Nightingale

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Did he see his daughter again?”

  “In a way.”

  Kenzie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The little girl was too sick to go to the prison, and the police refused to let him go to the hospital. They said they couldn’t maintain security there with all those people around. So I went to the hospital and took a picture of the little girl. The police were right, there was no way they could have done it safely, but I had to keep my promise. I had to stand by the agreement I’d made with him.”

  “And that’s how you ended up here?”

  “Jasper saw the security video of the negotiation.” She laughed. “It wasn’t really much of a negotiation, but he thought I had potential. He offered me a chance to train with the task force and teamed me up with Liam.”

  “It must have been pretty scary for you.”

  Charlie shrugged. “You know, it actually wasn’t all that scary. I didn’t really feel like he was going to shoot me at any point. I don’t know why.”

  “You religious?”

  “Nope.”

  “You believe in fate?”

  She was about to laugh, but the thought stopped her. Did she? Was it fate that had put her in the right place at the right time to get that phone call this afternoon? Had everything been leading up to that moment?

  “I didn’t think so, but now I’m not so sure. Do you?”

  “Fate, destiny, yeah, I believe in that. Sometimes I don’t think there’s any other way to explain some of the things I’ve seen. People surviving things that just don’t seem possible, and people dying when it really looks like they should live.” She finished her beer and signalled for another drink. Charlie could see the sadness in her eyes. There was a deep-seated sorrow that was built upon the scars of loss and pain. Charlie knew the look well. She saw it in the mirror each morning.

  “So how does your story connect to this case?” Kenzie pointed to the file that Charlie had beside her.

  “I’m not sure it does yet. It might, or I might just be hearing ghosts. But that’s another long story for another night.”

  “But you said they were connected.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I need some more information. Besides, it’s your turn now. How’d you end up here?”

  “I signed up for the army at eighteen, passed the leadership test, and went to Sandhurst. I’d expressed an interest in intelligence. The various tests they put us through showed I had an aptitude for being persuasive and getting information out of people. They decided to train me to harness that knack.”

  “I bet you were good. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine, and I’m very good.” She grinned.

  “You said you believe in fate, so you think you’re supposed to be here?” Charlie saw the shadow pass over Kenzie’s face.

  “I saw a lot of things in Iraq and Afghanistan. But most of what I saw I can live with. Men killing each other for war’s sake, casualties on both sides. I don’t like it. I wish it didn’t happen, but it does, and everyone fighting is a part of it. They’ve chosen to fight. What I can’t live with, the part I can’t get my head around, are the people who don’t have a choice. The innocents who are harmed, not just through war, but through regimes like the Taliban that bring nothing but oppression and abuse to people. I think I’m here, or wherever I end up, to do something about that in whatever way I can.”

  “We all wish we could end those things, but what we’re doing here isn’t bringing an end to the suffering of innocents in war, or trying to change a regime that we don’t like.”

  “No, I know that. But we’re doing something. We’re liberating some of the women and children to give them an escape from Islam, getting them out from under the bloody veil.”

  “Kenzie, Islam isn’t to blame for the abuses you’ve witnessed. And if you think it is, then we have a problem here. Islam, the Quran, is like any other religion, twisted and warped by the men with the power to do so. But it’s not bad in and of itself.”

  “So why do they make the women wear the burqa? That’s oppression, plain and simple.”

  “To us. To us it’s oppressive, damn straight it is. But not to many of the women who wear it. They wear it as a sign of respect, to their husbands, their culture, and their religion. Like many women in the West who wear a hat to church on a Sunday and men who wear a suit and tie. The Quran doesn’t say that women are inferior to men. It preaches equality to a greater extent than the Bible does. Religion isn’t the issue; it isn’t to blame. It’s used as an excuse and a justification, just like every other religion has been at different points throughout history. The real blame lies with the people in power. Parts of this country are progressive, forward thinking, and inclusive. Hell, they even had a female prime minister a few years ago. But outside the big cities, this country is run on tribal laws and customs that have been practiced for millennia. Women follow these conditions because they know only what they’re told. Religion isn’t the enemy. Ignorance is. And if you don’t understand that, then you won’t be able to work in this job.”

  “Is that how you excuse it? How can you sleep at night?”

  “I don’t excuse it, Kenzie, but neither am I deluded enough to think that one person is going to change a cultural mindset that spans the globe or the second largest religion in the world. As for sleeping at night?” She swallowed her drink. “What makes you think I do?”

  “Women are stoned to death in the name of Islam. Hung from the goalposts in football fields because they weren’t virgins when they married. It didn’t matter that they’d been raped.”

  “I know all the horror stories, Kenzie. I’ve seen more than a few of them myself. But I will tell you again, the men doing that may have stated that it was in the name of Islam, but it wasn’t. Think back on your Western history. How many women were burned at the stake as witches in the name of God? How many men and women were tortured by the Spanish Inquisition in the name of God? Does the Bible tell them to do that?” She shook her head. “No. It didn’t stop pious men from taking what they found in there and twisting it to suit their own agenda. What’s happening here is no different.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better.”

  “I know that. But it doesn’t make it any worse, either. There is no us and them. We’re all just people, with different beliefs and different ideas. You need to work to understand the beliefs held by the people you’re going to be working with if you want to be successful in this job.”

  “So you understand them?”

  Charlie laughed bitterly. “Not always, but I try. I don’t always get it right. I don’t always get the results I want. I am a Western woman operating in a male-dominated Islamic society, which means I have to learn the meaning of the word failure. And so will you. But I don’t think they’re bad people just because they follow a religion I don’t like.”

  “But how can you say they aren’t bad? They beat women, kill them in the name of honour, kill them for adultery—”

  “And you don’t think we do that in the Western world?”

  “No, we don’t!”

  “Think again. We just give it a different name. How many women in the West suffer from domestic abuse? How many men beat women simply because they’re drunk?”

  “I don’t know. A lot, I guess. But it isn’t sanctioned by the government.”

  “UK figures estimate around one point two million women suffered domestic violence in 2012. Approximately one in every four women.”

  “I’ll bet it’s higher in Pakistan.”

  “And you’ll probably be right. But their government doesn’t sanction that violence, either. They just don’t work very hard to stop it. I’m not saying that Pakistan or Islam is better than what we come from. What I’m saying is that we aren’t superior just because we put a different name on the abuses we visit upon people. What’s the old saying about glasses houses and stones?”

  Kenzie laughed. “Okay, okay. I get your point.”

&n
bsp; “Do you? Because if you don’t, you aren’t going to be able to do this job. Men here won’t negotiate with a woman who looks down on them.”

  “Hey, I can’t help being tall.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “I know. I get it. How do you suggest I adjust my thinking?”

  “Honestly?” Charlie sipped her drink while Kenzie nodded. “Read the Quran and talk to people.”

  “Read the Quran? Have you seen how thick it is?”

  “Then get the Reader’s Digest version, York Notes, Islam for Dummies, whatever. I don’t care. But get to know where they’re coming from. And talk to people. Get out there on the streets and ask questions. Ask women how they feel about wearing a veil. I guarantee their answers will surprise you.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Charlie snorted a quick laugh. “And on that note, I think it’s time for me to call it a night.” Kenzie fished her card out of her wallet and wished her good night.

  Charlie stepped out of the hotel. The smell of roses and jasmine hung in the air from the gardens across the street. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as she thought about fate and destiny. Did she believe? Did she dare? She tucked the file under her arm and climbed into the car, ready to see what fate had planned for her now.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The North of England, then

  Charlie rolled over and snuggled into Hazaar’s arms. They’d spent the previous day travelling. Hazaar’s surprise gift for their third anniversary was a getaway at a cottage in Drumnadrochit on the shores of Loch Ness, deep in the heart of Scotland.

  “Baby, wake up.” Hazaar shook Charlie’s shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead, the day’s a wasting.” Hazaar moved close and whispered in her ear. “Come on, baby. I have plans for this weekend.”

  Charlie finally opened her eyes. “You do, huh? Are you going to fill me in?”

  “I thought we’d go and visit Urquhart Castle. Then I thought we could go and watch the sunset over the loch.”

  Charlie couldn’t think of anything that sounded more romantic and decided it was the perfect setting for her to give Hazaar her anniversary gift. She couldn’t resist the desire to have some fun with her, though. “But they have a Loch Ness Monster museum. Can we go? Please?”

  “You’re joking, right?” Hazaar’s eyes opened wide as Charlie shook her head. “You really want to go and see a museum about a fictional creature?”

  “They can’t prove it’s fictional.”

  “They can’t prove it’s real either.”

  “Come on. It could be fun.”

  “And if it isn’t, that’s hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”

  Charlie squeezed her. “If that’s the case, I promise to make it up to you.”

  “And how will you do that, baby?”

  Charlie kissed her chest. “Any way you like.” Hazaar’s lips were hungry as they covered Charlie’s.

  “That’s the kind of deal I can live with.” She squeezed Charlie’s arse as she kissed her again. “Come on then. If you want to go to this museum and make it to the castle for sunset, we don’t have that much time.”

  *

  It was cold, but the day was clear and crisp. The chilly wind pinched their cheeks and noses even as the sun shone overhead on the short walk to the car.

  “Are you sure about this? It’s going to be really cold with the wind coming off the water.”

  Charlie wrapped her gloved fingers around the velvet box in her pocket and smiled. “I’m sure.”

  Hazaar shrugged. “I’m blaming you if I get hypothermia.”

  “I’ll warm you up. Besides, this was your idea in the first place.” She winked as Hazaar turned on the engine and drove them to the ruined remains of Urquhart Castle. Its profile stood in stark contrast to the infamous inky black waters of Loch Ness. The onetime stronghold of Scottish noblemen throughout the ages was now visited by millions of tourists marvelling at the histories of Robert the Bruce and Bonnie Prince Charlie. The eerie quality as the light faded and the sun set added to the ethereal sensation as they approached the ruins and walked around large fallen stones and grassy mounds hiding their secrets. The sheer beauty staring back at her as she looked across the lake made Charlie’s breath catch in her throat.

  “It’s so beautiful.”

  Hazaar took hold of her hand and pulled her away from the stones toward the edge of the loch and spread a blanket out. Charlie sat and pulled Hazaar to her body, wrapping her arms around her. There was no one else around, and she luxuriated in being able to hold her lover on a whim, enjoying the simple freedom of not having to watch their every move. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the box.

  “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

  Hazaar took the black box from her and slowly pulled it open. Resting on the small pillow was a beautiful silver nightingale pendant, its wings spread in flight and its mouth open in song. The detail of the feathers had mesmerized Charlie when she had first seen it, and she could see the same amazement on Hazaar’s face now. She watched the emotions play across Hazaar’s face. Surprise melted into elation before the shadow of something darker crossed her beautiful face.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

  The smile returned and tears tumbled down her cheeks. “Nothing. It’s beautiful.”

  Charlie wiped the tears away and whispered, “It’s okay. You don’t have to wear it. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

  “No.” Hazaar held it out to her. “Please put it on for me.”

  Charlie lifted the delicate bird from its pillow and unclasped the lock as Hazaar turned around and lifted her hair out of her collar. She draped the fine chain around her neck, closed the clasp, and gently brushed her fingers over the sensitive skin. “It’s on a pretty long chain so you can keep it under your clothes if you need to.”

  Hazaar turned back to face Charlie, her fingers wrapped around the pendant as it sat on her chest. Hazaar’s tears flowed down her cheeks even as she pulled Charlie to her.

  The kiss bound their souls together as the sun kissed the water and disappeared for the day. But there was a sense of desperation in the kiss that was becoming familiar to Charlie, a sense that Hazaar was trying to remember and experience everything she could.

  “I love you, Hazaar. You mean everything to me. I want you to know that I’m always here for you. If you need something, just tell me. If you want something, just ask. You are my world, sweetheart. My heart and my soul, they’re yours.”

  “Take me home, sweetheart. I need to love you.” Hazaar kissed her again before she led them up the hill to the car park as the last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the gentle waves of the loch. The air around them crackled as Hazaar drove them back to the cottage without ever letting go of Charlie’s hand. She pushed the door closed behind them and tugged Charlie through the hall and into the bedroom before pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed.

  Slowly, Hazaar undressed until she stood before Charlie wearing only the pendant. The silver metal gleamed in the light as she moved. The first kiss was gentle and slow, a tender expression of love.

  “You are so beautiful, Charlie. I love you so much.”

  Hazaar’s tongue fluttered across her lips and Charlie’s breath caught in her throat tearing a deep moan from her. She could feel Hazaar smile against her lips at the wanton sound and she worked to quickly strip Charlie of her clothes, pressed her back to the bed, and covered her body with her own. Charlie wrapped her legs around Hazaar’s hips, threaded her fingers through her hair, and pulled her down for another kiss. The cool metal touched her chest as it hung from Hazaar’s neck.

  Their bodies rocked together, their hands exploring, touching, and teasing each other.

  “Look at me.” Hazaar lifted slightly and stared at Charlie’s face. “Baby, look at me. I need to see your eyes.”

  Charlie had lost count of the number of times Hazaar had whispered those words to her, and as ever, it took all she
had at that moment to open her eyes. Hazaar was staring straight at her. Her pupils were wide, desire and love reflected in equal measure.

  “Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes when I make you mine, baby.”

  She slid her hand between their bodies and slipped her fingers slowly into Charlie’s sex. Charlie groaned and fought to keep her eyelids from closing.

  “I’ll always be yours.”

  Hazaar looked away for a second and wiped her face against her arm.

  “What’s wrong? Please tell me,” Charlie asked.

  Hazaar moved her arm again, pumping her fingers into Charlie. “Nothing’s wrong, baby, just a hair in my eye.” She licked Charlie’s nipple, then pulled it between her lips. “Now, keep looking at me, baby.” She twisted her hand so that her thumb connected with Charlie’s clit on each stroke.

  Charlie felt her body tighten and the tendrils of pleasure burned through her until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer and her orgasm claimed her.

  “Baby, I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

  Charlie wrapped her arms tighter about Hazaar and tried to catch her breath. “I love you too, sweetheart. You aren’t going to lose me. I told you. I’m yours.” She looked up and saw the tears in Hazaar’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Charlie—”

  “I love you. I plan to be with you always.”

  “Charlie, stop.”

  “Marry me?” She hadn’t planned to ask. Not now, not ever, but as the words left her lips, she knew she had been holding them back for so long that they had been eating at her. She wanted to make a plan for their relationship after they finished university, to figure out how they would stay together when their convenient excuse was no longer available. The future had been so shaky that she couldn’t see it as she looked forward, but voicing the question had set her free. She knew this was exactly what she needed. It was the commitment that she craved to go forward.