The Rift, Rachel Lynch [books recommended by bts .txt] 📗

au chocolat greedily and Helen watched as the sugar made him feel slightly human. He sat up and glugged the Coke.

‘Better?’ she asked. He nodded.

‘Farid, I absolutely respect your loyalty. There’s no question of that. My priority, and all I care about, is getting a young man, about your age, back to his little brothers.’

Farid swallowed hard.

She placed a photograph of Hakim on the table. In it, he was flanked by two boys, each beaming into the camera. His arms were flung around them in protection and sheer love.

‘This is Hakim, isn’t it? The man you were holding? These are his brothers. They’re devastated. I want you to try to imagine their pain. For whatever reason you chose to follow your orders – and I do believe they were orders – all I want you to do is understand the damage and trauma caused by a son, a brother or an uncle going missing, potentially harmed, and as time goes on, perhaps never coming home.’

He stared at her and to his lawyer, who whispered into his ear. Farid looked back at Helen.

‘This one’s called Farid, can you believe it?’ She pointed at one of Hakim’s brother’s. ‘It means “unique”, doesn’t it? It’s a beautiful name. Was it your father who named you?’ Helen had also read in his notes that another family tragedy had befallen this man. His father had been killed in a mining accident, which was how he’d come to be taken under Fawaz’s wing.

Farid looked down and nodded. The tears came suddenly, and Helen handed him tissues. He let go a groan and bits of pain au chocolat flew out of his mouth.

‘It’s okay, I understand. You’ve done something because someone else asked you, and you felt loyal to them. It’s not you we’re after for this, Farid. We know that you work for Fawaz bin Nabil.’

Farid looked up and stopped crying.

‘He’s on the run in Europe and planning to hurt many, many people, just like Hakim is being hurt and many more families will be too. Can you imagine the pain those boys will go through if we don’t find him in time?’

Farid nodded and buried his head in his cuffed hands. His shoulders shook.

‘Drink some more Coke, Farid. This can all be over if you want it to be. If you choose to save that young man’s life, then we can look after you. Fawaz has got what he wanted. He’s managed to bribe someone very powerful into giving him what he wants: container ships. That journey is over for Fawaz, but don’t you think it’s time Hakim went home to his family? There is no longer a need for him.’

Farid took another gulp of Coke and looked at his lawyer. More whispers followed and more nods from the lawyer. Helen guessed that he was checking if he was being tricked.

‘We have very specific boundaries when we interview people in this country, Farid. We can’t interrogate you, we can’t hurt you and we can’t lie to you.’

This in itself was a little white lie, because in the pursuit of justice, a certain type of deception was legal. The lawyer shifted in his seat. However, Helen was relying upon the common distaste amongst lawyers for representing potential terrorists. It wasn’t worth risking his good name for. He let it go.

Farid rubbed his temples, and Helen saw that his wrists were raw under the cuffs.

‘If you could talk to your father right now, what do you think he would tell you to do? Have you got brothers and sisters, Farid? Like Hakim has?’

He buried his head again. He whispered under his breath and Helen realised that he was praying.

‘Is it comforting?’ she asked. He stopped and nodded.

‘Did Hakim pray in captivity?’

A nod.

She was in.

‘Did you talk to him?’

A nod.

‘Do you think he’s still alive?’

Another nod.

‘Do you want his little brother to see him again?’

A nod. A tear spilt down his cheek. His eyes were droopy, and they lacked any kind of sparkle or love.

‘Fawaz has what he wants, thanks to you, now let Hakim go home,’ she said.

‘I don’t know where he is,’ Farid spoke, in French, for the first time directly to her.

‘But you know where he might be?’

‘Oui.’

Helen passed him a piece of paper, knowing from his education history that he couldn’t read or write.

‘Can you write it down for me?’

‘I’ll do it,’ the lawyer said. He took a pen and the piece of paper. Farid looked at him and took a deep breath.

Helen watched as Farid gave four addresses to his lawyer. Her whole body wanted to jump up and down, but she had to control herself. All four addresses were in Le Croix-Rousse. The lawyer passed her the paper, and she took it.

‘I’ll make sure you get some sleep, Farid,’ she said. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he’d probably spend a good stretch of time in prison for his role in the abduction and incarceration of Hakim.

‘One more thing, can you identify this man?’ she asked.

He stared at the photograph held up by Helen. ‘Is this Sand Cat?’ she asked.

He stared at her, swallowed and nodded.

‘Ahmad Azzine?’ she asked.

Another nod.

‘Who was in charge of the arrangements? Was it Ahmad Azzine or Jean-Luc?’ she asked, not expecting anything else out of him.

‘Both. They’re cousins.’

Chapter 47

Ahmad Azzine pulled in to a garage close to Gare du Nord, Paris. The journey from Marseilles had been long, but he was quite happy that the goods were now on their way here. At the port last night, he’d witnessed the unpacking of the cartons himself and, as instructed by Fawaz, the first pallets had been unpacked and loaded onto a decoy lorry. He’d watched it leave, followed by their driver. The lorry contained rugs and oranges, bound for Lyon. It was just another safety measure in case anyone had been tipped off to greet them. The pallets containing the C4 were successfully loaded onto another lorry and he’d followed it all the way to