“For your sisters and Fatima, I made the crib for the baby when they first found out they were pregnant. I will do the same for you.” He pointed at the wood. “What colour would you like?”
“Baba, it doesn’t matter.”
“I made it for them. I’ll make it for you too.” He smiled sadly. “It’s expected.”
“Baba, I don’t expect it.”
“No, Jugnu, not by you. But by the eyes that will watch.” She cocked her head to one side. “Your mother, Beti. She’ll ask questions if I don’t do the same for you as I did for them. Even though I know you won’t need this crib.”
“Baba—”
He put his finger to her lips. “There is no need. I know. I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“That you’re going to make me even more proud of you. You’re going to do what I wasn’t strong enough to do, aren’t you?” He put the pieces of wood down and dropped his hands to the workbench. “You’re going to do what is right for your baby.”
Hazaar let out a breath and quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, tucked her head under his chin, and held him. “Please don’t cry, Baba.”
He chuckled and wiped his eyes. “It’s not good for a man to cry before his daughter, Beti. You deserve better.”
“You’re my father. I love you. There is no better.”
“Hazaar, I made you marry that man to save my own life.”
“No, that was the reason I agreed. It wasn’t the only reason you asked.” She wiped his cheek with her thumb. “If it hadn’t been your life I was saving, though, Baba, I wouldn’t have agreed.”
“I know. But now the other reasons I asked don’t matter. Your brother is gone. Shamed by his disgraceful behaviour and killed in prison. Slaughtered like a pig with its throat cut. There’s no reason to continue the charade.”
“That’s not true. When I do this, they’ll come for you.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Let them come.”
“Baba, they’ll kill you.” Hazaar almost choked on the words as she forced them from her lips.
“Then let them kill me. I have learned my lesson, Jugnu, and I will live—or die—with it. You and your child are more important than the days I have left on this earth. To die protecting you will be my honour.” He kissed her forehead. “I only pray that it will be enough to atone for putting you in danger to begin with. I should never have asked this of you. The price for me hasn’t changed, nor had it for your brother. I could have spared you this pain.”
“You were trying to do the best you could. You didn’t know Hatim would end up in prison.”
“No, I didn’t know your brother would end up in prison, but I did know the kind of man he had become, and the kind of woman you were.”
“I can’t stay. I can’t let my children be sucked into the world he lives in. If I have a son, he’s being born to be a drug dealer, and a daughter of Yasar’s is nothing but a bargaining chip in business. Yes, he would love them. He would care well for them. But that isn’t a life I can condemn my child to. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He squeezed her again, then turned and crossed the room. He pulled out two folding chairs and pointed for her to sit down. “If you give me a few days, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get some cash, perhaps a car, if I can. Maybe I’ll be able to find you somewhere to go.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I’ll do everything I can. You’re my daughter. You’re carrying my grandchild, and I’ll do everything in my power to take care of you as I should have done before.”
She didn’t know what to say or what to think. Her father wasn’t only accepting that she was going to run away and put his life on the line, but actually planning to help her do so.
“I won’t forget this, Baba.”
He nodded. “Will you go back to her?”
Hazaar stared at him. Was he really asking what she thought he was? Was he asking about Charlie? Did he mean something else? He nodded as she continued to stare at him. She didn’t know she was crying until her dress was soaked though. He put his fingers to her lips again when she tried to speak. “No. No apologies, no explanations. You’re my daughter and I love you. I want you to be happy, no matter the cost to me. I was too blind, too weak to do this for you before. I failed you, and I beg your forgiveness, Jugnu. You have nothing to be sorry for. Go to her and be happy.”A noise outside the door startled them both. He opened the door to find the hallway empty. He shrugged as he sat down again. “Perhaps it was the wind.”
Hazaar wiped her eyes. “Are you sure, Baba?”
“About the wind, no, but there—”
“I meant about helping me.”
“Oh, yes.” His face set into stubborn lines. “More certain than I have been about anything in my life.”
“But why?”
“You are my daughter. I love you. It’s that simple.”
“I love you too, Baba.”
“Three days, Beti.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “And we will set you free.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Pakistan, today
“Here.”
Charlie caught the black bundle that Al threw to her. “Thanks.” She unravelled the package and ripped open the Velcro tabs on the tactical vest before slipping it over her head and slapping the tabs in place across her chest and stomach. She nodded her thanks to Kenzie when she handed her a loose black shirt to wear over it.
“This,” Luke said, “has a GPS device built in. It’s also your microphone.” He handed her a watch.
Charlie shook her head. “That won’t work. I can’t be talking into my wrist all the time.”
“You don’t need to. The mic is omnidirectional. If you can, keep your hand on a table or across your chest, like this.” He held his arm across his midsection.
“Luke, if I walk around like that, I need a sling to carry my arm, or I’m going to look suspicious.”
“Use this.” Kenzie passed her a messenger style bag that she could wear across her body. “Keeping hold of the strap while you walk or talk won’t look suspicious.”
“Good thinking.” Charlie eyed her. “Covert ops?”
Kenzie winked. “On occasion.”
“Do we have video?” Charlie turned back to Luke.
He handed her a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “They have those tinted lenses that get darker outside in the sun so you can keep them on at all times.”
“Nice.” She turned them in her hands as she opened the stems. “I’ll look like Buddy Holly in these things.”
“Nah, rims like that are all the rage, Charlie.”
Charlie laughed and put them on. “How do I look?”
“Very sexy.” Kenzie wiggled her eyebrows jokingly and Luke sniggered.
“All right, enough. Are we ready?” Al turned around again.
“Yup.” Charlie slipped the bag over her head and shook out her head scarf.
“Right, then we’ll let you out here and find somewhere to park near the museum. You make your way there on foot. We’re a two-minute walk away here. Just stay on this road and keep going.”
“I know, Al. I’ve been here before you know.”
“Yeah, but this is different, Charlie. This is personal.”
“All the more reason to make sure I do this properly.” She checked her watch. “Five minutes.”
“I put the recording on the MP3 player in your bag. Also copies of the statements made by the girls in the UK.”
Charlie frowned. “The ones who said Tazim had the older brother killed?”
“Yeah. Just in case you need a little extra ammunition.”
“Thanks.” She gripped the handle of the door. “Okay, see you all afterward.”
“Charlie.” Al called her and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Be careful. This guy’s dangerous.”
“I will be.” She climbed out of the van and tugged the door shut behind her. It was almo
st nine thirty in the morning and the heat of the day was already climbing. Sweat trickled down her spine and soaked the waistband of her jeans. She tried to focus on the uncomfortable feeling at the small of her back, the way her shoes pinched the back of her ankles, the way the strap of the messenger bag felt against her palm, anything to keep from thinking about who she was going to meet. Every time she thought of him, the anger and jealousy that smouldered in the pit of her stomach flared to life and burned through her blood. Right now she needed to stay calm, focused, and do the job she needed to do. To save the lives she knew were at stake.
The museum was built in 1907. The brick building was surrounded by beautiful gardens and stretched out before her. It reminded her of a garrison with its three double doors at the entrance, brick columns and archways, and huge terra-cotta domes that decorated the balustrades and rooftops that loomed above her as she approached.
She’d seen his picture. In fact, she’d spent most of the morning staring at the image of him with his arm wrapped around Hazaar’s waist, but she wasn’t quite prepared to see the man himself as he waited outside the entrance. She wasn’t sure what it was that threw her. She shook her head and slowly walked toward him, careful to keep her gaze on him, waiting for him to notice her. She took in every detail as she neared and allowed the practice to calm the last of her nerves. The cut of his hair, the precisely trimmed beard around his mouth and jawline, the pristine white of his shalwar kemeeze all suggested he was a man in control. He stood perfectly at ease, looking as though he were simply enjoying the delights of the garden, the beautiful day, perhaps even the sound of the birds chirping in the trees. There was nothing to indicate that he was anything but an ordinary man on an ordinary day. Charlie chewed on the inside of her lip and tried again to find that calm within herself. She needed to focus, to concentrate, and to let go of the emotion she felt. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
She was so busy berating herself that she almost missed the moment he finally made eye contact with her. The nod was barely perceptible, but he deliberately turned and walked through the doors. She followed, keeping a distance of around fifteen feet. There were very few people around as she watched him wander through the exhibits, apparently reading some of the information cards, looking at the statues, coins, paintings, early weapons, and jewellery, even an early version of the Quran was displayed amongst the collection. There were wooden benches in each hall, and when he sat down she slowly made her way to sit beside him.
The room housed a collection of Buddhist stone sculptures and terra-cotta figurines, but no people. She smiled and crossed her legs, resting her clasped hands around her knees.
“Good morning, Charlotte.”
“Mr. Siddiqi.” He smiled, obviously pleased at her show of respect. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“You have information for me.” He held out his hand.
She reached into the bag and pulled out the MP3 player and ear buds. He handled them carefully and put the bud to his ear without placing it against his skin. She pressed play and watched his face darken whilst it seemed he didn’t move a muscle. The energy around him changed, and the mild-mannered man she had witnessed for the past twenty minutes vanished. He hadn’t moved, but his demeanour, the energy that crackled off him, now felt aggressive, enraged, and dangerous. She had to suppress a shiver as he handed the device back to her.
“I could point out to you that you have broken the law by recording my father’s conversation, but we both know that doing so would also mean that I am admitting to that line belonging to myself or someone in my household. And since I’m not doing that, I cannot comment on the legalities of you possessing that recording.”
“I’m not here to discuss the legalities of the recording any more than I am here to discuss other activities that we may or may not have become privy to since monitoring began.” She paused to let the subtle threat sink in. They had no other recordings, no other evidence to his illegal activities, but he didn’t know that. She was hoping it would be enough to make him at least pause, to consider her request, to buy them some time. “Those things are not my concern, nor do I need to worry about those possible recordings, or where they might end up once I complete my investigation.”
“But your concern, Charlotte, is my wife?”
She nodded. “My concern is for any British national living in Pakistan. My concern is to help them to the best of my abilities.”
“And my wife has asked for your help?”
Charlie swallowed. “Yes.”
“How?”
“She called.”
“Liar.”
“No, I’m not—”
“If she was in the situation you described, Charlotte, how could she call you? How could she reach out and solicit your help?”
“Yesterday lunchtime I received a call from a woman who called herself Maya. She was enquiring about leaving the country with her daughter, but didn’t have their passports.”
“And this is your call for help? A woman who wishes to leave?”
“No, that alone wouldn’t be enough.” Charlie knew that her explanation would be putting Amira’s life in just as much danger as Hazaar’s. It didn’t matter that Amira already knew the risk she was running and had willingly accepted it. It mattered to Charlie that her actions here and now were going to put another woman at risk, one she stood little chance of being able to save. She shook her head. “We received another call. Late last night, the call came from the same number but a different person. This person told us that the woman was in grave danger and asked us to save her.”
“How do you know this is not a hoax?”
“You mean besides the fact that you met me this morning?”
He smiled and inclined his head. “Aside from that.”
She was taking a chance. Everything Kenzie had profiled told her that Amira was not in danger from the man sitting in front of her, and that to engage his help, she had to gain his trust. Only the truth would do that. The subtly veiled threats and suggestions of rewards weren’t going to work with this man. Please let me be right about this, or they’re both dead.
“I met with Amira this morning. She told me that Hazaar was injured. That she needs medical attention and that your father has promised her a coffin rather than a doctor.”
“Hazaar is my wife. I will protect her.”
“From your own father?”
“If need be.” He growled the word. “She is my wife. Mine. Not his or anyone else’s. It is for me to protect her, discipline her, and teach her.”
“Then protect her. I can take them away from here.”
“No.”
“Mr. Siddiqi, in your business you have bigger concerns than a disobedient wife and a father who interferes.” The acid in her stomach roiled and rolled, each word concentrating it further and making it stronger; strong enough to eat her from the inside out. Hazaar was his wife. Those hands had touched her, those lips had kissed her. No! Stop it. Now is not the time for this. She breathed in and watched him frown at her.
“What are you talking about? I am a simple business man. What other concerns could I possibly have?”
“I believed that you had interests in more high-value products than spices, Mr. Siddiqi, and it occurred to me that a man in such a business would have some concerns about his…reputation…if it were to become common knowledge that he couldn’t control things at home. I’m sure his rivals would think him weak and ripe for attack. Perhaps, even those in his own organization would think he didn’t deserve to head up such an outfit, if this were the case.” She smiled a tiny smile. “But obviously I was mistaken, as you are a simple spice man, after all.” She pointed to the MP3 player. “You heard the recording. He has it all planned. If you want to protect her, let me help.”
He stared at her, eyes narrowed to slits. “She is mine to protect, Charlotte. Mine.” He stood up. “They both are.”
He walked away. She could hear his shoes clicking on the parquet floor,
the rustle of linen from the crisp, perfectly pressed loose-fitting pants. She knew he had left and that she was alone in the room filled with terra-cotta figurines and marble sculptures. She felt as hollow as the moulded clay, and as heavy and cold as the crystalline stone.
She waited until the black spots faded from her vision, but her knees still didn’t feel strong enough to support her weight, so she sat on the bench and breathed. She glanced at her watch again. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the first phone call from Hazaar, and her whole world had shifted. Was it really going to end like this? Was this the closure she would get after so many years of dreaming about Hazaar?
Chapter Thirty-Three
The North of England, then
Hazaar waved to Yasar as he reversed out of the driveway, and then she ran up the stairs to their bedroom. She pulled a bag from the wardrobe and stuffed her clothes in as fast as she could. The past three days had crawled by, and now that it was time to leave, there wasn’t a second to waste. Her taxi was due any moment to take her to the train station, where her father had a car waiting for her. He said he’d put cash in the spare tire well and a map with directions to an apartment he’d arranged for her. He said it wasn’t much. In truth, she didn’t care. She just needed somewhere to go while she got herself sorted out.
“Going somewhere, my darling?”
Hazaar whirled to face the door, one hand at her chest, the other over her mouth to stop the scream that threatened. “Yasar.” She panted, her heart raced beneath her palm, and all she wanted to do was run. There was a look in his eye she hadn’t seen before, and it scared her. “Did you forget something?”
“Perhaps I did.” He closed the door and leaned against it. There was no other way out of the room. “I asked you a question, Hazaar.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it.”
He pointed at the bag. “Are you going somewhere?”
She looked at the bag, and wanted to come up with a quick, plausible explanation, but fear dulled her mind. “I…” Think, damn it. Think.
Nightingale Page 27
