The Khan by Saima Mir (read e books online free TXT) 📕

you are not inclined that way. Truthfully, I’m disappointed to hear that you’re prepared to hand the great Khan empire over so readily.’

‘Really? Why?’ Jia said.

‘Because, Ms Khan – and I feel you of all people should be able to understand my predicament – I’m bored. This life of privilege that you and I have lived, it’s dull. I envy ordinary folk, and their daily need to wake up and go into the world and make something of themselves. No one ever wanted anything of me. It’s hard watching the ants go about their business. You understand that, I can tell. I start thinking I’ve met an equal, I plan, I wait, and then they disappoint me. It’s always the way. I need distraction.’

His face broke into another smile and Jia noticed that one of his teeth was cracked and yellowing, his face lined like the contours on a map. How had she not seen it before? She recognised exactly what he was; she had come face to face with his kind in court countless times. She leaned back in her chair, grateful for the cashmere cardigan she had picked up before she left: his words had chilled her to the bone.

‘My brother, Mr Nowak,’ she said. ‘That is all I am here to talk about.’

‘Just like a woman, thinking always of her family. Come, then, I will take you to him. He is in our guest quarters,’ he said, rising. ‘This way.’ He pointed to the back of the restaurant.

Jia got up and signalled to Michael, who was standing out the front by the car. He entered and they followed Nowak across the dining area to the back door, which opened on to a cobbled alleyway.

Nowak led them along the alleyway and on towards a dark archway, where two of his men were waiting. He stopped by a discreet wooden door recessed into the wall of the arch and turned the cast iron handle. It creaked opened slowly to reveal steps going down.

‘Ladies first,’ said Nowak and waited for Jia.

She looked into the stairwell, cold air and the smell of iron and petrol wafting up from it. It occurred to her that this could be a trap. She turned to Michael, who understood immediately. Without hesitation, he descended the clanging metal staircase. There was a thud as his boots hit the ground below – and then silence. It felt like an age before he called up, ‘OK.’ She followed him down.

They found themselves in an underground car park, the only light coming from the stairwell behind them and a ramp at one end of the long basement.

Nowak gave a shout and somewhere in the darkness an engine began to roar. The noise was followed by the bright beam of headlights flooding the room, and Jia raised her hand against the glare. Through squinting eyes she made out five heavy black Range Rovers, and sitting on the ground in front of them, the outline of her brother. He was holding his hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the light. She heard Michael’s gasp before she could see for herself, but as her eyes came into focus and she stepped closer to her baby brother, all feeling left her limbs.

Marks from tyre treads were embedded into the right side of his face. His black hair, usually straight and gelled back, was caked in congealed black blood. Lacerations ran across his cheeks, and his eyes – his beautiful brown, soulful eyes – were swollen to the size of small plums.

Nowak laughed, soaking up Jia’s shock and horror. His entire body twitched with anticipation of her anguish. But she didn’t flinch. She just stood there silently, loyal to the tendrils of cold hatred that were spreading deeper within her. Insidious, slow and powerful, they wrapped themselves around her legs and feet, driving deep into the ground, rooting her and strengthening her will to kill him. It was an intoxicating sensation; she had felt it fleetingly once before. This time it was stronger, purer, more sustained. There was no denying her destiny. There was nothing left to fear. It was everyone else who should be afraid.

She glanced down at her right hand and noted its paleness. She flexed and clenched it into a fist to bring the blood flow back. She spoke the words, ‘Michael, bring the car,’ her voice steady and distant. Michael hurried away up the ramp.

From the corner of her eye she could see Nowak’s face fixed in its cruelty, and she knew he was waiting for an outpouring of rage. In his position she would have done the same. She turned to face him, taking him in, piece by piece. ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ she said. ‘You have been most gracious.’ There was no trace of irony, just simple words strung together, and with them she robbed Nowak of his victory.

She saw his eyes flash and narrow, and the vein in his neck throbbed until almost blue. This momentary lack of composure was enough to prove to Jia that she’d rattled him. ‘Let us conclude our business now, Mr Nowak, as agreed,’ she said, holding up the box of mithai she had brought with her.

Her coolness snapped Nowak back. ‘As agreed,’ he repeated. ‘Fly back to your nest. Make sure the others understand that this is our territory – and we will not steal your young.’

‘That is not my business. I am taking my brother and leaving. Here is what you asked for.’ She handed him the box. He took it and placed it on the bonnet of one of the cars, then pulled a pocket knife from inside his jacket and flicked it open with well-practised ease. He slid the blade along the seal, before passing the box to his associates, who began carefully lifting out the wads of purple notes it held.

‘You understand I need to check the amount?’ he said.

She nodded. Silently, the men counted. Jia waited, watching the money pile