The Angel Read Online Free

stomach.
    Hakeem turned. ‘Everything all right?’
    Bashir nodded.
    ‘Aamir?’
    ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m cool.’
    Bashir looked at his watch. ‘We made good time. He’ll be here soo n.’
    Aamir watched as a train left the station and rumbled along the side of the car park, slowly picking up speed. It was packed. He could see passengers standing in the aisles, some of them looking out of the windows with blank expressions on their faces.
    ‘He’s here.’
    A Mazda slowed and pulled into the space next to them. Aamir looked over and saw Mohammed behind the wheel. He reached down to switch off the engine and got out. He was tall and slender, with a tanned complexion and a growth of clipped stubble on his chin.
    He opened the back door and slid in next to Aamir.
    ‘Good morning, brothers. Is everything all right?’
    ‘Yes, Mohammed,’ Bashir said. ‘We did everything as you said.’
    ‘Very good. This is a wonderful day.’ He turned to Aamir. ‘Hello, brother. Are you feeling well?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, unable to hide his nerves.
    Mohammed had a cruel mouth with thin lips. He had heavy brows and dark eyes. Aamir remembered what it was like to be pinned in his lizard stare.
    ‘You remember what is next?’
    ‘I remember.’
    ‘And you remember why this is necessary?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said quietly.
    Aamir knew that Mohammed could see he was nervous. ‘We have to do this. You understand that, I know. We can talk and talk and talk, but our words have no impact on them. They will keep ignoring us. We are going to talk to them in a language that they will understand. Remember what Muhammad said. “Our words are dead until we give them life with our blood.”’
    ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I remember.’
    Mohammed fixed him in his powerful gaze. ‘Thousands of people like us are forsaking everything for what they believe. We are not doing it for worldly things, are we? We do not care about that, about them, about the tangible things that this world has to offer. Our religion is Islam, obedience to the one true God, Allah. We follow in the footsteps of the final prophet and messenger Muhammad.’
    ‘Praise be to God,’ Bashir intoned.
    ‘I just . . . I just . . .’
    ‘I can see you are nervous. That is all right. I understand. It is normal. But you need to consider why we are doing what we are doing. This country is not our friend, Aamir. The government perpetuates atrocities against our people, and the people’s support of it makes them responsible, just as we are directly responsible for protecting and avenging our Muslim brothers and sisters.’
    Aamir nodded his head, mumbling his agreement. Bashir and Hakeem nodded more vociferously.
    ‘We have to take the fight to them. Until we feel security, they must be our target. Until they stop the bombing, gassing, imprisonment and torture of our people, we will not stop this fight. We are at wa r, Aamir, and we are soldiers. And today, Allah willing, the infidels will taste the reality of this situation. They will feel the edge of our blade. You understand me, Aamir? You must tell me you understand.’
    Aamir found himself unable to speak.
    ‘He understands,’ Hakeem said for him.
    ‘I need to hear it from him.’
    Aamir nodded.
    ‘I need you to say it.’
    ‘I understand.’
    Mohammed clasped his shoulder and squeezed. ‘Good. When you get to London, there will be no time for second thoughts. You want to stop, you just say so now. You can get on a train and be back in Manchester in time for lunch. But I know you will not do that. I know you are a good soldier. I know, when you fe el doubt, you think about your mother and what happened to her. You keep that close to your heart, Aamir. That is where your strength comes from. That is where you will find the certainty when you feel doub t.’
    Aamir frowned. He hated it when others suggested that he was weak. He wasn’t weak. He was just as strong as Hakeem and Bashir. ‘I don’t feel doubt,’