Bonfire by Mark Arundel Page A

his eyes were full of determination. I shook my head.
    ‘Your father needs you here with him, by his side,’ I said. The passion in Jamaal’s eyes changed.
    ‘At least take my phone number,’ he said. ‘If I can help… Remember, I am young and clever and I speak Arabic. You may have need of me.’ Jamaal told me his number and I entered it into my phone.
    Outside, Cakes and Mick were waiting. Mick was still in the driver’s seat. I spoke to Cakes. ‘Help me carry Banksy inside. We’ll leave him here in their cellar and collect him on the way back.’
    The stone steps that led to the cellar were narrow and turned back on themselves. We carried the body of our dead friend carefully and laid him out on the cold, sandstone floor.
    As we left, Nasser spoke and Jamaal stood alongside and listened.
    ‘I pray you will find my daughter and return her safely to Britain,’ he said. Neither of us responded. Nasser’s eyes were wet. ‘Inshallah,’ he said.
    Cakes and I got into the car and Mick drove away.
    ‘Do you know what “Inshallah” means?’ Cakes asked.
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It means “God willing”.’
     
    The drive to the al-Barouni house was one we had made earlier in the day. I hoped that this time it would pass without incident.
    Mick was driving and Cakes was riding shotgun. I was in the backseat with the bloodstains. The painkillers had made breathing more bearable.
    ‘How do we know she’s still alive?’ Mick said.
    ‘I’m waiting for the Chief to call me,’ I said. ‘When I spoke to Jerry Lombroso I told him to upload the software to our phones so we can follow the tracker implants. They register a heartbeat.’ As I finished saying the word “heartbeat”, my phone rang. It was the Chief.
    ‘Hayes, Jerry has informed me of events,’ he said. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about Banks.’ He paused expecting me to speak, but I remained silent. ‘It was a pity Suleiman Al-Bousefi didn’t show.’
    ‘How do you think he knew about us?’ I said.
    ‘I really couldn’t say,’ the Chief said. ‘Trust is a fickle mistress.’
    ‘Is Magda still alive?’ I asked.
    ‘Yes, her tracker is registering a strong heartbeat.’
    ‘Is Jerry getting the software uploaded to our phones so we can trace them ourselves?’
    ‘Yes, I believe he’s working on it as we speak,’ the Chief said.
    ‘I’m glad you insisted on them,’ I said. ‘You were right. They have come in useful.’
    ‘Yes, they have,’ he agreed. ‘Hayes, I’m a little confused.’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Why aren’t you on your way home?’ It was a good question and one to which I was unsure I had an answer. ‘The job is over. A helicopter is waiting and so, too, is your money. Why are you bothered about what happens to this woman?’
    ‘Does the reason matter?’ I said. The Chief paused before he responded.
    ‘As a Zen master might say, “we’ll see”.’ I liked that answer. ‘I’ve just received confirmation that the software upload is complete,’ the Chief said. ‘To access it you will need to use a password. We will send it together with the instructions attached. It’s all very straightforward.’
    ‘All right, good,’ I said.
    ‘Hayes, stay in touch,’ the Chief said and then ended the call.
    ‘Our phones should now have the tracker-software uploaded,’ I said. I entered the package using the password, skimmed through the instructions and then began using the system. The Chief was right. It was straightforward and easy to use. I immediately found Magda’s signal on the map. She was on the outskirts of the city in the east and stationary.
    Cakes had done the same. As Mick was driving, he would have to do his later. Cakes studied the screen.
    ‘She’s not moving,’ he said. ‘Her location is just over six miles east of our current position.’ He looked back at me. ‘Have they reached their final destination or have they just stopped on the way?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said.
    ‘I’m still