Contents ( 84)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
It has to be a bomb. Because it cannot be coincidence.
His head was beginning to clear. The cold night air was starting to hit, slowing his heart rate and his blood pressure. Soon that drop would begin to be a problem. But for now it had halted his anxiety, lessening the adrenaline that was running through his system.
They lie to me, his thoughts continued. They lie to me because they know I would not do what they asked if I know the truth. If they told me what was in that case.
It was the only logical conclusion. And it made the answer to his final question inevitable.
That is why they didn’t call. Because they were never going to call. They were never going to let her go.
Mansour felt himself stagger at this final realisation. It had been at the back of his mind from the beginning, he was sure. But now it had fought its way to the front, and he could no longer lie to himself.
They were never going to let her go.
Within seconds of seeing the headline on the pub’s video screen, Mansour had joined the dots and realised his own connection to the story. The shock had sent his already unsteady world into a tailspin and resulted in him rushing out onto Church Street, where he had promptly thrown up both pints of the Stella Artois he had been drinking inside.
The third pint remained untouched on the table he had left behind. Next to a now-abandoned Nokia.
Even with his stomach emptied, he had not considered going back into the pub. His lager, his phone, his overcoat. None of them had crossed his mind. Instead he had staggered into the night, into a cold he was too distracted to feel.
It was only now, after the fear, the confusion and the last remaining effects of the alcohol had subsided, that he even noticed the temperature. Even so, it barely registered in his thoughts.
His mind remained elsewhere. Except now it was focused.
Now Mansour could see the threats that lay ahead.
If they were never going to give her back, they must be sure I stay silent. And only way they can be sure of that . . .
He was running before the thought was fully formed.
NINE
Mansour had fled conflict in the past. A flight that took him from his home city of Aleppo to his new home in London. All to be free of the war that was tearing his country apart.
But that flight did not make him a coward. Mansour had stood and fought for Syria for as long as there had still been hope. Longer, if he was honest with himself. For years before that hope was gone, he had been a soldier. A freedom fighter. A man willing to run towards danger in order to protect what he loved.
Exactly as he was doing now.
They have to be coming, he thought. The knowledge drove him on. His lungs were burning in a perfect storm of tobacco, cold air and rare exertion. On any other day – in any other circumstances – Mansour would have stopped to catch his breath. But not today.