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

said. ‘She’s in trouble. Down Morley Street.’ Benyamin went to get back in his car but Khalid stopped him. ‘You can’t take your wheels there, man, it’s chocca. You won’t make it.’

Benyamin turned and ran. He ran like he’d never run before, his mind emptied of everything except getting to Jia. If she died, his family would not survive the loss. She was their Khan; he knew that now. He smelt the fire before he spotted the smoke, plumes of it rising and spreading across the city, thanks to the strong north wind. The pungent smell of burning plastic, wood and petrol was almost intolerable as he approached Morley Street, but he pushed his way through the crowds.

He spotted Elyas, saw him sink to the ground in front of the blazing buildings, unable to get up, and he knew that Jia must be in there. As he approached, their eyes met, their faces speaking a thousand words, their mouths empty. There was a stillness in that moment, a sickness in the pit of their stomachs. They had lost so much already – how would they survive this? Benyamin reached down and helped Elyas stand, their heads made of stone, their legs of jelly. Elyas tried to speak, but what was there to say?

Around them the men raged. ‘Pray,’ shouted a voice from the crowd. It cut through the testosterone like a hot knife, and a hush fell across the street. It was instantaneous. The men raised their hands to their faces. Then someone shouted ‘Takbir!’ and Elyas turned to see the sea of men ebb like the tide before rising on the crest of ‘Allahu Akbar!’

The call for the Omnipotent rang out again and again, getting louder each time as the crowd’s response became ever more fervent.

‘God is the greatest!’ they shouted, each man putting aside his ego and professing his smallness in the universe of God and all His prophets. There were men who swore blind that in that moment they witnessed armies of angels descending from heaven. Some put it down to the euphoria, others the weed, but when Elyas and Benyamin looked around, there was no denying the power that was reverberating around them. It was huge, like the pull of a giant magnet. Then, something happened. The crowd that had gone from rampage to religious experience began to part in the middle, chanting all the while.

‘We’ve done what we can. It’s time to go,’ Jia said, pulling the damp material away from her mouth to speak.

‘I guess we’re leaving the money,’ said Nadeem, as he hurriedly wrung out a cloth and wrapped it around his face.

‘We’re leaving the money,’ she said.

They’d done all they could. They’d started by searching for fire extinguishers. Malik had spotted one near the toilets and had run to fetch it. ‘What now?’ he’d said, picking it up, ready to shoot. ‘One of these is not going to be enough to get us through there.’ They looked towards the screen of fire spreading towards them from the front of the restaurant.

Jia scoured the room for something else that could help, her eyes landing on a pile of tablecloths. She’d moved swiftly, throwing them to her cousins. ‘Quick, take these to the toilets and soak them in cold water.’

The sinks were small, so they’d used the toilet bowls too, Malik and Nadeem soaking the cloths, Idris and Jia running back and forth to the dining room with them. Jia wrapped the first one carefully around her face, then ran down the short corridor to the kitchen and placed another at the foot of the doors in attempt to reduce the steady stream of smoke. The paint on the outside was bubbling and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the doors gave way.

Then she joined Idris, throwing more of the wet tablecloths over the smaller fires bursting up from the sparks of flame burning at the restaurant windows and door. They sizzled as they landed, quenching the flames beneath them and forming a white pathway.

When they ran out of tablecloths, they pulled more from the tables. Eventually Idris had signalled to Jia that it was time to go. Some of the flames had been doused but they’d soon be back and the smoke was getting thicker and more toxic, the temperature unbearable. If they didn’t hurry, all their efforts would be undone. That was when they’d run back to the toilets to get the others.

Now they stood at the door, as ready as they’d ever be to face the flames.

‘OK?’ she said. Nadeem and Malik nodded. ‘Stay close to the ground and follow us.’

She pulled the cloth back up over her mouth and nodded at Idris, who opened the door. Then they moved at speed, crouching low and holding on to the back of each other’s shirt as they traversed the dining room, Idris at the front, spraying the extinguisher. The kitchen door was ablaze now and smoke poured down the corridor unimpeded, stinging their eyes and making it impossible to see. They felt for the pathway of damp, steaming tablecloths, following it towards what they hoped was the front door.

Idris stopped suddenly. Everything was pitch black, the heat coming at them from all sides, the smoke heavy. The wet coverings on their face meant it was impossible to speak. Sensing something was wrong, Jia pushed past him swiftly to discover the way was blocked by the burning door, buckled and blistering in the intense heat. Without flinching, she stood up, placed her hand on the searing metal push plate, and heaved it with all her might. The door shifted, and she fell forward into the light.

One by one the rioters moved aside, slowly at first and then faster and faster, until the mass split, separating like the sea for Moses. Elyas squinted through the heat, his eyes transfixed, waiting, willing the restaurant door to open, and when it did he felt his heart in his throat. Through the smoke she emerged, her