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

things getting better on the job front, tensions might have eased.’

‘They did for a while. But sometimes it feels like one step forward, ten steps back in this city. Remember the guys who shot the bouncer? I can’t remember the date, but it was over a year ago now. The ones who went on the run and were finally caught? Well, their case is due in court next week, and it’s stoked up old feelings. There’s talk going around that the men were mistreated, bullied into confessions – that it may not even have been them pulling the trigger.’

‘Really? The evidence is overwhelming, though. Right down to eyewitnesses.’

‘I know that. But the kids would rather believe in conspiracy theories than what the police are saying, because the police haven’t historically been their friends. I mean, even you and I will have experienced that.’

They walked slowly back to the lobby, Elyas listening attentively, his concern growing.

‘With Akbar Khan gone, there’s been a power vacuum,’ his friend went on. ‘Some of the younger members of the community, they’re vying for positions. It’s complicated. The city has become a powder keg. It feels as if nothing can stop it from blowing.’

Before they parted, Elyas suggested they exchange numbers. ‘Give me a call if you want to talk on the record?’ His friend nodded, and they said their goodbyes. Then Elyas headed to the bar, where he found Ahad ordering drinks. ‘Where’s Jia?’ he asked.

‘She’s back in the auditorium, being the ice queen,’ Ahad replied.

‘It’s not that bad, is it?’

‘Let’s not do this again,’ said Ahad. ‘Don’t make her spend time with me. She hates me.’

‘She doesn’t hate you.’

‘She won’t even look at me half the time and the rest of the time she speaks to me as if I’m on work experience.’ Elyas could see the hurt in his son’s face. He reached out but the boy turned away. ‘I have to go pee. I’ll see you in there,’ he said, heading towards the toilets.

Elyas made his way back to the auditorium with the drinks, his head spinning. He was worried about Ahad. He was ready to confront Jia. But she wasn’t in her seat when he got there. He looked around and saw her standing near one of the fire exits, deep in conversation with a man Elyas recognised as the one who’d been sitting next to her. His complexion was pale, his eyes deep blue, making him stand out in the sea of brown faces. Elyas watched them for a moment; the man looked as though he was leaving – he was putting the package he was carrying into his pocket and pulling his coat on – so Elyas decided to head over.

‘He read it?’ he heard Jia ask as he approached. She took something from the man and placed it in her bag. Elyas was surprised they were speaking in Pashto not English, but he reminded himself there were Caucasian-looking Pathans.

‘He did,’ came the man’s reply.

‘Thank you. For taking it to him,’ said Jia.

His gaze lowered, the man placed his right hand across his chest and bowed his head before leaving.

Jia turned around to find Elyas behind her.

‘Who was that?’ he said.

‘Someone who knew my father,’ Jia said. ‘He wanted to introduce himself.’

‘Wasn’t he sitting next to us? The man you apologised to in Pashto when you arrived?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘How did you know he was Pathan? I couldn’t help assuming he was white.’

‘I don’t know, Elyas, maybe I don’t make assumptions like you.’

‘It was just a question.’ Her dismissiveness was beginning to grate.

‘Shall we go back to our seats?’ she said. Her voice was distant and detached, and it riled Elyas further. He had kept his emotions in check for the sake of his son, but he couldn’t do it any more.

‘What’s going on with you?’ he burst out.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Ahad. He’s really trying, and you’re not. Why are you being cold with him?’ His voice was loud, his face agitated. A few people turned in their seats to see what was happening, but he didn’t care. ‘He’s upset. Our son is upset. You don’t seem to give a damn. What kind of a woman are you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, stepping out of the stream of concert-goers making their way back to their seats.

Her empty words angered him further. ‘I’m talking about the fact that you left me!’ he said. ‘I’m talking about the fact that you walked out on me and you never even thought to give me an explanation! I’ve been raising him alone. Yes, it made me stronger, and I’m probably a better man for it, but I don’t want to feel like this any more. And Ahad has no choice but to crave your love, yet you dangle it in front of him and then don’t make any effort!’

‘Are you done?’ she said.

‘No!’ he said. ‘I’m pissed off!’ He inhaled and shook his head. ‘I’m done.’

‘Go back to London, Elyas. You’re a nice guy, but this isn’t the place for nice guys.’

‘Listen to me, Jia. He’s a good kid. But he’s not had it easy and that’s led to him making some bad choices. I’m worried that once he crosses the line he won’t be able to find his way back.’

Standing behind them, Ahad heard every word, and he knew that the line had already been crossed.

They sat awkwardly through the second half of the show. Elyas was glad the couple next to them had gone. He wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation. When it was over, the three of them left the theatre in silence. Orange street lights studded the night sky, and there was a steady backdrop hum of traffic, punctuated only by the distant sound of the odd siren. They set off down the road to the curry house where he had parked his car. Jia was about to cross the street, her foot stepping out on to the tarmac, when she heard a screeching of