by S A Tameez
Boreas watched the footage that Lambros had procured from a CCTV camera. Lambros was a handy person to have on the payroll. His position within the police meant he was easily able to get hold of evidence — and get rid of it, too. Lambros wasn't the only police officer that Boreas had links with, but he was the most reliable. And no one questioned him. But if they did, they, just like the vital evidence, would simply disappear, never to be seen again.
The footage showed Carolos' car pull up to the betting shop. There were two camera angles available, one that showed the back of the car and the second showing the front. Boreas' forehead creased as saw an arm come out of the car, clutching a gun, and pointing it at the betting shop.
"Pause it!" Boreas shouted, jumping out of his chair, "can you zoom in?"
"Yes, which area of the screen?"
"The hand, zoom in on the hand."
"Stop!" Boreas ordered. "What the… that’s not Carolos!"
"What do you mean?" Tasos asked, looking confused. Boreas slumped back into his chair and stared vacantly at wall.
"What the hell have I done!" he mumbled to himself.
"I don't understand..." Tasos said, looking intently at the screen. You can see the cap and the coat and he has the same tattoo on his hand.”
"That is not my brother,” he ground his teeth, “he has the tattoo... but it is on the wrong hand."
"What?"
"Carolos has a tattoo on his left hand, this man, whoever the hell he is, has the tattoo on his right hand." Boreas walked up to the window and stared out into the street, "my brother was setup, this whole thing was set up."
"By who? Dimitris?"
"And let his son get killed? No, it wasn’t Dimitris.”
"So, who?"
There was a long pause before Boreas took a deep breath and said, "Goldstein!" Boreas punched the wall. He couldn’t believe that he had carelessly fallen into a trap and had killed his own brother as a result. A brother that he loved with all his heart. The brother who’d sacrificed himself to save him when he was a child… Someone that he’d promised he would look after.
Tasos' phone began to vibrate.
"Yes," Tasos answered and then passed the phone to Boreas, "It's Dimitris."
“Dimitris, listen to me…” But Dimitris didn’t give Boreas the chance to continue.
“The time for speaking is over, I knew you weren’t in the car that went boom outside your house. I wouldn’t let you get out of it that easily. You did kill my son, after all. And now… now you will feel what I felt. You will feel the pain of being helpless, being unable to save the ones you love. There is a car following your family right now… I am so glad that you’re not in the car. I really wanted you enjoy this.”
“Dimitris, listen, Carolos did not do that shooting, I swear, we are being set up.”
Dimitris laughed hideously. “It’s amazing the lies you will say to try to save your family, I don’t blame you. You are weak, always have been. But I’m afraid that there’s nothing that can save your family now. Just as there was nothing that could save my son. I wanted you to be on the phone, helpless, while they are gunned down.”
“Dimitris, don’t do it, I can prove that it was not Carolos.”
“It’s too late for your games. And I would mourn quickly as you do not have much time before I get to you.” There were sounds of gunfire, screeching tyres and a loud explosion coming from the phone. Dimitris laughed before the phone went dead.
Boreas fell into his chair, the life completely drained out of him.
“Get everyone here. I don’t care what they are doing, just get everyone — this ends now.” Tasos nodded and walked out, leaving Boreas staring at the wall. He had lost everything, he had killed his brother. His wife and his three children were as good as dead. Regardless of how good Kostas was, he wasn’t going to survive the ambush.
Boreas now had nothing left to lose. Nothing at all.
****
“Pull over here…” Ahmed said, with the gun still pointing at the taxi driver. He was a few minutes away from the camp and didn’t want the driver to know where he was going. The thought of tying him up and leaving in his cab so he couldn’t go straight to the police crossed his mind. It seemed like the most sensible thing to do, but he talked himself out it. The sensible thing is not always the right thing to do. Not that Ahmed felt he was in any position to talk about right and wrong.
Ahmed stumbled out of the car and almost fell to the ground. His body was so battered, it was almost impossible to move. The driver immediately put his foot down and sped off as fast as he could.
Ahmed knew that getting into the camp wouldn’t be easy. Nothing was easy, being on the world’s most wanted list. The armed guards at the camp wouldn’t help either. Besides, he really didn’t want to run into the guard that he hated the most, the one that stamped on Maryam. He feared seeing him, only because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shooting him dead. Something he had dreamt about a few times.
Ahmed, having helped draw up the plans for the sewage system, knew of a route to get in undetected. He was glad he had been persuaded to draw up the plans — he knew every tunnel that led in and out of the camp and there was one particular tunnel that would get him close to where he wanted to go.
He limped towards a manhole close by and lifted the metal cap. It was heavy and was usually opened by two people using both handles. But Ahmed had no choice other than to do it alone. His spine felt like a pencil being bent, ready to snap, as he used all his might to get it open.
His basic phone, the one he had Henry get, had one useful feature; a torch function. He shone it as he climbed down the manhole and into a long tunnel. The sewage smell was unbearable and he didn’t want to think about what he was stepping in.
He thought carefully about the layout, and although he had never been down there during its construction, he knew exactly what the specifications were.
He made his way along the tunnel to another manhole that he was sure would lead into directly into the camp and would be the closest manhole to the area in which he had been residing in.
He climbed up the metal ladder that was firmly fixed into the wall. He really hoped he’d got this right. If not, he could end up far away from where he wanted to be, or even worse, near the guarded office. As soon as he pushed up the lid to open it, he would be caught and there would be no escape.
He silently counted to three before he forcefully pushed open the cap wide enough to get a glimpse of the surroundings.
“Yes,” he said, pleased with his efforts to get to the right place.
The coast was completely clear. He crept out and carefully slid the cap back in its place. There was a strong morning breeze. The camp hadn’t changed much since he’d left. Except there were a few areas that had caution tape wrapped around them. Must have been the anti-terror investigations that would have taken place after the world was told that an evil, monstrous, ISIS terrorist spawned from this camp.
He looked around to make sure that no one had noticed him before heading towards the house that had been his. It had caution tape all around it. The door was unlocked, so he quickly let himself in.
At a glance, he could tell that everything was gone. They’d even took the bed covers. He had a feeling that the police would have been all over this place and would have taken everything as evidence, but it was a worth a try, he thought to himself. Getting his belongings wasn’t the only reason he’d come back to the camp. The main reason was to find Antonio and Jane, and to visit Maryam, probably for the last time. She was his happy thought — seeing her used to give him strength, and that is what he needed right now.
As he opened the door to sneak back out, he was met with a familiar face. Khaleel. Ahmed froze. Not knowing what to expect. He quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby, like the guards or the anti-terror police, ready to pounce on him.
“You know that we have CCTV here now,” Khalid said with a smile. “Thanks to you,
of course!”
“Khalid…”
“Can I come in?” Khaleel said, insisting more than asking. He walked in and shut the door behind him.
“Take a seat,” Khaleel said politely. “You’ve caused quite the stir… they’re calling you Goldstein the Terrorist. A pretty clever title.”
“I’m not a terrorist,” Ahmed protested.
“I know that, but in their eyes, you are and will continue to be until they don’t need you to be anymore.”
Ahmed stood up. “Khaleel, I know the police are probably on their way, but there is something I need to do…”
“Relax Ahmed, no one knows you’re here. Well, apart from me.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. When we discovered the body and your face was plastered all over the papers, I took the liberty of taking a couple of items out of your room that I had a feeling you would come back for.” Khaleel handed him the bag he was holding. Ahmed opened it and saw his black journal, Maryam’s scarf, and Malik’s action figure, Quww. The sight of Quww almost reduced him to tears instantly. Ahmed scrunched up the bag and put it in his rucksack and strapped it tightly on his back again.
“You knew about it, didn’t you?” Ahmed said. “Knew about what?”
“Please don’t lie to me, Khaleel!” Ahmed stepped closer to him. “You knew about the kids getting abducted, you knew about Boreas and his whole operation! You knew it all.” “Ahmed, listen to me, things aren’t as simple as you think.” He put his hands out in front of him, showing his palms. “The world I live in is very difficult and complicated…”
“Well, why don’t you simplify it for me...”
“Look, you think that we achieved all of this without sacrifice?”
“Sacrifice?” Ahmed yelled. “You mean trading children for this fake utopia that you have made. This is a prison! Who is making the sacrifice? The children? The desperate parents that died trying to free them? Who damn it? Tell me!”
“Hey, you listen to me!” Khaleel said, raising his voice, and pointing his finger at him. “Don’t talk to me about sacrifice like I don’t understand it, don’t you dare!” He lowered his finger and faced the wall. He paused for a moment. “My sister and I were the only ones in my family left alive in our village in Afghanistan. Do you know how that feels?” He stared into Ahmed’s eyes. “Our entire village! My family, my friends, everyone I knew and everyone I loved… all killed — genocide. And who killed them? The Taliban? Tell me, the Americans? Who?” He stepped closer to Ahmed and shook his head. “Who cares? I didn’t care… because I could not do anything to save them and I could do nothing to bring them back.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “We escaped the village, my sister and I, but not before my sister was shot in the leg. There was no way that she would be able to continue the journey and there was… there was no way that I could just leave her. I… I had to do the… the honourable thing. I did it for her, I saved her honour but it damn near killed me inside.” His eyes filled with redness. “So, don’t talk to me like I don’t understand sacrifice! There are so many people that have escaped that world, a world of persecution and pain. Someone has to make a new world — a new world free from this type of evil.”
Ahmed shook his head in disgust. “There was no honour in what you did. You are a coward. And this world has enough cowardly leaders! You must answer for all the children that you have allowed to be abducted, maybe not in this world, but certainly in the next. We were better off where we were, my family and me. At least we would have died with some dignity!” Khaleel’s eyes remained glued to the ground. “I hope the images of the poor children that are going through hell, thanks to you, haunt you in your sleep. I hope the guilt chokes you to death!”
Ahmed pushed Khaleel aside and left the building. He made his way through the camp and hurried to Maryam’s grave. He knew that he didn’t have much time. The taxi driver would have called the police and even those idiots would be able to put two and two together and figure out where he was. Khaleel was a little snake, but Ahmed had a feeling that he wouldn’t call the guards. Well, that’s what he hoped anyway.
He knelt by his wife’s meagre grave. “Maryam!” he said, gasping for air. “This will be the last time I come here. I came to say goodbye and to tell you that I know where Malik is, I am sure of it and…” tears began to roll down his flustered cheeks. “I know that have made promises to you in the past and have not kept my word but I am about to make a promise to you that I will keep even if it kills me. I will bring back our son and… he… he will be free. This I promise. I failed you as a husband — I will not fail our son as a father!” Ahmed knew that if she could see him now, she would be smiling and would trust that he would accomplish what he set out to. He had to. He owed it to her and to Malik.
He heard a voice from behind him say his name. “Ahmed.” Ahmed froze. He imagined that it would be the camp’s armed guards. Khaleel had probably alerted them and they had tracked him down. Or maybe they had spotted him whilst on their patrols. Either way, he was dead. He put his hand into his pocket and clenched his gun — he wasn’t going down without a fight that was for sure. But when he turned around, he was surprised to see Antonio. He couldn’t have planned this better.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Antonio said, looking around suspiciously. Ahmed didn’t know what to say. He was just glad to see him.
“Everyone is looking for you, they think you’re a terrorist.”
“I’m not a terrorist.”
“We know that, but you really can’t be here. Someone will see you and then…”
“I know, but I had to come and say goodbye to Maryam. I know where Malik is. And I am going to get him. Where’s Jane?”
“Jane, hasn’t come back to the camp since you disappeared. In fact, she gets annoyed if I even mention the camp… she won’t open up to me.”
“Look, I really need your help. Yours and Jane’s… please.” Ahmed moved closer and put his hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “You and Jane have already done so much for us… and God only knows how much I appreciate it, but please… please, I just need one more thing.
Antonio nodded. “What do you need?”
“Thank you. Give me your phone number and I will send you a text message with a time and an address. I don’t have anyone else who I can trust, so please don’t let me down. I want you and Jane to come there, at that exact time.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to bring back my son. He is in the hands of a trafficking gang and if I don’t do this now… he will be gone forever. Will you do this for me?”
“Good God, Ahmed, what are you going to do? These are obviously dangerous people,” Antonio cried aghast. “We should go to the police!”
Ahmed wanted to laugh. “The police will not be able to help with his… please, I don’t have time to explain right now… I just need you to trust me on this. Do I have your word that you will be there?”
“You have my word, Ahmed, I will be there. I will go and speak with Jane.”
“Thank you, my friend. Now there’s just one other thing I have to do before I leave.” Ahmed ran to the football ground where he could hear the boys playing football. Antonio ran with him.
“What are you doing?” Antonio asked, looking around to see if there were any guards around.
“The right thing… for once.”
He stood at the top of the football ground, in the same spot that he stood when looked to see Malik. He peered down at the all children playing blissfully.
“Children are our future… all children!” He looked from one side of the football ground to the other. “These children — down there — they are our future. They deserve to live in a free world, a world where they are equal to everyone else!” He looked Antonio deep in the eyes. “Would you agree?”
Antonio nodded and smiled. “Freedom does not come without its responsibilities.”
Ahmed removed the bundles of money
that he had in the bag and smiled. “This money was earned from the blood, and misery of these orphans and it is only right that they have it.”
Antonio nodded in agreement. Ahmed raised his hands and let the wind carry the notes like falling autumn leaves.
The children stopped playing when they saw the shower of money floating down. There were screams of joy and looks of excitement in their faces as they reached out to grab handfuls of the money. Money that was exchanged for the lives of their brothers and sisters.
“Ok, Robin Hood, I think you’ve drawn enough attention to yourself. Get out of here before you get spotted.” Antonio shook Ahmed’s hand vigorously. “You know what? You, Ahmed, are one of the people I admire most in this world.”
Ahmed embraced Antonio, then strapped the bag on his back and ran off in the direction of the manhole that he had come in from.
****
Stavros suddenly opened his eyes and gasped for air. His breath plumed the frost from his mouth. It was so cold. His dark pupils grew rapidly as the cold wind cut through him. He wanted to cry out in agony; the pain in his chest was so intense. He tried to get up, but the pain stopped him. Am I dead? he wondered.
He looked around. After a few moments, he remembered where he was and what had happened. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed his metal cigarette tin. The bullet that Harris fired hit it directly and it was still wedged inside. The impact had felt like a bull ramming him in the chest. The blow had knocked him off his feet and it was a miracle he was still alive. He began to laugh, but he fell into a short coughing fit. He lay on his back and looked at the cigarette tin. It was old, solidly made, and one of his most treasured possessions. And now it had saved his life. He put it back in his pocket, with the bullet still lodged inside. “I guess today is a good day to quit!” He smirked and forced himself to get up into a sitting position. He felt as though a huge boulder was sitting on his chest. He looked at Stelios’ lifeless body. Poor guy didn’t even see it coming, didn’t even get a chance to say a prayer. And God knows what he had been subjected to by our friend Goldstein.
