Page 196 of Never

Abdul bent over and ripped a length of cotton from the hem of his robe. He soaked the cloth in the lake of gasoline, then retreated several yards. He took out his red plastic lighter and held the gasoline-soaked rag over it.

The pit guard called out: ‘What’s happening, Nasir?’

Abdul said: ‘I’m dealing with it.’ He flicked the lighter.

Nothing happened.

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m Nasir, you fool.’ Abdul flicked the lighter again, and again, and again. No flame appeared. He realized it had run out of fuel, or dried up.

He had no matches.

Kiah, outside the compound, could get to the shelter faster than Abdul could. He said: ‘Quickly, run to the shelter and get some matches. Wahed always has some. Don’t step in the gasoline. But hurry!’

She ran across the path and into the shelter.

The guard said: ‘You’re a liar. Nasir is my cousin. I know his voice. You’re not him.’

‘Calm down. I can’t speak normally in these fumes.’

‘I’m going to sound the alarm.’

Suddenly there was a new voice. ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Abdul heard the slight lisp and realized it was Mohammed. That made sense: the slaves seemed to be his responsibility, and someone had sent him to find out what was happening. He had crept up unseen.

Abdul turned around and saw that Mohammed had drawn his gun. It was a 9mm pistol and he was holding it in a professional double-handed grip. Abdul said: ‘I’m glad you’re here. I heard the sound of fighting and came to look, and the gates were open and gasoline leaking.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kiah come out of the shelter. He took a few steps to the right, to put Mohammed between him and Kiah, so that he would not see her.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ Mohammed said. ‘Where’s the vehicle guard?’

Kiah came to the fence behind Mohammed. Abdul saw her bend and pick something up from the ground. It looked like a discarded Cleopatra cigarette packet.

‘Nasir?’ he said. ‘He’s in the hut, but I think he’s hurt. I don’t really know, I just got here.’

Kiah struck a match and lit the cigarette packet in her hand.

The pit guard called out: ‘Mohammed, watch out behind you!’

Mohammed turned, his gun swivelling with him. Abdul leaped at him and kicked his legs from under him, and Mohammed fell into the pool of gasoline.

Kiah knelt down with her blazing cigarette packet and set fire to the fuel.

It flared up with terrifying speed. Abdul backed away fast. Mohammed rolled over and aimed at him, but he was off balance and shooting one-handed, and he missed. Mohammed struggled to his feet but the flames reached him before he was upright. His clothes were soaked in gasoline and they blazed instantly. Mohammed screamed in fear and agony as he turned into a human torch.

Abdul ran. He could feel the heat, and he feared he might have left it too late to escape the inferno. He heard a shot, and guessed that the pit guard was firing at him. He dodged between the cars, for cover, and ran for the gate. He reached the car and leaped in.

Kiah was already there.

He put the car in gear and drove.

As he sped away he looked in his rear-view mirror. The flames had spread all over the car park. Would all the cars be immobilized? At a minimum all their tyres would be destroyed. And the keys were melting as the guard hut burned down.

He turned on the headlights. They and the moonlight helped him to locate the road. He saw the pile of stones that marked the junction, and turned north. After two miles he came to the hill where he had earlier hoped to jump into the back of Yakub’s candy truck. He stopped at the top of the rise, and they both looked back.

The blaze was tremendous.

He checked his phone but, as he expected, there was no signal. From the other boot he took the tracking device, but Hakim and the cocaine were far out of range.

He opened the storage bin in the centre console and found, as he hoped, a phone-charging connection. He plugged in the better of his two phones.