False Friends by Stephen Leather

Author:Stephen Leather [Leather, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780340925010
Publisher: Hodder
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Abu al Khayr tapped on the steering wheel as he looked up and down the street. It was early evening, the pavements were crowded and there was a steady stream of people pouring out of the tube station. ‘What if he doesn’t come?’ he asked.

Khalid was sitting in the passenger seat, toying with a subha, a string of Muslim prayer beads. There were one hundred wooden beads on the string, one as big as a pea and the rest about a third of the size. Some of the beads were made of a wood that was as black as polished coal, and others were a dark brown, close to the colour of Khalid’s own skin. The small beads were there so that he could keep track of the ninety-nine times that he repeated the name of Allah whenever he prayed. He wasn’t praying as he sat in the van; he fingered the beads merely from habit. The beads had been a gift from his father on the day that he had turned eighteen, and he had carried them every day since. ‘He’ll come,’ said Khalid. ‘He thinks we’re going to eat. He never turns down free food.’

‘And you think he’s a traitor?’

Khalid continued to let the beads slip through his fingers one at a time. ‘I’m not sure. But traitor or not, we have to do what we have to do.’

Abu al Khayr nodded. ‘You are right, brother. We can’t afford any weak links, not at this stage.’

Khalid looked at the digital clock in the dashboard. It was seven o’clock.

‘There he is,’ said Abu al Khayr. He nodded at the entrance to the tube.

Khalid smiled when he saw the three men crossing the road towards the van. The man in the middle was Tariq Jamot, a regular at the Dynevor Road mosque. He worked for a tyre and exhaust centre and his fondness for fast food meant that he was a good fifty pounds overweight and had earned the nickname Fat Boy. The men either side of him were taller and leaner. All were second-generation Pakistanis, though only Jamot was London-born; his companions had grown up in Leeds. Fat Boy trusted the men he was with; there was no question of that. They often prayed together and they had attended the extra lessons that the mullah held in the mosque late into the night after last prayers. That was where they had been selected for further training and offered the chance to go to Pakistan. All had accepted the offer and all had returned committed to jihad and prepared to give their lives for the faith. Except that when the call had come, Fat Boy had been found wanting. The two men with Fat Boy had both arrived at St Pancras, ready and willing to do whatever had been asked of them. Fat Boy had received the call but had stayed at home, claiming that he was unwell.

Khalid waved through the open window and the three men waved back.

‘Lamb to the slaughter,’ murmured Abu al Khayr.

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