Free Circle of Fire by S. M. Hall Page B

door, remaining on the outside.
    Tiptoeing along the corridor, she pushed open the door to the next room, checked there was nobody inside and walked in. Picking her way carefully over bedding and a heap of prayer mats, she went over to a long table. A pile of pamphlets with the word JIHAD in bold lettering attracted her attention. She knew that jihad was about fighting a holy war for Allah. She opened the pamphlet and read the headline – ISRAEL IS AN ILLEGAL STATE.
    At the other side of the table was an article torn out of a newspaper about a plot to bomb Britain and beside it was another pile of leaflets that had the heading, BRITISH VALUES??? The leaflet showed cartoons of teenagers – football yobs causing trouble, scantily-dressed girls dancing, and what she assumed were victims of drug-taking and drunkenness lying in doorways and vomiting in gutters.
Is this what we want for our youth?
the article asked.
    Moving back from the table, she glanced around. The sound of a door opening downstairs sent her running back to the bathroom and she slipped inside and flushed the loo. When she came out, she heard the kitchen door open below her and Khaled came running up the stairs holding her rucksack.
    â€˜Here,’ he said, ‘you should keep this with you.’
    His fingers touched hers as she grasped the handle of the bag; just the slightest, gentlest brush of skin, but she found it unnerving. He was mysterious: aloof yet friendly, suspicious but hospitable. She couldn’t work him out. She was considering the evidence, when she saw that the straps of her rucksack were undone and flapping.
    He ignored her questioning look. ‘Come on, I’ll show you round,’ he said, leading the way back into the room she’d just visited.
    â€˜Who stays here?’ she asked.
    â€˜Followers.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜You’ll see. It’s another world in here, a completely different world.’
    â€˜OK, but. . .’
    He interrupted. ‘You’re thinking it’s not right fora young woman to be amongst men. Don’t worry, Lubna will be here soon. She organises the women. She’ll take care of you.’
    â€˜Does everybody sleep in here?’ she asked.
    â€˜No. There’s another room for the women.’
    She looked away, feeling embarrassed. There was a noise on the stairs, and a young woman wearing jeans and a headscarf entered.
    â€˜Here’s Lubna,’ Khaled said. ‘Lubna, this is Soraya. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.’
    Lubna wasn’t pretty. Her forehead under the pale blue silk scarf was broad and moles of various sizes sprinkled her round cheeks, but her smile lit up her face. Maya tried to remember if she’d seen her photo on the computer, but she couldn’t honestly be sure.
    â€˜Hello. Good to meet you,’ Lubna said.
    Khaled became a bit more detached, businesslike. ‘Look after her, will you?’ he asked Lubna.
    Lubna lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, of course.’ Then she looked up at him. ‘Are you going to speak at the meeting?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    They exchanged knowing looks and Lubna smiled at him. ‘Peace be upon the servant of Allah forthe manifold blessings he showers upon us each day. Allah be praised.’
    â€˜Allah be praised,’ Khaled said quietly. Then he added, ‘We must be on our guard, Lubna. There are some who don’t want peace – peace makes enemies.’
    His eyes rested on Maya. A wave of heat prickled her neck and face. Were his words aimed at her? Had he looked in her bag? Did he know her real identity? Was the game up?

Chapter Eleven
    A silver Mercedes drove through the big iron gates of a large house and came to rest on the back drive. The car door opened, and out stepped a bearded man in a shiny suit. He reached for a briefcase, locked the car door and went into the kitchen of his home.
    His wife, Shameen, met him with a worried face. She was