Circle of Fire

by S. M. Hall

  Maya scrolled down the information Pam had collated: names of organisations, dates of meetings, a list of movements and destinations – Amsterdam, Madrid, Pakistan. There were photos too, rows of mug-shots, mainly men with beards, most of them young, and a few girls, wearing headscarves.

  At the bottom of one paragraph Pam had typed, Source – Khaled Husain. Meeting 3.30 p.m. June 4th.

  Maya sat back. June 4th – today! So, he was the informant she was meeting in Leeds – Khaled Husain. Pam had said she trusted him, but wasn’t it a strange coincidence that on the very day of their meeting she’d been kidnapped? Was he a double agent who’d betrayed Pam? When her mum gave her the password, had she known something might go wrong? Friend or enemy, he was a crucial player.

  She’d tell Simon, he had to find Khaled Husain.

  Chapter Four

  The black jeep was speeding south. The men were silent, following instructions. In the back seat Pamela was wedged between two of them, hands tied behind her, eyes blindfolded, mouth gagged with tape. It was uncomfortable, but they hadn’t hurt her, and they hadn’t taken Maya. Poor love, how horrible for her – Pam imagined the panic, the fear that would cut to the bone.

  Remember the password, Maya. Open the Red Moon file. Tell Simon he must contact Khaled. Go to the bookshop, find Khaled.

  Pam was concentrating so hard on sending Maya a mind message that she jumped when a voice burst from a short wave radio. Some sort of code word was given and the driver swung the jeep sharply to the left. In the back, an injured man moaned with every jolt.

  The noise of other traffic faded as they travelled over what Pam thought were country lanes with lots of twists and turns and then, finally, the jeep bumped into a ditch and drove over a deeply rutted road. It was some sort of work depot or a farm track, Pam guessed.

  She was right about the farm. The jeep stopped in front of a gate. There was a short pause while it was opened and shut and then they drove up to an old farmhouse surrounded by derelict sheds and a crumbling barn.

  When the car door opened, Pam smelt an acrid scent of old bricks and lime, mixed with the stink of manure. The men on either side of her moved away and got out. Car doors slammed. She heard them unloading the man from the back; he cried out in pain.

  ‘Careful, careful with him,’ a voice ordered.

  Squeezing her shoulder blades together, Pam reared back against the seat, trying to wriggle her wrists free of the tight binding. Her training told her she should cooperate with the kidnappers, her instinct told her to escape.

  A hand touched her shoulder. ‘Stay cool,’ a voice said. ‘Don’t make trouble and you won’t get hurt.’

  The voice was young and male. He had a marked northern accent. He gripped her arm and started to pull her sideways. Pam didn’t resist. When her feet touched the ground, she lurched forward. A strong hand steadied her.

  As they marched forward, Pam blinked and wrinkled her nose, trying to see under the blindfold but it was too thick and securely tied. She was led across some rough ground and up two steps, then her captor paused.

  ‘Take her inside,’ a deep voice ordered.

  She was pushed into what smelt like an old, damp house. Bare floorboards creaked under her feet, footsteps echoed through empty rooms. There were other people around – more footsteps, shuffling and whispering. It was unnerving not being able to see. The man guiding her shoved her down onto a hard chair.

  It was important not to lose her nerve, to keep her dignity. She wished she wasn’t in her running clothes, and that she was wearing something that covered more of her body than the tight vest and small pink shorts. But how many times had she told recruits, ‘If you behave like a victim, you’ll become one’?

  So, with all the resources she could muster, she said in a commanding voice, ‘I’m cold. I need a blanket.’

  Her appeal was ignored. Footsteps retreated, voices rose from another room – they were arguing, one person loud and accusing. Pam edged off the chair and shuffled forward to listen.

  ‘Why don’t we get rid of her now?’

  ‘No! You know Omar’s orders.’

  The next words were lost as the voices became a low murmur. Then a sharp, high, questioning voice rose. ‘So, what do we do with her?’

  ‘Move her when it’s dark,’ came the reply.

  There was a brief silence, then some muttering, followed by footsteps creaking into the room.

  ‘Sit down!’ somebody yelled.

  Strong hands took hold of Pam’s shoulders, dragging her back to the chair. The young man with the northern accent spoke to her. ‘Somebody’ll bring you fresh clothes. There’ll be a woman to attend to yer.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Pam asked, as calmly as she could.

  ‘We want you to cooperate with us.’

  Pam sat up straight. ‘Why should I do that?’

  There was a slight pause, a sniff. ‘You asked us not to take your daughter. We were merciful. But remember, we know where she is. If you don’t do as we ask, we’ll cut her throat.’

  Pam’s heart froze. Desperate words echoed in her head.

  Please not Maya, this is nothing to do with her. Leave Maya alone. This is my work, my battle.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  ‘Could you please untie the blindfold? It’s very hard talking to somebody I can’t see.’

  For a moment nobody spoke. Pam waited, hoping they’d agree.

  ‘All right,’ the young man with the northern accent said.

  The scarf was untied, and Pam stared into a bare, dimly-lit room. The windows had been blanked out so that the three figures standing at some distance were just shadows.

  Pam turned round and looked up, hoping to see the person who’d uncovered her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  The man moved quickly away, but she caught sight of his small, stocky figure dressed in black. He snatched up a chair and dragged it across the floorboards to sit in front of her; this time he was close enough for Pam to see his face. He was young, his cheeks round and smooth – a chubby, friendly-looking face, framed by a black hood.

  ‘So, who’s giving you your information?’ he said, with a forced smile.

  Pam gazed directly at him, her eyes unflinching. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  The young man’s nose twitched, his lip curled; he had a gap between his two front teeth. As he spoke, his benign manner changed; he spat out his words, his eyes went cold as dagger blades. ‘We’re not stupid, we know you’ve got agents tagging us – somebody’s squealing. One of our brothers is betraying us. We want his name.’

  Pam answered coolly but pleasantly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  The man made a snorting noise. He lifted his head and his hood fell back, allowing Pam to see the silver streak of a deep scar across the top of his forehead. ‘Well, it’s early days yet,’ he snapped.

  He got up, went round the back of her chair and grabbed a handful of hair. A searing pain tore through Pam’s scalp, but she stifled her screams.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll squeal before we’ve done with yer,’ he laughed. ‘You won’t need much persuadin’.’

  ‘Don’t touch my daughter,’ Pam gasped. ‘Please leave her alone.’

  The man stepped back. ‘Her fate is in your hands.’

  Pam was left trembling as her tormentor moved away, his footsteps fading. Outside the room, the man pulled off the black hood and faced the others. He was young, in his early twenties at most. Scratching his head, he brushed aside his short dark hair.

  ‘Right, I’m reporting back to Omar,’ he told the other guys. ‘You’ve got your orders. When you get the word, move ‘er up north.’ He jiggled his shoulders, a restless movement, showing he was anxious to be off. ‘Leave the jeep in the barn an’ use the BMW. Don’t take any chances, shove her in the boot.’

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘In one hour she phon
es her daughter, right? This is what she’s gotta say – only these words, nothin’ else.’

  One of the hooded men took it, read it and nodded. ‘OK.’

  The young man with the scarred forehead was about to go, when he squared his shoulders and faced the Brothers. ‘That bitch thought she was gonna to upset all our plans. Well, she was wrong. Western armies are occupying our lands – now, we’re bringing terror to Europe.’

  Turning his back on them, he swaggered through the farmyard, black hood dangling from his hand. He opened the door of a red truck and climbed inside.

  ‘It’s war,’ he muttered, as he sped away.

  Chapter Five

  The helicopter landed in the back field, swirling up clouds of leaves and dust and hay. Maya watched a tall man in jeans and a dark jacket dodge under the whirling blades. Moments later, as she stood in the kitchen with her arm round Helen, the same man walked in through the back door.

  ‘I’m Simon Maundsley,’ he said. ‘I came as quickly as I could.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Helen said, holding out her hand to him.

  He shook her hand and then looked at Maya. ‘How are you?’ he asked. His voice was warm, full of concern but his blue eyes were sharp, taking in everything.

  ‘I’m OK,’ Maya said.

  She didn’t look OK, Simon thought – she looked pale and shaken. But he had a job to do. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because I’m going to need your help. I want you to tell me every detail.’

  This man who’d descended like Superman was quite a surprise to Maya. Good-looking, his blond hair streaked and spiky, and much younger than Maya had expected. But she wasn’t interested in his looks, she only hoped he was as good at his job as Pam had said he was.

  ‘I need to organise a search at the place where Pam was seized,’ Simon said. ‘Can you show my men where it was?’

  Maya clasped her hands, twisting her fingers, panic flashing across her face. ‘I don’t want to go back there. They had guns. I keep seeing pictures, hearing stuff – screaming, shooting.’ She touched her bloody lip, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. ‘I can’t go back yet. Poor Danny; lying there under the hedge, just lying there – dead. It’s horrible.’

  Helen gently massaged Maya’s sore shoulder. ‘Oh, my love,’ she murmured.

  ‘Has she seen a doctor?’ Simon asked.

  Maya glared at him. ‘I don’t want a doctor. I’m all right. I’m not going to collapse in a heap. I want to help. I just don’t feel able to go back to the lane, not yet, but if I’ve got to, if it’ll help Mum, I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Simon said. ‘It might be more use if you stay here.’ Taking off his jacket, he set down his briefcase. ‘As long as somebody can guide my men.’

  ‘I’ll take them,’ Helen said.

  ‘There should be some local cops there. Hope they haven’t ruined the evidence. And Forensics should be along soon,’ he said. Unzipping his briefcase, he searched through some documents and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Can you go now?’

  Helen darted a worried glance at Maya. ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Maya said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Come here.’ Helen folded Maya in her arms. ‘Stay strong, my love. Stay strong for Pam.’

  Maya felt some of her gran’s strength flowing into her. There was hope, she must hope, she had to believe everything was going to be all right.

  Simon went to talk to two men hovering at the back door. He handed one of them the sheet of paper he’d pulled from his briefcase. ‘Give this to Forensics. It’s authorisation for a thorough examination of the site. I want swabs and samples, a full report. Tell them this investigation has top priority.’

  After giving Maya a last hug, Helen picked up her keys and bag and went out to her car, followed by the two men.

  ‘Right,’ Simon said, as soon as Helen’s car started up. ‘Let’s get to work. I want you tell me everything you remember.’

  ‘From the beginning?’ Maya asked.

  ‘Yes. From the beginning.’

  An officer who’d been hovering on the back drive was brought in. Simon introduced her as Olivia Shears and began setting up equipment to record Maya’s words.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Maya found it hard to keep her mind focused. She patiently described every traumatic detail, but she wanted action – she imagined leaping into the helicopter, sweeping over the countryside, scouring lanes and major roads. She’d expected hi-tech equipment and sat disconsolately while Simon made notes in a book.

  ‘Is anybody out there? Is anybody actually looking for Mum?’ she asked.

  Simon puffed out his cheeks and raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve put out a call on the Mercedes, relayed a description of the jeep to all units. The crime site’s been cordoned off – Forensics should be down there now. As soon as there’s any news, HQ will contact me.’ He looked at Maya’s anxious face and said gently, ‘Your mum doesn’t operate on her own, you know. She heads a team – a crack team of specially trained intelligence agents linked to MI5, MI6. All units will be involved in recovering her. Trust me, everything that can be done is being done. We won’t let her down, everybody wants her found.’

  Maya planted her elbows on the table and fixed him with a steely glare. ‘Not as much as I do,’ she said.

  Simon blinked, looked as if he was going to say something more, then put his head down and added to his notes. When he’d finished, he looked up. ‘Can you remember anything about the men’s voices?’ he asked. ‘Any accent at all?’

  Maya flicked at a crumb on the table. ‘Northern. You need to find Khaled Husain.’

  ‘Where did you get that name?’ Simon asked, with surprise.

  Sitting forward, Maya gazed levelly into Simon’s pale blue eyes. ‘Mum was going up to Leeds this afternoon to meet an informant. I’m pretty sure it was Khaled Husain. She said he’d got something vital to tell her – the one last piece of information she needed.’

  ‘Pam told you this?’

  ‘Yes. And she gave me a password to log on to her computer.’

  Simon turned away, biting his lip. ‘She must have thought she was in danger. Why didn’t she inform me?’ He picked up his briefcase. ‘Where’s Pam’s laptop?’

  ‘Upstairs.’

  Maya led the way, followed by Simon and Olivia.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Olivia asked Maya, as they climbed the stairs.

  ‘Yeah, I’m coping,’ Maya said, glancing back at her. ‘I’m trying not to think about this morning, blanking it – I want to keep my mind clear, help as much as I can.’

  ‘Well, you’re doing great,’ Olivia told her. ‘Your mum would be proud.’

  The remark nearly poleaxed Maya but stoically she opened the door into her mum’s room and became very businesslike, plugging in the laptop, typing in the password and accessing the Red Moon file.

  ‘My God!’ Simon murmured. ‘This is incredible.’ He covered his mouth with his hand, breathing heavily. ‘This shows the whole picture – it proves that all the small individual Islamist cells we’ve been tracking, they’re linked, just as we suspected, they’re part of an international network.’ He leaned forward for a closer look. ‘And they want to blow up the whole bloody world!’

  ‘Mum had almost cracked it,’ Maya said. ‘One more day and she’d have sorted it – alerted all units, got things moving.’

  ‘Did the Brotherhood know that? Did somebody betray her?’ Simon muttered.

  Maya pointed to Khaled’s photo. ‘Could have been him. Mum said she trusted him, but on the day she was due to meet him, she’s taken hostage. Coincidence, or what?’

  ‘Certainly something to think about,’ Simon said.’

  Maya looked up at him. ‘So, what’re you going to do?’

  He took a moment, staring out of the window, his face furrowed with thought, then he came round the desk and knelt on the floor, his hand gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles white
. He leaned forward, his face level with Maya’s. ‘At the moment I’m not sure. If this Khaled is a double agent, we need to proceed carefully. They’ll know one hell of a lot about us.’

  ‘But it’s obvious, the Allied Brotherhood are the people who’ve kidnapped Mum. You arrest Khaled Husain, talk to him, break him down. He’s the one who can lead you to Mum, he’s the one who can stop the bombs.’

  Simon turned away staring into the distance.

  Maya’s voice became more shrill. ‘You’ve got to round these people up – they’re terrorists.’ She pushed back her chair and shot him a challenging glare.

  ‘I understand how you feel,’ Simon said. ‘But tackling an organised group like this takes planning. We have to build a case, find evidence and make sure we get all of them, not just the foot soldiers but the leaders too.’

  ‘But if you wait, they’ll plant their bombs and they’ll hurt Mum.’

  ‘You have to trust me,’ Simon said. ‘We proceed with care – it’s the way your mum would do things. We have to keep an open mind.’ He levered himself up and straightened his jacket. ‘We’ve been tracking other terrorist cells who could have carried out the kidnapping – a group wanting publicity for their cause or any terrorist organisation wanting to use Pam to bargain with the government. We can’t go jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘But it must be them,’ Maya said, gesturing to the photos on the screen. ‘They knew she was getting close, knew she was going to expose them – that’s why they’ve kidnapped her.’

  Simon leaned back, his eyes half-closed, thinking. Maya fiddled irritably with her mum’s pen, clicking the ball point in and out.

  ‘It’s a credible theory. Whether these would-be terrorists have your mum or not, they need to be stopped. I’ll set up a surveillance team to monitor the bookshop.’

  ‘So, you mean, we just wait?’

  Simon nodded. ‘I have to warn you,’ he said, ‘when a hostage’s taken, it’s a waiting game. At the moment, the kidnappers think they hold all the cards. We have to be patient until they show their hand – then we can act.’ He folded his arms. ‘I know it’s not want you want to hear, but being cautious, psyching them out, is the most effective and safest way to get a hostage back alive.’