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

day. He turned to see who had pulled up as Jia got out of the car. She looked left and right. The street was empty except for Wasim and a group of boys playing football at the end of the cul-de-sac. Wasim rushed forward to greet her, just as she threw up all over his shoes. ‘Water, I need water,’ she said, wiping her mouth.

The fabric merchant looked from Jia to his shoes and then back to Jia. She opened the door to where Benyamin was doubled over and Wasim’s eyes widened, a slow realisation crossing his face. He ran to his car and began fumbling around in the boot, returning with a plastic bottle and a bag of dates. He placed them in Jia’s hands. ‘This is all I have. It’s Aab-ae-Zamzam,’ he said. ‘My parents have just come back from Umrah.’

Jia took a long swig from the bottle then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She felt better but didn’t know whether it was the holy water or just the action of throwing up that had eased the knot in her stomach. What she did know was that she would not find loyalty like this anywhere but here. ‘I won’t forget your help, Wasim,’ she said.

‘No worries. It’s only water! You could’ve got that at Tesco,’ he replied. Then his face turned solemn. ‘We are here for the daughter of Akbar Khan in any way you may need.’ That he knew who she was, didn’t surprise her: she had been recognised as the daughter of Akbar Khan in this city her entire life. That someone like him held her father, a criminal kingpin, in such high esteem always took her aback. But this was a city of contradictions; nothing was black and white and no one’s loyalties were straightforward.

She handed the water and dates to Michael. ‘Here… I’ll take over the driving now. With your medical training you’ll be able to take better care of Ben than I can. Do what you can until we get home. I’ll call Malik when we get there,’ she said, taking the keys from his hand. He did as she asked. Once in the back of the car he put the water bottle to Benyamin’s lips, and the boy gulped fast, almost choking. Pouring some of the holy water on to his scarf, Michael began wiping his wounds.

As she drove through the streets of Hanover Green, Jia caught sight of her brother in the rear-view mirror. He winced in pain and she couldn’t help but blame her father for it. ‘Day in, day out, my father dealt with these people, wallowed in their crap. What the fuck was he thinking?’ she said bitterly. ‘And what the fuck am I doing cleaning up his shit?’

In the time that Michael had been with the Khan, he had seen him for what he was. He couldn’t stay silent. ‘You think your father was a demon, and there are plenty of folk ready to agree with you, but what do they know about struggling and climbing out of the gutter? Akbar Khan kept the devil from the door for a lot of us. Without sinners, there aren’t saints. If you want to help good people, you have to learn to be bad. Because that’s what it takes in this world.’

Her eyes on the road, her hands on the steering wheel, Jia held her tongue until they got to Pukhtun House. Sanam Khan was already at the door, waiting anxiously. She moved aside as Michael carried Benyamin in, then hurried after them with Arabic words, Maria close behind with water and bandages. Placing the patient on the sofa, Michael carefully began cleaning his wounds. The cuts were deep, the bruises thick. He was worried about internal bleeds and concerned he didn’t know enough to prevent further complications. ‘We need to get him to a hospital,’ he said.

‘Jia…’ Benyamin reached out for his sister. She took his hand in hers, kneeling beside him.

‘No hospitals,’ she said. ‘They’ll ask too many questions and we can’t be dealing with the police right now. Do what you can for him and let me figure something out. Benny, I’m just going to get changed and I’ll be right back, OK? Mama is here with you, and Maria will get you whatever you need.’

She transferred his hand gently to their mother’s. Jia would spend the night by his side, watching over Benyamin as he slept, ready to fetch painkillers and water every time he stirred, but for now she had things to attend to. She left the room, closing the door behind her. Her head was spinning. She looked at her phone: another missed call from Elyas. He’d left a voicemail. She deleted it without listening. She couldn’t hear his voice right now; she wouldn’t be able to think straight. She’d call him later.

She scrolled through her contacts for Malik’s number. Her cousin was a qualified doctor. ‘I need you to come over, now,’ she told him. ‘He’s in a bad way. He needs to be in hospital but I can’t take that risk.’

She hung up the phone and turned around to find Bazigh Khan standing at the door, his face awash with concern. Even killers and criminals worried about their kin. ‘He is hurt badly?’ he asked.

Jia nodded. ‘Malik is coming.’ She leaned against the wall, exhausted. ‘Is it always this hard, Lala?’ She looked small, but he knew better than to underestimate her.

‘Yes,’ he said, taking her in a fatherly bear hug. ‘It is. You must eat, and then we must get on with business. The chief of police is here. He pulled up outside just as I was coming in the door. He says he has been calling since the day your father died. I have asked him to wait in the study.’

Jia looked surprised. ‘He’s come to see me? Do you know what he wants?’

‘Maybe he wants to offer his condolences. I always thought these Angrez