by Rashad Salim
She had been quietly nodding while I talked. Now she was leaning to one side with her elbow propped up on the sofa side and her head leaning against one hand. No longer so confident in herself.
“And maybe you offered him something to seal the deal, okay?” She tried to say something, some kind of attack, but I barrelled through. “But I don’t care about that, Chantelle.” I shook my head. “None of that matters. Not anymore. You used me, Chantelle. You preyed on my desperation for answers. You promised me closure! And then you went and fucking took me for a ride. You needed someone to check out the warehouse but Tyrone’s boys weren’t willing to take that risk. So you had me take it! What does that make you?”
Neither of us spoke for a long time. She hadn’t moved from her position. When she did speak I realised she had been suppressing the urge to cry.
“He did what you should’ve!”
I jumped up. “You wanted me to fucking kill Anil?”
She jumped up too.
“Is that what you wanted me to do?” I asked, jabbing a finger at her.
“Anil killed my brother, you bastard!” she was sobbing now.
I let her recover. She wiped a tear from her eye and glared at me.
“He killed my friend too,” I said.
“So why are you so pissed off?”
“Because I wanted Anil to pay for his crimes. I wanted him humiliated. And that ain’t gonna happen now. The worst thing about it is no one fucking knows what he did!” I darted towards her and grabbed her with both hands and shook her. “Can’t you see what you’ve done?”
I shoved her back. She fell on the sofa and sat there slumped.
“There’s no way the police will know about Carl and Marcus raping the girl or about Thom being blackmailed into killing those bastards because you didn’t tell them! And you were the only one who fucking could’ve!”
She covered her face with a hand and sobbed.
“It’s not like I can do anything with what I know, is there? Not without the girl who got raped or Thom’s boyfriend.”
I looked at her in disgust. The damage she had done was irreversible.
“I loved you so much, Chantelle. You had me thinking we could get back what we lost. I was such a fool. You were taking me for a chump all this time.”
She looked up at me with moist eyes. “So now you’re gonna turn me in...? Is that it?”
I almost felt sorry for her. She hadn’t been thinking straight. She was distraught.
Then the image of Anil and Rishi roasting alive in their vehicle flashed through my mind.
I took a deep breath and headed for the hallway.
“I thought I knew you,” she called out when I reached the front door.
I stopped. I couldn’t bear to look at her so I didn’t.
“I thought I knew you too, babe.”
I opened the door and walked out of her life.
49
When I left Chantelle’s flat Sajid was parked across the street waiting for me.
I got in and he drove off towards the train station.
“How did it go?”
“Like I got my heart ripped out-”
“And petrol bombed?”
I gave him a stern look.
“Sorry, bre,” Sajid said. “Just trying to cheer you up.”
I looked out of the window at all the shops we passed and that got me thinking. “Go down this road,” I said, pointing at the first left.
“That’s the long way,” he said.
“Just go.”
He did.
We were now approaching Binford Lane.
“You sure you wanna see this?” he asked.
I nodded.
We turned onto Binford Lane and within seconds were right near the boarded up Bestco store. He killed the engine and we got out.
I leaned against his car and stared at the building. It was early evening and the crowds were full of shoppers rushing around. No one paid us or the building any attention.
“So this is what it was all about, eh?” Sajid asked, leaning beside me.
“Seema said Anil’s dad had no clue what his psycho son had been plotting.”
“He would say that though, wouldn’t he?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Anil played with fire and got burnt.”
Sajid burst out laughing.
“He saw the store as a threat but that wasn’t all. According to Seema he wanted to buy this building on the cheap once it was destroyed. She asked that skinny piece of shit Vinod all about the arson. He told her everything he knew. Anil never knew there were workers inside that time of night. Anil never wanted anyone to die. He’d been shitting himself over it in case his dad found out.”
“He wanted you to die. Fucking tried to shoot you.”
I thought it over.
“I did tell Seema that and pointed out all the deaths afterwards.”
“What she say?”
“Anil was just tying loose ends, according to Vinod.”
“Speaking of the cunt, where the fuck is he? Let’s go burn his nuts off.”
I sighed. “He panicked after Anil and Rishi got roasted. He went back to India after Seema grilled him.”
“Typical.”
It bothered me Vinod had got away – no doubt he had been involved in the arson and whatever else Anil had plotted – but the only way Seema could get the truth out of him was by bribing him.
“The cops been on your case again recently?” Sajid asked.
“Fuck no,” I said, thinking of DC Barker and DI Martin. “Anyway, I’m done with this town. I don’t care if it all burns down and all the gangs kill each other. I’ve had it.”
“What about your parents?”
“They’ve been planning to move out for years.” My mother already had her sights on a house a few towns away. “When my dad gets back from Pakistan they’re gonna sell the house.”
We watched the former Bestco store in silence for a while.
“Come on,” Sajid said. “Let’s go. You got that train to catch.”
We got into the car and drove to the station. When we arrived Sajid got out and walked with me to my train platform. The barriers were down so he didn’t need a ticket.
There only a few people waiting on my platform.
“Sorry about Chantelle,” Sajid said.
“It’s fine. No real loss really. You were right about her.”
He sniggered. “I’m always right.”
His mood lifted mine and I couldn’t help but smile.
The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. I couldn’t wait to get back to West London and get on with my life.
“Thanks for everything, bre,” I said. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
He waved me off. “Don’t mention it. It was fun,” he joked. “Listen, I know Mark’s gone but you still got me.”
I nodded. I suddenly felt self conscious and vulnerable at him mentioning Mark.
I was still grieving about Mark and knew it would take years to deal with the loss. Only now I could really believe it would get easier.
“So don’t be a puss,” he said. “Stay in touch.” He punched me in the arm. “You fucking owe me.”
My train arrived, taking its time to stop.
We shook hands and hugged.
“Come out to see me,” I said.
“Alright.”
“Just leave your gun at home I don’t want it going off in my house.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It wasn’t ever loaded.”
I looked at him stunned.
“It’s not even a real gun.” He slapped my shoulder and winked.
I thought about how much stress his ‘gun’ had caused me and laughed.
“Take care,” he said.
I said bye and boarded my train.
When I sat down I felt like a burden had been lifted. I had accepted my heavy losses without realising it.
The train moved out and I mov
ed on.
* * *
Book Description
A gritty urban mystery thriller.
Nottingham transplant, Chris Smith has only been teaching at Binford Sixth Form for several months when he and his fellow teacher are ambushed by masked men at the college entrance and Chris’ colleague is killed during the attack.
Chris survives, but despite every instinct telling him to flee the crooked East London town, he cannot find any peace until those who tried to kill him are brought to justice.
There’s a long list of suspects, but the police investigation seems to be going nowhere, so Chris journey’s into the dark and dangerous underbelly of Binford, aided by an unexpected ally with his own agenda, facing danger with every move, to discover who wants him dead - before the killers strike again.
For fans of Simon Kernick, Harlan Coben, Jason Starr and Mark Billingham.
(Author's note: This is a 50,000 word novel, with strong language)
* * *
Part I
1
“Think you’ve finally got the hang of Binford yet?” Chris asked.
Tom shrugged. “I dunno. It’s been six months but it just flew by.”
He was packing up and preparing to leave the classroom now that his after-school revision class had ended. Chris had ended his own revision class earlier and popped in for a quick chat.
“I’ve gotta hand it to you though,” Chris said. “Head of Year’s quite a leap for a newbie.”
Tom smiled. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you showing me the ropes.”
The offer had been made to Tom a week earlier and he had been reluctant to accept it. He had assumed the school board would’ve elected someone with more experience at the school than he had. Someone like Chris. Or Nigel Holmes.
“You gotta admit it’s a pretty good consolation for having to leave Nottingham.”
Tom hadn’t thought of it like that. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to leave Nottingham after just two years of teaching. But he saw the decision to move to London as career advancement and working at Binford School was just a stepping stone.
He was aware of the school’s rough reputation before he had accepted the History teacher position but had felt it was a necessary compromise.
“I spent my whole life up there so I’m not really missing it that much.”
Tom hadn’t known anyone in London before he moved and feared he would end up feeling lonely all the time. He had left all his friends back in Nottingham and worried he wouldn’t click with the southerners he was now surrounded by. But these worries were unfounded and he soon struck up a close friendship with Chris, his fellow History teacher and Kate, another History teacher who had become more than just a friend.
“Take it from me,” Chris said, “I’d gladly switch places with someone at your old school!”
Tom smiled. “You’ve said that a million times now.”
“I know. And I meant it every time. I don’t know how much longer I can take it around here. Doesn’t it bother you? All these problem kids? Sometimes I feel like we’re running a prison than a school.”
Tom nodded.
Binford was the roughest school he had heard of and it did test his patience many times over the five months he had been there so far. The only way he had managed to survive all that time was because he had been telling himself he wouldn’t be at the school for more than another year.
It was one reason why he was reluctant to accept the promotion of becoming the Head of Year for the new Year 7 students in September.
Tom had the feeling Chris had felt the same about staying on. He never asked Chris if he had considered applying for the Head of Year position himself.
Tom didn’t have to. The answer was obvious in all Chris’ comments now.
It was only January now. Not even half way through the school year. But the time would fly by and before he knew it he’d be saddled with much bigger responsibilities than marking homework and lunchtime school yard duties.
A female student showed up at the doorway. “Mr Jones?”
Chris gestured for her to enter.
She began discussing her coursework with him. Tom waved bye to Chris as he walked out.
Tom was walking down the corridor when one of the sixth form boys, Atif, caught up and fell into step with him.
“Mr Smith, I wanted to ask you about that last bit you were talking about – the end of the Second World War.”
Tom smiled. “Maybe if you paid more attention in class and less on chatting up Heena, you’d understand it.”
Atif blushed and laughed. He didn’t try to deny it. “Sorry, sir. You got me.”
They discussed the subject and headed outdoors where a few other boys and girls, including Atif’s girlfriend Heena, were loitering about.
Outside it was a typical dark January evening and the cold air froze Tom’s face the second he stepped out.
Tom and Atif walked through the car park. Tom was almost finished clarifying the subject by the time they reached the wide entrance to the car park.
Tom heard someone call out his name from behind. He turned to see Chris jogging towards him while waving something in the air.
Tom saw Chris was waving his glasses case and realised he had forgotten them behind when he had walked out. He was thankful Chris had noticed them on the desk.
“Thanks for that, Mr Smith,” Atif said. “It’s just a lot take in.”
Tom turned to Atif. “You just need to pay more attention, that’s all.”
Atif was about to say something when his happy expression transformed into one of shock and horror.
Tom was about to ask him what was wrong but instead turned to the side, following Atif’s gaze and saw what had alarmed the boy.
He felt the shock paralyse him and struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Three men armed with huge knives and their faces covered with bandanas had emerged out of nowhere. They were less than twenty feet away and coming towards Tom and Atif.
Tom held out his hand in a halting motion. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
The men got closer and Tom got the impression they were young, possibly teenagers. He was six feet tall and all three of them were several inches shorter and slimmer than him. Not that any of this made them any less threatening.
Chris caught up with Tom and Atif. “Don’t come any closer! I’m warning you,” he said to the armed men.
What happened next happened so fast Tom barely understood what was happening.
One of the armed men darted forward and jabbed his huge knife – the blade over eight inches in length – at Tom but Chris stepped in front. The knife plunged into Chris’ chest.
The attacker pulled his knife back and Tom watched as Chris collapsed on the ground.
Tom looked at the attacker, totally stunned by what just happened.
“Let’s fucking go!” One of the other armed men said. It was a teenager’s voice.
Chris’ attacker was about to swing the knife at Tom but Atif swung his backpack and hit the attacker in the face with it hard enough to rock him backwards. The attacker fell on his ass but didn’t let go of the knife.
One of the other armed men rushed forward and grabbed Chris’ attacker from behind and tugged him away. “Let’s fucking go!”
Tom looked down at Chris.
Chris lay on the ground face down while blood poured out of his body. Tom crouched down and rolled Chris around until he was facing up.
Tom heard the sound of car doors slamming shut and looked up in time to see the armed men speed away in a black BMW. Atif had run closer to the car to get a better look.
Tom saw Atif was trembling and wondered for a second if he himself had the same look of fear and panic in his own eyes.
“Sir...”
Chris was unconscious.
“Is he...?”
Tom gripped Chris’ hand and felt his eyes well up.
There was no pulse.
2
When the ambulance arrived and took Chris away, they told Tom it was very likely his friend died instantly from the single stab wound he suffered.
Atif had been the one to call 999 and the police had arrived quicker than Tom had expected. The first officers at the crime scene sealed off the area and questioned whatever witnesses they could find.
The attack had occurred around 5:15pm and it being dark so early made visibility difficult. Some of the other boys and girls who were making their way out of the sixth form had witnessed the murder only at a distance and even then there had been confusion as to what was going on, the lack of daylight being a factor to this.
There hadn’t been any pedestrians on either side of the road at the time of the attack either. That meant the only proper witnesses to the murder were Tom and Atif, who had been victims of the attack themselves and too shaken to make sense of what was happening.
Most of the teachers at the school had already left but fortunately the Deputy Headmaster Mr Blake – a thin, bald man in his forties – was still present and dealt with the police when they had arrived.
Tom and Atif sat inside the sixth form reception area with Blake while they waited to hear from the police again. Tom asked Blake about the CCTV cameras near the car park entrance. Blake told him the footage would be submitted to the police as soon as possible. Tom hoped the cameras had captured the attackers without their disguises but thought it was unlikely.
There was something else that had made him lose heart. Atif had spotted the getaway car’s number plate. It had been covered with black tape. So there was no way of getting a vehicle match from the plates.
A detective from Binford Police Station, DS Barker, finally showed up half an hour after the emergency response units. Barker was led by Mr Blake inside the sixth form to where Tom sat in a classroom, accompanied by a police officer.