Nano by Sam Fisher Read Free Book Online Page A

deception, over-confidence.
    ‘Yes, that is so,’ Mohammed said slowly. ‘However, I would like to look through the documents again, if I may.’
    The lawyer held Mohammed’s eyes for a second. Then he said, ‘Yes, yes, of course. I have them with me here.’ He bent down and withdrew a sheath of papers covered with Arabic symbols.
    ‘I think you’ll find it is word-for-word what your father has seen,’ Saeed Khalid commented and looked from Mohammed to Bitar.
    Mohammed saw the young businessman raise his chin just a little too high, shift his left shoulder a little too far as he turned from him to the lawyer. He also detected an almost inaudible undercurrent to the word ‘seen’. Combined, these tiny signs spoke volumes to Mohammed. Saeed was hiding something. To almost all outward appearances, the billionaire’s son was the epitome of politeness and refinement but just below the surface he was feeling impatient, longing to get away from this shabby peasant.
    Bitar handed over the document. The drinks arrived and Mohammed noticed Saeed giving the retreating waitress a lascivious look. He read the first page carefully, sensing growing impatience in the movement of the two men at the table. He was just about to turn to page two when they all heard a low growl.
    ‘What was that?’ Saeed exclaimed, his large hands gripping the edge of the table.
    Mohammed looked up and saw the alarm in the eyes of the other two. The table began to vibrate and the sound grew louder and ascended in pitch. The three men watched, confused, as their coffee cups and glasses of water skidded across the table top and crashed to the floor.

12
    Souk District, Dubai, 12 December
    Abu Al-Rashid set his alarm clock to go off an hour earlier than usual and leapt out of bed, immediately excited by the prospects of the day ahead. It was the day after his party and he would soon be lining up for the school bus, but before then he planned to immerse himself in the cyberworld, which in some ways he preferred to the ‘real world’ of everyday life.
    Outside, the morning was already hotting up and Abu could hear the sound of market traders setting out their wares. Then, at 6.15 precisely, the sky still shredded with predawn orange, the Fajr started up – the first call to prayer. The Al-Rashids’ carpet store and the four-room apartment above it where Abu lived with his parents and sister was only 20 metres along the road from the local mosque. He knew his parents would be praying and that he was not expected to join them at this time.
    He tapped at the keyboard, relishing the freedom, the opening up of the world this old laptop offered him. He could not have wished for a better present and he would be eternally grateful to his kind Uncle Jahib for giving it to him. But then, just as Abu was about to move to a new website and try to open his very first Facebook account, the door to his tiny room opened. He turned and saw his father. The man was about to speak when he noticed the glowing laptop screen, the light from it illuminating the shock on Abu’s face.
    Abu’s father, Heydar, froze. For a second he looked confused, then his expression darkened. He took two paces into the room. ‘Abu. What is this?’ he said, his voice low, calm.
    ‘Father . . . I –’
    ‘Abu. Where did you get this?’
    It took a few seconds for Abu to overcome his shock and to speak properly. ‘I cannot say, Father.’
    Then Heydar’s face changed. ‘Ah, I think I know,’ he said slowly, carefully. He came close to the desk and closed the lid. The old machine emitted a squeal. ‘I will not allow it,’ he said, his voice still calm.
    ‘But Father.’
    ‘No buts, Abu. I do not approve.’
    ‘Please!’ Abu exclaimed and went to open the lid again.
    ‘No, Abu.’ Heydar pulled the mains cable from the back of the machine, scooping the laptop up into his arms.
    ‘Father!’
    ‘Enough, Abu!’ Heydar snapped angrily and strode from the room.
    Abu burst into