Tested by Fire by David Costa (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

house was empty and quiet, and he’d gone to his room and lay on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately. When he woke it was dark outside, the noise that brought him out of his slumber was a car engine stopping and car doors closing. He reached for the Browning on the bedside cabinet. He lay in the darkness as he heard the key in the front door and voices, one was Mohammad and the other Lyndsey and one he didn’t recognise. Tucking the gun into his belt beneath his T-shirt at his back, he went downstairs to find Lyndsey and two men sitting in the living room.

‘Mohammad’s in the kitchen putting the kettle on,’ said Lyndsey.

He studied the two men sitting on the large couch. They both looked back, one smiling the other frowning.

‘Sean, let me introduce you.’

Before she could say more, Mohammad came through from the kitchen with a tray of mugs and a pot of coffee.

‘Good, Sean, you’re here. Everyone, come and sit at the table, it will be easier.’

Doing as he asked, and with the coffees poured, Lyndsey spoke again.

‘As I was saying, Sean, let me introduce you to my friends.’ Pointing to the man with the smile she said,

‘This is Imtaz, he’s from Birmingham and currently studying to be a doctor, Imtaz this is Sean.’

Both nodded acknowledgement to each other. Pointing to the man with the frown she said,

‘And, this is Waheed. He lives in London and a true follower as we all are. I told you about his uncle, Azhari Husin, a true martyr, Allah be praised.’

Waheed smiled for the first time showing a gap between otherwise pristine white teeth yet Costello noticed the frown above his eyes seemed to remain.

The colour of their skin was similar to Mohammad, the type specific to Asian men thought Costello, not as dark as an African not as pale as a European’s.

They looked like twin brothers apart from the frown, both between twenty-five and thirty years old. Short beards in the style of young Muslim men, both wore jeans with trainers and a casual denim shirt. Similar in every way except Waheed was the more serious or maybe it was just because Imtaz seemed to smile more. It might have been the frown, but, Costello thought, this guy had more history in this game.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ they said almost in unison.

Costello noticed Imtaz had a slight Birmingham accent.

‘Well, where are we now?’ Costello asked Lyndsey, ‘Can you bring everyone up to date?’

‘Sure, only you and Mohammad know our true purpose in meeting here tonight.’

The two new arrivals said nothing just listened, paying attention to every word without any hint of expectation or surprise.

Lyndsey spoke, looking at each in turn.

‘Before we start, Mohammad is going to use this device to sweep the room and your phones for bugs.’

She produced a small black electronic device like a mobile phone with two large dials on the front and handed it to Mohammad. She then took her own mobile phone, switched it off, and placed it in the empty fruit basket in the middle of the table.

‘Please turn off your phones and put them in the basket.’

Everyone did as she asked, then Costello spoke.

‘I thought this was a safe house?’

‘It is, Sean, but like you, I’ve been able to stay one step ahead of the enemy by trusting no one; sometimes not even myself. This way we can all talk freely and in confidence from the start. When we’ve checked the room, I’ll chair the meeting, so we don’t get bogged down with too much conversation.’

All nodded their agreement as Mohammad first swept the device over the phones then slowly moved round the room, paying attention to any electrical equipment, before sitting back at the table.

‘All clear, we can proceed,’ he said.

‘Good. Now, as I was saying I don’t want to get bogged down in too much discussion of who we are and where we’re from, this is not important. Let it be enough to say we’re all soldiers in the great war against the infidel the Great Satan, the West.’

‘If we’re to fight the Great Satan as you say, why is this infidel here, I know you and I trust you. You are the great White Widow. We all know what you’ve sacrificed for the cause, but we don’t know this Irishman?’

It had been Waheed who had spoken. Lyndsey had been expecting the question, it was one that had been asked by her masters in Tehran when she first proposed the whole idea.

‘Yes, you might consider Sean the infidel and so he might be, but he is a dangerous one and one who has great skills. Skills he has used to kill our enemies and he has offered them to help us in our cause and in this operation in particular. I’ve known Sean for many years, and he is a great soldier in the fight against our common enemy: the Great Satan. If I’m willing to trust him and vouch for him, are you willing to follow my instructions to help us succeed in what will be a blow to the West that’ll rock them to their foundations?’

Waheed looked Costello in the eyes and smiled, showing the gap in his white teeth.

‘I’m happy to accept your word, and I’ll work with this man to destroy our common enemy for now.’

‘Is it the agreement of us all that we work together to see this done?’ she asked.

Around the table each in turn replied, ‘Yes.’

When he said yes, Costello looked at Waheed.

I’m going to have to watch my back with you, my little Islamic arse kisser, he thought. When this is over, if you’re still alive, I’m going to put a bullet through that pretty little gap in your teeth and maybe one