Circle of Fire

by S. M. Hall

  A single beam from the floodlights sliced the room, lighting up old machinery and wooden posts. She was on the first floor, the grinding room of the mill; she’d memorised the layout of the building as Khaled had described it and, swift as water, she ran to hide in a dark corner near the stairs. Heart pounding, she waited and listened. There was an ominous silence outside and in the building everything was quiet. Then, through the tall mill windows, she saw a blue light arcing from the sky and heard the welcome throb of a helicopter. She was close, so close.

  Leaving the dark corner, she darted towards a door at the end of the room. A siren split the night sky. She sensed their presence – masked armed men, black flak jackets, canisters of tear gas, guns at the ready.

  Wait, please wait, she prayed.

  Carefully opening the heavy fire door, she slid through and, just as Khaled had said, she was in a stone corridor. Go to the left, no – the right, the right passage led to Omar’s headquarters. She edged towards the door, ears straining for the slightest sound, legs trembling. Looking through a small, square glass window, she saw Omar. He was sitting at a table with his back to her.

  One quick step and she wrenched open the door. Before he had time to turn round, she darted forward and jabbed the pipe into his neck. ‘Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.’

  His hand flew backwards to grasp at what he thought was a gun, but Maya slammed the pipe into his ear. He yelped, reeling with pain, blindly groping for his own gun in front of him on the table. Maya beat him to it, snatching up the pistol, she pointed it at his forehead. His eyes bulged, a low groaning sound came from his open mouth.

  ‘Shut up! Don’t make a sound,’ she told him. ‘Now walk.’

  Praying that his men wouldn’t come charging back upstairs, Maya moved him along the corridor and up to the loft. At one end was a stone platform where sacks of corn had once been hoisted up for milling. Wooden shutters closed it off from the sky.

  ‘Open the shutters,’ she commanded.

  Omar’s breathing was unsteady, his hands were shaking.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘If you don’t do it, I’ll shoot you,’ she snapped.

  ‘What’s the difference?’ he moaned. ‘You’re going to push me off, anyway.’

  ‘I’m not going to push you off. Listen!’

  The sound of a helicopter throbbed above them.

  ‘I’m going to rescue you.’

  She clicked back the safety catch of the gun. ‘Open the doors.’

  When he bent to draw back the bolts, a blast of wind rushed in; the helicopter was hovering overhead.

  ‘Get out there with your hands up,’ Maya ordered.

  He was whimpering as he stepped out onto the platform. From behind him, Maya waved the piping with the shred of white sheet still attached to one end.

  Soft thuds sounded on the roof. Maya started forward, but mistaking her movement for an attack, Omar yelled. ‘No!’

  He turned and, with surprising agility, leapt forward and head-butted her. Smash! Maya’s head snapped back, she crashed into a wooden beam and for a split second saw stars. As she reeled blindly, it was easy for Omar to grab her arms and grapple her to the edge of the platform. Her foot slipped over the edge, she toppled sideways, grabbed at a metal pole and just managed to save herself from plunging to her death.

  Desperately she clung to the pole as Omar’s face loomed close. His bony hand closed over hers; she smelt the sourness of his breath as he tried to prise her fingers open. She spat in his face. He reared back in distaste. Swinging in mid-air, her feet scrabbled madly for a foothold. Her arms were on fire – any second she’d plummet to the ground. Hope was almost gone, she couldn’t hold on any longer. Omar was coming for her again; her hands started to slip.

  Shadows danced past her, black shapes flew through the air. As if by magic, Omar was lifted up and flew backwards. Strong hands grabbed Maya’s arms and held her, a harness was slipped under her armpits and clipped round her chest. She was hauled up onto the platform and, like a lifeless dummy, she fell into somebody’s arms.

  It took her a moment to recover, then she raised her head and saw the sweep of Simon’s blond hair.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she asked.

  * * *

  Omar looked a sad figure. His smart, shiny suit was spattered with dirt, his thick hair had blown into a quiff, his tie dangled from his shoulder. In this state he was handcuffed and dumped on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  ‘How many men are down there?’ Simon asked him.

  Omar didn’t answer. Simon put a gun to his head.

  ‘A few, maybe five or six,’ Omar wheezed.

  ‘About fifteen,’ Maya told Simon. ‘And they’re armed. But we’ve disabled the submachine guns.’

  Agents in black flak jackets and balaclavas swung onto the platform and dashed into the loft.

  ‘My mum and Khaled are down there,’ Maya said urgently to Simon. ‘I don’t want them to get hurt.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In the basement. I’ll show you.’

  ‘No, it’s too dangerous. Stay up here.’

  Maya ran to the top to the stairs. ‘You can’t stop me,’ she said, ‘not now.’

  Simon pulled her back. ‘All right. Stay behind me and keep your head down.’

  He started to move down the stairs behind his men. All was quiet until they’d nearly reached the floor below, when there was a spatter of automatic gunfire.

  ‘You told me you’d taken the clips,’ Simon spluttered.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘They must have fixed some. We have to respond, we have no choice.’

  He gave his men the order to return fire, pushed Maya’s head down and, crouching in front of her, provided a human shield. Another burst of fire came from below – one of the men in front groaned and fell.

  ‘Stay back,’ Simon ordered. But Maya moved forward as the men advanced down the stairs, squeezing past the injured man.

  Another burst of gunfire came from below. Bullets zinged past, hitting the ceiling. Maya covered her ears, her hands were shaking. Chunks of plaster fell, dust filled her mouth. Coughing and choking, she crawled forwards. They reached the first floor.

  ‘We’ll rush the basement,’ Simon said in hushed tones. ‘Wait for the signal.’

  ‘Please be careful, Mum’s down there,’ Maya whispered.

  Simon edged his way to the top step, then punched the air – his men scrambled downwards. There was an unearthly scream followed by a shattering explosion. Smoke rose.

  ‘Oh my God! Mum!’

  Leaping down the steps, Maya reached the bottom, then dodged back and hid in the space underneath them. Smoke filled her mouth, she tied her headscarf over her face and crawled forwards along the corridor. Her knees scraped on the stone floor, her head was screaming with noise as Simon’s team fired round after round towards Omar’s men.

  Staying just behind Simon’s men, she reached the door of the room where Pam was imprisoned. It took all her courage to stand up.

  The door was locked. She rammed her shoulder against it, but it wouldn’t give. As she tried again, a round of bullets slammed into a wall close by; dust and debris stung her cheeks. Desperate for help, she looked back and saw a robed figure coming towards her. Instantly she recognized the wide face and huge eyes shining beneath the hijab.

  ‘Lubna, help me, please. My mum and Khaled are in there.’

  Lubna nodded and held out a key. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I’ll open the door.’

  Ignoring the gunfire, she calmly unlocked the door and went inside. Maya shot in after her. Pam was still lying on the bed but there was no sign of Khaled – he must have escaped through the window.

  Maya gestured towards her mum. ‘Help me get her out of here.’

  Lubna shook her head. ‘I can’t.’ Then she smiled, and putting her hand inside the neck of her jacket, she pulled out an amulet. ‘We will die in glory,’ she said. Her gaze was unflinching, her eyes
glowing with fervour. ‘I will be in paradise.’

  Maya’s heart flipped, her insides turned to mush. She understood what Lubna intended to do. The amulet was a detonator.

  Taking a step backwards, Maya tried to reason with her. ‘Lubna, don’t, please, don—’ she breathed. But before her sentence was finished, Khaled ran into the room, then stopped dead as he took stock of what was happening.

  ‘Lubna,’ he said, gently. ‘Lubna, the time is not yet come.’

  He stepped towards her, reaching out to touch her arm.

  She pulled back. ‘Traitor,’ she spat at him. ‘You have betrayed our cause.’

  Her eyes flashed fire, and at that moment Maya knew they were doomed. Khaled knew it too. Just as Lubna’s hand moved to grip the detonator, he grabbed her and pitched her back against the far wall.

  A mighty echoing boom filled Maya’s ears. She was thrown to the floor, all the air sucked out of her. Dazzling lights flowered in her head, she span in a dark, soundless tunnel and carried on spinning – lost to the world while battle raged.

  Lying in a silent cocoon, her brain shut down. She had no awareness of the wind blowing in through a giant hole in the wall, or of her mother slowly rolling from her bed and crawling towards her. Gentle hands touched her face. Pam bent close, her grimy cheeks streaked with tears. Coughing into the dusty air, she marshalled all her strength to cradle her daughter in her arms, lifting Maya’s head and whispering her name over and over again.

  Maya opened her eyes. It was impossible to speak, her throat was cracked and dry and no sound would come out. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably but she had to get up, she had to see.

  Leaning against each other for support, mother and daughter limped over to the far corner of the room where two bodies lay. They were lifeless, unmoving. Lubna’s headscarf was no longer white, but stained red; one of her arms had been blown off; jagged shards of bone lay in a pool of blood; at the end of the severed arm, the fingers were clenched round the amulet.

  Khaled was lying on his back. His head at an odd angle, an arm flung out. There was a smear of blood on the side of his face and more blood pumping from a hole in his leg; his eyes were closed.

  Maya bent down and put her head to his chest. His heart was beating.

  ‘We’ve got to get help,’ Maya rasped, her eyes pricking with tears.

  Pam’s lips moved but Maya couldn’t hear the reply because her ears were still ringing from the blast. She pointed to her ears to make Pam understand. Pam nodded, glanced down at Khaled, back at Maya, then she started to pull sheets off the bed. Maya helped her tear them into strips and Pam wadded the sheeting and pressed it against Khaled’s leg to stop the flow of blood. Khaled moaned, as Pam bound the leg and tied off the thick bandage. She put her hand on his wrist.

  ‘He’s OK,’ she mouthed. ‘His pulse is strong.’

  For the first time, Maya noticed how grey her mum’s face looked, and then she realised her own hands and clothes were covered in thick dust and spattered with blood. There were holes in her T-shirt. She lifted it up and saw blood oozing from a deep cut just above her waist.

  Pressing a piece of sheeting to the cut, she watched her mum wipe Khaled’s face and gently pull pieces of rubble from his hair. There was nothing they could do for Lubna. Her face was turned towards them, the plump cheeks spotted with moles were unmarked, her lips frozen in a half-smile and the big brown eyes that had shone with laughter almost closed. If you only saw her face, it would be easy to think she was sleeping, but the hijab, the sign of her faith, was soaked with blood.

  When the flow of blood from her own wound had eased, Maya knelt down and took Khaled’s hand. He didn’t stir, but she was sure he squeezed her fingers.

  Her mum leant towards her, gripping her arm and motioning towards the door. She was saying something, but Maya’s ears were still buzzing and she wasn’t sure what her mum was trying to tell her; they couldn’t escape while the firing was still going on.

  She shook her head, sniffed and swallowed. Her ears popped and her mum’s words came through: ‘It’s stopped, thank God, it’s stopped.’

  And Maya realised that the firing had stopped. In the wondrous silence they fell on each other, hugging for all they were worth.

  One of the Simon’s team appeared in the doorway. ‘Omar’s men have surrendered, the paramedics are on their way.’

  ‘Come on, my brave girl,’ Pam said. ‘We’re going home.’

  * * *

  The medics had been on stand-by, and in a few moments they were climbing over the debris with stretchers. A doctor arrived and took charge. She could do nothing for Lubna, but set up a drip into Khaled’s arm, gave him injections and supervised his journey to the waiting ambulance.

  Maya insisted on walking to the ambulance. Her head was throbbing, her legs shaky and she was bleeding, but she didn’t want to be stretchered out. Holding Pam’s hand, she walked into the mill yard just in time to see Omar being taken away. Surrounded by men from Simon’s team who were leading him into a secure military-type vehicle, he was handcuffed. A stooped, shambling figure – he looked pathetic.

  Pam shook her head. ‘Incredible that one little man had so much power.’

  ‘He hasn’t now,’ Maya said. ‘He’s finished.’

  Pam put her arm round her daughter. ‘I can’t believe what you did,’ she said.

  Maya shook her head. ‘Neither can I.’

  ‘You were amazing,’ her mum said proudly.

  ‘I did have some help at the end,’ she said. ‘Khaled and Simon came through for me.’

  ‘But it was your plan. Khaled told me. He said it was your idea to capture Omar’s father.’

  Maya nodded. Suddenly she felt very proud. ‘I had to act quickly, or Omar would have killed you. I didn’t give up, even when I thought Khaled had betrayed me.’

  ‘He had to make them believe he was on their side – right till the end.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I just hope he’ll be all right.’

  The ambulance carrying Khaled sped away. They stayed and watched Omar being driven away and then walked to the waiting ambulance. As the doors closed, Maya looked back at the mill.

  ‘Poor Lubna,’ she said. ‘She had so much to live for.’

  ‘And so much to die for,’ Pam added.

  Maya gave her mum a puzzled look. ‘I don’t think anything is worth dying for,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Pam asked, hugging her daughter.

  Chapter Twenty five

  Four weeks later on a Sunday afternoon, a taxi drew up outside the Begum Emporium fruit shop, and a tall dark girl and a small blonde woman got out clutching flowers, bags and parcels. They paid the driver and as they walked towards the shop, the girl pointed to a café across the road.

  ‘I was sitting over there when I saw Omar’s men going into Mariam’s,’ she said. ‘I was so scared when I saw Nazim. I knew he was out for revenge.’

  ‘And now he’s dead,’ Pam said. ‘Killed in the fighting at the mill.’

  ‘Yep, his brother was on TV – boasting that Nazim is a martyr.’

  ‘I saw it,’ Pam said bitterly. ‘Unfortunately it was exactly the sort of publicity he wanted.’ She held the flowers aloft like a symbol of peace. ‘Here, you take these. Let’s enjoy our visit.’

  They rang the bell at the side of the shop door. There was a flurry of activity inside, the bolts were drawn back and Mariam stood in the doorway, her smile as wide as the door.

  ‘Welcome. I’m so happy to see you. And Maya, all in one piece after your battle.’ She reached out and took Maya’s hands in hers, kissing them eagerly. ‘Khaled told me how brave you were.’

  Glowing with pride, Maya gave her the flowers and Mariam buried her face in the creamy white petals.

  ‘They’re beautiful, thank you,’ she said.

  ‘This is my mum, Pam,’ Maya told her.

  Pam stepped forward and put a hand on Mariam’s arm. ‘Thank you for helping Maya,’ she sai
d. ‘It must have been frightening for you, defying Omar and his men.’

  Mariam lowered her head. ‘It was my duty,’ she said. ‘Please come, come on in.’

  They followed her up the stairs into the bright sitting room.

  Khaled was lying on the sofa, but when he saw them, he swung his legs down and hoisted himself to his feet.

  ‘No, no, sit down,’ Maya said, rushing forwards. ‘You should rest.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ve done enough resting in hospital.’ He reached for a crutch that was leaning against the sofa and, quickly placing it under his armpit, he straightened up. ‘There, see!’ He found his balance and raised the crutch in the air. ‘I’m healed!’

  ‘Not quite yet,’ Mariam said.

  Pam came forward and looked him up and down, shaking her head. ‘Khaled, it’s so good to see you. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Every day it’s a little better.’

  ‘His leg was badly damaged,’ Mariam said, ‘but the doctors say that with lots of physiotherapy and exercise, he should be able to walk well again.’

  ‘And I’m being a good boy and doing all the exercises. Look!’

  Tentatively he slid one leg forward, got his balance and moved the other leg to meet it. It took ages for him to take another step, and the look of absolute concentration on his face made Maya’s heart turn over. When he reached the armchair, he put out his hands to take his weight and collapsed.

  Maya went over to him. ‘Hey, you’re doing really well.’ Looking down at him, she saw tiny beads of sweat sparkling on his forehead. ‘Is it still painful?’

  ‘Only when I dance,’ he said wryly.

  Pam came over to join them. ‘You saved our lives,’ she said to Khaled.

  ‘I’m not sure about that,’ he replied. ‘Maya did most of the work.’

  ‘But if you hadn’t acted so quickly, we’d all be dead. Thank you is not enough for what you did, but,’ she reached out her hand, ‘thank you.’

  Khaled shook her hand and smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Poor Lubna,’ he said. ‘If only Omar hadn’t got to her, she’d be here too. All that education, and yet she believed him.’