shops.
‘What is it?’ Frank asked and started to pull himself up.
Mohammed walked over to where Abu was pointing at a diagram attached to the pillar.
‘It’s a layout of each of the mall floors,’ the boy said, pointing at a plan of the top storeys of the building. The sign was dented and discoloured in places but still readable.
Mohammed stared at the diagram then ran a finger over the surface, reading the labels. ‘We’re here,’ he said half to himself. ‘One-ninety-eight. There’re four more storeys above us, then the roof.’ His finger stopped moving. ‘And a helipad.’
Saeed had arrived at Mohammed’s side. He stared at the schematic. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘What is it?’ Frank asked as he approached. The two women, Jessica and Carmen, watched intently.
‘This crazy person,’ Saeed said and flicked his head towards Mohammed, ‘thinks we should go up to the roof!’
Frank paused for a moment. They could hear him breathing heavily. He ran a hand over his filthy chin. ‘Might not be so crazy,’ he said slowly.
‘What? Go up? Are you mad too? We have to go down – down, not up!’
‘How do you think we may do that?’ Mohammed asked calmly.
‘There must be other exits.’
They all studied the schematic, silent for several long moments.
‘There’re only two emergency exits,’ Abu said.
‘Get out the way, kid,’ Saeed snapped and shoved Abu roughly aside.
‘Hey!’ the boy exclaimed, but Mohammed gripped his shoulder and eased him back. ‘Not worth it,’ he said, quietly. ‘Let the fool work it out for himself.’
Saeed ignored them and peered intently at the diagram, desperately trying to find something that simply wasn’t there. ‘Allah!’ he shouted, hitting the pillar with the flat of his hand and turning away, his face twisted in anger and frustration. ‘Okay,’ he hissed. ‘We go up.’
Mohammed walked over to Carmen and Jessica and helped the older woman to her feet before picking a path through the devastation back to the southwest exit. They knew it was safe at least to the next floor up, 199, because they had already come down that way. A few minutes of negotiating the rubble and the six survivors found themselves in a stairwell once again. They quickly reached Floor 199.
Mohammed leaned over the railing and looked up. It appeared to be clear but it was impossible to tell from where he was. ‘Is everyone okay?’ he asked.
Carmen’s breathing was laboured. Frank looked exhausted. He was leaning forwards with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.
They took the next flight of stairs a little slower, turned the bend and began the final flight up to 200. They could see the door to the mall ahead of them. The number ‘200’ in small metal numerals was pinned to the door, the middle ‘0’ slightly askew.
Two steps up the second flight of stairs, they stopped. Immediately past the door to the mall, the emergency staircase had collapsed, only picking up again as a ragged platform a dozen steps up. It was impossible to reach without ropes or ladders.
Frank and the two women sank to the floor. Carmen started to sob. Abu leaned against the wall and took deep breaths, his face lathered with sweat. Mohammed was staring silently at the chasm ahead of them.
‘So what now, oh wise man?’ Saeed said, close to Mohammed’s shoulder.
The Bedouin turned, his face expressionless. ‘We go back to 199 and wait to be rescued.’
28
Somewhere above Dubai, 9.46 am
The view from the microlight was astonishing and Azrael felt absolutely triumphant. The chaos, the death, the pain he had caused. It was intoxicating. The tower was gutted. Hundreds of people – tiny dots on the ground – were rushing across the forecourt.
He had trained for three months with the microlight and knew exactly what he was doing. There were at least three rescue helicopters flying around the building and he spotted a military chopper a little way off.
‘What is it?’ Frank asked and started to pull himself up.
Mohammed walked over to where Abu was pointing at a diagram attached to the pillar.
‘It’s a layout of each of the mall floors,’ the boy said, pointing at a plan of the top storeys of the building. The sign was dented and discoloured in places but still readable.
Mohammed stared at the diagram then ran a finger over the surface, reading the labels. ‘We’re here,’ he said half to himself. ‘One-ninety-eight. There’re four more storeys above us, then the roof.’ His finger stopped moving. ‘And a helipad.’
Saeed had arrived at Mohammed’s side. He stared at the schematic. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘What is it?’ Frank asked as he approached. The two women, Jessica and Carmen, watched intently.
‘This crazy person,’ Saeed said and flicked his head towards Mohammed, ‘thinks we should go up to the roof!’
Frank paused for a moment. They could hear him breathing heavily. He ran a hand over his filthy chin. ‘Might not be so crazy,’ he said slowly.
‘What? Go up? Are you mad too? We have to go down – down, not up!’
‘How do you think we may do that?’ Mohammed asked calmly.
‘There must be other exits.’
They all studied the schematic, silent for several long moments.
‘There’re only two emergency exits,’ Abu said.
‘Get out the way, kid,’ Saeed snapped and shoved Abu roughly aside.
‘Hey!’ the boy exclaimed, but Mohammed gripped his shoulder and eased him back. ‘Not worth it,’ he said, quietly. ‘Let the fool work it out for himself.’
Saeed ignored them and peered intently at the diagram, desperately trying to find something that simply wasn’t there. ‘Allah!’ he shouted, hitting the pillar with the flat of his hand and turning away, his face twisted in anger and frustration. ‘Okay,’ he hissed. ‘We go up.’
Mohammed walked over to Carmen and Jessica and helped the older woman to her feet before picking a path through the devastation back to the southwest exit. They knew it was safe at least to the next floor up, 199, because they had already come down that way. A few minutes of negotiating the rubble and the six survivors found themselves in a stairwell once again. They quickly reached Floor 199.
Mohammed leaned over the railing and looked up. It appeared to be clear but it was impossible to tell from where he was. ‘Is everyone okay?’ he asked.
Carmen’s breathing was laboured. Frank looked exhausted. He was leaning forwards with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.
They took the next flight of stairs a little slower, turned the bend and began the final flight up to 200. They could see the door to the mall ahead of them. The number ‘200’ in small metal numerals was pinned to the door, the middle ‘0’ slightly askew.
Two steps up the second flight of stairs, they stopped. Immediately past the door to the mall, the emergency staircase had collapsed, only picking up again as a ragged platform a dozen steps up. It was impossible to reach without ropes or ladders.
Frank and the two women sank to the floor. Carmen started to sob. Abu leaned against the wall and took deep breaths, his face lathered with sweat. Mohammed was staring silently at the chasm ahead of them.
‘So what now, oh wise man?’ Saeed said, close to Mohammed’s shoulder.
The Bedouin turned, his face expressionless. ‘We go back to 199 and wait to be rescued.’
28
Somewhere above Dubai, 9.46 am
The view from the microlight was astonishing and Azrael felt absolutely triumphant. The chaos, the death, the pain he had caused. It was intoxicating. The tower was gutted. Hundreds of people – tiny dots on the ground – were rushing across the forecourt.
He had trained for three months with the microlight and knew exactly what he was doing. There were at least three rescue helicopters flying around the building and he spotted a military chopper a little way off.
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