One Way Out

by A. A. Dhand

  ‘Sit down or I’ll lie you down,’ said Harry.

  She slumped into the chair, eyes raging.

  Harry told Isaac to back away.

  God only knew what this was doing to the kid’s mind. He was alone, no one left in the world, and now he had the promise of a sibling. However much he hated his father, this would surely be too much for him.

  Harry reached for his phone to try Saima again when a commotion from behind drew his attention.

  ‘Armed police!’

  He turned, horrified to see half a dozen officers with MP5 machine guns rushing towards him.

  Military. Not police.

  This was serious.

  ‘On your knees! Hands in the air!’

  One went to Isaac, a second to Amelia. Two came for Harry.

  ‘Down! Now!’

  Christ, how had they found him?

  He kept his eyes up as he lay on the floor.

  Ben stood in the doorway, arms folded. Harry had believed he could trust him. So much for old friends.

  This was over.

  EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Harry was locked inside the prison cell with the four leaders of Almukhtaroon. They were practically on top of one another, all handcuffed and gagged, watching the military guards outside their cell.

  One hour to the deadline. And no cards left to play. Harry hoped the Patriots were bluffing.

  His body was tired, aching, ready to switch off, but his brain was on high alert. Voices at the end of the corridor grabbed his attention. One he recognized. Tariq Islam.

  Military personnel, faces still covered, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and led him outside, locking the cell behind. He was marched down the corridor into a small, dank room where his hands were freed and the tape over his mouth removed.

  ‘You look like hell,’ said Tariq, alarmed.

  ‘What the fuck is happening?’ Harry winced with the effort of speaking. He looked to Tariq’s left, to a man in khaki he didn’t recognize, and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘This is Colonel David Allen, elite military commander.’

  ‘So?’ said Harry, massaging his ribs. The morphine seemed to be wearing off, his insides feeling like they were once again being squeezed.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to talk this through,’ said Allen and left the room.

  ‘You want to sit down? Look like you need it.’

  ‘Get on with it,’ said Harry, staying where he was.

  ‘I understand from your mate Ben that the kid may have been helpful.’

  ‘He isn’t like them.’

  Tariq nodded. ‘Amelia told our guys she’s pregnant. That true?’

  ‘Seems so.’

  ‘Fuck,’ whispered Tariq.

  Harry shuffled to a chair and perched on the edge. ‘It’s over.’ Saima. ‘Can you get the military to storm the mosque?’

  Tariq shook his head. ‘High probability it will blow.’

  ‘So, we do nothing?’

  Tariq sighed. ‘Up until twenty minutes ago, we had a play here,’ he said, nodding back the way Harry had come. ‘Until Ben dialled 999 and blew this wide open.’

  Harry hung his head, foolish to have thought with everything going on that Ben wouldn’t have recognized Almukhtaroon. If Harry had been in his shoes he would have done the same thing.

  Harry turned towards Tariq, then back the other way, trying to find a position in which he felt slightly less pain.

  ‘Before you came in, Allen and I shared a call with the Patriots.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Tariq closed the gap between them. ‘We told them we have Almukhtaroon. That the woman is pregnant and we wouldn’t bring her to the mosque.’

  ‘The mosque?’

  Tariq frowned. ‘They said they’ll release two hundred and fifty worshippers for each member of Almukhtaroon.’

  ‘If you’re not giving them Amelia, they’ll only release seven hundred and fifty people?’

  ‘They want the people responsible for making the UK less secure. I’m the Home Secretary, in charge of law and order, the one who tried and failed to prosecute Almukhtaroon.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The Patriots want four people. I’m going to take Abu-Nazir, Azeez and Isaac into the mosque and try to settle this myself.’ Tariq waved his phone again at Harry. ‘That’s what has been agreed.’

  ‘Who signed off on this?’

  Tariq said nothing.

  Harry understood. Tariq had made a deal with the military commander.

  Frost didn’t have a clue. He would think the Almukhtaroon had been lost to the night. Tariq, once again, was taking matters into his own hands.

  ‘You’ve got a daughter,’ said Harry.

  ‘I’m betting my diplomacy works inside that mosque.’

  ‘None of them will go willingly.’

  ‘They won’t know. Blindfolded, gagged, earplugged, handcuffed. They’ll think we’re doing our jobs and taking them into safe custody.’

  Harry put his head in his hands. ‘You can’t do this.’

  ‘If I fall with Almukhtaroon and it saves a thousand people, there’s nothing better I can do with my life. Allowing a thousand Muslims to perish will ruin this country.’

  Harry didn’t push it any further. His thoughts, perhaps selfishly, were now on Saima.

  ‘The mosque must have a cordon around it. How many officers on the ground? Few hundred? How the fuck are you going to get anywhere near it with your captives if Frost hasn’t signed this off?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, Harry. I was hoping you might help me.’

  EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Thirty minutes to the Patriots’ deadline.

  Harry was alone with Commander David Allen while his men, together with Tariq, got Almukhtaroon ready to leave.

  What they were discussing was nothing short of mutiny.

  ‘That’s the plan,’ said Harry, trying not to show Allen he was in agony.

  Allen cracked his knuckles, his bulky frame seeming to fill the room. ‘I’ve worked with my men for a decade. I know what they can deliver, and the degree of certainty. Now you want me to place all of my faith in you?’

  Harry wanted to close the gap between them but didn’t want to stand, afraid he’d collapse. His chest felt like it was fracturing. What he really needed was another morphine hit but the armed officers had taken the bottle from him when he’d been thrown in the cell.

  ‘I secured Almukhtaroon. Hardly a walk in the fucking park.’

  ‘That’s what got you in this room.’ Allen walked across to Harry. ‘Stand up.’

  Harry delayed it a second, gritting his teeth trying to disguise it from Allen, and stood up. He stared the commander in the face.

  Allen put his hands out, one on each side of Harry’s ribs, and pressed lightly.

  Harry collapsed on to his chair and only partially suppressed a scream. He slid off it, ending up on the floor.

  He rested his head on the tiles, eyes closed, unable to look at Allen.

  ‘You’re a mess.’

  Harry took a few short, shallow breaths. ‘Your men took some morphine from me. Another hit and I’ll be fine.’

  Allen crouched by Harry’s side. ‘I don’t doubt you’re a special kind of police officer. Hell, I know a soldier when I see one. I also know when a man’s beaten.’

  ‘Help me to my feet,’ said Harry.

  Carefully, Allen did so.

  Harry put his hands on Allen’s shoulder, not just for stability but because he wanted him to know he still had something left in the tank.

  ‘Fine, I’m hurt. Almost down, but know what keeps me going? The thought of my wife in that mosque. My kid at home and my city on its fucking knees. I’ll be damned if I let a little pain stop me now. You’ve heard my pitch – it’s the best thing we have right now. Put me in the game. I won’t let you down, sir.’

  The men measured each other, Harry determined to show Allen he was able to see it through. Bradford couldn’t go down like this.

  Allen lowered Harry’s
hands from his shoulders. ‘No commander wants to send his troops into a fifty–fifty. Know this, though, Harry. If you get to the doors and the hostages are not released, we will be forced to come in. Everything is set. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll get you your morphine.’

  Allen tried to step past Harry but he didn’t move.

  ‘The weapon I asked for? Do you have one? It’s our only way in.’

  A pause.

  Allen nodded reluctantly and walked out of the room.

  EIGHTY-NINE

  Harry swigged at the liquid morphine.

  ‘Easy with that stuff,’ said Isaac.

  Harry sealed the bottle and put it in his pocket, keeping his back towards Isaac so he couldn’t see how badly he was struggling.

  Broken ribs, for sure.

  Outside Abu-Nazir and Azeez were being loaded into a Bradford City football van. Amelia had been left in the prison cell under armed guard.

  ‘Did Tariq fill you in?’ said Harry.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If we pull this shit off, you’ll be able to sell your sketches for enough money to never work again.’

  Isaac came to Harry’s side. ‘We need to go. Are you sure you can manage?’

  Harry ignored the question. ‘Did Allen show you … the weapon? Are you sure you got it? This is all on you now.’

  ‘I can do this.’ He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

  Tariq entered the room, phone in hand, and waved it at Harry. ‘Are you all good?’

  Harry nodded. ‘Make the damn call.’

  NINETY

  Saima was inside Imam Hashim’s office with Maria.

  His face said it all – how had he not noticed her?

  He handed the phone back to Maria. The call had been short, the Patriots claiming Almukhtaroon were soon to be brought to the mosque and that this was over.

  Maria spoke dispassionately. ‘As you heard, with each member of Almukhtaroon to enter the mosque, we will release a quarter of the followers. Your job is to tell everyone this is happening, organize them and ensure they do as we say.’

  Hashim sat still, stunned into silence.

  Saima felt he was thinking the same thing she was: could they really make it out of here alive so easily? Just walk out?

  ‘What about me?’ she said to Maria.

  ‘You’re of no interest to me any more. You and Hashim will be in the last group to leave. All we want is Almukhtaroon.’

  ‘Why?’ replied Saima.

  Maria waved her phone at her. ‘Six million votes have been cast. The people have decided.’

  NINETY-ONE

  The Bradford City minibus had blacked-out windows. Almukhtaroon were in the back, out of sight. Harry watched as Commander Allen raised his hand to the guard on the street. The military had control of the main route from Valley Parade stadium to the Mehraj mosque, a half-mile journey mostly straight down Midland Road. Each road block had stood down on Commander Allen’s instruction.

  They pulled up at the final blockade, the mosque directly ahead. To their left were hundreds of officers in full riot gear. It wasn’t that that distracted Harry. It was the sight of thousands of people holding candles in Forster Square.

  In the distance behind them, Harry could just see the Far Right protesters, placards raised.

  The sound was deafening. Chants, shouts, a low hum of prayer.

  Allen turned to Harry. ‘Ready?’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘I need to hear it.’

  ‘We’re set,’ replied Harry forcefully. The morphine hadn’t properly kicked in yet but he did have a warm, calm sensation in the pit of his stomach.

  Allen turned to the row of seating behind him. ‘Isaac – this is it.’

  The boy looked tense. ‘I’m ready.’

  Allen handed Isaac a white-phosphorus grenade. Same size and shape as a regular one but instead of an explosive, it would release a noxious cloud of gas, the phosphorus burning people’s eyes, temporarily blinding them. It was the perfect decoy.

  ‘You pull the pin out, hold it safe while you get past the cordon. You only replace the pin when the mosque doors open and worshippers start to emerge. If they do not come out, I will authorize a full-out assault. At that point, you’ll need to run.’

  Isaac nodded, trying to appear resolute.

  Allen confirmed the plan with Harry then turned to Tariq. ‘Anything to add?’

  ‘No,’ he said, unlocking his phone and holding it to his ear. It was time to call the Patriots.

  ‘We are here. Bradford City football van. At the perimeter. When we get to the front of the mosque, we’ll stand aside to let the worshippers out.’ Tariq hung up. ‘We’re on. As agreed, they are going to release seven hundred and fifty when we’re at the door. The remaining two hundred and fifty worshippers will be held until we’re inside the mosque. Harry, you’ll wait outside and, once everyone is out, you retreat to the cordon with Allen. It’s just the four of us going in.’

  ‘Let’s make this happen,’ said Allen, as armed personnel approached the vehicle, weapons raised.

  ‘God speed to you boys,’ he added and opened his door. Isaac followed suit. The officers saw their commander and awaited instruction, weapons lowered.

  That all changed the moment Isaac raised his hand, removed the pin from the grenade and shouted, ‘Stand down! Or I’ll drop the grenade and we all die!’

  Harry was by his side, Azeez and Abu-Nazir between them, unaware of what was happening, the blindfold, gags and earplugs in place. Harry braced himself for gunshots.

  Allen and Tariq raised their hands, Allen shouting at his men, ‘Stand down! He has a live grenade!’

  Radios crackled, officers backed away hurriedly, putting maximum distance between themselves and Isaac.

  Harry heard the noise of the crowds fall away, replaced by something else … the murmur of uncertainty. They’d seen something change at the perimeter but the van was obscuring their view.

  Allen stepped towards his men, arms raised. ‘We don’t have control here. Back away, allow these men through the cordon!’

  Harry was holding his breath, eyes on Isaac. He leaned closer and hissed, ‘Don’t look at them. Focus on the front door of the mosque. Walk forward slowly.’

  Isaac yelled again for everyone to back away, voice shaky, hand trembling.

  They had no choice, unaware it was only a phosphorus grenade. Having pulled the pin, his hand was now effectively a dead-man’s switch. If he was taken out, he’d drop the grenade and they would all die.

  ‘Move,’ hissed Tariq as a gap in the cordon opened ahead of them.

  Harry knew Gold Command would be getting these images live over CCTV. Frost would be shitting himself. How the hell had this happened?

  They would claim that Allen and his men had stormed the football club and been caught by Isaac holding a grenade. They’d been forced to stand down and obey Isaac’s demands for him and his crew to enter the mosque and end the siege.

  They would tell them how Isaac Wolfe had turned on Almukhtaroon.

  If they saw this shit through, he would emerge a hero.

  Harry had simply gone after the Almukhtaroon as instructed by his superiors. In the chaos of the night, they were banking on Frost forgetting that Harry had signed off.

  And Tariq? He’d figure out his part.

  Allen had joined his team now, relaying orders Harry couldn’t hear but he saw the guards lower their weapons.

  He wondered how many snipers in strategic positions around the mosque currently had their weapons focused on Isaac’s head.

  They couldn’t shoot. It would be certain death for all of them.

  Isaac shouted for Allen to walk them through the cordon. They wouldn’t do anything stupid with their commander at risk.

  They moved quickly but in an orderly way, Allen at the front, then Harry escorting Azeez, Isaac behind him, grenade raised, and finally Tariq with Abu-Nazir. It had been Allen’s decision to put Isaac in the middle so a
sniper’s shot was more unlikely.

  Halfway, Azeez stumbled then slumped to the ground.

  ‘No sudden movements!’ yelled Allen, turning to see what had happened.

  Harry couldn’t drag the bastard to his feet – he didn’t have the strength left to do it. Allen stepped up, lifted Azeez from the floor and dragged him along.

  Harry turned to Isaac. ‘You good?’

  ‘Ready to throw up,’ he replied, pale and shaky.

  They arrived near the entrance of the mosque about four minutes after they had broken through the cordon. The noise behind them was incredible, as if the whole city were whispering as one.

  ‘Here we go,’ said Harry, turning to Tariq. ‘Do it.’

  They removed the blindfolds from Abu-Nazir and Azeez’s faces and took out their earplugs. Azeez barely knew what was going on, lost in a delirium. Nazir was a different animal. He started to struggle, realizing what was about to happen.

  ‘Hey,’ snapped Harry, stepping towards him. ‘You mess this up and your wife and kid die. Back at the stadium, there’s a gun at Amelia’s head. Here, there’s probably a dozen snipers itching to take you out, so stand the fuck down!’

  Nazir’s face screwed up in rage but he stopped fighting his restraints.

  Tariq put his phone to his ear.

  ‘What now?’ said Harry.

  ‘We wait,’ replied Tariq.

  Harry looked up. The sun had almost fully risen and he could see hundreds of armed guards, thousands of supporters and protesters in Forster Square, cameras trained on the entrance of the mosque, helicopters some distance away.

  The entire world was looking at them, there on that step.

  Harry checked the time on his phone: 06.00, the time the bomb should have gone off. For now, they had stopped that happening. He focused on the doors – they needed to open.

  There were several clangs of metal and then the doors of the mosque were flung open and a steady stream of people started to walk hurriedly from the building, hands raised.

  Harry held his breath, looking for Saima.