Vengeance. Mystery Writers of America Presents B00A25NLU4

drifting slowly into the gray sky.
    “I don’t think so,” he said. “That wouldn’t be right.”

THE HOTLINE
    BY DREDA SAY MITCHELL
    R ukshana Malik wasn’t angry when she was passed over for promotion at the London bank where she worked. It was true that Sarah, the successful candidate, wasn’t as well qualified. It was also true that she was a bit younger, but Rukshana didn’t want to draw any conclusions from that. After the selection process was over, her manager had given her a debriefing in which he explained that it had been a very close thing and that Rukshana still had a very bright future with the company — after all, she was only twenty-nine. He also suggested that the next time a position came up, she should go to him so he could prep her with some interview practice. Rukshana liked Jeff; he was a great boss. So she was disappointed and a bit puzzled, but she wasn’t angry.
    Her family was, though. They suspected that the reason she hadn’t been given the promotion was that she was a Muslim who wore a headscarf. Her sister, Farah, asked, “This girl who got the job, what does she look like?”
    “Well, she’s young and blond . . .”
    “And very good-looking, I imagine?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Oh, wake up, Rocky.” Farah waved her hands in the air. She was wearing her pale blue soft leather gloves with the fancy fringe at the end and the three white buttons on the tops, one of her newest fashion accessories.
    “It’s not like that; they have strict policies on race, religion, gender, and the rest of it.”
    Her sister sighed and shook her head with pity. Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that Rukshana was the older of the two, and an outsider could be forgiven for not realizing they were related at all. Farah wore her faith lightly, dressed in Western clothes, and was a party girl with dark brown eyes that flashed and sparkled like her gold jewelry.
    The following week, Rukshana was called away from her desk to see a guy from Personnel. As soon as he told her that she was a highly valued member of the staff and a key member of the team, she knew what was coming, and sure enough she was right. He went on, “Unfortunately, in today’s harsh financial climate, tough decisions have to be taken . . .”
    Rukshana was let go, but she still wasn’t angry. She was handed a letter that included a nice payoff and a glowing reference, and all her coworkers said that they were sorry to see her leave. But she was nonetheless let go. She was in tears as she cleared her desk and didn’t see an angry Jeff appear from his office.
    “Is this true, what I’ve heard?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “This is outrageous. I’m going up to Personnel, they’re not getting away this.” He started walking toward the elevator.
    She grabbed his arm and dragged him back. “Please, don’t. It’s all right, honestly.”
    “I don’t care.”
    He stormed off, and she didn’t see him again before she left. Farah was equally angry when Rukshana told her what had happened. “You should sue the bastards.”
    “For what?”
    “Like Marlon Brando said in
The Wild One,
‘Whaddya got?’ There’s race, religion, gender — sue them for all three. Make them pay. Drag their arses through the courts, embarrass them in public, chuck dirt at them, and make them wish they’d never heard your name.”
    “It’s not worth it.”
    Farah was genuinely baffled. “What’s the matter with you, Rocky? Why aren’t you angry? I’d be fizzing if people treated me like that.”
    “I’m just not angry.”
    And it was true — she wasn’t. She was upset, scared, shocked, and confused. London could be a tough city at the best of times, and when you had no job and bills to pay, it was a very frightening place indeed. But she still wasn’t angry.
    That evening she got a call from Kelly, her best friend at the bank. “Rukshana, I can’t believe they’ve done this to you. You’ve got to get them back.”
    Not another person telling her to sue . . .
    “You can’t take an employer to court for letting you go. That’s not how it works.”
    “I’m not talking about the bank. I’m talking about Jeff and that bitch Sarah.”
    Confused, Rukshana answered, “It’s got nothing to do with Jeff and even less to do with Sarah.”
    There was a long silence before Kelly said, “Oh, of course, maybe you don’t know . . .”
    “What don’t I know?”
    “About Jeff and Sarah. About them having a bit of