East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘I said you’re dismissed‚’ Wakefield said‚ her head down‚ avoiding eye contact.

  Idris couldn’t let it go. ‘Is this anything to do with him?

  This time Wakefield’s head snapped up and her eyes locked into his.

  ‘Get out of my office‚ now!’

  15

  Major General Stewart Sinclair sat in Boardroom 3 alongside John Robinson‚ Assistant Director of Counter Terrorism Operations. Boardroom 3 was the smallest boardroom in the Security Service building‚ however it remained a popular choice due to the breathtaking and calming views of the River Thames. On the table in front of them was a printed photo of Javid Qasim. Teddy Lawrence‚ the young officer‚ sat across the desk from them and was on his second exaggerated glance at his watch.

  Kingsley Parker walked through the door‚ removed his pea coat and hung it on the back of his chair. As he sat down next to Lawrence‚ his coat slipped to the floor. Lawrence suppressed a smile. A smile which did not go unnoticed. Parker picked up the coat and looked around the room for a coat stand. Unable to locate one he folded the coat and placed it on the chair next to him.

  ‘Traffic bad‚ Parker?’ Lawrence asked.

  Parker ignored him.

  ‘Right. Let’s get started‚ shall we?’ Sinclair announced. His authoritative manner was such that anything he said sounded like an announcement. Every word enunciated and boomed‚ ensuring that there could be no mistakes as to what had been said or heard. The Major General had previously been in the army and he still used his rank. ‘Parker‚ you attended two meetings‚’ Sinclair looked down at his notes. ‘With our very own Dr Thomas Gladstone and Chief Superintendent Penelope Wakefield of Hounslow Met.’ Sinclair didn’t wait for a response. ‘Would you like to brief us?’

  Parker fidgeted slightly in his chair. His woolly jumper had started to itch and he had to make a concerted effort not reach around and scratch his back. He started slowly‚ tripping over words but he eventually found some rhythm as he filled them in. From his peripheral vision he could see the obvious glee emanating from Lawrence.

  ‘Well‚’ Sinclair said‚ ‘the good doctor‚ as always‚ at his elusive best. He is right‚ though. It is very much a judgement call. What’s your take on it‚ Parker?’

  ‘The ease in which he can adapt to his environment‚ could see him as an invaluable asset. It wouldn’t take much for him to get noticed by the radicals who attend Sutton Mosque. Already‚ he’s shown his commitment to the community with helping out at the mosque and then the subsequent revenge attack at the car park in Staines. No question‚ news of his action would have been noticed.’

  ‘And we’ve got him by the balls!’ Lawrence chimed in.

  Sinclair looked at Lawrence calmly‚ with an amused look on his face. ‘We’ll come to you in a moment‚ son. Please continue‚ Parker. How did it go with Wakefield? Will she bend?’

  ‘She isn’t best pleased with our proposition. Given the time frame‚ she feels that she is being rushed into a decision that she doesn’t want to make. They have invested a lot of time and resources targeting the upper-echelon drug dealers. One particular big fish‚ actually.’ Parker reached across to his coat and dug around awkwardly from pocket to pocket and eventually removed a crumpled photograph and placed it on the table next to the photograph of Javid Qasim

  ‘Who are we looking at?’ Sinclair asked.

  ‘This is Silas Drakos AKA The Drake AKA The Count. We believe he is responsible for a high percentage of the drugs that flow through West London. He is also believed to be involved in the buying and selling of some very heavy artillery.’

  ‘Drakos is not our problem.’ Robinson finally broke his silence and a waft of his lunch emanated. ‘Wakefield has to cooperate or we go over her head.’

  Parker carefully eyeballed Robinson. Robinson was exactly the kind of guy that Parker hated. The type that he had reported to throughout his career.

  ‘Wakefield has expressed concern that if they were to pick up Javid Qasim‚ Silas may go to ground.’

  Robinson looked at each face around the table. ‘Somebody care to tell me how a bloody drug baron is taking precedence over national security? I don’t care if he’s Pablo bloody Escobar.’ Robinson jabbed a nicotine stained finger on to the crumpled photograph. ‘Silas Drakos is not a priority!’

  Silence descended. Parker put his hand on his knee before it started to hammer and counted to ten in his head. He took a breath and in a calm measured voice he said‚ ‘There is a way to appease both—’

  ‘Appease?’ Robinson shouted‚ as though he and that word had shared some dark history. He stood up and walked over to the water cooler. ‘Let me tell you something‚ gentlemen‚ we are currently watching eight Muslim clerics‚ in London alone‚ who are openly spreading hate and inciting violence. These clerics attract a big audience‚ and make no mistake that audience is growing by the day. It is clear as crystal what their agenda is‚ but can we kick them out? No‚ we bloody can’t. Because our government and our laws and our policies are in place to bloody appease!’

  Robinson came back to the table‚ his face had reddened and he was slightly out of breath. He drank his water greedily.

  ‘Please‚ Parker‚’ Sinclair said‚ ignoring the outburst. ‘You were saying.’

  ‘We have gathered enough evidence for Javid to be convicted. That evidence falls into the hands of Wakefield. They bring him in and he gives a statement pointing to Silas.’

  Sinclair rubbed his chin as he visualised how this would play out.

  ‘So‚ Silas is arrested and we have Qasim in our pocket‚’ Sinclair clarified. He looked across at Robinson. Robinson hesitantly acquiesced with a gentle nod. ‘Only question now is‚ will Jay play ball? We have him for dealing and assault‚ he’s looking at a short spell inside. Is there a chance that he’ll keep quiet and take the hit?’

  Sinclair turned to Lawrence‚ who looked about ready to burst if he didn’t have his say soon. ‘Lawrence‚ anything you would like to add?’

  Lawrence sat up straight‚ cleared his throat and held strong eye contact.

  ‘Yes‚ sir. We have Javid Qasim’s car in our hold. In the boot of his BMW we found a rucksack containing seven thousand pounds in cash and just under a pound of high-potency skunk weed‚ both of which we believe are the property of Silas Drakos. Regardless of who they belong to‚ the possession charge alone is going see Qasim receive a significant sentence. On top of which‚ it’s reasonable to assume that Drakos would not have been happy that his drugs and money have gone missing – and that’s putting it mildly‚ given his violent reputation. For both of these reasons I think Qasim has no choice but to sing.’

  Sinclair nodded and his eyes momentarily flitted to Parker.

  ‘It was the wrong move‚’ Parker said.

  ‘With all due respect‚ sir‚’ Lawrence continued‚ ‘we have invested a lot of time and manpower scoping Qasim. I saw an opportunity and I took the initiative. And as a result we now have enough on Qasim to mould him as we please. We’d still be watching him now if I hadn’t—’

  ‘You’ve made your point‚ Lawrence‚’ Sinclair said.

  ‘Well I think that shows a lot of enterprise‚’ Robinson piped up‚ happy to recognise a kindred spirit. ‘What did you say your name is?’

  ‘Lawrence‚ sir‚’ he said. ‘Teddy Lawrence.’

  *

  In the corridor outside‚ Sinclair indicated for Parker to hold back as they watched Robinson and Lawrence walk cosily away.

  ‘They may as well hold bloody hands‚’ Sinclair said. He turned and faced Parker. ‘It’s done. You don’t have to say it.’

  ‘Sir?’ Parker said.

  ‘Lawrence… He’s not your responsibility anymore. I’m going to ensure that he is moved somewhere better suited. His enthusiasm may impress some but moving forward we need discipline and a clear line of command.’ Parker nodded as Sinclair continued. ‘Get Wakefield on board‚ she has no reason to declin
e. Qasim can give her Drakos on a platter… And listen‚ I think we should have first crack at the boy. This whole Drakos subject is a by-product. Qasim has to agree terms with us first. And then – and only then – can he give a statement pointing at Silas. It has to be in that order.’

  ‘Yes‚ sir‚’ Parker agreed.

  ‘Get a couple of our guys to pick him up‚ arrange it so the boys in blue tag along too. But before he sees the inside of that police station… He’s yours.”

  ‘Mine‚ sir?’

  ‘I want you to handle him from here onwards‚ Parker.

  *

  Parker had already decided that he was not going to mention the rucksack or the BMW to Qasim. If he was going to have a relationship with him‚ it was imperative that it was built on trust. Revealing that they had his car and gear would be the wrong move. He was Qasim’s handler; he would handle him how he saw fit.

  Parker needed to freshen up. He walked into the toilet and looked into the mirror. His tired eyes stared back at him. He reached up to his face and touched the pound-coin-shaped gap in his stubble‚ the result of alopecia brought on by stress. The cubicle door opened and Lawrence walked out. Parker dropped his hand from his face. They stood next to each other as Lawrence washed his hands.

  ‘No hard feelings‚ eh?’ Lawrence said‚ through the mirror. ‘I did what I had to do.’

  Parker rolled and cracked his shoulders and turned on the tap.

  ‘You have to admit. Taking his car was the icing on the cake.’

  ‘You went against my order‚’ Parker said quietly as he slowly rolled up his sleeves.

  ‘Not really. You weren’t exactly giving out any orders to go against.’

  ‘Rule number one. Follow orders‚’ Parker said‚ as if rolling out an age-old mantra.

  Lawrence noisily squirted soap onto his hands.

  ‘Still a bit sore about what happened in the meeting?’ Lawrence asked‚ smiling arrogantly. He turned off the tap and shook his hands dry‚ droplets of water splashing Parker. ‘What happened to you? Huh? Where’s this Chalk I keep hearing about? No offense‚ but you walk around looking like you don’t know what day it is.’

  The speed and ferocity with which Parker gripped his right ear dropped Lawrence to one knee. The soft flesh burned and threatened to tear within Parker’s large hand. Lawrence‚ his face scrunched in pain‚ used both hands to try to pry away Parker’s grip from his ear. When that failed‚ Lawrence punched him with all the power he could muster in the ribs. From his position on one knee he had the perfect angle to cause some damage. Two punches in quick succession‚ hard and fast. Parker’s body didn’t react‚ and his grip didn’t waver. Instead it tightened and he viciously twisted Lawrence’s ear so it was almost positioned upside down.

  ‘Okay‚’ Lawrence screamed. ‘Fucking okay!’ Then quietly he hissed‚ ‘Please.’

  Parker released his ear just as quickly as he had grabbed it. He turned to the sink and calmly washed his face. He dried off using the paper towels and walked out of the toilet without giving Lawrence a second look.

  16

  The minicab pulled up outside our house‚ or‚ I should say‚ my house‚ about mid-morning. I started to lug Mum’s suitcases into the boot as she rushed around the house‚ room to room‚ saying goodbye to all the furniture and all the things she held dear. I slammed the boot shut and the cabbie gave me a deathly stare. I put up an apologetic hand to him‚ just as Idris walked around the corner.

  ‘Don’t you check your fucking voicemail?’ Idris barked before he had even reached me.

  ‘The fuck is your problem?’ I said‚ matching profanity for profanity.

  Idris and I had only ever argued the one time‚ when a chilli eating competition got out of hand. But if he wanted an argument now‚ then I was ready to give him one.

  ‘I’ve been trying to reach you‚ Jay‚’ he said as he got closer. He noticed the minicab. ‘What’s going on? Where you going?’

  ‘To the airport. Mum’s leaving today.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ Idris exclaimed. ‘That’s today? I knew that. I fucking knew that. Mum did tell me.’

  I had never seen Idris so rattled‚ as though all his cool had left him. Mum walked out of the house looking like a seventies Bollywood starlet. White flared trouser suit teamed with huge oversized dark sunglasses‚ holding a midsize black leather travel bag.

  ‘Why don’t you come along? See Mum off‚’ I asked. ‘And then maybe you can tell me what’s on your mind.’

  Idris looked towards Mum‚ who was waving happily at him‚ and it seemed like his brain had just rebooted as he walked over to her. He gave her a customary peck on the cheek‚ effortlessly liberated the travel bag and linked arms with her as he escorted her smiling to the waiting minicab.

  Okay‚ so maybe not all his cool had left him.

  *

  We were sat at a Sports Bar in Terminal 2 at Heathrow‚ Idris opposite me as we waited in silence for our lunch to arrive. Mum and Andrew were now airside‚ no doubt stocking up on Duty Free goods. It was‚ as expected‚ an emotional farewell. Mum’s white suit had ended up stained with a mixture of her mascara‚ my snot and both of our tears. I hadn’t felt any shame sobbing my heart out in front of Idris‚ who had just about managed to hold it together himself.

  ‘So‚ what do you think of Andrew?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah‚ he’s alright‚’ Idris answered‚ absent minded‚ his eyes flitting all over the place before landing on mine. ‘They seem good together.’

  An Arab couple walked into the Sports Bar‚ the wife was covered from head to toe in a Burka. In a heartbeat‚ the tension in the room become palpable and the din died down for a millisecond and then started up again.

  ‘Poor bastards‚’ I said. ‘Do you reckon they ever get used to that?’

  Idris didn’t seem to hear me. The food arrived‚ a Full English Breakfast‚ minus the scum. I tucked straight into it.

  ‘Jay?’ Idris said‚ ignoring his food.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I said‚ with a mouthful of hash brown.

  ‘Look‚ I don’t want to freak you out.’

  ‘Well‚ don’t then.’

  I smiled. He smiled. But only briefly before his expression turned to dour again.

  ‘I’m serious‚ Jay.’

  I looked at my meal longingly‚ and then hesitantly I put down my knife and fork. I took a sip of my orange juice and placed my glass down on the table.

  ‘What’s bothering you?’

  ‘I think they’re coming for you‚’ Idris said‚ rubbing his forehead.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ I asked‚ as controlled as I could‚ when everything in me wanted to scream a thousand questions.

  ‘It’s just something that happened at work.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘My chief had me in her office.’

  ‘Oh‚ did she now?’

  ‘She showed me some photos of us together in your car‚’ he said‚ rightly ignoring my childish remark.

  ‘In my Beemer?’

  ‘No‚ your Nova.’

  ‘So?’ I said‚ trying to remember anything untoward that had happened in my Nova that would have cause to be flagged.

  ‘You were doing a deal.’

  ‘Yeah‚ I remember that. A few weeks back‚ yeah?’ I said‚ and then realisation hit me. ‘And you were in the car with me?’ Idris nodded. ‘Oh‚ shit! Did you get fucked? Is that what this is about?’

  ‘Yeah‚ I did‚ but—’

  ‘God. I’m sorry‚ man. I didn’t fucking know. How much trouble are you in? Can they prove that it was a deal? I could have been passing anything.’

  ‘No‚ Jay‚ shut up for a second. This isn’t about me getting the hairdryer.’ Idris leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘It’s about them watching you.’

  ‘What do you mean watching me? I haven’t done anything wrong! Nothing that warrants surveillance‚ anyway.’

  ‘I know that‚ Jay. If they were going to
arrest you for your nickel-and-dime bullshit dealing they would have pulled you over‚ searched your car and hauled your ass down the station. This is something else.’

  I looked down at my food. It didn’t look too appetising anymore. ‘Idris‚’ I said‚ tentatively. ‘The attack on the mosque. Last Friday. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yeah‚ course.’

  ‘Do you remember I told you about that meeting at Ali’s?’

  ‘Yeah‚’ Idris said‚ his eyes narrowed‚ as he tried to follow my thought process.

  ‘Do you remember—’

  ‘Can you stop saying that‚ for Gods sake‚ I’m not fucking senile‚’ Idris said‚ loud enough for a few patrons to crane their heads in our direction. ‘Go on.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You were in Ali’s. So? What happened?’

  ‘I ended up with Parvez and Khan.’

  ‘Khan?’ Idris said‚ rubbing his face again. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

  ‘Alright‚ calm down‚ man. You’re getting loud again.’

  Idris sat back in his chair and crossed him arms and motioned for me to carry on. ‘We got into a dust up with some white boys in Staines. I tooled one of them… Pretty fucking badly. But he was alright… I think‚’ I said‚ sheepishly. ‘Do you reckon that’s what it’s about?’

  ‘No… I don’t know… It could be.’

  ‘Yeah‚ well‚ thanks for clearing that up‚ Detective.’

  ‘Look. What do we know for a fact? They’ve been watching you for at least a few weeks‚ right?’

  ‘So they can’t be after me because of the fight. That only happened last week.’

  I cracked my knuckles. A nervous trait which hadn’t been evident in a very long time.

  ‘Unless…. Unless…’ Idris said.

  ‘What? Unless what?’

  ‘Unless they were waiting for you to screw up.’

  17

  We decided to take the bus home rather than fork out for another minicab. We sat up on the top deck‚ right at the very back. Me at one window‚ Idris at the far other. A big gap between us‚ just like we did a thousand times back in the day on the way to school. That back seat belonged to us‚ and even though there was a huge gap between us‚ everyone knew better than to occupy it.