Juliet put her arm around her friend and ushered her towards the cloakroom, Mina tripping on a stool and bumping into the bartender as she did so. He held out his hand to steady her, and in one well-timed move she passed the keys to him. The bartender walked steadily over to an open window and, making sure no one was looking, threw the keys down to where Benyamin was waiting.

The Khan’s son picked up the keys and headed towards a red Ferrari. He’d had time to size up the situation and knew that the car was parked awkwardly for a swift getaway. He wiped his brow and started the engine. The key turned like butter, encouraging him, and he backed out of the space slowly at first, slamming his foot down in reverse the moment he knew he’d be clear of the cars on either side. The engine responded with a roar, but the tyres skidded wildly on the gravel, forcing Benyamin to swerve and brake sharply. The car stalled. He started her up again, glancing round to see three men hurrying towards the car park, alerted by the noise. By the time he’d manoeuvred the car out of the tight spot, the exit was blocked. The men shouted loudly, signalling frantically at each other to move, move, move, and within seconds Benyamin was surrounded. A heavy man with a broad head and no neck stood in front of the bonnet; two equally ugly heavies stood on either side of the car. Behind was the solid brick wall he’d just managed to avoid hitting.

Benyamin grasped the gearstick in his sweaty palm, and revved the engine in warning, but no-neck stood firm, and suddenly there was Nowak beside him, and more men at his back pulling out weapons. Pistol in his palm, Nowak stared intently, his cold gaze locked on to the Khan’s son. Benyamin slowly raised his hands. The game was up.

CHAPTER 15

Jia walked across the garden towards the house. The last of the wedding guests had left. The night had fallen silent. She wondered where Benyamin was; he hadn’t returned in time to give Maria away and their father had had to do the ceremony alone. She assumed he was off somewhere with the girl in the green sari.

She climbed the steps to Pukhtun House, moving one foot along the gentle dip in the centre of the first golden slab. The Khans had spent years climbing, walking and running up these five steps, from childhood through to adulthood, swinging coats and bags and ditching them all at the front door as they left the cold and entered the warmth of home.