Whatever It Takes

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Where you go, I go too. That’s mega-important.”

  Zain was too nervous to eat breakfast but Roman made him a bowl of oatmeal with a mashed up over-ripe banana and insisted he finish it.

  “Are you going to ask me to take my bag?” Zain muttered.

  “I should but I won’t.”

  Zain melted in Roman’s arms and Roman held him tight. “If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Roman held Zain by his shoulders. “Read the instructions. Don’t panic. Keep an eye on the time. Try to answer all the questions. Don’t overthink things and remember the blowjob I’ll be giving you later.”

  Zain laughed. “And?”

  “Oh yeah, and the one you’ll be giving me.”

  Zain switched on his phone when they were in the car heading to the test centre.

  “Shit. It’s still showing virtually no battery life.”

  “It was plugged in all night.”

  “Maybe it’s finally decided to die.”

  “We’ll swap. You take mine.”

  “It’s fine. Phones have to be handed in before I go into the test.”

  “I don’t want you without a phone. Take mine. I’ll go and get yours charged up, and I’ll be back to get you at twelve. I looked the place up online and there’s a Lidl across the road. Ninety minutes free customer parking so I’ll buy something then stay in the car. Call me and I’ll be seconds away. If you can’t get through, then assume I’ll be outside waiting.”

  “Okay.”

  “The code to unlock the phone is 7910. Then 4719 on the next prompt. Don’t get it wrong or it will self-destruct in five seconds.”

  “What?”

  Roman laughed. “The data will be wiped.”

  “0719. Got it.”

  Roman groaned. “Good thing I know you’re joking. The place is coming up on the left.”

  He pulled up on double yellow lines outside the door. Zain leaned over to kiss him.

  “You don’t need luck. You’ll do brilliantly.” Roman reached over to push Zain’s door open. “I love you.”

  The door closed and he’d driven off before Zain came to his senses. He loves me. He walked into the building smiling, queued at reception to show his passport and the printed-out confirmation of the booking—still smiling. A photograph was taken—yep, he was smiling, then he had to sign to say he understood the exam rules. Once he’d handed in the phone, he moved to wait outside the exam room.

  No one was talking. One girl chewed her nails. A guy shuffled his feet. Another was mouthing what were probably mnemonics. All that went through Zain’s head were the words I love you. Roman would be waiting for him when he got out. What would it take for them to be able to stay together? This afternoon, they’d find out. Now Zain had to put it out of his mind.

  They filed silently into the room and sat in little cubicles with computers. There were noise cancelling headphones if required and Zain put them around his neck. On the desk next to the computer was a laminated booklet and a marker pen to make notes. Zain checked that the pen worked. There was a basic calculator as part of the computer programme and Zain had made sure he practised using it when he’d done the test papers. He didn’t have a weak area but he had to get his timing right and not spend too long thinking. Guess, flag, move on. That was the advice he’d most often seen. His heart thudded. Then the bell rang to announce the start of the test.

  Roman drove back underneath his building and headed for his parking spot. It was near the stairs and the lift, and he was going to be quick in and out. Pick up the charger, go back to the café he’d seen about three quarters of a mile from the test centre, have a coffee and charge the phone before he drove to the Lidl car park. He didn’t want to be too far away from Zain. Just a feeling in his gut but he was anxious. Maybe he was just worried because he wanted Zain to do well.

  He exited the car, locked it, and turned to see Faddei, Arkady’s driver and bodyguard standing behind him. Roman’s heart skipped a beat but he didn’t panic, not until Faddei stepped forward and punched him. Roman gasped as he doubled over. Fuck!

  While he could still move, he did, pretending to be more affected by the blow than he was. He slumped back against the car, but dropped into a crouch and shot sideways slipping out of Faddei’s reach until he hit another obstacle. Dima, who shoved him back into Faddei’s arms.

  Have to get away! But there was a sharp pain in Roman’s neck, as if he’d been stung by a wasp, and the world blanked out.

  When he came to, he was careful not to show it, trying to gather as much knowledge of his situation as he could before they realised he was awake. His hands were tied in front of him with rope. He hurt but no bones were broken. Not yet. He still wore his clothes and he was lying on his side on a cold concrete floor. The place smelt of dust. It wasn’t dark but not entirely light.

  Zain? Roman had no idea of the time. Was the exam done? Zain waiting for him? He was glad he’d not had chance to recharge Zain’s phone, because… Roman cried out as he suddenly found himself hauled up by his arms. He opened his eyes to see Faddei and Dima in front of him. Faddei was holding the rope that was looped over a beam and attached to Roman’s wrists. He tied it off around a metal wall bracket to leave Roman on the tips of his toes, his arms stretched above his head.

  Roman saw the blow coming from Dima and twisted to try and avoid it. His muscles tensed as Dima’s fist landed under his ribs. The impact stole the air from Roman’s lungs, sent intense pain racing through his chest and abdomen and made inhaling impossible. The agony was so severe he thought the blow must have ruptured something. He spat out blood and sucked in air. At least he could breathe again.

  What had they found out?

  “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for you to fuck up.” Dima walked around the room. “I knew you would. Eventually. But fuck, it was worth waiting for.”

  A room with no windows. One door made of iron bars. There was a dirty mattress in one corner, a bucket in the other. Roman wasn’t going to think about the stains on the floor. It seemed unlikely he was the first to be hanging there.

  “You’ve fucked up before now but whenever you did, there was some feasible excuse or a reason for my father to blame someone else.”

  Dima walked right up to Roman until their faces were inches apart. “I could never see what he saw in you. Well, maybe when you were a kid. A good little boy, helping your daddy wash the car, kicking your ball, playing the saxophone. Always polite. Never in trouble. Well now you’re in deep shit.”

  Roman said nothing. He wasn’t sure what they thought or knew that he’d done. Until he was, it was better to stay silent. The absence of Qash worried him. The presence of Faddei worried him. Was Arkady behind this? If he was, Roman was already dead. He couldn’t let himself think about Zain.

  “How long have you liked sucking cocks?” Dima asked. “Do you mind whether they’re cut or not? Do you take them up your arse as well, you filthy cocksucker?”

  Well, that answered one question Roman wouldn’t have asked.

  “I’d love you to suck my cock. Fucking choke you with it. But I don’t trust you. Maybe I could persuade Zain. Faddei can squeeze the juice and pips out of a lemon with one hand. Imagine what he could do to your balls. I think Zain would do anything to stop that happening. And after I’d had your little twink, I’d have you.”

  Oh God. Roman’s balls were fighting to find a place to hide.

  “I’m sure you’ll like watching Zain give me head.” Dima grinned. “And think how much he’ll enjoy seeing you suck me off.”

  You bastard. Roman wrapped his fingers around the rope he hung from and brought his knees up hard into Dima’s groin. The good news was that Dima dropped back screaming in pain, the bad news that Faddei slammed something against Roman’s head. The world blanked out for the second time.

  Zain blew out a long breath when the test finished. He’d done a small amount
of guessing, flagging and moving on. All the practice he’d done had paid off. He’d had time to go back and check everything he’d flagged and he hoped he’d done okay.

  The results were handed to him as he came out of the testing room. He couldn’t look at them for a moment. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his head above the excited students milling around him. He collected his belongings, including Roman’s phone and moved toward the stairs before he looked at his score. He had a higher mark than he’d achieved last time and was in band one for situational judgement. There hadn’t been a question about a dog. He exhaled and smiled.

  The folded paper went safely into his pocket. He took out the phone, tapped in 7910, waited, then 4719 and called his phone. When it went straight to messaging, Zain frowned. Why would Roman have the phone off? Maybe it hadn’t charged properly. That was more than likely. He went slowly down the stairs and the others who’d taken the test hurried past him. Roman had said to wait inside but Zain wanted to take a look outside to see if he could see the car.

  A big white van was idling by the door but there was no sign of Roman. Zain wasn’t sure what to do. He went back inside. The joy of doing well had been swamped by worry. If Roman hadn’t been able to charge the phone, he’d have found another phone to use to tell him. Unless someone had stopped him. Something was wrong. Roman wouldn’t be late. The longer he hesitated, the worse it might get and if he was wrong and all was well, then so what?

  Zain took out the phone and called Helen. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “You sound croaky, Roman.”

  “This is Zain Nasry. Roman lent me his phone and he has mine and he should be here and he isn’t and I’m worried.” He raced the words out.

  “Tell me exactly what’s happened and give me the number of the phone Roman has.”

  After he’d done all that, she snapped, “Make sure the phone is locked but keep it on. I’m sending someone to get you.”

  “Okay.”

  She ended the call and Zain did as she’d instructed.

  “I’m afraid you have to leave the building now,” a woman said behind him. “We’re closing for lunch.”

  The van was still there, though everyone but Zain had gone. It crossed his mind that Roman had swapped vehicles because the car had broken down but if he had, he’d have seen Zain come out of the door earlier. So who was in the van?

  Zain moved out of sight, slipped the phone into his sock and pulled down his jeans before he pushed open the door and exited. How long would it take Helen to get someone here? Zain was torn between leaning against the wall outside the centre or walking towards Lidl, when the van door swung open and Qashim stepped out. Zain stumbled in shock and that was enough. Qashim pushed his fingers into the front of Zain’s shoulder at the base of his neck and the world winked out.

  When he regained consciousness, he was slumped in the passenger seat of the van which was moving. Zain groaned and pushed himself up. Qashim had put the seat belt around him, which made Zain want to laugh. Fuck! He didn’t think he’d been out long. Qashim had pressed his brachial plexus nerve. The bastard. Zain had told him how to do that when they were boys.

  “Hello, Zain,” Qashim said in Arabic.

  Zain thought of a lot of things to say while his heart hammered faster and faster, and finally all he came out with was, “Hello, Qashim.”

  He slid his hand to the door and felt for the handle. If Qashim slowed down, he’d throw himself out.

  “Won’t open,” Qashim said. “Child lock.”

  Shit. And now Qashim had seen him try to get away. “I can’t believe it’s you,” Zain said. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I’ve been looking for you a long time.”

  Zain tried to repress his shudder. “I haven’t been hiding. I thought you were dead. You disappeared the day my mother and sisters died. I thought you’d been caught up in the explosion.” Try to sound normal.

  “Did you look for me?”

  “Of course I did. All day and into the night, pulling at the rubble with my hands until my father dragged me away. We didn’t find my mother or the twins either. What happened to you?”

  “A rebel group took me.”

  “Oh God. Which one?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I escaped eventually but by the time I was free, you’d disappeared. I found a doctor who told me your father had died and you’d left Aleppo. I knew you’d come to England. It was what you always spoke about. So I made my way here and continued to look.”

  I was right. It was of no consolation. What did Qashim want? Where was Roman? Careful! Zain had to tread cautiously now. “How long have you been here?”

  “Three years.”

  Zain huffed. “Longer than me. You got here first.”

  “Everywhere on the road to get here, I looked for you, asked for you. I never stopped. Did you look for me?”

  “I looked for faces of anyone I might know but I thought you were dead.”

  “You could have been dead,” Qashim yelled. “But I never gave up hope.”

  Zain flinched.

  “We had plans. We had dreams. We had a future all mapped out. Inshallah.”

  God didn’t will it. Neither did I.

  “I came over the Channel in a boat. Watched how the traffickers worked and set up my own transport route. I thought maybe you’ll turn up one day and ask for a ride in one of my boats. I had a picture of you. One your father took of us both. I made copies of just you. I handed them out. What did you do to find me?”

  “I thought you were dead,” Zain repeated.

  “You didn’t use one of my boats to get to the UK. But I found out you were here. I paid someone to hack records. You wouldn’t stay anywhere other than London but it’s a big city. How could I find you?”

  Zain stayed silent.

  “No ideas? Where did we meet today?”

  Zain’s heart thumped hard.

  “I paid someone else to hack for me. I knew you had to take this UCAT. You took it last year but I missed you. I couldn’t believe we’d come so close and I missed you. You vanished into London. I looked but didn’t find you. I had to wait. You didn’t get a place at university so I knew you’d have to take this test again. But then my luck turned at last. You worked at Musa’s. Bad luck for me I didn’t know that at once. Bad luck for you that you found the wallet. Good luck for me that you were suddenly close by.”

  Zain had no idea what to do. He could say whatever Qashim needed to hear, but he didn’t know what that was.

  “Musa’s? You know about the wallet?”

  “Don’t pretend.”

  Qashim flung out his arm and smacked Zain in the mouth. He gasped then groaned in pain.

  “Are you glad I survived?”

  “Of course I’m glad you survived,” Zain whispered.

  Qashim glanced at him and smiled. Zain felt his balls shrivel.

  “I’ve saved all my money for us,” Qashim said. “We can go where we like. Do whatever we want. Buy a house. I can pay for you to train as doctor.”

  Shit.

  “You don’t seem happy to hear that.”

  No, I’m fucking not. “I can’t let you pay for that.” Ask him about Roman! Zain was afraid to let the words out but afraid to keep them in. “Where’s Roman?”

  Qashim’s fingers tightened around the wheel. “Did you pass the test?”

  “Yes.” But not this test.

  “Why did you not find me once you realised Roman knew me?”

  Was there any right answer he could give?

  “Because you were involved with something I didn’t want to get involved with. Something that might stop me being a doctor.”

  “But what Roman does is acceptable?”

  “I have no idea what Roman does.”

  “Liar.” Qashim hit him again.

  Zain’s head whipped to the side and he tasted blood in his mouth.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Where would you like to go? St
art a new life with me or go to see Roman?”

  Zain realised at that moment, that he wasn’t going to survive. No way did he want Qashim in his future but Qashim wasn’t going to let him go. If there was a chance to spend his last moments with Roman, that was his choice. Whether Qashim would listen was another matter. “I want to see Roman.”

  Qashim gave a heavy sigh. “Do you still pray?”

  “Sometimes. Now seems a good time.”

  Qashim laughed. “You were always funny.”

  “When did you know the Zain who found the wallet was me?”

  “The moment I heard the name Zain, I suspected. I thanked Allah for finally granting my prayers. I watched. I listened. Roman changed. Cold turned warm. The smell in his flat. The removal of his car. The saxophone on the roof. Love song. Then I was sure.”

  “Both your fathers were killed by car bombs.”

  Qashim made a dismissive sound. “You think that makes us friends?”

  Zain clenched his fists. “You know that I’m gay?”

  “I know.”

  “Are you? Is—?”

  The next blow struck his ear and for a moment, everything went white with pain. Zain shut up. He should have shut up sooner.

  This was bad. The only thing that gave him hope was the phone tucked into his sock because while it was switched on, it could be traced.

  Qashim parked outside a dilapidated-looking warehouse close to the Thames. Zain took in as many details as he could. Three dark cars were lined up outside. Qashim came to Zain’s side and tugged him out of the van. He kept his hand wrapped around Zain’s arm, but Zain wasn’t going to run.

  “All because you found that wallet.” Qashim sighed.

  “I didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t have.”

  “You were always the honest boy.”

  “Who needed a dishonest friend.” Zain sighed. “We wouldn’t have survived as long as we did without you.”

  “Your mother and sisters…”

  “No one could save them from a bomb. I know I’ve disappointed you but thank you for everything you did for us. You brought my mother and my sisters joy.”