The Blasphemer (12 page)

‘You want me to leak...? Wait. I thought the whole point of this was to avoid attention.’

  Maya shook her head. ‘Not to avoid attention. Redirect attention. I want to keep the press on edge. Restless. Get them thinking that Mr Khan could be leaving in five minutes or five hours or anywhere in between. This way, they’ll be so bottled up with nervous energy, they’ll leap at the first sign of the decoy.’

Noah grinned. ‘Which creates an opening for us to do what we do best. Sweet. I do like it when a plan comes together.’

‘Get started on it while I check up on the Khans.’

CHAPTER 28

This time, it was Belinda Freeman-Khan who met Maya at the door. She looked a whole lot better than the last time Maya had seen her. Her makeup had been reapplied to perfection, and her hair was restyled and smoothed over, not a strand out of place.

Maya was caught off-centre, but she didn’t allow it to show. ‘Mrs Khan.’ She offered her hand as she stepped into the suite. ‘We didn’t get a chance to meet before. I’m Maya Raines. How are you holding up?’

‘Oh, I’m better. I’m good.’ Belinda shook Maya’s hand. Her grip was frail, her skin cold and clammy. A sure sign of psychological tension. Yeah, you could fake appearances, but you couldn’t fake skin-to-skin contact.

Maya was about to say something else when she glimpsed Abraham Khan in the corner, facing away from them, a prayer rug laid out before him.

Belinda raised a finger to her lips. Maya fell silent and watched. Abraham stood and prayed, kneeled and prayed, then bowed, his forehead touching the rug. It was the
sujud
—going prostate before God. His motions were so regal, so earnest.

Maya couldn’t help but feel a stirring in her heart of hearts. Faith in God wasn’t alien to her, but it was something that she had long ago given up on.

Why?

Why not?

She saw little point in hoping and not receiving. Especially not after losing Papa. Still, Maya secretly admired those who believed in prayer. Envied them, even.

Belinda whispered, ‘Shall we go into the bedroom?’

‘Yes, let’s.’

Maya padded after her into the bedroom, and Belinda rolled the sliding door shut. Maya noted the symbolism—a wife putting a physical barrier between her and her husband. Carving out her own space.

Belinda tucked her hair behind her ear. And Maya mirrored it, tucking her hair behind her ear also. Mimicking body language was the best way of easing tension and encouraging a connection.

‘I’m sorry,’ Belinda said, her cheeks flushed. ‘The way I acted earlier—it was embarrassing.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I understand.’

‘I...’ Belinda bent forward. ‘I overheard what you said to Abraham.’

‘You did?’ Maya bent forward as well.

‘I was eavesdropping.’ Belinda chuckled softly. ‘But thank you for standing up for me anyway. Abraham’s such a hard nut to crack sometimes.’ Belinda paused, then shook her head. ‘No, not sometimes. All the time.’

‘He’s an idealistic man.’

‘Too damn idealistic to realise the heartache he’s causing me. Too damn stubborn to do things any other way but his way. Can’t you guys just lock him up for his own good?’

Maya offered a wry smile. ‘If only we could, ma’am.’

‘Can’t you talk him out of this craziness?’

‘I tried. For half an hour.’

‘Ugh.’ Belinda’s delicate features grew harsh, bitter.

There was no missing the signs—this was a marriage on the verge of rolling over into the abyss. One person wanting to go forward. The other wanting to go backward.

What was Maya supposed to say?

No, your husband didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

No, your husband never meant to hurt you.

Yes, your husband loves you more than anything.

But, damn, all of that amounted to shooting blindly in the dark.

So Maya took a breath, touched Belinda’s arm and decided to go with the one cliché that she did know to be true. ‘Listen. Whatever happens, whichever way this goes, I’m here for you. I’m here to keep you safe. I promise.’

‘Do you have a plan?’ Belinda stared at Maya, her hands clenched, her eyes wide and glistening. ‘Please tell me you have a plan.’

Maya reached for her hands, gently stroked them and uncurled her fingers. A feminine gesture meant to instil calm. ‘I do, Mrs Khan. I do have a plan.’

CHAPTER 29

Adam’s informant was a beady-eyed man named Tong Kok Tai. A drug pusher looking to score and make his way up in the methamphetamine trade.

They met in a Chinese restaurant where the crowd was thick and noisy. The clamour suited Adam just fine—covert microphones would have a hell of a time picking up on their conversation.

‘
Khat
,’ Tong said, gripping his tiny cup with two fingers as he sipped his green tea. ‘The
khat
business is proving problematic.’

Adam nodded and sipped his tea as well. He knew exactly what Tong was getting at.
Khat
was a psychotropic drug native to the Horn of Africa. Slowly but surely, it was spreading its tendrils in New Zealand, particularly down south in Hamilton.

‘Are the Somalis rocking your boat?’ Adam asked. ‘Is that it?’

Tong snorted. ‘They are very clannish. Very insular. They prefer to buy from their own, and they only insist on
khat
. Never anything else. Despite that, I have made some inroads with them. I have had some success. But...’

Tong stopped himself as a waitress approached their table, wheeling a dim sum cart stacked with steaming bamboo baskets. It smelled real good. Tong smiled and selected the prawn dumplings. Adam smiled and selected the pork. The waitress served them and moved on.

Adam’s smile tightened and fell. ‘You were saying...?’

Tong tilted his head to one side. ‘Yes, well, my success has been cut short. There’s a new mover and shaker on the scene. An outsider just like me. Only he peddles
khat
that’s purer and stronger than mine. My guess? It’s not natural.’

‘Pharmaceutically enhanced, you mean.’

‘Yes, I’ve been trying to source it, but I get nowhere. Bah, that’s not the least of it. What really puzzles me is the strange way this new player goes about things.’

‘Strange? How?’

‘He doesn’t just ask for money in return for supplying
khat
to Somalis. He also asks for favours.’

‘What kind of favours?’

‘I don’t know. As I said, the Somalis are insular.’

‘Would these favours happen to involve their unique skill sets?’

‘Eh?’

‘They’re refugees, and they’ve seen hell in Somalia. So they’re self-taught survivors. They know their way around guns, around knives.’

‘Well, it’s possible. Entirely possible.’

‘I need a name, Tong.’

‘I don’t know that either.’ Tong popped a dumpling into his mouth and chewed hard. ‘But this I do know. If you could locate this player and, well, convince him to leave the business, I would be most grateful. In future, I might even consider extending our relationship. Do you understand what I mean?’

Adam mirrored Tong, popping a dumpling into his mouth, chewing. Yes, of course he understood. This was
guanxi
—the Chinese custom of maintaining and strengthening connections. Maya had given him a crash course on it not too long ago.

I scratch your back, and you scratch mine.

A part of him wasn’t particularly hot on the idea of associating with drug pushers, but he had long ago learned that drug pushers were the best informants. Simply put, they made it their business to sink their claws into everyone else’s business. Which made for first-rate intel. Nothing that happened on the streets, no matter how obscure, ever escape their attention. So, operationally, it made perfect sense for him to ally himself with Tong.

Adam swallowed his pork, the rich aftertaste making his lips pucker. ‘I’ll remove this player only if our interests coincide. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll see what I can do.’

CHAPTER 30

When Maya stepped out of the suite, she was pleased to see that Dashiell and Arthur had replaced the two cops at the door. Just as she had asked. Good. From here on out, operational responsibility for Abraham Khan’s safety would rest solely with her team and no one else.

It wasn’t that Maya distrusted outsiders. Just their impulses. In the event of an emergency, she didn’t want anyone breaking away from their positions and trying to engage with a threat instead of falling back and securing the principal. Because close-protection wasn’t about engagement. It was about disengagement.

As slick as gung-ho action looked in the movies, it had no place in Maya’s world. She didn’t want to outshoot a threat. Only to outmanoeuvre it. And she wanted protectors who shared those same instincts.

Maya nodded at Dashiell and Arthur before moving down the corridor.

Her phone buzzed.

Mama.

She rounded the corner and answered. ‘Hello.’

‘Maya, we have a problem.’ Mama’s voice sounded tight.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Our algorithm came up with a hit. There’s this new group making the rounds on the internet. Calls itself al-Shukur. Based out of Mogadishu in Somalia.’

A chill feathered its way up Maya’s spine. She didn’t like where this was going. ‘Al-Shukur. That’s Arabic for The Thankful.’

‘Correct.’

‘How new is this group?’

‘Very. They’ve only hit the grid in the last month, and they’re not on any official watch-lists.’

‘So they haven’t been tied to any terrorist actions.’

‘Not yet. No.’

‘So why them?’

 Mama exhaled. ‘There’s an update on their website. A
fatwa
. Calling on Muslims everywhere to kill Abraham Khan. And it’s going viral. Spreading like wildfire. Forums, instant chat, emails, you name it.’

Maya chewed the inside of her cheek. So there it was. The next level of fanaticism. All this time, she had been anticipating it, dreading it. But to be finally confronted with it now was just... sickening.

A part of her was outraged that this group had hijacked and bastardised a
fatwa
—a sacred religious ruling—in order to stir up violence. But another part of her knew it made perfect sense. Abraham Khan himself had declared ideological war on Muslim fundamentalists. Now they were returning the favour. Quid pro quo.

Shit.

Maya shook her head. ‘Can we can stop this from going any further?’

‘We’re already tracking and purging as many copies of the
fatwa
we can find. It won’t be a hundred percent, though...’

‘Then go brute force and hit the source as well. Bring down the al-Shukur website. Crash it.’

‘We’ve been doing just that. Over and over. But mirrors keep going up on other servers. Sometimes in Africa. Sometimes in Asia. Sometimes in Europe.’

Maya rubbed her face. ‘Not good...’

Deirdre paused. ‘Frankly, it’s already too late. We’re picking up a lot of phone chatter in response to the
fatwa
. The Anglo Front and the Rainbow Coalition are both planning demonstrations in front of the Pacifica.’

Maya sighed. The Anglo Front was a white-supremacist group. Ultra-nationalist and anti-immigrant. And the Rainbow Coalition was their polar opposite. Multicultural and anti-racist. Both organizations were ardent enemies and had a reputation for squaring off in public and shouting each other down.

Maya shook her head. ‘That’s just what we need. Fascists and liberals going head to head. Do you have a timeframe?’

‘Within the hour.’

‘Damn. It’s going to be a rabble-rousing circus.’

‘Agreed. They’re incendiary elements in an already volatile situation. I’ll talk to the police commissioner. See if I can rustle up some reinforcements for you. But in the meantime, you need to move up the timetable for the safe house.’

‘Okay. We’re prepping for that right now.’

‘Get moving as soon as it’s feasible. Don’t wait.’

‘We won’t.’ Maya raked her fingers through her hair.

‘And... there’s something else you need to know. Adam says there’s a new player in the local drug trade. Calls himself Magellan. He’s been distributing a new strain of
khat
to Somalian youngsters. More potent. More addictive. What’s interesting is that he’s not doing it for money. He’s doing it for favours.’

‘What kind?’

‘Adam doesn’t know yet. He’s still running it down.’

‘You’re thinking there’s a connection between this Dealer and al-Shukur?’

‘Let’s assume the worst. Let’s assume nothing but the worst.’

CHAPTER 31

When Maya stepped into the conference room, she found Noah and Gabrielle working on the briefing for the bait-and-switch. Their Powerpoint presentation was playing on the projection screen up front. It was rough, incomplete, littered with gaps, but most of the vital details were already there—the structure of the motorcade, the arrangement of the route, contingencies for escape and evasion.

Maya noticed how close Noah and Gabrielle sat to each other as they pored over their laptops, their heads almost touching, their voices rising and falling as they murmured and chuckled. The kinship—the intimacy—was unmistakable. They didn’t even notice her coming up behind them until she cleared her throat. Startled, they jerked apart, looking like two sheepish teenagers.

Maya shook her head and gave them the bad news. ‘Our threat assessment has been upgraded. We’re not just dealing with lone wolves anymore.’

Noah blinked. ‘Meaning…?’

‘Meaning we’ve got multiple problems on multiple fronts.’ Maya filled them in on al-Shukur. The
fatwa
. Magellan. The
khat
. The mysterious favours. And, of course, the Anglo Front and Rainbow Coalition.

Gabrielle inhaled. ‘This terror group—please tell me they’re not connected to al-Qaeda.’