The Language of Secrets (36 page)

Mohsin had found a way to communicate the true nature of Ashkouri's plot, and if Khattak had been allowed to visit the scene, he would have made the connection much earlier.

It was less than six hours to New Year's Eve.

He was struck by a pang of genuine fear.

Did you get them all?
Khattak had asked Coale.

A few of them have gone to ground.

Khattak turned in his seat.

“Gavin, listen to me. You need to go back.”

*   *   *

“You forgot to return my keys.”

Ruksh's masquerade was falling apart. She was visibly nervous as she handed back the keys to Hassan Ashkouri's car.

They were gathered around the fire, three men, four women, on little stools that Ashkouri had brought with him.

“New moon tonight,” he said.

Rachel glanced at him sharply. He was relaxed, at his ease. He took out his phone and checked the time. Rachel longed to do the same, but Ashkouri had upped the ante. He'd sent Jamshed to call the women back before they could follow Grace to the creek.

“The bonfire's ready,” Jamshed had said. “What are you doing here?”

Ruksh had answered with a slight stammer, “I wanted to p-pray for Mohsin.”

He'd grunted. “Hassan wants you, it's getting dark.”

It was dark, the earlier light blotted out, the sun-swept robes of day gathered up. At the campsite, Ashkouri held out a little sack, and asked for everyone's phones. One by one, he had taken the phones, and switched them off. Rachel slipped her phone into her boot, but not before Ashkouri had seen.

He chided her gently.

“I fear for a city that does not read.”

“Depends on what you read,” Rachel said. “Some subjects are more worthwhile than others.”

It was not as if Hassan had brought the book
Fazail-e-Amaal
to the campsite.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. Two quick texts, both from Khattak.

Din has the gun that was used to kill Mohsin.

Hassan reached out his hand.

“You see?” he said. “The outside world complicates things. It complicates your reality.”

Her face ashen, the best Rachel could do was to turn off her phone herself, to prevent Ashkouri from accessing her logs.

She was conscious that she was also turning off the GPS tracker.

Pray God Khattak knew where she was. She hadn't had time to read his second text.

“Come sit beside me, Ruksh,” Ashkouri said.

Rachel found herself on the receiving end of an importunate glance. Ruksh took the stool beside Hassan, wincing as he slung his arm over her shoulders.

Rachel tried to appear calm.

Din had the gun. Had Din also killed Mohsin Dar?

Rachel might not have a gun, but she had confiscated the ice screw from Grace, with the help of a made-up excuse. Her gloved hand was wrapped around it in her pocket.

“It's cold,” Rachel said. “It's New Year's Eve. I'd feel a lot better celebrating it in the city, like most years.”

Jamshed dropped any pretence of politeness.

“No one asked you to come.”

“There's no need to be rude, Jamshed. I'm sure Rachel has her reasons for being here. And perhaps a time of quiet reflection in the park instead of the company of a boisterous crowd will serve her better. Better than she knows.”

Rachel braved Ashkouri's glance.

“Like I said, I came because I promised the kids I'd teach them how to skate.”

“I'm not a kid,” Grace said, her voice sullen. “And anyway, Jamshed didn't even let us get to our lesson.”

“The memorial first, Grace.”

Grace found a seat beside Din, linked her arm through his, and snuggled close. After a moment, Din patted her on the back.

“New jacket?” he asked her.

“She was freezing, Din. I gave it to her.”

Rachel meant it as a caution to him—he needed to refocus on Grace, to think of Grace's well-being as much as Grace thought of his. He looked away, ignoring Rachel.

Jamshed didn't sit. He took up a position leaning against one of the nearby trees, watching them all.

Paula took the stool on Hassan's other side, leaving Rachel the seat across from Hassan. When Ashkouri raised his head to take Rachel's measure, she saw the deadness in his eyes, the luminous doom.

“We came here because of Mohsin, our friend who died in this park.”

The others held up their hands, palms up and close together. Hassan recited two prayers in Arabic, the first Sura Fatiha, the second the longer recitation of Sura Yasin.

When he was done, everyone wiped their faces with their palms.

Except for Jamshed, whom Rachel watched from the corners of her eyes.

And then she ventured a statement.

“Your friend didn't just die here, he was killed.”

Ashkouri gazed at her steadily.

“The police seem to think that someone who was here that night did it.” She glanced around the circle of faces. “Ruksh wasn't here, so it couldn't be Ruksh.”

“It wasn't any of us,” Ashkouri said, as pleasantly as if they were discussing the weather. “Mohsin was beloved to us. He was one of us, the moon to many stars.”

Rachel looked up at the purpling sky. The first hints of starlight had arrived to prick the darkness. If there was a new moon, she couldn't see it.

“How do you think he died, then? Who do you think killed him?”

Din shifted beside her on his camp stool, freeing his arm from Grace's.

“Why do we have to talk about this? Bad enough the first time, Mo lying there in his blood.”

“You saw him?” Rachel asked.

“It was terrible.” Din briefly closed his eyes. “To see somebody you love, dead like that.”

But had Din truly loved Mohsin Dar? Or was the chat log on the Rose of Darkness website a blind?

“I don't want to hear this,” Grace muttered. “I'm going to skate by myself.”

Jamshed shifted away from the tree in her direction. Grace tipped up her head and glared at the older man.

“What? You can't stop me. I've participated in your ceremony and now I just want some fresh air. Come with me, Din.”

Din's head swiveled from Grace to Jamshed. He took a second too long to consider.

“Fine!” she shouted. “Do whatever you want. These people aren't good for you, this camp isn't good for you, but whatever. I'm the one who watches out for you, but you don't seem to care. I'm done with the whole stupid thing.”

She pushed past Jamshed to disappear into the trees.

Ruksh rose from her stool.

“I should go after her, Hassan. It's dark out there, and she doesn't know how to skate.”

“She didn't take her skates with her,” Ashkouri pointed out.

Rachel jumped to her feet. This was it. Her chance. Her moment to get Grace and Ruksh out of this mess. She didn't have the car keys, she didn't have her cell phone—but she was going to seize the opportunity anyway.

And, undetected by the others, she'd thought she'd heard a sound.

The sound that she had been praying for, though nowhere near close enough. The crunch of a car's tires over the compacted snow.

“I'll go with you. Bring a flashlight, Ruksh.”

And then, with a stroke of inspiration, Ruksh made a decision, chose a side.

“I don't have one. Let me use my phone.”

She grabbed it from the sack before Hassan could object, switched it back on, and flashed its light around the camp.

Paula grabbed hold of Hassan's arm.

“Let them go, Hassan. We can start the preparations for dinner.”

Rachel didn't wait. She maneuvered past Jamshed, dragging Ruksh in her wake.

“Grace,” she called up the rise. “Grace, wait for us!”

Behind them, she saw Jamshed Ali nod to Din. He disappeared into one of the cabins.

Why? To grab the gun?

Ashkouri watched them without moving, a smile twisting his lips in the flickering light of the bonfire. It was Jamshed who followed in their wake.

“Hurry,” Rachel hissed to Ruksh. “Call your brother, and keep the connection alive, no matter what.”

But they had gone beyond the reach of the cell tower, losing the signal as they climbed. Ruksh was panting along beside Rachel.

“I don't know what you're doing,” she said to Rachel. “I don't know why I'm frightened. I
know
Hassan. He couldn't have done it. He's a good man.”

“Then why did you follow me?” Rachel gripped Ruksh's arm from underneath, pulling her up the ridge. “Where's the creek? I don't see Grace. Grace!” she called out again. “Grace, where are you?”

They stumbled toward a sheltered copse of pine trees, the tang of the needles a counterpoint to the hazy smoke of the bonfire.

Rachel checked behind them. Jamshed had stopped his pursuit. But he had stopped to wait for Ashkouri and Din to catch up.

She swore loudly and fluently.

Where was Khattak? Where was Grace?

“I'm here,” the girl's voice floated toward them from beyond the stand of pines.

Rachel shoved Ruksh toward the trees.

“Kill the light. Get behind those trees and hide. Go as far as you can, and in the name of sweet Jesus, don't make any noise. I'll get Grace.”

“No!” Ruksh hissed back. “If there's truly anything to fear, I'm not leaving you alone out there.”

“Ruksh! I'm a police officer, for God's sake! I'll be fine. Besides, it's you that Ashkouri wants, it's you he's always wanted. Now go!”

Rachel broke away, following the hollow sound of Grace's voice. It seemed to drift away behind the pines. She could hear something else, too: the almost imperceptible rush of running water. The creek was nearby. She could smell the wet-pavement scent of the tumbled stones in the water.

“Grace, where are you?”

“Here, on the ice.”

Rachel spied her fifty yards away, gliding out on her booted feet to the middle of a creek bed less than thirty feet across.

The running water was from a rivulet that cut across the ridge.

To reach Grace, Rachel would have to leave the cover of the pine grove and break into a run through open country.

She'd lost sight of Ruksh in the thick cover of the pines and the hemlock up ahead, but back the way she had come, she could see the dim rounds of yellow light cast by bobbing flashlights. And beyond them, back at the bonfire, a sight that caused a wave of relief to swell in her chest.

An SUV pulling up beside the fire, its headlights left on.

A figure jumped out from the driver's seat.

She couldn't see who it was, but she guessed.

“Up here!” she shouted from the rise. “They're tracking us—be careful!”

One of the flashlights broke away, headed in the direction of the drumlin, before its light was shut off.

Rachel skidded across the frozen creek bed, panting as she caught up with Grace.

“Are you okay?” she gasped.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Grace spun around in a circle, her head tipped back, the staple-studded tattoo gaping out at Rachel like the scythe of the reaper.

“Grace, will you come with me? Away from here? There's more to these people than you understand. Like you said at the campsite, they're not good for Din—and they're not good for you.”

Grace slowly came to a stop. She was looking over Rachel's shoulder. Rachel didn't turn. She couldn't. She didn't have time.

“How would you know? You've only just met them.”

The crunch of footsteps was closing in on them. In a moment, Ashkouri or Jamshed would be slipping across the ice to catch up with them.

“Listen to her, Grace. She's a police officer.”

It was Ruksh. She had broken free of the clearing, risking her own safety to come to Rachel's aid.

Rachel spun around. They were all on the middle of the ice now, Ashkouri and Din at its edge. Jamshed must have been the one to break away.

And now she could see Khattak, climbing the rise at a furious pace. He was alone.

“Get out of here,” she shouted to Ruksh.

“I can't leave you out here on your own. I don't understand, but I won't leave you!”

“You knew what they were planning?” Grace asked Rachel. “You came here to stop it?”

“Yes.” Rachel reached out for the girl's arm. Grace slid farther away. “Please, you have to listen to me.” And then she realized. “You knew about the attack? All this time you knew?”

Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

Grace was a member of the cell.

Ashkouri was moments away, Khattak still too far away to help.

Grace or Ruksh? What should Rachel do?

“Ruksh, run!”

But it was too late. Ashkouri's advance upon the ice was slow and predatory. He came up behind Ruksh, caught her at the waist, held her fast.

“Hassan, what—”

He dropped the flashlight onto the ice. Rachel heard a slight wheeze, the sound ominous. The light bounced back across Ashkouri's face. He didn't have Din's gun. He was holding a knife to Ruksh's throat.

“You didn't tell me, my sweet fiancée. You didn't tell me how well you knew your brother's partner. Didn't you trust me?”

Ruksh couldn't speak under the press of the blade. She was staring up at Hassan in shock.

“Let go of her, Ashkouri,” Khattak shouted from the ridge. The terror in his voice echoed across the ice.

Hassan wheeled around, dragging Ruksh with him.

“I told Jamshed to deal with you. Your sister was a distraction. Until she told me all about her brother, Inspector Esa Khattak. Then I saw how useful she would be. And here you are, exactly as I planned. So back off, unless you want me to use this.”

He pointed the tip of the blade straight up under Ruksh's jaw. She whimpered in response.

Rachel calculated the distance between herself and the flashlight. It was a heavier object than the ice screw. She had good aim. If she could throw it from behind … Ashkouri turned back to her, bringing Ruksh with him. He'd altered the angle of the blade again. It was pressed flat across Ruksh's throat.