‘Finally,’ said O’Brien, who was standing by the door.
‘What did you want me to do? Knock her out?’ said Shepherd.
‘Who are you?’ asked Fariq. ‘What do you want?’
He tried to sit up but the Major pushed him down and tapped the barrel of his Glock against Fariq’s head. ‘Keep quiet while we get everyone settled. Any more noise from you and we’ll gag you and your wife.’ He looked at O’Brien. ‘Get the girl.’
‘Wait,’ said Shepherd. ‘Maybe it’d be better if we let the mother do it.’
‘I can handle a seven-year-old,’ said O’Brien.
‘I was thinking from the child’s point of view,’ said Shepherd. ‘If you go thundering in there with your mask on you’ll scare her half to death. You don’t look much like Santa Claus.’
‘What’s your plan?’ asked the Major.
‘I’ll take the mother in. The mother can put her at ease.’
‘I wouldn’t recommend untying her, not after all the effort it took to tie her up,’ said the Major.
‘Why do you want my daughter?’ asked Fariq’s wife.
‘We don’t want her,’ said Shepherd. ‘We just need to keep you together.’
‘Why? What are you going to do?’ Her voice was low and deep, almost a whisper, and there was no trace of fear in it.
‘We need you in one place. We’re going to take you to the servants’ quarters where you’ll be safe.’
‘Safe from what?’
‘Look, all I want to do is move you and your daughter to the servants’ quarters. I’ll happily send him in to grab your daughter but I’d imagine that would be pretty traumatic for her.’
‘It’s pretty traumatic for all of us,’ said the woman. ‘Why don’t you get the hell out of our house and we’ll all be a lot happier?’
Shepherd fought the urge to smile. He motioned for her to stand up and she did as she was told. Fariq tried to sit up again but this time Shepherd pushed him back. ‘Not you,’ he said.
‘Where are you taking my wife?’ he asked.
‘I told you not to talk,’ said the Major.
Shepherd held the woman’s upper arm and walked her to the door. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she said.
‘Live with it,’ said Shepherd. He took her into the hallway. Shortt was outside the daughter’s bedroom. ‘I’m letting the mother talk to her first,’ said Shepherd. Shortt moved to the side. Shepherd kept his grip on the woman as he reached for the door handle. ‘Just tell her there’s nothing to worry about, and that she’s to do as we say.’
‘And is that true? Do we have nothing to worry about?’
Shortt tapped her on the shoulder with his Glock. ‘Worry about me,’ he said. ‘Now, get in there and do as you’re told.’
‘Don’t you touch me!’ she hissed. ‘You touch me again and I’ll kill you.’
‘Feisty, huh?’ said Shortt.
‘She’s okay,’ said Shepherd. ‘Leave her alone. Please, Fatima, we don’t want to upset your daughter, do we?’
‘And you can stop patronising me,’ she said.
‘I’m not patronising you, I’m just telling you the way things are,’ said Shepherd. ‘If you want, we can storm in there and grab her but this way will be a lot less stressful.’
‘Then untie me,’ she said.
‘Like fuck we will,’ said Shortt scornfully.
Fatima ignored him and continued to look at Shepherd. ‘Seeing me tied up like this will upset her,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be bad enough with you wearing those masks and carrying guns. Please, untie me so that I can comfort her.’
‘After all the trouble I took to get the tape around your wrists?’
‘That was then,’ she said. ‘Now I’m asking you. Please. Untie me so that I can hold my daughter.’
‘You’ll scratch my eyes out,’ said Shepherd, only half joking.
She smiled sadly. ‘I want to comfort my daughter,’ she said quietly. ‘You have my word that if you untie me I will do nothing to provoke you.’
‘You can’t believe a word she says,’ said Shortt.
‘We’ve got guns, and she knows her husband is back there,’ said Shepherd. He took a small Swiss Army knife from his pocket, pulled out a blade and gently cut the tape.
‘Thank you,’ she said, massaging her wrists.
‘Just explain to her that she has to come with us, and not to make a noise,’ said Shepherd. He opened the door and let her go in first.
The little girl was asleep on her back, her mouth open, her left arm round a toy leopard. Fatima walked to the bed and sat down next to her daughter. She put a hand on her arm and whispered in her ear. The little girl’s eyes fluttered and she turned away. ‘ Anaa na’ saan,’ she muttered sleepily.
‘I know you are, little one,’ said Fatima. ‘But you must wake up.’
The child opened her eyes. Fatima put her face close to her daughter’s, then kissed her nose. ‘Now, listen to me, little one. There are some men here. They are visiting us for a while.’
‘ Maa l-mushkila?’ asked the girl.
‘No, there’s nothing wrong,’ said Fatima, ‘but while they’re here, let’s be polite to them and speak in English so that they can understand. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ said the child. ‘Where are they?’
‘They’re outside,’ said Fatima. ‘They’re wearing masks, but you mustn’t be frightened. It’s no different from when I wear the burkha when I go out sometimes. They just want to cover their faces. Now, sit up.’
The little girl brushed her hair from her face. ‘I’m sleepy,’ she said.
‘I know you are,’ she said. ‘We’re going to see Mr and Mrs Yazid.’
The child slid her legs out of bed and saw Shepherd standing at the door. He had put his gun back into its nylon holster and he waved both hands at her. ‘Hi,’ he said.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Shortt. ‘We’re not bloody child-minders.’
‘Why don’t you go downstairs while I get this sorted?’ said Shepherd.
‘We don’t have to treat them with kid gloves.’
‘They haven’t done anything wrong,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’re not the enemy.’
‘No, but they’re related to the enemy,’ said Shortt.
Fatima put her arm around her little girl. ‘ Laa tkhaaf,’ she said. ‘Don’t be scared.’
Shortt headed downstairs. Shepherd took a step inside the room. ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he said.
The little girl buried her face in her mother’s hair. ‘That mask isn’t helping,’ said Fatima.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Shepherd, ‘but there’s nothing I can do about that.’
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, frightening a child.’
‘I’m not proud of this, believe me. You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘I’m in my home,’ she said. ‘You’re the one in the wrong place.’
Shepherd pointed at the hallway. ‘Come on,’ he said.
‘Where are we going?’ said the little girl.
‘To see Mr Yazid.’ Fatima scooped up her daughter.
‘My leopard!’ cried the little girl.
Shepherd picked it up and gave it to her. Fatima walked slowly to the door, stroking the child’s hair. Shepherd followed them down the stairs, along the hallway and into the kitchen. O’Brien was standing by the sink, holding his Glock. Fatima flashed Shortt a baleful look as she walked across the marble floor. She whispered something in her daughter’s ear as she carried her into the servants’ quarters, which consisted of a sitting room with a small dining-table and two sofas, and a bedroom with two single beds and two wardrobes. Armstrong had taken the old couple into the bedroom and bound and gagged them. They lay on their backs on the beds, gazing up at him fearfully. He was standing by the door, Taser in hand. ‘How did it go?’ he asked.
‘No problems,’ said Shepherd. He nodded at Fariq’s wife. ‘The kid’s a bit upset.’
‘Of course she’s upset,’ snapped Fatima. ‘We’re all upset.’
‘Do you want something from the kitchen?’ asked Shepherd.
‘I want you all out of my house,’ she said.
‘Shall I gag her?’ asked Armstrong.