by S. M. Hall
‘Take the cargo upstairs. Be quick and make sure you lock the door behind you. We don’t want any more problems.’
It was Omar speaking. The sound of his voice turned her blood to ice, she shrank closer to the floor, trying to breathe gently.
He shouted again. ‘Hurry up. I want you back down here. We have to search the place. That girl’s snooping around.’
Cold sweat trickled down Maya’s back. How did he know she was at the warehouse? When had he seen her? Her knees were trembling so violently that she collapsed onto the floor. Flattening herself against the carpet, she listened to clanging and banging noises, voices shouting, echoing, then fading. Then it all went eerily quiet, a door opened and footsteps rapped on the concrete floor – they were coming towards her.
Her fingers dug into the soft pile. She was sure she couldn’t easily be seen, but if somebody leaned over the top they’d spot her. She took a deep breath and burrowed into the thick pile, pulling the loose edge over her head. Footsteps closed in, objects around her were moved. A heavy thump on the carpet sent a cloud of dust up her nose.
Please don’t sneeze, Maya, please don’t sneeze.
Her nostrils contracted, then Omar shouted, ‘She must have gone outside. Go and find her.’
Feet clattered past.
It’s OK, she thought, they didn’t spot me. But she dared not move.
She imagined Omar standing, watching and waiting for her to emerge. Her mind played tricks; his eyes loomed in front of her, boring into her brain, peering into her soul. She tried to stay in control, to lie still, but her skin started to prickle and itch. She grew hot and found it hard to breathe. The carpet was a trap, she couldn’t escape – she was suffocating. Everything went dark, a mocking voice inside her head told her, ‘Omar’s always one step ahead, you can’t beat him.’
Loud, sudden chimes startled her. Her mind snapped back into gear. Omar was answering his phone.
‘I know she’s not at the fruit shop, I’ve already been told she escaped. Tell Khaled I want to see him and. . .’
His voice faded as he moved away, and Maya couldn’t hear any more. After a few seconds she poked her head out from under the carpet and dared herself to peer over the top. Omar was hurrying towards the loading bay and when he disappeared outside, she stood up.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she edged her way through cabinets and tables, dodging behind a tall cupboard and then creeping forward until she came to a clear space. In front of her were a few metres of open concrete floor and behind, a brightly lit office.
On all fours she crawled to the office. From the doorway, the first thing she saw were CCTV monitors mounted on the wall. Of course, that’s how he’d seen her. She should have known the building would be under constant surveillance. On one screen was a clear picture of the front entrance, on another, she saw Omar at the back door, waving his arms about and looking angry. She crawled toward his desk and from floor level scanned the monitors; entrance door, back loading bay, side view, three shots of the warehouse floor, and a view of the office and one blank screen. Was that a secret room? Was her mum inside it? She looked up. The low ceiling in the office indicated a floor above. There had to be stairs somewhere.
Dashing to the door, she glanced back towards the loading bay – there was no sign of the men returning. Her eyes scanned to the side and in the corner she clocked a door. Scooting over to it, she went through to find metal stairs zig-zagging upwards to a narrow landing. Leading off the landing were two red doors. The first one opened into a kitchen scattered with half-eaten food, trays and crockery. In the corner was an armchair piled with blankets. The next door was locked. Desperately she jammed her shoulder against the door frame, but it wouldn’t budge.
From below she heard voices and then footsteps ringing on the metal stairs. Her mind told her to move, but she couldn’t. The walkway shook as the feet got closer. She squirmed with fear then her survival instinct kicked in and she flew into the kitchen and hid behind the armchair, pulling the blankets on top of her head.
The door of the next room was unlocked, it opened and closed. Faint voices and a banging noise came through the wall, and then a cry. Her nerves fizzed, her ears tingled, straining for every sound. The door closed. Footsteps came into the kitchen.
A man’s voice said urgently, ‘Quick, it’s dripping everywhere.’
‘All right,’ another man replied. ‘There’s a first aid box in the cupboard.’
A cupboard door creaked, a tin rattled.
‘How did it happen?’
‘Sharp nails, like a razor.’
‘Here, dry it with this. I’ll wind a bandage round it to stop the bleeding.’
Silence, then a tearing sound. Maya tried to breathe under the wad of heavy blankets. Had she heard Mum crying out next door? Had Mum slashed at the injured man with her nails? Hope rose like a balloon.
Mum, I’m here. I’ll get you out.
‘Right, that’ll do,’ one of the men said. ‘Let’s go. Omar’s waiting.’
Maya was almost throwing the blankets aside when she heard feet sliding towards her.
‘Give me a minute. I’m dizzy.’
Bump, somebody sat on the arm of the chair right next to her head. She held her breath. The man’s body was close, so close. He gave a sudden loud spurt of laughter. ‘It was on the news. Did you hear it? The woman announced she was a double agent. Brilliant, eh? Said she’d converted to Islam. You’ve got to hand it to Omar, he’s clever.’
‘Will the spooks believe her?’
‘They will when they see her in action.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Omar’s got big plans for her. A train goes up in smoke – big explosion – and somewhere in the wreckage they’ll find the bones of Ms Pamela Brown.’
The men laughed. ‘Genius, eh? Then, they’ll believe her.’
‘Will she do it?
‘She’s got no choice. Omar’s threatened to kill her daughter if she doesn’t cooperate; told her he had the girl, showed her a ring.’
There was a pause, then the other man replied, speaking more slowly. ‘I don’t know about that. I’m not comfortable with hurting the girl. I’ve got a daughter myself.’
‘You can’t get sentimental in war – many of our children have been sacrificed.’
There was a sudden thump on the floor, followed by heavy footsteps. ‘Come on, we’d better get a move on. Khaled phoned and told Omar the girl’s back at the bookshop. She’d better be, or he’s for it. Anyway, Omar wants us back there.’
Despite the blankets covering her, Maya shivered; things were getting worse and worse. They were going to make her mum blow up a train! That was outrageous, she’d never do it. Omar was going mad. But, at the same time, Maya knew how much her mum loved her. Would she? Would she do something so terrible to save her daughter’s life? Everything was spinning out of control, she felt as if she was holding up the weight of the world. She had to get a message to her mum to tell her that she was free, that Omar hadn’t captured her – it was vital.
Outside the room the men’s footsteps ran along the landing and rapped down the stairs.
Maya crawled out from beneath the blankets, held her stomach and breathed deeply.
Staying on all fours, she crept out onto the landing. Below, doors were banging, locks clicked. A car engine started up. From the landing window she looked down onto the street below and saw a silver Mercedes sliding past, followed by a red truck.
What a blessing Omar had ordered the men back to the bookshop. Why had Khaled told them she was there? Had he guessed where she was? Was he buying time for her, helping her after all? She had no idea, but his action had given her a bit of breathing space. When the cars disappeared, she turned and hammered on the locked door.
‘Mum, are you in there? Mum, it’s Maya. I’m here. I’m going to get you out.’
Chapter Twenty
Pressing her ear to the door of the locked room, Maya listened hard, but h
eard nothing.
‘Mum, if you’re in there, hold on.’
Her voice echoed along the balcony, but from inside the room there wasn’t the slightest hint of noise. Maya pictured her mum tied down, her mouth taped, but there was no way of knowing for sure if she was inside the room. She wondered if the blank screen on the monitor should show the locked room – had it been deliberately turned off?
Racing back downstairs, she pushed through the doors into the warehouse. Her eyes swept over the cavernous space. There were no other rooms, no way down to a basement, nowhere her mum could be hidden, except in the locked room upstairs.
Flinging herself into the office, Maya checked the monitors – nobody was visible in the entrance, at the side of the building or in the loading bay. The last screen was still blank. She pressed buttons underneath it, but nothing appeared.
Omar’s desk was overflowing with papers, telephone directories and files. She searched amongst all the stuff, sifting and shoving things aside. In the drawers she found piles of receipts, pens, money and yes, underneath a sheaf of papers there was a bunch of keys. She grabbed them and raced back upstairs. Her fingers were thick and clumsy, excitement fizzed through her like fireworks.
After three tries, she found a key that fitted. ‘Mum,’ she yelled, as the lock clicked.
The door banged back, she stepped forward and gazed into a room piled with boxes. Desperately, she scanned every corner of the room – nothing but boxes. Disappointment hit her smack in the face. She smashed her fist down on the corner of a box and let out a stream of curses. Then she clenched her fists and told herself, ‘This was never going to be easy, you have to stay strong, plan your next move. For a start, what’s in the boxes, what’s so important that Omar has kept the room locked?’
Sliding her fingers into one of the bigger boxes spewing straw, she burrowed down until she touched something cold and solid. Quickly she brushed aside more straw and saw dense grey metal – then she uncovered the butt and trigger of a submachine gun.
A bitter taste frothed in her mouth. She screwed up her face and swallowed, panic snagged at her skin like barbed wire. She was out of her depth, this mission was far too dangerous. She wanted to run.
For a few moments, she stood trying to quell her nerves and find some courage. She told herself how far she’d come, how much she was finding out about Omar’s operation. Squaring her shoulders, she clenched her fingers ready to delve back into the straw. At the side of the heavy gun she touched something lighter, smaller, and pulled out a hand gun. It fitted neatly into her palm.
Those practice sessions at the shooting range were about to pay off. Maya clutched the gun and felt soothed by its solidness, its weight. She seized one of the tightly packed small cartons and ripped open the flaps. Inside was exactly what she was looking for – small calibre bullets. Carefully she loaded the gun, made sure the safety catch was on and zipped it inside her jacket pocket.
Behind her there was only the slightest sound, the soft scuff of a shoe.
She turned, and there was Khaled. He was breathing rapidly, a sheen of sweat on his cheeks, one long strand of hair across his forehead; his face flushed with anger.
‘You should have trusted me,’ he said.
‘Yeah right!’ Maya replied, putting her hand in her pocket. ‘I’d have been in Omar’s clutches by now.’
‘I was following orders,’ Khaled said tightly.
‘Orders that would have got me killed.’
‘No. When you’d served your purpose, the team would have got you out.’
Maya’s hand closed round the gun. ‘You and Simon don’t give a damn about Mum or me. You’re too busy saving the world.’
Khaled looked down for a moment, then directly at her. ‘Whatever you think, we’re on your side.’
Maya snorted. ‘Do you know what Omar’s plotting now?’
‘What?’ Khaled asked, with wide-eyed innocence.
‘He’s going to get Mum to blow up a train. He’s told her I’m his prisoner and if she doesn’t set off a bomb, he’ll kill me.’
‘I know,’ Khaled said. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Doesn’t matter. All I know is, this is totally crazy. I can’t handle it. I have to find Mum now and you have to help me.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m calling Omar now to tell him you’re here.’
Maya took a step backwards and pulled out the gun. ‘I can’t let you do that. Put the phone down on that box.’
‘Maya, trust me, please! We have a plan.’
‘The only person I trust is myself.’
‘This is not the best way, Maya,’
She took a deep breath. ‘Possibly, but I can’t risk it. I have to set Mum free. Put your mobile down.’
Khaled put his phone down on the box and raised his hands. He spoke rapidly. ‘By doing this you’re putting the whole mission in jeopardy. Please, just do as I say and everything will work out.’
Keeping the gun pointed at his chest, Maya hissed, ‘Don’t think I won’t use this. Tell me where my mum is.’
‘She’s in Omar’s other warehouse, not here – a place where he stores antiques. It’s an old mill.’
‘Where is it?’
‘At the edge of town, near Headingley.’
‘Take me there.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can drive, can’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I can. Come on.’
She moved behind him and pushed the gun into his back. Khaled glanced round at her.
‘This won’t work, Maya. There are three of Omar’s men downstairs. Even if you get past them, how’re you going to rescue your mum with one gun?’
Maya looked at him and smiled. ‘I’ll hold you hostage. Bargain with Omar or Simon or both of them. Exchange you for my mum.’
Khaled turned his hands palms upwards. ‘Think again. I’m not that important.’
Maya waved the gun. ‘All right. I’ll shoot you.’
Khaled saw her face set into hard lines. He knew she’d been pushed to her limits. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. ‘Maya, without my information the Security Forces won’t be able to stop Omar’s bombs.’
Maya’s face turned dark, she glared at him. ‘You’re not the only one with brains. I have a plan. Help me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then I can’t let you go.’
‘What good will it do if you shoot me?’
Maya shrugged.
‘Look,’ Khaled said. ‘I’ll help you escape, but after that, I don’t know.’
She held his gaze for a moment, her dark eyes smouldering, full of purpose. She spoke rapidly to him, outlining her plan. His expression softened. He murmured something, then shook his head. ‘OK. We’ll do it your way.’
With a rush of relief Maya thanked him.
‘First, we need extra ammo,’ she said, placing a small carton of bullets in his hand. Khaled put them in his jacket pocket, then Maya picked up a compact but heavy cardboard box. ‘Here.’
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘Butterfly clips. The submachine guns will be useless without them.’
‘Good thinking – I’m impressed,’ he said, as he slipped the box into his inner jacket pocket.
‘Right,’ Maya said, examining the keys she’d stolen from Omar’s office. She pincered a key between her thumb and forefinger, ‘Hopefully, this should be the one.’
Downstairs a door slammed. She grabbed hold of Khaled’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Me first,’ he said. ‘If we’re seen, you can come back and hide up here.’
They stole down the stairs as quietly as they could. At the bottom, Khaled opened the heavy door and peered out. A light was on in the office and voices could be heard. He motioned to Maya to stay low and they crouched down, creeping forwards. Quickly and quietly they dodged through the carpet rolls and furniture until they reached the loading bay. The furniture van was still there, backed up to
the open door.
‘You’re not going to drive that,’ Khaled whispered.
‘Just watch me,’ Maya answered, pushing him towards the cab and opening the door. ‘Quick! Get in.’
He jumped up, and she followed. The key went neatly into the ignition, Maya put her foot on the accelerator and started the engine. As the van began to move, three men ran out into the yard waving their arms. Khaled threw himself down so he wouldn’t be seen and Maya turned the wheel, driving towards the men. Three bodies dived out of her way as the van roared past.
The startled looks on the men’s faces stayed with Maya as she drove through the gates and out onto the open road.
Chapter Twenty One
‘Slow down, slow down!’ Khaled yelled.
‘I can’t.’
‘Watch that corner.’
Maya put her foot on the brake and rounded the corner on the wrong side of the road, just managing to steer away from a truck coming from the opposite direction.
‘Wow! I was on two wheels there,’ she said.
Khaled was looking pale. ‘Who taught you to drive?’
‘I went round a racetrack. It was a birthday present.’
Khaled rapped on the dashboard. ‘This is not a racetrack. Slow down. You’ll get us killed.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Maya said.
‘They’re coming after us,’ Khaled yelled.
‘Where?’
‘The red truck, right behind us.’
Maya focused her attention on the road ahead. The van was big, it was like driving a bus, and hard to judge distances.
‘You’re in the middle of the road,’ Khaled shouted.
‘So? That means they can’t pass us.’
A short distance ahead was a big junction. Maya knew she’d have to slow down but she wasn’t sure if she could.
Think, think – gears, clutch, brake.
There was a horrible grinding noise as she tried to find a lower gear, and then the van juddered like an erupting volcano. She jammed her foot on the brake, there was a skidding noise and they stopped with a jolt. Then something hit them with a massive bang.
