The Voice Within

by Roger Penfound

  "Father asked me to look after you. It's my duty. You answer to me now."

  He suddenly pulled her hair tight, jerking her head so that she was staring directly into his eyes.

  "We're Muslims and we must behave as Muslims. If we break the rules we must be punished."

  They pulled into an empty car park in the centre of Derby. Around them, early office workers were arriving and slowly filling the empty spaces.

  "I think we should check the spyware again and see where Nick is now," suggested Doug as he pulled the laptop from the back seat.

  The cursor remained positioned over Derby. Doug zoomed in to see the detail.

  "He's not far from here but he's moving away from the city centre towards Coronation Road. That's where the spyware shows Aleena's phone. He must have got an address. We need to get after him."

  Hakim's friends had arrived. They were furtive and appeared uneasy. Hakim made her a mug of tea and allowed her to pee again in the bucket. By this time the indignity of going in front of them seemed small compared with what she was about to face.

  The door to the lock-up opened again and another man entered. He was older than the others – probably in his thirties. He wore a turban and had a full black beard which reached to his chest. Hakim greeted him deferentially and addressed him as Imam. The man ignored Aleena and spoke in whispers to the other men out of her earshot.

  At one end of the space they set four chairs in a row. The men sat opposite Aleena, studiously avoiding her gaze. She was overwhelmed by a complete sense of helplessness.

  Doug and Julia hurried along streets of terraced houses interspersed with small businesses and yards. It had begun to rain again and the iPad was getting wet.

  "We're at this junction here," exclaimed Julia, rotating the iPad so that it aligned with the road they were on.

  "Surely not. This is Pemberton Road. We need to take a right at this junction."

  They moved on in haste, water from puddles splashing their clothes as they followed the spyware directions.

  "Shit! The image has jammed!" exclaimed Doug.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's stopped moving – the icon. It's stuck."

  "Maybe it's the rain. Try rebooting it."

  "We can't do it in the rain. Look, there's some sort of cafe over there. Let's go in and shelter."

  The Imam finally addressed her directly.

  "You have heard what your brother and his friends have said. You have acted against the advice of your brother. You have been in a relationship with a non-Muslim and had sex outside marriage. Your brother has tried to guide you and gone to great lengths to show tolerance and forgiveness. But you have rejected his advice.

  Matters are made worse because your brother was specifically asked by your father to take care of you while at university. Through your actions, you have caused your brother to fail in your father's eyes and so lose respect. This is a terrible humiliation for a son. Understandably, your brother has sought help from within his community and you are now being judged according to religious law – Sharia law."

  "But you have no right. I'm not answerable to you," Aleena screamed in reply.

  "Sister, you are answerable only to God. We are the agents of God and work on his behalf to maintain the purity of our religion. Now, be silent or we'll silence you."

  The cafe was empty save for one other customer. They were eyed with interest as they entered. Choosing to sit by the window, they ordered coffee.

  "It's no good. I've rebooted it and it's still stuck," sighed Doug. "It must be that bloody rain."

  "We know the name of the road."

  "But we don't have the house number. Maybe we can ask."

  The proprietor arrived with their coffee.

  "Do you know Coronation Road? We're trying to find our way there."

  He didn't respond, but continued slowly moving the cups from his tray and setting them before Julia and Doug. Just as Doug was about to repeat the question he pulled himself to his full height and stroked his beard.

  "Coronation Road, you say. I think I heard of it, yes."

  There followed an animated conversation with the other customer.

  "This man is agreed. Continue down the road for three hundred metres. At the end, cross over the main road and turn right. The next turning on your left will be Coronation Road. Which number you want?"

  "We don't know," ventured Julia. "We just have a name."

  "It's Kapur," interrupted Doug. "Do you know a family called Kapur?"

  The proprietor tugged at his beard again and thought hard.

  "There are many of that name round here. Kapur is a common Muslim name. Best I think that you ask when you get there. Someone will know for sure."

  They drank their coffee quickly and set off. The rain was now falling steadily and soon their clothes were drenched. In their hurry, they hadn't thought about raincoats or umbrellas and it was too late to go back now.

  They reached the main road. The morning rush hour traffic was starting to build up and spray from the passing trucks added to their bedraggled appearance. The greyness of the morning meant that the street lights remained on, casting an orange hue across the bleakness of the urban setting.

  "Look – over the road there. I'm sure that's Coronation Road," announced Julia urgently.

  It was a long street of terraced houses stretching up a hill. On most corners were small general stores or take-aways. Doug called in at the first corner store and asked if they knew of a family called Kapur.

  "Why you want to know?" came the reply. "You police or welfare?" Doug retreated in the face of obvious hostility.

  "We've got to find them soon. Nick will be there by now and God knows what he might have started."

  "I'll try this one," volunteered Julia.

  It was a small launderette. There was only one woman in there. She looked up with concern as Julia pushed open the door.

  "Sorry, but I wondered if you could help. We're looking for a family called Kapur. It's very urgent. It's about their daughter."

  "You mean Aleena?"

  "That's her – Aleena. Do you know the family?"

  "They are my neighbours. But why do you want to know? I don't want to be getting people into trouble."

  "It's really important we speak to them. Aleena may be in danger.''

  "What sort of danger?"

  "It really is urgent. Please tell us where we can find her."

  "They live just over the road – number twenty-four. I know they're in. I saw Mr. Kapur answer the door to a young man when I came in."

  "When was that?"

  "About fifteen minutes ago."

  The four men huddled in a corner. She could hear their murmurings but couldn't make out what they were saying. The ropes were cutting into her wrists and she was desperate to sit down. Eventually, they stopped and turned to look at her. She felt the hostility of their gaze and lowered her head to avoid their eyes.

  "We have considered the evidence and have reached a conclusion," said the Imam.

  "What evidence? I haven't had a chance to defend myself," she entreated.

  "Your word does not carry the weight of your brother so your evidence is irrelevant. The punishment under Sharia law for dishonouring your family and bringing shame on your faith is one hundred lashes. The punishment for fornication and lewd behaviour is death by stoning."

  Aleena gasped and fell to the floor, the rope bonds jerking her arms upwards as she hit the concrete. No one moved. He continued.

  "The lashing will be carried out this morning in front of witnesses. Your brother will be required to deliver the punishment. Stoning is not a convenient means of death in this country so the choice of method will be left to your brother but he will be required to carry out the punishment within twenty-four hours."

  Aleena gasped for breath. The blood drained from Hakim's face as he began to comprehend. His friends looked on with fear in their eyes.

  "But surely we can show mercy? Th
e Koran allows that," pleaded Hakim – his voice shaking with emotion.

  "Once you have invoked the process of Sharia law, you must see it through to the end. Not to do so would be an insult to Allah and you would invoke his wrath."

  They stood outside number twenty-four Coronation Road, rain dripping from their already waterlogged clothing.

  "Are you ready?" asked Doug.

  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

  "We've come this far. We're not stopping now."

  Doug raised the brass knocker and brought it down briskly onto the plate beneath.

  Chapter 20: Derby, April 29th 2011

  They left her tied up, her body slumped on the concrete floor. She drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to comprehend fully what had been decreed. She heard her brother's voice – pleading – and the murmur of others who came and went. At one point, Hakim came across to where she lay. He lifted her face so that her eyes were facing his. She saw that his face was streaked with tears and full of grief.

  "Sister, I'm sorry. I just wanted to teach you a lesson – never this."

  A sharp rebuke caused him to turn away. Aleena fell once more to the floor, her head hitting the cold concrete.

  Doug knocked three times on the door. The house seemed lifeless except for a distant light that was just visible through the stained glass window of the front door. He tried once more. The light grew brighter as an internal door opened and someone made their way towards them. Doug and Julia felt their bodies stiffen.

  "Let me do the talking," requested Doug anxiously.

  The door opened. A slight, bearded man with steel-rimmed glasses cast his eyes over them.

  "My name is Douglas Penhallam."

  "I know who you are. Your son arrived here a short while ago. He's in a troubled state. Can't quite understand what it's about. But it seems to involve my daughter."

  "Is he alright?"

  "Upset and very wet. So are you it seems. You'd better come in."

  Julia was introduced as a close friend as they were shown into the front parlour. The light was turned on to reveal a small sitting room containing a sofa and two armchairs gathered round a two bar electric fire.

  "Your son – he is in the kitchen. My wife – she tries to make him warm with hot drink. I bring him here."

  Moments later a woman appeared with towels. She spoke little English and quickly withdrew from the room.

  "Dad! How did you find me?"

  Nick entered the room. He was haggard and drawn. They looked at each other awkwardly before Doug did something he had never done before. He reached out and threw his arms around his son, pulling him tightly to his body.

  "You must tell me what this is about," demanded Aleena's father as he came back into the room. "What are you all doing in my house?"

  "We think your daughter may be in danger," blurted out Doug.

  "My Aleena? Why? What has happened? Please tell me," he asked anxiously. Doug started to talk but Nick interrupted.

  "No, Dad. I must do this. You see, Mr. Kapur, Aleena and I are friends. More than that, we love each other."

  Aleena's father remained silent – his eyes steely and cold.

  "I know you won't like this and it's not what you intended for her. We met in the first year at university and got on so well. We found we had similar feelings and ideas."

  "What kinds of feelings and ideas?" he asked in a choked voice.

  "Neither of us felt we belonged to the lives we'd been born into. In different ways, we felt outcast. We both felt the need to find something new."

  "Muslim culture does not exclude people. It brings all people to Allah."

  "But it would exclude me. Aleena knew that you would never let us marry."

  "Who has said anything about marriage? That is not for Aleena to decide."

  "We want to stay together. But Aleena told me that it would bring shame on your family if she married outside of her religion. She told me that you already had someone in mind – a cousin living in India."

  A muscle twitched in Aleena's father's face, but otherwise he remained motionless.

  "We were hoping to appeal to you, to come and see you. But Hakim told us that you must never know. He said that you would be angry and prevent a marriage at all costs. He said Aleena would be in danger if you ever found out."

  Aleena's father leapt from his chair.

  "How dare you! How dare you! Who are you people who come here and talk of my son and daughter as if you knew them? And talk of my religion as if it was any of your concern? What I say to my daughter and what I say to my son is none of your business. But you are right. I expect my daughter to marry someone I approve of. Maybe her cousin, maybe not. But certainly a Muslim of sufficient standing. This is our way. This is our custom. I have chosen to live in your country and I accept your ways. You tell the rest of the world that you are a tolerant country. Then let me practice my religion as I want to. Don't come to my home and tell me that I should not exercise my duty to my daughter as a proper Muslim father."

  "But we're in love," protested Nick. "Doesn't that mean something to you? We want to be together and that's the most important thing in the world to us."

  "You're wrong. Being in love is not the most important thing – a person's faith is the most important thing. Because faith is who you are. It defines you. It shows you where you belong. It tells you your destiny and it establishes your small part in this world – the part that Allah has reserved for you. All this talk of love is a western trick. And look where it leads. Fornication and divorce. You and Aleena could never marry. Your worlds are different. Now, get out of my house."

  "You don't understand. She's in danger. That's why we've come. She's been kidnapped. I thought she would be here."

  "What do you mean – kidnapped?"

  Doug sat forward and intervened.

  "Two days ago Aleena disappeared."

  "How do you know this?"

  "She sent a message to Nick."

  "But who? Why?"

  "We think it may have been Hakim – with some friends."

  "No. You are wrong. Hakim wouldn't do that. I have entrusted him with the protection of Aleena. Why would he kidnap his own sister? It doesn't make sense."

  "Hakim has changed," said Nick. "He wanted Aleena and me to stop seeing each other. He said it was anti-Muslim."

  "He was right."

  "He made threats. Initially, he said it was you who would punish her, but then he began to talk about his own duty – his duty to punish Aleena for what she was doing."

  "Punish? But Hakim is a mild boy. Aleena bosses him like a big sister. No, you've got that wrong."

  "It seems that your son has joined a radical group at university," continued Doug.

  "They meet regularly and Hakim has become radicalised."

  "He's become distant from his old friends," added Nick. "He started to threaten Aleena and use bad words."

  "What bad words?"

  "He told her she was a whore."

  Aleena's father visibly gasped. He stroked his beard nervously, his eyes darting between the three of them.

  "And you say she's in danger? How do you know this? Do you know this for sure?"

  "There were messages," said Doug. "Messages on her mobile. They were threatening her."

  "How could you listen to her messages?" demanded Nick.

  Doug hesitated.

  "We had to, Nick. We had to find her."

  "So you hacked into her phone – just like all those other people, I suppose?"

  "No."

  "So where is she now? You must have tracked her phone. Where are they holding her?"

  "The tracker brought us here. We assumed Aleena must be here too."

  Nick snatched his mobile from his pocket and jabbed at the speed dial. Moments later a distant ring could be heard from upstairs.

  "Hakim must have brought it back," said Aleena's father. "He was here last night. These messages – what did they say?"
>
  "They accused her of acting immorally – against the Islamic code. They said she would be punished unless she stopped seeing Nick and made a full confession."

  "What confession? They have no right." Aleena's father spat the words out.

  "Who are these people?" demanded Doug.

  "I have an idea. They're not real Muslims. They are converts and they don't understand the Koran. They are dangerous. We must find Aleena quickly."

  There were now three newcomers – men with beards and long tunics. Hakim was there with his two friends. They had tied her arms to a pipe above her head so that she couldn't see behind.

  "You will administer the beating," said the Imam, addressing Hakim. "One hundred lashes. These men are here to observe. If you don't carry out your duty with sufficient severity, it will be considered an insult to Allah and you will be punished."

  "But, brother," pleaded Hakim, "To my own sister? I just wanted to warn her, to show her the error of her ways. This is too hard. It's not right. Aashif, Malik, help me."

  His friends stood speechless. The visitors looked on impassively. Aleena cried – slow, haunting sobs.

  "This is the whip."

  He held up a black wooden handle to which were attached three leather thongs.

  "And afterwards, use this to kill her."

  He pulled a small silver pistol from his tunic and held it out towards Hakim. Hakim froze – terror gripping his body.

  "I'll keep it till you're ready. We don't want any errors."

  "Can you think of anywhere that Hakim might have taken Aleena?" pleaded Nick.

  "How would I know? He was supposed to be at the university," replied Aleena's father, slumped morosely into one of the armchairs.

  "Have you got his mobile phone number? Maybe we could track him using that," suggested Julia.

  "I haven't, but my wife may have. I don't use those things."

  He left the room and returned quickly with a number scribbled onto a piece of paper.

  "Well, let's try ringing him first," suggested Doug. "Don't let's assume the worst."