Circle of Fire (22 page)

‘I'd like to meet him,' Pam said. ‘I didn't have a chance to talk to him at the mill.'

‘Mum, you weren't in a fit state to talk to anybody,' Maya pointed out.

‘I'm sure Sharif would like to talk to you,' Mariam said, as she poured drinks. ‘It's troubled him greatly that Omar was planning such things.
He was here yesterday, inquiring after Khaled. He knows you're working to release Majid. It's so strange – two sons, such opposites.'

She straightened up and smiled at Pam. ‘His granddaughter's looking after him. I think he'd like the opportunity to talk, to get things straight. I'll see if I can arrange it. Now, please sit down and have some of my home-made lemonade and snacks. My husband will be here soon, then we'll have dinner.' She backed away. ‘If you'll just excuse me a moment, I have something cooking on the stove.'

‘I'll help you,' Pam said. ‘I'm sure these two have heaps to talk about.'

Left alone, there was a short awkward silence between Khaled and Maya. There was so much to say, and yet neither of them spoke. Khaled pressed the palms of his hands together, Maya sat opposite him on the sofa biting her fingernails. Khaled leaned forward and rubbed gently at his knee.

‘Is it sore?'

He nodded. Their eyes met.

‘Thanks,' Maya said. ‘Thanks for helping me. I'm so sorry you got hurt.'

Khaled smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. ‘It's OK,' he said. ‘And you
didn't give me much choice about helping. You were pretty scary.'

‘Sorry about the gun.'

‘I'm not sure which was worse, the gun or your driving.'

‘I was scared stiff when you were going to hand me over to Omar. So I guess we're quits.'

There was a rattle of pans from the kitchen and Maya could hear Pam and Mariam talking. ‘They're getting on well,' she said. ‘I knew they would.'

‘What about you?' Khaled said. ‘Are you OK?'

Maya was thoughtful. ‘Yeah, mostly. It helps to know Omar's locked up. I'm actually looking forward to getting back to school and normality. What will you do?'

Khaled's expression grew serious. ‘I can't stay here. Special Branch is protecting me but I'll have to disappear soon, and while I'm here, I'm putting Mariam at risk. To some I'm a hero – to others, a traitor.'

‘Where will you go?'

‘I want to study.'

‘Where?'

‘I can't tell you.'

A shadow fell across Maya's face. Khaled leaned back against the armchair, his eyes taking in her disappointment. ‘If Allah wills it, we'll meet again.'

‘I hope so,' Maya said

Khaled glanced round, as if somebody might be listening. ‘You go to school in London, don't you?

‘Yes.'

‘There are many universities in London.'

‘One's right next to my school,' Maya said.

Khaled nodded. ‘One day, a penniless student might appear.'

‘A penniless, limping student?'

‘A penniless, limping student in disguise,' Khaled laughed.

‘You promise?

‘I promise.'

‘Will you carry on working for the Intelligence Service?'

‘I think so, when they need me. It's important work.'

‘You must be careful.'

Khaled smiled. ‘I'm always careful. There was only a problem when a certain beautiful young woman stepped into my bookshop.'

‘Sorry,' Maya said with mock solemnity.

‘You were looking for enlightenment. Did you find it?'

Maya's forehead puckered as she gave his question some thought. ‘Not really, but I have changed. My family – my Muslim family who died in Kosovo – I didn't want to know about them, I wouldn't let myself remember – it was too painful. Pam used to try and get me to connect with them . . . you know . . . she gave me books about Islam, tried to get me interested, but I thought. . . I can't say it, it's difficult.'

She paused, looking down, then raised her eyes and looked at him. ‘I was angry . . . I sort of thought they were stupid to die for their religion, but now I see it wasn't their choice. They were killed just for being who they were, just for being in the wrong place.'

Khaled nodded.

‘That night here, when Uncle Ali prayed,' Maya continued, ‘I remembered, I think I remembered my father's voice – it was sort of comforting, familiar.'

‘So, would you like to learn more?'

‘About being Muslim?'

‘About your family and Islam.''

Maya screwed her face up in thought. ‘I'm not sure about the religious stuff. The thing is, if you totally submit to something, you stop asking questions.'

Khaled nodded. ‘That can be a problem,' he said. ‘But it doesn't have to be like that.'

‘And I couldn't buy into some of the rules and the treatment of women.'

‘It's not Islam that's at fault, it's the way people interpret it,' Khaled said. ‘I don't think we're so very different. Most Muslims want a good job, a happy family life and the chance to do some good.'

Maya leaned forward and eyed him sternly. ‘So, why did you get involved with Omar and all that militant stuff?'

‘It wasn't militant at first. We produced leaflets setting out our true beliefs, informing people. The Western press is biased – look at the way they report any news about the Middle East. If a British soldier is killed in Iraq, it's front page news, if two hundred Iraqis die in a bomb blast, it's on the back page. Our voices aren't heard. I wanted to do something positive. At first the bookshop was just a small centre which held meetings, discussion groups, but when Omar took over, it got out of hand. And then I had to stop him, I had no choice.'

Maya watched the memories dance across his face; her eyes lingered on his, gazing into the shimmering green irises, deep and mysterious.

‘I have something for you,' he said, reaching into his pocket. ‘Close your eyes.'

Maya did as she was told and Khaled took her hand, turned it over and placed something in her palm. When she opened her eyes she saw her ring, the ruby glittering like fire.

‘How did you. . .?'

‘Don't ask. Just be happy.'

Leaning back, he reached for something that was on the table behind him. ‘I have something else.'

He handed Maya a roll of thick parchment tied with purple ribbon. After carefully untying the ribbon, she unrolled the paper and saw beautifully executed Arabic characters precisely drawn in black ink.

‘It's beautiful,' she said. ‘What does it say?'

‘It's from Khalil Gibran's
The Prophet
. I copied it when I was in hospital.'

‘Can you translate it?'

He nodded.

‘
And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.'

Maya tasted the words, rolled them round on her
tongue, asked him to repeat them.

‘I like that,' she said. ‘To dream, to hope – to make the world a better place. I think that's what we tried to do.'

Read more about Maya Brown and her adventures at
http://www.mayabrownmissions.co.uk
.

Read on for an exclusive preview of the first chapter of Maya's next adventure in

The girl stood stone still in the middle of the pavement. She was small and thin, dressed in black – scuffed leather jacket, tight, frayed jeans and worn boots. Her clothes were too heavy, her face too pale for such a hot late summer day. Beneath a strand of lank, gold hair her eyes moved restlessly, scanning the people hurrying home.

As Maya drew closer, she was aware that the girl was watching her. When she was level, the girl stepped into her path.

‘Got any spare change?'

Maya stopped, patted her pockets, gave an apologetic shrug and shook her head. She couldn't give money to everybody. This area was getting worse, full of crazy people living on the edge.

The girl repeated her request, her voice sharper, more insistent.

A sour smell of sweat came off her as she raised a cupped hand in front of Maya's face. Irritated, Maya reeled back, ready to walk away, but the girl whispered something – words in a foreign language, words that were strange yet also familiar. Words which were no doubt curses, but they sent Maya's thoughts spinning. She looked into the girl's face; the eyes that stared back were a startling, luminous gold. Maya felt as though she'd been zapped.

Despite the heat, a shiver ran through her. She tore her eyes away from the girl and stumbled forward. As she walked away, she felt the girl's eyes burning into her skin.

A few steps ahead, Maya knew the girl was following; she could hear her leather jacket rustling, her black boots scuffing the pavement. A split-second decision – should she take the short cut? Her heartbeat quickened as she turned into the narrow alleyway – she wouldn't be bullied into going the long way round.

Keeping her steps deliberate and measured, she walked along the hard dirt path between high walls,
a skinny girl at her back – a girl who looked unwashed and in need of a good meal. No worries, she could sort her out if she had to.

The alley was littered with broken glass, plastic bags and weeds. As Maya dodged the debris, the girl's boots scraped behind her, kicking at a bottle and sending it spinning. A thin tabby cat sprang from the shadows and clawed up the side of the wall. Moving to the edge of the path, Maya stopped and switched her heavy bag to the other shoulder, alert, listening – the girl had stopped too.

Up ahead, the sun was still shining, silhouetting blocks of tall flats against blue sky – beyond them, the park and home. With determined steps, Maya strode forward. If she hadn't stayed at school for athletics practice she'd be home by now, finishing schoolwork, looking forward to watching
Hollyoaks
. She had no regrets about the races, though – she'd thrashed everybody. A thrill of pride ran through her as she remembered the last race; five hundred metres and she'd clocked a personal best. Soon it would be the inter-schools championship. Bring it on! She was ready.

Head down, plotting a race strategy, she forgot
about the girl following. She didn't see the guy behind a screen of bushes, was totally unaware of the girl taking out a mobile and speaking into it softly, urgently. The first thing she knew was a swish of movement at her heels, a tug at her blazer, a bony hand clamping her shoulder.

‘Give me money. Give me mobile.' The girl's eyes were like a cat's, liquid amber glowing in her face. ‘You, you give me.'

‘No!'

Slow to react to a sharp push, Maya was sent reeling. She hit the ground –
whack!

Fight back, fight back!

Fingers clutched her hair, twisting and wrenching; her schoolbag was ripped from her shoulder.

Charged with anger, Maya swung into action, lashing out, lunging for her bag, grasping the strap. The girl tugged hard but Maya's training kicked in. Reeling the girl in like a fish, she held her tight, then relaxed her grip for a vital split-second. Sensing victory, the girl pulled back, but at that precise moment Maya yanked her down, put an armlock round her neck and rolled her onto her stomach.

‘You can't have my bag, right?' Maya said, pushing the girl's head down.

The girl mumbled, her mouth full of dirt.

‘Who are you?' Maya asked, jolting the girl's head.

‘Get off. Let go!' the girl spluttered, kicking wildly.

Maya held her down. Then a man's voice shouted, ‘Leave 'er!'

Hoping for help, Maya glanced over her shoulder. She gulped. A snarling dog was charging towards her, ears pricked, eyes like laser pens, its slavering jaws bared in a vicious snarl. Her eyes were riveted, muscles tensed, but she couldn't move – there was nowhere to run. The dog was so close that any moment now it would sink its teeth into her skin. At a command from the man, the dog dropped into the dirt. A low, savage growl came from its throat, clumps of froth fell from its mouth.

‘What's up? Scared?'

A young guy in a black hoodie ambled towards her, his face sharp and bony, eyes half-hidden by the shadow of the hood. As he bent to clip the dog onto a silver chain, she noticed his long, thin nose; his lips turned up in a mocking smile.

A snappy response to his stupid question went through Maya's head.

Too right I'm scared. Isn't that the reason you have that rabid dog with you – to scare the guts out of people?

But she couldn't speak. The dog was hypnotising her with its mad stare, and all the time it was snarling and slavering as if contemplating its next meal. Fear sang through her bones.

They can smell you, they can smell fear.

The boy sniffed and spat as Maya slowly, very slowly, eased herself off the girl, who was still underneath her, and rolled away from the dog.

‘Gimme the bag,' the boy ordered.

Maya hesitated – there was no way she was putting her arm near that crazy dog.

‘Give it ‘ere.'

He yanked the dog away from her as he reached out his hand. The dog pulled sideways sending the guy slightly off-balance. Fast as lightning, Maya dipped a hand into the bag and grabbed her mobile. It was just going into her pocket when he spotted it.

‘I'll have that,' he said. ‘Get it, Kay.'

The girl, who'd been silent and still ever since he appeared, levered herself up, limped over and went to take the mobile but Maya clutched it to her chest.

‘It's mine. You can't take it!'

The girl backed away, looking puzzled and uncertain. She tugged at the zip of her leather jacket, hunched her shoulders and stared down at the ground, biting her knuckles. The fight had gone out of her, but the boy was on a mission and he took charge.

‘I can have what I like, or Gunner'll have you. You don't wanna mess with Gunner.'