The Khan by Saima Mir (best thriller novels of all time .txt) 📗

out sunlight and any sign of a breeze. Nowak’s talk left Jia impatient, but she knew men like him must be indulged and so she thanked him, putting the cup to her lips gently. The coffee tasted even worse than it smelt but she drank it as if he’d handed her nectar.

They were at the county’s longest established and only authentic Polish restaurant. The owner was a trusted friend of the Nowak family and his daughter was married to a young Pathan from Mardan. The restaurateur worried about his grandchildren, their health, their well-being, their future, and so in a world of lines and sides he had negotiated himself a neutral place.

Idris had been at the Khan residence early to brief Jia about Andrzej Nowak. He’d flicked through the notes he’d prepared for Akbar Khan, his iPad balanced carefully on the breakfast table. His uncle had relied heavily on Idris for such matters. ‘Andrzej Nowak, handsome, young, erudite.’

Jia had raised an eyebrow at the description. ‘Is this a date or business?’ she’d said.

‘He’s the son of a wealthy doctor who came to England in the sixties,’ Idris went on. ‘Dr Nowak married the daughter of a shopkeeper, the owner of a local delicatessen. Andrzej was their middle child. He was sent to boarding school in the south of England, and then his parents decided to move back to Poland. He was a brilliant student, studied history and modern languages at Cambridge, and then he disappeared. We don’t know anything about him between then and his arrival in Yorkshire, including why he is here. He certainly doesn’t need the money.’

‘I guess we’ll find out what he wants this afternoon,’ Jia said, closing her book. She had been making notes; it helped her focus, and looking down at the page meant her thoughts remained her own.

She had been finishing up with Idris when her mother arrived, the perpetual murmur of protection prayers coming from her lips. She blew them over her daughter, her hands passing from her head to her toes. Jia bristled a little. Her mother chose prayer over action every time and it irritated her, but she knew better than to brush her away; besides, they needed whatever higher power there was on their side. Before leaving, Maria had given her a twig, the kind they used to collect as children when they pretended to build bonfires. ‘It’s from the apple tree,’ she said. ‘Baba was going to have it cut down. Its roots are damaging the house.’

Sitting before Andrzej Nowak now, Jia picked up that twig and placed it on the small leather notebook. The talk so far had been inconsequential and Nowak was yet to mention her father, or the business at hand. ‘I am surprised they sent a woman to such an important meeting,’ he said.

‘Do you consider women to be less capable than men?’ she asked.

‘Me? No, I do not. But your men do,’ he said.

Jia pulled the notebook towards her and opened it. She traced her finger down the seam, pushing the pages flat. ‘I think…Mr Nowak, that there has been a misunderstanding…’

‘In that case, please do clarify, Ms Khan.’

‘My brother is young and headstrong,’ she began. ‘He doesn’t always understand our ways –’

Nowak held up his hand to stop her.

‘You sadden me, Ms Khan. Your brother was caught trying to steal from me,’ he said. ‘I would not call that a misunderstanding, would you?’ He had gauged that Akbar Khan’s daughter was sharp and astute, but most of all she was patient. She knew when to listen. He liked that, and he hoped she would prove worthy of his time. He was tired of the common criminal. They were boring, too easy to manipulate, easily triggered, with little self-control.

Life was a game to Andrzej Nowak – he liked attention, he liked winning – but a game was only fun when one’s adversary was worthy. Charm flashed across his face, and he sighed deeply. ‘I had hoped for a smarter response from the daughter of the mighty Khan. Perhaps you’ve been sent to negotiate with me on more…intimate terms?’ His eyes fixed on her. She could feel them boring holes into her.

He began removing his tie, sliding it from his collar, and then folding it once, twice, three times. He placed it on the wooden table close to where Jia was sitting. Then he unhooked the brown leather belt he was wearing and pulled at the strap, each of his movements slow and deliberate. Jia glanced around the room: there was one exit and Nowak was sitting between her and the door.

‘What do you say, Ms Khan?’ he said, leaning in towards her, the stale smell of coffee on his breath making her sick. Alone with a man who was feared by many, she could see where his power lay. Andrzej Nowak was a man of no honour, the kind of man who brought a grenade to a knife fight. He cared for nothing but the win. And even that mattered little. She realised that she was his opposite.

Her words came calmly, slowly, decisively. ‘I say that the misunderstanding, Mr Nowak, is your calling me here, and holding my brother hostage in order to negotiate a deal. I understand your grievance, but my father’s business associates are not so sympathetic. They think you killed him.’

A cold smile spread across Nowak’s face. ‘Your father’s colleagues must be upset,’ he said, relishing the moment.

‘As you already know, I am not involved in the business of my family. I won’t disrespect you and pretend that they have not asked me to take over from my father. They have. But I have declined. I want my brother, that is all. After that, the city is yours.’

Nowak leaned back. ‘That is a shame. I like you, Ms Khan. You’re an intelligent woman and I can tell that you have an inquisitive mind. I was hoping we could spend some time getting to know each other but I see now that