More Than You Can Say (21 page)

‘Ah,’ said Aseeb, with a fond look on his face, as if he were listening to one of his grandchildren. ‘If women were free to choose what they wanted to do, where would we all be? I have to decide what is best for Adeena. I must tell you very frankly, my dear Mr Gaunt, you are not part of her life any more.’

We seemed to have reached an impasse.

‘I must be honest. I’m not very happy with what you are telling me.’

‘I am so very sorry. But you do know that business is business.’ Aseeb shook his head regretfully. ‘Besides, she tells me you have been followed everywhere you go by policemen. Is this true?’

‘Someone has been following us around,’ I told him. ‘Not because of Adeena herself, but because of her connection to you. They think you are a man called Aseeb. That’s what Adeena calls you as well.’

When I said this Aseeb looked pensive for a moment.

‘Then what is the point of Adeena returning to be with you? She is much better off with me. Forgive me for saying so, Mr Gaunt, but she will be safer here.’

He gave me a sharp look, and it seemed as if my answer might matter very much. His brown eyes fixed on me as he waited to hear my reply.

‘Maybe,’ I told him. ‘But I’m the one who’s going to look after her, not you.’

Aseeb sighed, but for some strange reason I felt my answer had pleased him.

‘Ah, Mr Gaunt. You are a very persistent gentleman. Adeena spoke of this. Indeed, we thought you would visit us again. It has been a pleasure to speak with you once more. You are most unlike the other English gentlemen I have done business with. But now, I must get on with my day. I have a lot to do before I go back home. So nice to see you again, Mr Gaunt. Goodbye.’

I stood up.

‘I’d still prefer to take Adeena home with me,’ I said. I turned my back on all of them and I took the gun from my coat pocket. When I turned around. Aseeb was still sitting at
the table. His mouth opened when he saw the gun in my hand. Kevin was pulling a pistol out of the waistband of his trousers. I watched Amir and Aseeb closely but they did not appear to be armed, so I took aim and shot Kevin in the leg, just below his left knee. He collapsed on to the ground screaming.

‘You can take some paracetamol for that,’ I told Kevin. I pointed my gun at Amir and gestured to him to go and stand beside Aseeb at the table. I bent down and picked up Kevin’s gun and took out the clip. I put it in my pocket and threw the empty gun into a corner of the room. Then I aimed my own pistol at Aseeb’s forehead.

‘I really am quite serious about this,’ I said. ‘Tell Amir to bring Adeena here. If he tries anything funny or produces another gun, I will shoot you, Mr Aseeb Khan, or whatever your name is. I might shoot you anyway. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

Aseeb said something in Pashto to Amir.

‘He will bring Adeena to us,’ he said. ‘Then we will see what she
chooses
to do.’

Amir left the room in a hurry. Kevin was rolling around on the floor, clutching his leg and whimpering. I don’t know what it was about Kevin. I needn’t have shot him. I needn’t have hit him, the week before. Maybe it was the wraparound sunglasses, or his awful personality. He was just one of those people it’s easy to be unkind to.

‘Shut up, Kevin,’ I told him. ‘Or I’ll shoot you again where it really hurts.’

The whimpering subsided a little. I turned my attention to Aseeb.

‘I have a question for you, Mr Khan. If I take Adeena
away, will you leave her alone? And me? Because if not, I think I had better kill you.’

Aseeb watched me with his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to be afraid, just wary.

‘I am a businessman, Mr Gaunt. If you are going to take Adeena away, then pay me back my ten thousand pounds and we will regard the matter as closed. I will ignore the fact that you have injured my employees, wasted my time and abused my hospitality. I will not come after you. I have better things to do with my time.’

I didn’t believe a word he said. I held the gun pointed at the exact centre of his forehead and wondered why I shouldn’t pull the trigger.

‘You know, I believe you
would
kill me,’ Aseeb said. ‘When Kevin brought you here in your evening clothes, I thought you were a typical English playboy. But I misjudged you. You do not object to shooting people.’

‘It used to be my job,’ I told him.

‘Your job? Where I come from, people shoot other people for lots of reasons: because they have killed a relative, or stolen a woman, or invaded our country. But I have never heard someone call it a
job
before.’

I could hear the sound of footsteps. I drew in my breath and my finger tightened on the trigger. I could see Aseeb watching my face. For a moment I think we both believed I was going to shoot. It would make everything much simpler if I just shot him in the head. But those days were over. This was not Baghdad or the Helmand Valley, but Oxfordshire. And I wasn’t in uniform any more; I was just an unemployed ex-restaurateur. Probably better not kill anyone today, I decided.

I breathed out. Amir came into the room, propelling
Adeena in front of him with the flat of his hand. She was wearing a black burka that covered her from head to foot, although she wasn’t wearing the veil. It was like looking at a completely different person. Her face was very pale. When she saw me she moved as if to come towards me, but I held up one hand to stop her.

‘Amir, go and sit beside your boss,’ I told him. Kevin was lying with his back against the wall, still clutching his leg, his eyes screwed up with pain and hatred. There was a lot of blood staining his trouser leg.

‘We are going to leave now,’ I said. ‘I suggest that you look after Kevin before he bleeds to death. Do not try to follow us. My flat is being watched. Come anywhere near me, and the security services will have you. You should go back to wherever it is you came from. That’s my advice, for what it’s worth.’

Aseeb and Amir said nothing. I pointed the gun at Aseeb again, then at Amir.

‘If I do see you again, this will be the last thing you see.’

Finally Aseeb said, ‘Adeena, do you
choose
to go with this man? Because if you do that you are taking a step you cannot draw back from.’

‘I do choose to go with him,’ said Adeena in a low voice. She did not look at Aseeb as she spoke.

‘It is your life,’ he said. ‘You must dispose of it in the best way you can.’

I turned and, taking Adeena by the arm, walked out of the room. I glanced back one last time. Amir was looking grim but Aseeb was inscrutable. I shut the door on them. On the hall floor was a large canvas holdall.

‘That is my bag. Can we take it?’ Adeena said.

I picked it up. It was heavy.

‘I am sorry. All my things are there, everything I was allowed to bring from Kabul.’

We hurried to the front door. David, the assistant, was nowhere to be seen. I hoped his job description didn’t include the use of firearms. With luck he was keeping his head down.

‘Is there any way of opening the gates from here?’ I asked Adeena. Then I saw something like a TV remote lying on the hall table. I picked it up and pressed it and a green light came on. We rushed down the drive and went out through the gates, running towards the lane where I had parked the car. We hadn’t exchanged a word since we left the house. I unlocked the car and flung Adeena’s bag on to the back seat.

‘Get in,’ I said. She climbed in on the passenger side and I was gunning the engine before she had even closed her door.

We drove very fast down the lane away from the house and I kept the speed up as much as I dared until we came to the main Oxford road. There was no sign of anyone following us. I didn’t think there would be, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Aseeb would be very angry with me and I didn’t doubt he would want some form of revenge. Afghans were good at revenge. But for now we were on our own. I relaxed a little and let the speedometer drop back to something like a legal speed. Adeena was still pale, but otherwise she looked as she had done the last time I saw her.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Did they hurt you?’

‘No, but when they found me in that shop they were very angry with me. They would have killed me if I had not gone with them. I am sorry, Richard.’

I waited for her to say more.

‘They were angry with me for running away from them.’

I pulled the car into a lay-by and switched off the engine.

‘Adeena,’ I asked, ‘did they take you, or did you go back to them?’

She turned away from me so that I could not see her face and said in a voice so quiet I could hardly hear her:

‘Before you came they were talking about selling me.’

‘Selling you?’

‘Yes, they were going to sell me to a … to a house …’

She hid her face in her hands. I put my arm around her and waited for her to stop shaking. After a while she recovered some of her composure.

‘They were going to sell me to a man Aseeb knows. He said I was of no further use to him after I ran away. This man has a house in the east of London where women have to lie with men who pay money. They have to do unspeakable things for these men. If they do not, they are beaten until they are so frightened they will do anything that is asked of them. It is worse than going to hell, this house. That is what Aseeb told me.’

‘You’re safe now,’ I said.

‘You came for me, Richard. I knew you would. They said you would not care but I knew you would come and find me.’

If I had known what Aseeb’s plans for Adeena had been twenty minutes ago while I was still in the same room as him, I would certainly have shot him, no matter the consequences. Perhaps it was just as well I didn’t know.

After that Adeena was silent all the way back to Oxford. We returned the rental car and got a taxi to take us to the station. She did not speak until we were on the train.

‘Where are we going now?’

‘Back to my flat.’

‘Will it be safe?’

‘I don’t know. I do know that I’m not running away any more. Besides, where else can we go?’

Adeena looked tired and drawn, but she was still beautiful. I found myself contemplating her face: the bruised shadows under her eyes denoting lack of sleep, her pale complexion. Her sculpted features, the shape of her nose and mouth …

‘Why are you staring at me?’ she asked.

‘I like to.’

Before she could say anything more my mobile phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and answered it. It was Nick Davies.

‘Where are you?’ he asked.

‘On the train to London.’

‘Did you get the girl?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any collateral damage?’

‘Not the sort you’re hoping for.’ There was an audible
sigh, but he didn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he started issuing orders.

‘Go back to your flat now.’

‘That was the plan.’

‘Good. Once you’re there, stay there. If our friend is going to try to take the girl back, he’ll look for her at your place first. We’ll be watching. If he comes anywhere near you we’ll get him.’

‘OK,’ I said. I didn’t have a better plan. I ended the conversation before Nick could give me any more instructions, and put the phone away. Adeena was looking at me warily.

‘Who was that?’

I saw no reason not to tell her. In fact, it might put her mind at rest.

‘Someone from the British security services. They’re looking for Aseeb. They will be watching us. If Aseeb comes anywhere near my flat, they will have him.’

‘The security services? This is your secret police, yes?’

I shrugged.

‘They are the people who were outside Hartlepool Hall a couple of days ago. They are interested in Aseeb.’

This was not the whole truth – Nick Davies was just as interested in talking to Adeena. But if he could get a warrant and get his hands on Aseeb, maybe he would leave her alone.

I asked Adeena: ‘Did they feed you in that house?’

‘Some fruit. A slice of bread. Not much.’

‘Well, I’m starving. We must get some food. I think we’d better eat in my flat. Do you want me to cook something for us?’

Adeena’s demeanour changed. The hunted look disappeared
and she smiled for the first time since I had rescued her from Aseeb.

‘If you are hungry, then I should like to cook for you. Even if I am your wife only for a short time, I should like to do that for you.’

‘Can you cook Afghan food?’

‘Of course. We shall need a chicken. And some rice.’

By the time we got off the train I had quite a long list of things to buy. We bought most of them from Mohan’s deli and a chicken from the halal butcher next door.

Once we were back in the flat she went into the box room and changed out of her burka into the European clothes she had been wearing the first time I had met her. Then she busied herself in my kitchen. Soon a smell of roasting chicken came from the oven, making my mouth water. I sat next door and drank a glass of wine while she prepared dinner.

Adeena could cook. She cooked fluffy white rice with sultanas in it that she called
chalau
, and a chicken
qorma
with onions and lentils and plums and cardamom. Besides that were salads of raisins and nuts, tomatoes and more onions, and some naan bread we had found in the deli.

‘I am sorry,’ said Adeena, as we sat at the kitchen table. ‘This is not a proper meal in the Afghan way.’

‘Why is it not proper? It is delicious.’

‘At home in Kabul,’ said Adeena, ‘the preparation of the table is as important as the food. We call it
sofrah
. There should be many different things on the table to arouse your appetite. There should be different kinds of breads –
lavash
,
torshi
, naan – fresh from the baker, not out of a packet.’ She sighed to herself and glanced at the feast with dissatisfaction. ‘There should be copper bowls with water to wash your hands in. There should be yogurts, and many kinds of
chutney, and different kinds of rice, and more salads. We did not have time. Another day I will do it for you properly.’

‘You are a very good cook, Adeena.’