The Blasphemer (20 page)

The line had to be drawn. 

But, at the same time, she never wanted to pay witness to the death of a man’s dream. It was… painful. Painful to know that, in the end, violence was the most compelling force in any debate.

Folding her arms, Maya stretched her lips thin. She looked back at Abraham and Belinda. ‘Sir. Ma’am. We’re preparing another safe house for you outside the city. It’s quieter. More secluded. Easier to secure. I believe it’s the best option right now. At least until the situation calms down. So, please, get ready. We’ll be moving out soon.’

CHAPTER 58

Marcia Wigmore parted her curtains ever so slightly and peered at the house next door. There were law-enforcement types out and about, and they looked like they were guarding something.

No, not something. Someone.

She felt a flush of excitement.

Could it be…?

She squinted, but she couldn’t see past any of the windows. All the blinds were drawn shut. Still, she knew that she was right. Who else could it be?

Marcia dug into her dressing drawer and got her camera out. Deactivated the flash and snapped away. She couldn’t wait to post the photos on Facebook. Share her discovery with everyone.

 
Sweet as. I’ll be the coolest kid on the block.

CHAPTER 59

Devlin sat on the bed, fidgeting.

Here he was, luggage packed, two hundred thousand dollars richer, but he couldn’t bring himself to check out of the motel and head to the airport.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes. Palmed his face. Took shallow breaths. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the bloody visions.

That boy. That poor boy.

He dug his nails into his scalp. Knew that he had crossed the uncrossable line. Committed the ultimate taboo. And his soul was churning.

Fuck.

He had tried to explain his feelings to Emmerich. Tried to confide in her. But she had simply given him the hardest stare.

Get over it. It’s easy money.

But—

No buts. Take a holiday. Go somewhere tropical. Relax. Unwind.

I can’t unwind, damn it. I can’t.

Pull yourself together. Otherwise you’re no use to me as a partner.

That’s the way their conversation had gone before they split up.

Devlin clenched his jaw until it hurt. Felt sweat gathering under his collar. He half-chuckled and half-groaned. The joke was on him, wasn’t it?

Easy money.

Opening his eyes, he reached for the remote and turned on the television. Watched the coverage of the failed bombing.

I did this. I caused this to happen.

CHAPTER 60

When Deirdre stepped back into the office, Adam knew that something had gone screwy. Her face was too grave. Her eyes too hard.

He leaned forward. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m afraid we’ve lost Tong.’ Deirdre shook her head. ‘He suffered a ruptured spleen. Dr Singh tried his best, but he was just too far gone. I’m sorry.’

Adam ran his tongue across teeth. Swallowed. Then he rose from his seat and paced the office. ‘Damn it. He was our responsibility.’

Deirdre sat down behind her desk. Laced her fingers under her chin. Her tone was measured and even. ‘I know he was. We’ll look into compensating his wife and kids.’

‘Well, gee whiz, that’s a comfort.’

‘It is what it is.’

Adam smirked. ‘What about Hassan’s laptop? Please tell me that the eggheads have recovered something.’

‘They have gone through the hard drive three times. And there’s nothing of value there. It’s a red herring.’

‘So… what? We still don’t have a line on Magellan?’

‘No, we don’t.’ Deirdre pursed her lips. Tilted her head. ‘On the flipside, however, the police commissioner is authorising raids on the Anglo Front. Making arrests where feasible.’

Adam exhaled and cut the air with the arc of his hand. ‘He should be doing the same with Al-Shukur. They’re operating within the Somali community. We know they are.’

‘Circumstantial evidence. And, no, he doesn’t find it persuasive. That’s why he’s only willing to carry out surveillance at this point.’

‘Al-Shukur murdered a child...’

‘And the Anglo Front bombed a school. So that takes priority for him.’

‘The man is an idiot.’

‘Maybe so. But you can’t blame him. We kept him out of the loop. Left him with a crime scene to clean up after. So you will understand if he’s nursing a grudge against Section One.’

‘Oh, come on, Deirdre. Whatever happened to finding, fixing and finishing the bad guys?’

‘It will happen in due time, Adam.’ Deirdre unlaced her fingers and touched her tablet computer. ‘Right now, though, I’m more concerned about the chatter on the internet. There’s a lot of speculation on Abraham Khan’s location…’

‘Anything concrete?’

‘No. Just rumour. Gossip. Innuendo.’

Adam thumbed his nose. ‘Well, Maya needs to get a move on. It’s only a matter of time before the crazies get a lock on the safe house.’

‘Agreed. It’ll happen within the hour.’

CHAPTER 61

Yusuf was dressed as a maintenance man as he made his way into the bus depot. The smell of oil and exhaust tickled his nostrils, and the purring of engines and the hissing of hydraulics filled his ears.

He studied the labyrinth of vehicles. There were so many models. So many choices. All around him, the older boys were whispering. Calling themselves
fedayeen
. Men of sacrifice.

That made him nervous.

A part of him longed to be back at home. To be back with his grandmother, grating as the old woman was. But the other part of him hungered for
khat
. Lusted for it. And… there was no turning back now.

Yusuf took a shallow breath. Felt the weight of the rifle in his duffel bag. And he trembled, electricity crawling across his skin. Everything was a haze. A terrible red haze.

What is it that Magellan had said?

Oh yes.

Speed, surprise and violence of action.

CHAPTER 62

Maya was in the kitchen, watching Abraham pour himself a final drink. Lemonade. It was the simplest of choices, but an admirable one. Even now, even after everything, he still held firm to his Muslim faith. Refusing to turn to alcohol to dull his emotions.

It couldn’t be easy for him. Knowing that the country was in upheaval. Knowing that a woman and a child were dead. And knowing that it was his book—
his message
—that had set all of this in motion.

 Maya didn’t doubt the man’s intentions.

Just the nation’s will to accommodate them.

How far should we go to protect one man’s right to speak?

That was the inconvenient question, wasn’t it?

Maya leaned against the countertop. Rested her palms against it. Reminded herself that Gabrielle was upstairs with Belinda, helping her pack. And Noah, Dashiell and Arthur were in the garage, checking and prepping the SUVs.

They would be departing shortly.

The sooner, the better.

That’s when Abraham spoke, ‘I have a confession to make.’ He looked down at his glass. His eyes fluttered. ‘I have not been… entirely honest with you.’

Maya hesitated, then straightened. ‘Sir?’

Abraham rubbed his neck and sighed. ‘Do you recall the story that I told you? The story about my
mullah
father?’

‘Of course. He was a brave man.’

‘No.’ Abraham took a sip and swallowed hard. ‘No, he was not.’

Maya frowned, not understanding. ‘But what he did
was
brave. The way he stood up to the mob. The way he offered the British couple sanctuary—’

‘It was a pleasant fiction.’

Maya felt the pieces shift and realign in her mind. ‘Wait. Are you saying he… didn’t do any of that?’

Abraham blinked hard. ‘He did. Only… his intentions were not as pure as I originally led you to believe.’

‘There’s more to the story…’

‘Yes.’ Abraham fidgeted with his glass. His leg jackhammered slightly. ‘Yes, there is.’

Maya studied the movement of his eyes. The way that he blinked in a fluttery pattern. And she knew that he was wrestling with his memories. Fluctuating between self-denial and self-awareness. And she noticed how he packed in his shoulders. That was revealing. It indicated that he was retreating into himself. Building a barricade against besieging doubts.

Maya decided to counteract all of that negative energy with the simplest of gestures—a careful smile. Not too broad. Not too tight. Just enough to inspire trust. ‘I’m not here to judge you, sir. I only want to understand. To get a handle of this. So I can protect you better.’

Abraham arched his eyebrows. He took another sip. ‘Miss Raines, do you ever find yourself wishing like you could alter the past? Reshape it?’

Maya thought of Papa. Remembered words unsaid. Regrets left to fester. ‘Sometimes.’

‘This is how I feel about my father.’

‘Share with me. Please.’

‘My father… he… he was actually in favour of bargaining with the mob that had come for Kerry and Joseph. He was suggesting some kind of compensation. Perhaps goats or cattle. And if the mob agreed to provide this, then he would be willing to hand the couple over. And… many of the elders agreed with him.’ Abraham scoffed. ‘They saw no reason to shed blood over the misdeeds of two outsiders.’

Maya nodded slowly. ‘They wanted to avert a massacre.’

‘And profit at the same time. Profit from the misfortune of our guests. Can you imagine this?’ Abraham placed his glass in the sink and leaned over it, his chest heaving. Pain was etched across his features. ‘But,
shukur Allah
, it was my grandfather, the most senior of the elders, who overruled this obscene arrangement. He invoked the moral code. Shamed them all into suspending that idea. And encouraged our village to protect the British couple. Do you understand? My grandfather. An uneducated old man. Half-blind. Half-deaf. And yet… it was his voice—
the only voice
—that dared to champion what was right. What was honourable. And my father, the
mullah
, the one who was supposed to be enlightened, to be progressive, proved to be weak. So very weak….’

Abraham trailed off, his lips shivering, his eyes moist.

Maya studied him, finally understanding what he had hidden for so long. The grief. The self-loathing. The weight of his heritage. Everything that had led him to this point.

And for the first time, she saw him for who he really was.

Not a crusader.

Not an enigma.

Just a man, burdened and tired.

Her initial assessment of him was wrong. No, he wasn’t trying to live up to his father’s example. On the contrary, he was trying to distance himself from it. Erase a lifetime of shame. Build a better legacy. If only in his heart of hearts.

Breaking the chains of the past.

Maya shook her head. ‘You are not your father.’ Her tone was gentle as she took a step forward and touched his arm. ‘Listen, you are
not
your father.

Abraham brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. ‘I have been trying for so long to prove that I am more moral than he was. My entire life. And what do I have to show for my efforts? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

Maya tipped her chin. ‘Not nothing. You inspire people. You inspire me.’

Abraham turned, smiling a bitter smile. ‘Truly? Despite it all?’

‘Truly, sir. Despite it all.’

CHAPTER 63

Maya had decided on three SUVs for the motorcade.

A defensive formation.

Noah and two officers would be in the lead, taking the vanguard position. And Maya, Dashiell, Arthur and the principals would be sandwiched in the middle. And Gabrielle and two other officers would be riding shotgun directly behind, covering the rear.

Four operators.

Five cops.

A ragtag configuration.

But Maya wasn’t about to get finicky. The drive to Tauranga would take just over an hour, and she wanted as much coverage as possible. And more was definitely better than less.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Maya turned and checked on everyone. Dashiell was on the wheel, and Arthur was behind with Abraham and Belinda.

‘Comfortable?’ she asked.

Abraham buckled up and gave her a knowing look. ‘As comfortable as I will ever be.’

Maya nodded, then touched the pinhead microphone on her collar. ‘Victor, Whiskey, power stride and ready to ride. Let’s move it out.’

‘Roger, Delta,’ Noah’s voice crackled in her earpiece. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

The garage door rolled open with a hum, and they accelerated out into the street, swerving in unison at the cul-de-sac and peeling away from the safe house. That’s when the grey sky opened up, and the first drops of rain pitter-pattered against their windscreen.

Maya shifted in her seat and looked up.

Visibility was not going to be good.

CHAPTER 64

Yusuf sat at the back of the bus as it pulled off the motorway and entered the suburb, blending into the lazy Sunday traffic. He panted, his eyes darting. He had scratched his arms raw, but still, he couldn’t rid himself of the horrible itch. It felt as if hundreds of fire ants were gnawing on him. Burrowing into him.

‘
Allahu akbar
,’ the boy beside him murmured, swaying. ‘
Allahu akbar
.’

Gritting his teeth, Yusuf loaded a magazine into his rifle. Yanked the bolt and chambered a round.
Click-clack.
He ran his fingers along the stock, along the receiver, along the barrel, feeling the coldness of steel.