by Menon, David
‘I wonder if any of them suspect, Sara’ said Joe as he looked around at the houses on both sides of the tree-lined avenue. ‘They’d probably all complain about the money it’s costing to protect her. No doubt they’d cheerfully feed her to the wolves’.
‘Yeah, well, the principle of not assuming that the wife is as guilty as the husband is necessary if the law is to be fair to everyone. This isn’t the wild west’.
‘Thank God’.
‘I wonder what she’s like’ said Sara ‘It can’t be easy for her’.
‘So what’s your theory about all this, Sara?’
‘I don’t know yet’ said Sara. ‘I want justice, Joe. I want it bad. But I’ve been over and over the CCTV tapes from Piccadilly station for that night and going back a whole week before it. When Faisal Hussein is on them he’s not carrying anything which means he probably didn’t actually plant those bombs. So why was he there?’
‘The security services will work that one out, Sara’.
‘Yes, Joe’ said Sara. ‘But we both know from past cases that the security services aren’t always the force we can rely on’.
In the living room of the anonymous looking semi-detached house, Raisa Hussein was sitting on the sofa with her hands folded together on her lap. She was wearing a headscarf that was wrapped round her neck and shoulders, exposing only her olive coloured face. Her long-sleeved turquoise blouse was buttoned up to the neck and she wore a black floor length skirt. Sara immediately noticed that her eyes were red, her cheeks tear stained, her demeanour tense and withdrawn. Her son sat silently beside her. Sara’s heart broke. The air was thick with misery.
‘Mrs. Hussein?’ said Sara, gently. ‘I’m DCI Sara Hoyland and this is DS Joe Alexander. We’ve come to take you to your next safe house’.
Raisa Hussein looked up and snarled ‘Safe house? What a laugh that is. You’re taking me and my son from one prison cell to another’.
‘Mrs. Hussein, we’re doing this for your own protection and my colleagues from the security services are here like they’ve always been and have made all the necessary arrangements’.
Raisa and her son huddled together and didn’t move. Sara and Joe exchanged looks with each other. This wasn’t going to be easy although they’d both expected Raisa Hussein to be hostile. She had every reason to be.
Sara sat down beside Raisa. ‘Mrs. Hussein, I understand ... ‘
‘ ... get away from us!’ Raisa demanded.
Sara stood up and stepped back. ‘Okay’.
‘You understand nothing! I used to be like you. Faisal and I had white friends that we used to socialise with. We went to restaurants and bars and we drank wine. We partied with the best of them. I wore short skirts and no headscarf. I was proud to be British! We both were. We thought that the British state would always protect us from harm if we did everything right. But then America decided that Faisal was a terrorist and the British state didn’t protect us. They went along with it. They knew Faisal had nothing to do with terrorists but they let America put us through a living hell. They made us hate our own country. They turned me into what you see before you now because my faith was all I had left. Then when Faisal wanted to clear his name they took that away from him too. They rubbed his nose in it as if they hadn’t done enough. Now they’ve murdered him and you dare to stand there and tell me you understand? You understand nothing. Do you hear me? You understand nothing!’
‘Mrs. Hussein ... ‘
‘ ... and what am I going to tell Asif?’ Raisa demanded as she cuddled her son to her. The tears were flowing down her cheeks. ‘Look at him! Six years old and his father’s good name destroyed by your contemptuous lies! You murdered his father. You expect him to believe that he’s considered as British as you and yet he can’t even live in his own home? Shame on you! Shame on you murdering scum!’
Sara tried to stay cool against the onslaught of Raisa Hussein’s anger. ‘Mrs. Hussein, we have to go. I promise you that I will do this as sensitively as I can but I can’t stop what’s happening to you’.
‘Do you have children?’
‘No’ Sara lied. ‘I don’t.
‘Then I hope you’re cursed and will never have any!’
‘Okay, Mrs. Hussein, that’s enough’ said Joe. ‘You need to come with us now, please’.
‘Go to hell!’
‘You don’t want us to have to force you’ said Joe who was losing patience with all this. ‘Think about the effect that might have on Asif’
‘You lay one perverted hand on me or my son and I will scream the roof off!’
‘Then Mrs. Hussein, please come with us’ said Sara, trying not to let Raisa Hussein’s previous snipe sink in too deep. ‘We are not your enemy’.
‘Yes you are’ said Raisa. ‘You all are. Every white English pig is my enemy!’
‘One last chance, Mrs. Hussein’ said Joe, firmly.
‘Or what? You’ll drag me out screaming? Well of course, that’s what you British do when people stand up to your murderous lies!’
‘Mrs. Hussein?’ said Sara. ‘My sister-in-law was killed in the Piccadilly station bombing and my family have suffered a terrible loss. I uphold the law but I will not be party to anyone being accused of wrongdoing when they’re innocent. You have to trust someone, Mrs. Hussein. It may as well be me. Now come on and I promise that when we get to the next safe house, you and I can sit down together and I will listen. I promise you’.
The back door to the house was actually along the side wall and opened onto a driveway that was long enough for two average sized cars. A 4x4 was waiting with its engine running and its sliding passenger door open. The driver was in place and so was the armed security officer sitting in the front. Sara didn’t know whether Raisa Hussein had run out of steam or not but all of a sudden she’d stood up and motioned that she and her son were ready to comply. Maybe she was empathising with Sara’s own loss.
With everybody on board and the door closed and locked, the driver backed the 4x4 out of the drive and onto the road. At that moment another car came screeching up and shots were fired that blew the tires on the 4x4. Sara shouted for everyone to get down, and for the second time in a few short weeks she saw her life flash before her eyes. Raisa and her son held onto each other tightly as two masked men leapt out of the other car and fired straight through the windows. Raisa screamed out in horror ‘Bastards, no!’ The security service officer with them fired back but they got him and his body was flung back against the windscreen amidst a mass splattering of blood. The driver was their next victim. These guys knew what they were doing alright. Then before Sara knew it the door was open and she thought her heart had stopped as a bullet went straight through Raisa Hussein’s head. Sara grabbed hold of a totally hysterical Asif but she hadn’t counted on the precision and determination of whoever these men were as they murdered the six-year old boy with another one of their bullets even as Sara tried to shield him. She then heard more shots being fired, this time it sounded as if they were coming from further away. Then it was silent. Terrified but needing to assess the situation, Sara slowly turned and raised her head. She was sitting in the middle of a bloodbath. Four deaths inside the car and a quick glance outside told her that the two gunmen were also no longer of this world.
But then the sight of Joe Alexander struck horror into her heart.
ELEVEN
Sara insisted to Superintendent Hargreaves that she didn’t want to take any time off after the ambush that had left Joe Alexander in a critical condition in hospital. She didn’t want to waste any time in getting to the bottom of what was becoming the dark night of cases. If she stopped to think too much about what she’d been through in the last few weeks she’d go out of her mind and she couldn’t afford the time for that.
‘I can assure you I’m able to focus on the job in hand, sir’.
‘I know that’ said Hargreaves. He knew Sara was strong and she was capable, but she could also be impetuous when she was cornered and Hargreaves wa
s more afraid of that than anything else. ‘And Joe will be okay, Sara. The doctor thinks he must have a pretty strong will to have got this far’.
‘He is still fighting for his life, sir’ said Sara who wished Joe’s live-in girlfriend Carol would show she’s as worried as everybody else about Joe’s condition. She hasn’t been near the hospital or even rung up the ward to see how he was doing since he was admitted. Sara was ready to go round and see what the hell she was playing at.
‘I know but he might’ve lost that fight if he hadn’t been stronger’.
‘Sir, with all due respect, if I find that Joe is where he is because of some botched operation that nobody deemed necessary to tell us about then believe me, I will find the head responsible and I will make it roll onto a bloody spike!’
‘DCI Hoyland, I do understand ... ‘
‘ ... sir, with all due respect, you don’t understand. I saw the conviction in Raisa Hussein’s eyes when she claimed her husband’s innocence. And for what it’s worth, I believe her’.
‘Sara, she died because she knew too much and the cell needed her to be silent’.
‘So why did they murder her son too?’
‘To make extra sure’ said Hargreaves. ‘It’s sick, I know. The boy was only six years old and a total innocent but we’re dealing with evil men here’.
‘Sir, who were those two gunmen who landed Joe in hospital?’
‘Abdul Sajid and Qamar Rauf who were both associates of Faisal Hussein from the Crumpsall mosque’.
‘And both tracked by the security services?’
‘It seems so, yes’.
Sara was beside herself with anger. ‘Oh they’re good’.
‘Who?’
‘Whoever is making up this load of shite!’
‘DCI Hoyland, I will not tolerate such outbursts from a senior officer!’
‘Well that’s a shame, sir, because there’ll be plenty more where that one came from until someone has the guts to tell me the truth about why Joe is in hospital and why two men who were supposed to be under surveillance were only challenged after they’d murdered four people including a six year old child!’
*
‘Can you tell me what I’m doing here, Sara?’ asked Tim Norris as he nursed his pint in his hand. They were in the lounge bar of the Rose and Crown just outside Altrincham. Sara had asked him to meet her there. ‘You said it was about work but that you couldn’t discuss it at the office. So what’s going on?’
Sara put her vodka and tonic down on the round table between them. ‘I’m being fed a complete piece of nonsense, Tim’.
‘What about?’
Sara lowered her voice to just above a whisper. ‘Faisal Hussein’.
‘So what do you think is the truth?’
‘Well that’s where you come in’
‘I don’t follow?’
‘Do you still have your mate on the anti-terrorist unit?’
‘Andy Masters? Yeah, but ... Sara, I can’t ask him to risk his job’.
‘Yes you can because we need the truth, Tim’.
‘No, Sara, you need the truth. I’m quite happy to carry on with the investigation as it stands’.
‘And collude with whatever whitewash MI5 come up with?’
‘We don’t know that for sure, Sara’.
‘What? Come off it, Tim. You and I have both worked out that someone, somewhere let it happen’.
‘Do you realise what you’re saying?’
‘Yes, and I stand by it’.
‘But what are we going to do if we do find something to expose?’
‘I’ll cross that bridge as and when’.
‘And if there is some kind of cover up, do you think they’ll let you expose it?’
‘Again, that doesn’t scare me, Tim’.
‘But you’re involving other people, Sara’.
‘I can’t help that’ said Sara. ‘Look, Tim, the whole thing stinks. We both know it. At least let’s try and find out if we’re right’.
Tim looked at her. He knew he couldn’t refuse. ‘Okay, I’ll call Andy. I’ll arrange to meet him’.
Sara breathed in deep. ‘Thanks, Tim. And if not for me then do it for Joe’.
‘I’ll do it for both of you’.
‘So you don’t hate me then?’
‘I’ve never hated you, Sara’.
‘But what do you feel?’ she asked. She could’ve kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to get on to this tonight but it had just come out. She watched as Tim’s eyes grew intense as he turned over thoughts that he didn’t want to go back to.
‘We don’t need to talk about this now’ said Tim, shifting in his seat. ‘You’re happy with Jacob and I’m happy for you, believe me. We don’t need to dredge all this stuff up about us again’.
‘Tell me what you feel, Tim?’ Sara persisted. ‘It’s important to me’.
Tim looked into her eyes and breathed in deep. ‘Well, if you want the truth then I’ve got to say that I can never forgive you for having my child and giving him away without even telling me you were pregnant. I’ve got a son out there that I can’t get to. I don’t know if he’s happy or sad, being well looked after or not. And that longing will be with me for the rest of my life thanks to you. He might be the air steward who serves me a drink when I go on holiday or the electrician who comes to fix the central heating. I might pass him in the street and not know, Christ I might even arrest him one day without knowing who he is. He might have kids one day whose lives, I, their Granddad, won’t be a part of. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Yes’ said Sara, tearfully. ‘Because it’s everything I feel about him every single day of my life’.
*
Not being able to make much progress on her instincts to do with the issues before her prompted Sara to give some time to something else that was bothering her. Joe Alexander had finally been taken off the critical list and though the doctors at Hope hospital in Salford were pleased with his progress, they made it clear that he wasn’t quite there yet. One of the bullets had narrowly missed one of the main arteries into Joe’s heart and it had required fairly delicate surgery to remove it. Another had pierced his lung. He’d been in a pretty bad state when he’d first been admitted and his parents and sisters were still keeping a vigil at his bedside, which was more than could be said for his lover Carol who hadn’t even rung the hospital to check on Joe and had certainly never visited. Sara wanted to know why and took some time out to drive round to Joe’s house where Carol and her two teenage daughters were now living.
When Carol answered the door Sara was a little surprised at what she saw. Carol leaned against the doorframe and it was clear to Sara that she’d been out on the piss the night before. She was dressed in a light pink silk robe that made it very clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sara didn’t judge her for any of it. She had no right to considering the amount of times she’d been in the same state after a night out on the town. But if Sara had a partner who was fighting for his life in hospital then she wouldn’t be jumping about as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Well judging by the state of you that off license on the corner must stock some good wines’.
‘And you are?’
‘I’m Sara. I’m Joe’s boss from work’.
‘I suppose I should invite you in’.
‘Well it might be a start if it’s not too much trouble’.
Sara followed Carol into the house and through to the kitchen. There were girls’ clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. She’d known some messy blokes in her time but as the evidence was laid out before her she’d also known some pretty messy girls too. Not that she was little miss house proud. As long as everything was roughly in the right place Sara didn’t really care that much and she gave her flat a good going over once a week, or once every ten days or a fortnight. What did it matter when she was working on a case and only went home to sleep anyway?
‘So what can I do for you?’ Carol wanted to know.
<
br /> Sara looked her up and down. Joe deserved so much better than this slapper. She was bigger than Sara had imagined and her legs were heading towards that dangerous size when cellulite would blow them up like air bags. Putting aside the face and that her hair and make-up were both a mess, her nail polish was chipped and she gave off the general appearance of having been swept through a hedge backwards.
‘You really have to ask?’
Carol rubbed her face. ‘Okay, so you must be here about Joe’.
‘Finally the penny drops’.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Joe has been lying there on the edge of death and you haven’t even sent him a bloody card!’
‘I don’t do hospitals’.
‘Oh, so Joe gives you and your daughters a roof over your heads and you can’t be there for him when he needs you because you don’t do hospitals? Excuse me?’
‘Look, what right have you got to walk in here and talk to me like this?’
‘And what right have you got to throw what a good man does for you back in his face?’
‘None of them are any good’ snarled Carol. ‘They all let you down one way or another’.
‘Oh, what’s the matter? Didn’t you manage to pull last night? Didn’t the one you had your eye on want to play ball?’
‘You watch your mouth’.
Sara laughed sardonically. ‘Or what? You’ll hit me? Sweetheart, I’d have your arm broken before you’d even managed to clench your bloody fist’.
‘Well just tell me what you want and then sling your hook!’
Sara walked up to her and enjoyed the obvious look of trepidation in Carol’s eyes. And was that sweat beginning to form on that oh so lined forehead?
‘Joe is a highly respected police officer, a trusted colleague and a very good friend of mine. He deserves so much better than you and if I find you’ve done the dirty on him, or are even planning to, then believe me, you’ll wish you’d never been born. Oh and by the way, Joe is going to be okay. Just in case you were wondering. I’ll see myself out’.
