Chapter 12

The next day

"You have to let me in, I've got fish and chips, courtesy of Ian."

Syed stares at the front door in an agony of indecision. "Can you come back later ... mum will be home at three?" he calls out in a trembling voice.

"The chips'll be cold by then," is the unhelpful and indisputable fact.

Drawing a nervous breath, he walks to the door, unlocks and opens it.

"Hi," Christian greets with a big smile. Quickly brushing past him with the hot food, before he can change his mind.

Syed follows the enticing chip and vinegar smell to the kitchen.

"Grab some plates whilst I unwrap these bad boys."

With little in the way of fuss, they are soon eating, and Syed is almost half way through before he remembers that the food could be poisoned.

"Everything okay?" Christian asks.

"I'm full," he says awkwardly, pushing his plate away.

"Hang on, you've barely touched it. The Syed I know cleans his plate." And then he remembers something Tamwar said. "Here, have mine," he insists, switching plates.

He adds some more ketchup, and continues eating.

After a minute or two, Syed pushes the chips on Christian's portion that are drowning in sauce aside, and eats the rest along with the remainder of the fish.

Afterwards, they have a couple of mugs of tea.

"How are you?" Christian finally asks.

"Fine," Syed responds warily.

"Have you been sleeping okay?"

"Yes."

"Tam said you've been out a few times."

"Yes."

Christian smiles.

"I don't suppose you fancy a walk to the park, the fresh air ..."

"No."

"Can you talk about ...?"

"No."

"Monopoly it is then." He reaches into his gym bag and produces the board game.

When Zainab arrives a couple of hours later, they are completely engrossed.

"You can't defer payment again," Syed hotly protests.

"I'm almost at 'Go'. I'll pay it out of the 200 I collect ..."

"Unless you stand on one of my hotels first."

"Its education fees," Christian whines, "I can't go down because of education fees, I've got a reputation to protect."

Zainab watches them for a moment, a warm smile on her face at the normality of it all, and then she goes to make dinner.

Which turns out to be quiet a jovial affair. Everyone is in the best of moods, reacting to Syed's step forward. He is still quiet, but the nervous edginess is less noticeable.

"Sy, you don't mind if I come back tomorrow for a rematch, do you?" Christian asks at one point.

"Okay," he tentatively agrees. And then, he notices the person who has just arrived at the sitting room door and the colour drains from his face.

"What? What is it?" Masood asks, looking over his shoulder to see his daughter-in-law standing in the doorway looking intently at Syed.

"Afia, it's only Afia," he says uncertainly.

"I thought you were working late tonight," Zainab snaps.

"I can't work late every night," she protests.

Syed pushes back his chair and gets unsteadily to his feet. "I have to go," he mumbles.

"No, it's okay," Tamwar assures, grabbing his hand. "Afia, would you mind ..."

"Stop starring at him and go away," His mother puts it bluntly.

"Syed ...," Afia begins her voice hoarse with emotion.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't tell him." Zainab throws an accusing look around the table.

"I never said anything," Masood defends himself.

"Me neither," add Christian and Tamwar.

Syed cannot take his eyes off Afia.

"Sweetheart, she is no danger to you," Zainab gently coaxes.

"Look at me." She takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look in her direction. "You've nothing to fear, you're safe here."

"He said he would come for me," Syed says softly, tears running down his cheeks.

"No, love, it's only Afia."

"It's him," he whispers. "He's going to kill me."

"I'm sorry," Afia cries, turning away and running out the door.

"What did he look like?" Christian asks.

"I wouldn't have said there was any similarity," Masood says thoughtfully.

"What do you see when you look at Afia?" Zainab gently prompts.

"Nazir's eyes," he whispers.

After that, Afia spends most of her days and evenings at the restaurant. She can tell that Tamwar is struggling to behave normally around her; and to see how much Syed has suffered, is still suffering, to hear him cry out in the night ... Her eyes fill with tears as she wonders how things can ever be put right.

"Watch where you're going," Alexander cries, as she almost walks into him. "Can't you see I'm carrying hot food?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she weakly tries to make amends.

"When did you last get your eyes tested? Maybe you need glasses?" he offers the outdated, bitchy comment. He has never been her biggest fan.

Afia gives him a big smile as she rushes past and out the door.

"Where are you going, and how long will you be?" he calls after her.

#

Syed automatically looks in the direction of the front door when he hears the handle turn. He is no longer as fearful of the wrong person arriving, but remains a little jumpy.

"Tam, is that you?" he calls absently, as he returns his attention to the book he is reading.

After a moment or two, the sitting room door opens. "Hi Syed," Afia tentatively greets.

"Afia, you can't come in," he cries, his voice trembling with fear. But it's different this time. "You look ... different," he says uncertainly.

"Contacts," she smiles.

"They're blue?"

"Don't you like them?" she teases.

"You look ... nice."

"You say that like it's a question," she laughs.

"I don't understand," he admits anxiously.

"We need to have a chat."

"Mum will be home ..."

"Just me and you," she gently cajoles, walking towards him.

Sitting down next to him, she draws a nervous breath. "Nazir was my half-brother."

"Mmmm, I ... please don't hurt me," Syed pleads, leaning away from her until his back is pressed against the edge of the couch.

"Shush, it's okay, I could never hurt you," she quickly reassures, gripping his hands to stop him bolting.

"Has he sent you to kill me?" Syed whispers, his eyes darting about looking for a knife or a gun, or an accomplice to appear in the doorway.

"No."

"Do it now, before they return," he suddenly pleads, moving so that it is now him grabbing her arms, squeezing tightly.

"Syed," she cries horrified, trying to pull away.

"I'd rather it was you. I trust you," he pleads, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I know you won't torture me."

"I could never ...," Afia whispers, shaking her head, her eyes bright with tears.

"I can't live like this anymore," Syed cries despairingly. "I can't bear the waiting, wondering what he could do to me that would be worse than before."

"What did he do to you ... in that house?"

"Why did you send him after me, what have I ever done to you that was so bad?" he pleads brokenly.

"Nothing," she cries. "You're been more of a brother to me than Nazir ever could have been," she huskily admits.

"But isn't that a good thing?" He looks at her in confusion.

"It is, definitely," she assures with a sad smile.

"So, why?"

"It wasn't meant to be you," she says sadly.

"So, are you going to kill me?" he meekly asks, looking up at her like a child waiting for an adult to make an important decision about what is going to happen next.

"No," she quietly assures.

"Then what?" he asks miserably.

She looks at his unhappy face for a moment. "What would make you feel safe?" she asks gently.

"I don't know," he admits shaking his head dejectedly.

Afia is thoughtful for a moment. "Will you come somewhere with me?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," she smiles, reaching for her phone.

#

"Hello, can I help you," the officer greets as they enter the police station.

"Can you tell PC Sharon O'Donnell that Afia Tamwar and Syed Masood are here to see her, she is expecting us?"

They are shown to a room where PC O'Donnell is sitting at a desk with some files in front of her.

"Mr Masood, Mrs Tamwar, it is good to see you both," she greets. "Please have a seat.

Mr Masood, here are some photos which may be a little upsetting for you to look at; they are rather graphic. She hands Syed an iPad with several photos of the men who had held him, including Nazir.

"The photos were taken just after the men were killed," she explains. "Do you recognise the hallway?"

He nods, his attention wholly fixed in the horrific images in front of him. The bodies, still clothed, are lying at different angles, two in the hallway and one in the bathroom of the house where Syed was held. Each has several bloody wounds.

"These are death certificates signed by a Coroner after a comprehensive examination of each of the bodies. They include details taken from passports we collected at the scene, which we have verified to be genuine and which have photos which are a perfect match for each of the men." The officer leaves the documents down on the table in front of him.

"There was another man," Syed says huskily.

"The man who was with you in the bathroom when we found you is an undercover agent, and his true identity must be kept secret. I cannot tell you any more than that."

"He saved me," Syed says quietly, his eyes still on the grisly photos.

"It was touch and go at the end, if we'd been any later ..."

"He saved me from being raped by those men," he realises. "The tablets he gave me ... they make me ill ..."

"What?" Afia breathes, her face ashen; the officer does not seem surprised.

"During his debrief, our informant did note that he managed to prevent Mr Masood being sexually assaulted by at least two of the men the evening before they were killed."

"Oh Syed," Afia says miserably, putting her hand on his arm.

Syed looks at each of the passport photos and the death certificates, and back again to the photos of the dead bodies. He wonders what would make these men think that God would wish them to kill men, women and children God himself had created.

"We are confident that the only people who knew of your presence in the house were these three men. They wouldn't have wanted to admit they were trying to escape martyrdom."

Syed hands back the photos and the papers. "Thank you for showing me these," he says huskily.

"You can thank your sister, she was very insistent."

"Can you get a message to your informant? Can you thank him for me, and tell him that I will never forget what he did for me. It might not mean anything to him, but please tell him I will pray for his safety every day."

"I'll pass on your message," PC O'Donnell assures with a warm smile.

#

Syed and Afia are both quiet on the way back home, each preoccupied with what they have just discovered.

#

"Syed, where have you been? We've been worried," Zainab cries, rushing to him as soon as he walks in the door.

"We ..."

"Afia, what have you done?" she cries on spotting her just behind him. "What devious plan are you hatching this time?"

"Mum, it's okay, we went to the police station ..."

"But why ...?"

"It was Afia's idea. She arranged for me to speak to a police officer, who was able to show me photos of their bodies ..."

"So, you now believe they are dead?"

"Yes," he nods.

"Does it help?"

"Yes," he admits.

"I'm glad." She hugs him tightly. "Now go and wash up. Dinner will be ready shortly."

Syed turns to head up the stairs, giving Afia a tentative smile on his way past.

"I suppose we should thank you," Zainab says huffily.

"There's nothing to thank me for ..."

"Fine then, we won't," she snaps, turning to march off to the kitchen.

"She's still a bit sore about your plan to kill her," Masood solemnly excuses his wife; but we thank you, don't we Tam?" He walks off, leaving them alone.

"We definitely do," Tamwar agrees. "And thank you for wearing the contact lenses," he quietly adds.

"I'm so sorry, for everything," she says huskily.

"I know you are," he gently assures.