ Maya asked.
‘Yes. He’s a good boy.’
‘Why should he risk his life?’
Mariam held her at arm’s length. ‘Because he cares,’ she said.
Maya closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to think, but everything span round in her head. She blinked, and blew out a long stream of air. The past two days seemed like a lifetime. When she opened her eyes the red walls of the kitchen blurred and danced.
Mariam patted her shoulder. ‘You need some sleep.’
‘No,’ Maya protested. ‘How can I sleep?’
The grey-haired woman smiled softly. ‘Come. There’s nothing you can do tonight. Your bed is waiting. If Khaled returns, I’ll wake you.’
* * *
Even though Maya was exhausted, she slept only lightly, dogged by dreams of running through woods, guns shooting at her from every side. Somebody grabbed her and threw her into a deep pit. She fell down and down until bump – she woke with a start as Omar’s face loomed over her. He was holding a dagger.
‘I’m going to chop off your finger,’ he said, laughing uproariously.
She sat up and looked into the darkness. There was nobody there, but Omar’s hollow laughter echoed round the room. She pulled up her knees, shivering violently. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping, but she couldn’t afford to waste precious time. Swinging her legs out of bed she stood up, ready for action, but then common sense kicked in – what, she asked herself, could she achieve in the middle of the night, wandering around a strange city?
With resignation she sat down again, then lay back and snuggled under the duvet. Lying on her side, she wondered if her mum was asleep. And Helen, poor Helen – she’d be frantic. It was unthinkable that her daughter had been abducted and now her granddaughter was missing, too.
Maya needed to make a new plan, but it was hard to stay awake. Then she heard a definite creak outside the room. The door handle squeaked. Somebody was coming in.
‘Don’t say anything.’
She sat up; a shadow was moving towards her.
‘Don’t speak.’
Her mouth opened in a soundless scream. The figure moved closer.
‘I shouldn’t be here in this bedroom. I apologise.’
Recognising Khaled’s voice, Maya relaxed, breathing out a long sigh of relief.
Khaled stood next to the bed and bent down, whispering, ‘Omar’s very angry. You know too much about his organisation and his plans. He’s ordered me to find you and hand you over to him.’
‘You won’t, will you?’
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
Chapter Eighteen
‘But you can’t,’ Maya shrilled into the darkness.
‘I have to,’ Khaled said. He sat down on the bed and leaned forward, speaking quietly yet urgently. ‘If I give you to Omar, it’ll prove my loyalty. He’ll think I’m still true to the Brotherhood.’
‘So, I’m to be your sacrifice?’ Maya demanded.
Khaled’s eyes gleamed like dancing stars. ‘Omar wants fame. He’s masterminding the biggest act of sabotage the world has ever known. If he brings it off, he’ll be the undisputed leader of the AB in the Western world.’
Maya pulled up her legs and sat tall. ‘The Circle of Fire – bombs all over Europe.’
‘He has a new plan to blow up twelve planes simultaneously.’
‘My God!’ Maya cried.
Khaled put a finger to his lips. ‘Shush! You’ll wake my aunt.’ He waited a moment, then continued. ‘Arms and explosives are being shipped to him. Twelve young men and women have pledged to plant and detonate the bombs.’
‘And you’re one of them?’ Maya asked.
‘Yes – which makes me part of Omar’s inner circle. The information I find out and pass on will save hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives.’
Maya leaned back against the headboard, she could see the way his mind was working. ‘So, rescuing my mum isn’t a priority any more?’
‘No. I’m sorry. This has become bigger and more desperately important than the fate of any one person.’
‘I’ll give you away. I’ll tell Simon you’re a terrorist,’ she threatened.
Khaled sighed. ‘It won’t work. Simon knows everything. He’s approved my plan.’
‘Including handing me over to Omar?’
‘Yes.’
Maya felt as if she’d been thumped in the stomach. Her eyes goggled. ‘He can’t have.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Maya stared up at Khaled, waiting for him to give her some hope, to change his mind, but he didn’t. His green eyes glowed back at her full of conviction and fervour.
‘Your mother would make exactly the same decision,’ he said softly.
Maya looked at him in horror. Was he right? She didn’t know. She was so frightened, she couldn’t think. She wanted to scream at him. She could hit him, knock him out – she had to do something – but her voice was strangled, her limbs frozen with fear.
Khaled bit his lip and looked away. ‘The decision’s been made.’
Maya glared at him with all the energy she could muster. ‘When?’ she managed to croak.
‘Tomorrow – after midday prayer.’
‘I . . . I . . . won’t stay here. I’ll run away.’
‘I don’t think so. It’s your decision, but I don’t imagine you want the blood of hundreds of innocent people on your hands.’
She took in a big gulp of air,
heaving and choking as if it were her last breath. For a moment she covered her eyes. ‘You can’t, you can’t do this to me.’
‘He leaned forward, his face close to her; everything blurred and she was lost in a pool of green light. She could smell his skin, salty and sweet at the same time. He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Maya, I. . .’
She didn’t let him finish, but pushed him away. Light as a cat, he crossed the room and she saw his tall, slim figure silhouetted in the doorway.
‘Khaled!’
‘Yes?’
‘There has to be another way.’
He half-turned, and in a shaft of light she saw his hand rise, his palm turn upwards, his fingers spread – then he clenched his fist. ‘It’s out of my control,’ he said.
The door closed behind him. Maya blinked into the shadowy darkness. She could hardly believe what she’d heard – Khaled was handing her over to Omar, and Simon had agreed to it. Nobody would try and rescue her or Pam. They were to be sacrificed so that Khaled could prove his loyalty and save the world.
She lay back shivering in terror. There was no lock on the door, she could escape, she could go back to Gran. She didn’t have to stay. In a few seconds it could all be over – slipping silently down the stairs, out into the street, making her way towards the station. Bright lights, the safety of the train, the cover of darkness, then the warmth of the cottage.
* * *
The night was long. Maya tossed and turned, fretting and searching for an answer. She could see Khaled’s reasoning. Of course he had to prove his loyalty to Omar. It was the only way he could obtain vital information – where and when the bombs would be detonated. The security services would act quickly, round up all the main players, disrupt their plans. But surely there was another way to get information? Simon’s team could bug the bookshop, infiltrate Omar’s meetings. Weren’t they supposed to be trained in all the latest espionage techniques?
Lying on her stomach, she clutched at the pillow, pushing her face into its feathery softness. Inside her head two voices were arguing.
‘Get out now, he’s given you a chance, they’re not coming for you until morning. Get up! Go!’
