Free The Protector by Duncan Falconer Page A

bound copy of the Koran. An inexpensive floral-patterned carpet was fitted throughout the flat, except in the bathroom and the small kitchen. The finishing touch was a small, cheap but delicate chandelier that shone brightly in the centre of the ceiling.
    Abdul went to the shelf, reached for the Koran, gave it a kiss, replaced it, walked into the kitchen and put the shopping bags on the counter-top beside the sink. He went back to the door to check if Tasneen had come out of her room yet, heard a tap running in the bathroom and reached for the top of one of the two small wall cabinets. He moved a cooking pot aside and took down a china vase. He quickly stuffed the day’s illicit takings inside and as he reached up to replace it he heard Tasneen walk through the living room. He hurriedly slid the cooking pot back in front of the vase and went over to the shopping bags as she walked in.
    Tasneen was beautiful. Her classic dark Middle Eastern eyes were large, her olive skin perfect, her dark hair long and slightly curly with a little pink ribbon holding the ends together in the middle of her back. She smiled on seeing Abdul and gave him a kiss on his cheek, her usual greeting for him that never failed to soften his mood.
    ‘How was your day?’ she asked as she leaned over the shopping bags to look inside. She was slightly smaller than Abdul but unlike him could not be described as frail.
    ‘Usual,’ he said, moving to the window beside the sink.
    ‘How was Hassan today? Your friends still mean to you?’
    ‘That’s like asking me if there were traffic jams in the city today,’ Abdul replied as he watched Tasneen take items from the bag and place them in their correct places in the cupboards. ‘There was a car bomb in Sadoon Street. It went off right across the river from us.’
    Tasneen sighed.‘You know I don’t like to hear those stories.’
    Abdul shrugged. ‘You asked how my day went . . . We went to investigate. You know how Hassan likes to drive anywhere that gives him an an excuse to use his siren and flashing lights . . . It wasn’t too bad, though. Only three people killed.They think the driver blew himself up by mistake because there wasn’t any target that anyone could see . . . As usual, Hassan told anyone who cared to listen that it was an American rocket . . . The man’s an idiot as well as everything else.’
    Tasneen folded the empty bag, put it into a drawer and started on the second one.
    ‘I was thinking about getting a job as an army interpreter, ’ Abdul continued.
    ‘You should. Your English is almost good enough,’ Tasneen said as she placed a bag of rice on the counter for use later.
    ‘Almost?’ he queried.
    ‘Almost, but not quite. But I will help you,’ she said as she pulled out a jar of coffee, inspected the label and then turned to face Abdul while holding it up for him to see. ‘Turkish Abala?’ she asked, a frown spreading across her face.
    ‘Yes,’ he said, shrugging. ‘So? It’s your favourite.’
    ‘It costs seven thousand dinar.’
    ‘I got it because you like it.’
    ‘There are a lot of things I like that we can’t afford any more.’ Tasneen stared into her brother’s eyes, her frown intensifying until he could no longer hold her gaze.
    ‘Why do you always do this?’ he said as he walked out of the room.
    Tasneen put down the coffee jar and looked into the bag at the rest of the contents. As she picked out a couple of other expensive items her frown was replaced by a look of hopelessness.
    She left the kitchen, saw that Abdul was not in the living room and walked across to his bedroom. She stood in the doorway, watching as he removed his jacket.
    ‘You’re still taking money, aren’t you?’ she asked accusingly.
    Abdul ignored her as he removed his semi-automatic pistol from its holster and placed it on a dresser. Then he sat down on the bed and started to untie his shoelaces.
    ‘My brother is a thief,’ she said resignedly in response to his