Nightingale

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Complete loyalty?” Charlie didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Yes. Any betrayal would incur his wrath.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, with a man like this, obviously sexual betrayal would be one way, but also anything he saw as a betrayal of what he held dear.”

  “Like his marriage?”

  Kenzie frowned. “Well, yes, I already said that sexual betrayal would—”

  “Sex isn’t the only way to betray a marriage. When you say wrath, do you mean he would be violent toward Hazaar?”

  Kenzie shook her head, obviously considering the question carefully. “Very doubtful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he values strength and control. To strike out at someone weaker than he is would shame him. He views domestic abuse as a coward’s choice.”

  Charlie leaned forward in her seat and rested her elbows on her knees. “How do you know that?”

  “Because he said as much when he testified against one Hatim Alim when he was jailed for beating his wife Fatima and causing her to have a miscarriage with their first child. Yasar was the prosecution’s main witness, and from the transcript, he was very clear. He testified to a pattern of abuse and also to intervening when Hatim had tried to strike Hazaar on one occasion. He says very clearly that he believes men who show such little control, respect, and honour deserve to discover for themselves how such treatment feels at the hands of others stronger than themselves.”

  “Wow.” Charlie felt her spirit lift a little. She remembered so clearly the bruises Hatim had left on Hazaar when he’d hit her. It felt good to know that not only was Yasar not like him, but that he had stood up for Hazaar against him, protected her, and kept her from harm. Charlie felt a stab of emotion, but she couldn’t decide if it was guilt or jealousy. Guilt that she hadn’t been able to stand up for Hazaar in any way, that she had never been given the chance, and jealous that it was his right, his privilege, to do so.

  “Yeah. His final words to Hatim were to wish him luck in prison.”

  “When was this?”

  “A little over three years ago.”

  “I take it Hatim has been released now?”

  “Unfortunately, he was killed in prison.”

  Charlie cocked her head in question and Kenzie shrugged. “The report says a prison brawl got out of hand, and Hatim was found at the bottom of a pile with a shiv in his throat.” She glanced at her tablet. “He’d only been in there two days.”

  “Fast work, Yasar.” Luke had a look of grudging respect on his face.

  “Maybe,” Kenzie said and Luke gave her an incredulous look. “Okay, more than maybe, but it was never proved. Hell, they didn’t even convict anyone. There were no prints on the shiv except Hatim’s and of course, no one saw anything.”

  “Dude’s ruthless.”

  “Yeah.” Charlie frowned and ran her fingers through her hair. “So where does this put him on the side of honour killings?”

  “Probably publically disagrees, but honour is a vital part of his personal code. We can’t rule out that if he was backed into a corner he may go along with it. Sources indicate that the brother isn’t away, but has in fact, been dealt with in a more permanent way after bringing disgrace to the family.”

  “He killed his own brother?” Al spoke from the front seat.

  Kenzie shook her head. “No, the brother was causing a multitude of problems because he got a taste for the product, so the father ordered him to be taken care of.”

  “Where does this intelligence come from?” Al turned to look at them all from the driver’s seat.

  “It was in the statement made by the Ahmed sisters to the police in the UK before they were killed.”

  “Okay.” Charlie tapped her fingers against her lips. “From everything you’ve read, how open is he to negotiation?”

  Kenzie shrugged. “In business, he has to be. Personally, he’s obstinate. Once he’s made his mind up, it would be almost impossible to change it.”

  “Almost?”

  “This isn’t an exact science. Just a pretty fucking close one.”

  “Got ya.” Charlie gave her a quick smile and turned to look out the window, considering her options.

  She played back over everything she knew of the situation from what Hazaar had said on the phone, from her conversation with Amira, and everything Kenzie had said. “I still think we have a better chance approaching him than Tazim. Tazim’s an extremist, pure and simple, and one who had his own son killed. There’s no negotiating with him, only measuring up for coffins.”

  Kenzie nodded. “Definitely looks that way from everything I’ve seen.”

  “Right. You have a number for Yasar in that file of yours?” Charlie held her hand out as Kenzie passed her a piece of paper. “Thanks. Luke, how are we doing on getting eyes and ears in there?”

  “Ears was a piece of cake. I’ve got a trace on the line. No one’s making any calls, though. At least not off the landline.”

  “Are there mobile numbers?”

  “Yeah, I got a first ping a couple of minutes ago. It’s in Urdu.”

  “Play it. I’ll translate for you.”

  Luke cued the recording and hit the button. Charlie listened to the short recording of the quiet, muffled voice.

  “Again.” She frowned as she concentrated on the slightly gravelly tone of the voice. “I think it’s Tazim.”

  “Makes sense. The number we found for Yasar is different.”

  “Right. He’s ordering someone, I think the guy’s name is Hani, to bring a car to the back of the house after dark. And to fill the jerry cans with diesel. He says they’re heading for the mountains.”

  No one spoke. The only sounds in the van were the whirring and beeping of the electronic equipment. Charlie’s heart thundered in her ears, and she felt stifled in the sweltering heat of the muggy van. She pulled at the neck of her shirt and wished it was all over.

  “So we have our time frame, people,” Al said. “Charlie, you ready to make this call, or do you need a minute?” He held the headset out to her.

  “We don’t have much time.” She put the earpiece in place and nodded to Luke. “Put me through to him.”

  “You got it, C.”

  The phone rang three times before it was answered.

  “Who is this?” The man spoke in Urdu and Charlie had never been more grateful for the hours Hazaar had spent teaching her the language, and she answered him back fluently.

  “Is this Yasar Siddiqi?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Charlotte. I work for the British Embassy.”

  “I have nothing to do with the embassy.”

  She knew he was about to hang up. “I know about Hazaar, Yasar.”

  “What did you say?” His voice dropped dangerously.

  “I said I know about Hazaar. I know what your father plans to do to her.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We intercepted a call from him, ordering a car and diesel fuel to take her to the mountains, where he plans to burn her to death.”

  “You’re lying.” His voice was little more than a growl in her ear.

  “No, I’m not.” She could feel the calm she always felt descend upon her when she was negotiating. The peace she felt came from knowing that she was doing the absolute right thing, that she had someone’s life in her hands and right this second, it was her job to make sure that she didn’t lose that life. And it had never been more important than it was right now.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “If I was lying, how would I know about the nightingale pendant that he threw into the fire last night?” She blocked the memories of giving the necklace to Hazaar. She couldn’t let herself see the way she had looked as she wrapped it around her neck, the way her kiss had felt, or the way they had made love afterward.

  “But she—”

  “She isn’t wearing it. Check. See that I’m telling the truth.”

&
nbsp; “No. I won’t listen to this.”

  “If you don’t, he will kill her.”

  “No, she is under my protection. He knows this and will not touch her.”

  “Was she under your protection last night when he beat her? When he burned her feet to stop her from running away?” She curled her toes in her shoes at the thought.

  “He will not touch her. I don’t believe you.”

  “I can prove everything I’ve said to you.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I’m not looking to prosecute anyone. I’m not the police.”

  “Meet me in one hour.”

  Yes! She wanted to run and shout and scream and dance, but there wasn’t time, and this wasn’t the place. “Where?”

  “Outside the Peshawar Museum. You know what I look like?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted. “Come alone. Follow me. When I am certain you are alone, we will talk. You will show me your proof.”

  “One hour.”

  The line went dead.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The North of England, then

  Hazaar took a deep breath as Yasar turned off the engine and quickly ran around the car to open the door for her. He took her hand and helped her out. He kissed the back of her hand as he led her to her father’s door, his smile wide. Hazaar wished she felt the same way.

  “Yasar, I’m really not sure about this.”

  “Nonsense, my darling, the doctor said you’re two months pregnant and that everything looks perfect.”

  “Yes, but she also said that most people wait until after the first trimester before telling people, as the risk of miscarriage is greatly reduced.” She wanted to buy herself some time, time to think, to decide, to plan, but she knew he wouldn’t give her that, and there was no way she could explain to him why she wanted that without making him suspicious of her motives. Throughout the appointment with the doctor, all she’d been able to think about was her unborn child and the future she was condemning it to. If she stayed with Yasar, their child would be well looked after, without question. He or she would want for nothing, except the freedom to choose their own future. If she left Yasar, she had no way of knowing how she would provide basics such as food and a place to live for herself and her child. Could she earn enough playing or teaching piano? Possibly. Could she do so while she was raising a child alone? She didn’t know.

  “There’s no need to worry, Hazaar. I’ll take care of you and our baby. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  Hazaar wanted to point out that there was no way he could keep that promise, that as much as he could control most things in his world, nature wasn’t one of them.

  “I want to tell your father.” He winked at her. “I want to tell the whole world. I’ll call my own father tomorrow. It’s too late now to wake him, even for such wonderful news.” He rang the doorbell and they waited. “Everyone will be so excited. They’ve been waiting to hear this news.”

  “My mother will be pleased that I’ll gain weight.”

  Yasar laughed. “It will make her happy on many levels, my darling.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “As you’ve made me happy.”

  “Yasar, Beti, it’s so good to see you, come in, come in.” Her father pulled the door open and waved them in. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I would have thought you’d be at work on a Wednesday afternoon.”

  Yasar held her hand and tried to help her sit down, but she waved his hands away. “I’m fine. I can sit down by myself.” Her father looked at her, a strange frown on his face, then glanced back to Yasar.

  “We have some exceptional news to tell you.”

  Her mother opened the door and carried in a tray of tea. This was the future she would give to her child. She looked at her father. He sat in his chair, and the proud set of his shoulders was gone. She hadn’t seen it since he’d given her away. Before that, if she were being truly honest with herself. But Hatim’s imprisonment and subsequent death had aged him. He looked gaunt in a way she had never seen before. His shoulders slumped, his hair was greyer than before, and the dark circles under his eyes were testament to a lack of sleep. Regret wasn’t a kind mistress.

  “Uncle, Auntie, I, we, have great news.” Yasar sat on the edge of his seat, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped around his cup. He put the cup down and took her hand in his. Her mother smiled broadly at the gesture. “We are going to have a baby.”

  Hazaar kept her gaze locked on her father. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened slightly as her mother jumped from her chair and pulled her into a hug. He shook Yasar’s hand and kissed his cheeks before Hazaar found herself in front of him. He cupped her face in his hands, and she could see the questions in his eyes. He kissed her forehead and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “You have made me the proudest father in the world, Jugnu. Never could I have asked for more from a daughter and still you make me even more proud.”

  “Thank you, Baba.”

  “She is a wonderful woman, Uncle. You have every reason to be proud of her.” Yasar beamed at her and kissed her hand again. The action made her cringe. It made her feel possessed, owned, controlled, rather than cared for in the way she had felt when Charlie had done the same thing.

  She heard them talking around her, Yasar asking after her mother’s health and her state of mind after Hatim’s recent death. She’d been surprised when her mother had continued to be cordial toward Yasar after he testified against Hatim in court. There was no denying that Yasar’s testimony had been the most damaging, and had effectively sealed her son’s fate. The son she had doted on, spoiled to the point where he believed the world and all the women in it were his to command, and given in to every temper tantrum so that he believed he should always get his own way. But Yasar was a different story. He had quickly shown them all why his own father held him in such high esteem. He was shrewd, quick-witted, and ruthless. It was easy to see that he would rule his father’s empire, probably sooner rather than later, and this was why she was certain her mother had continued to support him despite his testimony. Hatim’s shame was more than enough reason for her mother to publicly distance herself and align herself with Yasar. After all, public appearance was really all she was concerned with.

  Hazaar glanced over at her father again, noting the sad smile on his face. If only you had been able to undo the damage Maa Jee caused. We might have all had a chance.

  Yasar’s phone rang. “My apologies, Auntie, Uncle. I must take this call.” He left the room.

  “Why so quiet, Beti? You should be jumping for joy.” Her mother pointed at her and wiggled her finger. “You’ve lost weight again. You need to take better care of yourself. Especially now you have a child on the way.”

  “I’ve been looking after myself, Maa Jee.”

  “And that man of yours. He’s a good man. So sweet to you, taking time off work to go to the doctor’s with you. Such a lovely boy.” She clapped her hands together and held them beside her face. She had done it for as long as Hazaar could remember, whenever she was excited and happy, and Hazaar had always thought she looked like a little girl when she did so.

  “Yes, I’m looking after him too.”

  “Well, see that you do. You don’t want to lose a man like that.”

  “She has no fear of that, Auntie. You have raised her to be a perfect wife.” Yasar walked back into the room and leaned over to kiss the top of Hazaar’s head. “I am sorry, but I have to go to work. There is a problem I must take care of. I’ll take you home.”

  “If you’re going to be out for a while, I could stay here for a little bit.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what time I’ll be able to come and pick you up later.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure Baba will take me home,” she said, “won’t you, Baba?”

  “Of course.”

  “We don’t want to put your father out of his way, Hazaar.” Yasar tugged gently on her hand.

  �
�It’s no trouble, Yasar. We see so little of Hazaar. It’s a pleasure to spend time with her. I’ll make sure she’s home safely before you get there.”

  Yasar frowned. “You’re sure, Uncle?”

  “Certain.”

  “Very well.” He stood and tugged on the waistcoat he wore. “I’ll be home by eight at the latest.”

  “I’ll have your supper waiting for you,” Hazaar said. He nodded, kissed her mother’s cheek, and left.

  Her mother shook her head. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Hazaar looked at her, hoping the mask of innocence would work.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I know you, Hazaar. You could have gone with him. Why upset him when he’s been so nice to you?”

  “I wasn’t trying to upset him. I wanted to spend some time with you and Baba, that’s all.”

  “Pff. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

  Hazaar laughed. “No, Maa Jee, but it isn’t every day I find out I’m pregnant for the first time either. There are things I want to talk to you about.”

  Tears welled in her mother’s eyes. “Of course, how silly of me. You have always been so different from the other girls—it didn’t occur to me that you would have the same questions they did. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Come, we’ll go to the kitchen and talk. This isn’t for men’s ears, Beti.”

  Hazaar shrugged and followed her into the kitchen, where her mother went into detail about her own five pregnancies, how she suffered with morning sickness every day for nine months while she was pregnant with Hatim, but only for a few weeks with each of her girls. She told her about her cravings, her mood swings, the crying, everything that Hazaar should expect in the next few months. And every second, Hazaar was thinking about getting away from her, about talking to her father, about making the plans she needed to make. She feigned a yawn and stretched her arms over her head.

  “Already with the sleepiness?” her mother asked.

  “No, it’s just been a big day. I’m going to go see Baba for a little while before I go home.” She found him in the garage, sorting through various pieces of wood. He smiled when he saw her.