The Language of Secrets by Ausma Zehanat Khan

Author:Ausma Zehanat Khan [Khan, Ausma Zehanat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466858251
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

17

When Khattak returned from meeting a friend Sunday night, the family home was lit by Christmas lights that swung in loops of crimson, yellow, and green. A second set of lights festooned the doors of the carriage house a little distance back from the garden.

The roads had been cleared, the blizzard had passed. Khattak had been with his friend, a professor of modern Arabic poetry, for just over two hours. In that brief time, the character of his parents’ house had changed. The Khattak family had never hung Christmas lights before. They borrowed the tradition, much like the Chinese New Year, and illumined the house on the festival days of Eid. Now the house shimmered in the dark like its neighbors.

The lights weren’t meant for Christmas.

The streamers of lights were a signal sent to him by his sister.

In the tradition of the Indian subcontinent, the house had been lit for a wedding.

* * *

There were two other cars parked in the driveway of the Khattak home; Khattak recognized the plates from the INSET file. Jamshed Ali’s. And Hassan Ashkouri’s. He was engulfed by a feeling of despair, as he understood what his sister had done.

She’d moved Ashkouri’s halaqa to their home.

Coale would have known. And he’d said nothing, waiting for Khattak to fall into the trap.

Khattak was not given to self-pity or melodrama; to acknowledge his duality was also to accept it. Yet inexorably, he felt the tightening of the noose. He parked his car to block Hassan Ashkouri’s. His cell phone rang. It was Laine, calling to warn him.

“It’s too late, I’ve just found out. Why didn’t Coale tell me about this?”

Laine paused. Khattak let the silence build.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m just the Outreach Coordinator. I’m not privy to everything he knows. I would have told you if I’d known sooner.”

Khattak gripped the phone. He wasn’t impervious to Laine’s blandishments. He was about to cross a line with her.

“What’s Ashkouri doing at my house? What’s his game? The last thing he should want is my undivided attention. Or for me to have any reason to focus on his group.”

Laine answered carefully. “He’s engaged to your sister, Esa. Perhaps he realizes that it’s more than time that the two of you were introduced.” She gave Esa time to absorb that, before continuing, “But personally, I think it’s something else.”

Esa waited for more.

“I think he’s gotten cocky. He thinks he’s untouchable, and that we haven’t the faintest idea about Nakba. It’s his coup de grȃce. Seducing your sister under your nose, dragging her into his mess. He’s showing you that you’re vulnerable. He’s using Ruksh as leverage.”

Khattak exhaled, the sound harsh in the confines of his car.

They were both silent for a moment. Then Laine said, “I offered to talk to Ruksh.”

“I know you did.” It was hard for him to get the words out. “And I’m grateful.”

He caught Laine’s small gasp. And took it for the encouragement to proceed.

“Will you tell me something, Laine? Something I’ve no right to ask.

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