East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  I put my hands on the top of the TV and slowly tilted it towards me. I let it tilt until it was at the point of no return‚ and I watched it slowly drop to the floor. The carpet broke its fall as it landed face down. Still intact. So I stamped on it. Once‚ twice‚ three fucking times‚ until I had crushed it and it stopped talking to me.

  Silence enveloped and suffocated me.

  I walked around the living room and trashed everything I could get my hands on. Photo frames were smashed. My armchair overturned. The remote control took flight straight into the large mirror which hung above my sofa. I kicked the shit out of the plant pots and broke a leg off the coffee table.

  Out of breath‚ I made my way upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed. My final thought‚ before sleep mercifully found me‚ was‚ Maybe I can help. Maybe I can make a difference.

  Part Two

  I never switched sides‚

  I just switched lanes.

  – Anonymous

  23

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so well; it was a slumber like no other. I found myself in the exact same position that I’d been in when my head literally hit the pillow. My eyelids fluttered but did not open. I heard car doors closing and engines starting up. The world outside my window‚ on its way to what a new day could bring but most likely wouldn’t. I didn’t want to open my eyes‚ not yet anyway. Because once they were open I would have to face things that I didn’t want to face.

  I stretched and tried to crack my back but my movement was restricted as I hadn’t bothered to take my jacket off the night before‚ or my shoes for that matter‚ which may have explained the excessive sweating‚ but then I had also forgotten to switch off the heating. Yeah‚ Mum‚ you shoot off‚ I’ll be fine. Right‚ as fucking rain!

  A dark shadow blocked the daylight that was seeping through my eyelids and I finally opened my eyes to determine the offending item. Parvez was stood at the side of my bed‚ bearing down on me with a concerned look on his face. In his hand was my Italia ’90 mug. It was steaming and it smelt very much like coffee. He gave me a tight smile which begged a question or two.

  I closed my eyes and he disappeared.

  ‘I made you coffee‚ Brother.’

  Shit‚ he was still there!

  *

  I shuffled up on my bed‚ resting back against the headboard‚ coffee in hand. I took a sip and made a face. It was too strong for my liking and way too milky‚ but it was much needed and much appreciated. Not that I would tell Parvez that. I grunted my appreciation. Over the rim of my mug I watched him walk around my room and I struggled to recall his last unwelcome visit here. At one period of my life‚ it had seemed that he was a permanent fixture‚ coming and going as he pleased. Which begged the question:

  ‘How did you get in‚ Parvez?’ I asked‚ to no response. He was hypnotised by the Katrina Kaif‚ Bollywood sex-siren poster. Not his fault. It had that effect. ‘Hey! Yo?’

  He tore his eyes away from the poster. ‘The front door was open.’

  ‘Oh‚’ I said. And just like that‚ it all came rushing back to me.

  Parvez sat down on the edge of my single bed‚ not close enough to be touching but close enough. His eyes moved over my sorry state.

  ‘Did you sleep with your jacket on?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘And your shoes?’

  I shrugged‚ again. He nodded.

  ‘Did you forget to shut your front door?’

  A third shrug would have just been rude‚ and he had just made me coffee‚ so I dignified his question with an answer‚ of sorts.

  ‘Um…’

  ‘Were you… You know?’ Parvez asked‚ and he made a face full of unbridled disgust‚ and just like that Parvez the Preacher was back in town.

  ‘Yeah‚ Parvez. I was drinking. And I was puffing.’ I looked at him‚ daring him to challenge me. He didn’t. ‘But I wasn’t drunk‚ or high.’

  ‘So‚ what then?’

  ‘It wasn’t me that left the door open. I had some visitors‚ all right‚ and they probably left it open on the way out… Shit‚ man. Why do you ask so many question?’

  ‘I’m just asking because—’

  ‘Because what?’ I snapped. ‘Look‚ Parvez. I’ve got a long list of things to do today and you’re not on it. I haven’t got the time or the patience for one of your patronising‚ self-righteous‚ bullshit lectures.’

  ‘You were burgled last night‚’ Parvez said‚ and stood up in a huff. After all these years he had finally got offended. I could hear him trudge slowly down the stairs‚ each heavy footstep serving to make a point. I heard the front door open.

  ‘Parvez‚’ I shouted‚ half out of my bed. ‘I wasn’t burgled.’

  The front door closed softly. So much for storming out.

  I put my coffee down on the bedside table and jumped out of bed. I was feeling uncharacteristically guilty for the way that I’d spoken to him. I skipped downstairs two steps at a time and jumped the last four. I landed flush in the hallway and as I hurried past the living room I quickly glanced inside. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. I doubled back and stood at the entrance of the living room.

  Parvez had cleaned up my mess.

  It was spotless.

  The remains of the smashed television had been removed‚ as had the broken mirror and the photo frames. My armchair had been picked up and set back in its correct position. The table leg had been‚ somewhat crudely‚ spliced back into its position and the table sat proudly yet pathetically wonky in the middle off the room. But what really killed me was the dust pan in the corner of the room‚ with the remains of the soil that had fallen from the plant pot. Even though the vacuum cleaner was in plain sight in the hallway‚ and an easier option‚ he’d decided against using it. Why? Because knowing him‚ and knowing how his tiny brain worked‚ he wouldn’t have wanted to disturb me with the racket the vacuum would have made whilst I slept. So he opted for the quieter option‚ the broom. Who does that? Really‚ who the fuck sweeps a carpet? Only the stupid and the naïve. And the loving.

  I walked out of the house and stood in my driveway looking towards his house. He had just about reached his front door when he turned around and looked at me. I put up my hand and smiled at him. He ignored the gesture and went inside.

  I never really had considered Parvez a friend. Because he was more than that. He was an agitator‚ an annoying little brother‚ and I knew that he would be a part of my life‚ forever.

  I switched the crappy 17-inch TV in my bedroom on and watched the aftermath of the horrific events from the night before. Edmonton‚ Canada. I’d never heard of it. Geography was not my strong point. According to the reports‚ it was the fifth-largest municipality.

  I took out my mobile phone and Googled municipality with one eye still on the TV. Two photos of the bombers appeared. Their names were Mushtaq Khan and Abdul Ali. Twenty-seven and thirty-one years old. They looked for all the world like two regular Joes. Both clean shaven and bright eyed. They had kind expressions‚ the type you would associate with a teacher children enjoyed being taught by. A bit like Andrew. The programme flipped back to the sullen looking newsreader‚ reeling off deathly numbers.

  My mind was made up.

  24

  A man determined‚ I walked with confidence towards the entrance of Hounslow police station. From my peripheral vision I saw a figure appear at the second-floor window. I peered up but couldn’t work out who it was through the reflection on the glass‚ until he opened the window and popped his head out. He wore a perplexed look and gestured for me to wait there.

  I sighed. The last person I wanted to see was Idris.

  I stood just outside the entrance and waited‚ some of my earlier confidence starting to wane at the thought of trying to explain myself to Idris. I sparked up to calm my nerves.

  Idris walked out and without breaking stride grabbed me by the arm and took me along for the ride. I stumbled but managed to rec
over my footing and I wrenched my arm back and stood my ground.

  ‘The fuck you doing‚ man?’ I said.

  Idris stood in front of me and hissed. ‘What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are you doing?’

  I straightened out the crease he had left on the arm of my jacket.

  ‘You should have called me first‚ Jay. You know I can’t be seen here with you. We have to wait for this… whatever this is‚ to blow over.’ He said‚ his arms animatedly flaying all over the place. ‘You can’t just toddle on down whenever you want to see me. If the Chief sees us together I am—’

  ‘All right‚ all right. Calm down‚ will you?’ I decided to put him out of his misery before he spontaneously combusted. ‘I’m not here to see you‚ mate. Don’t flatter yourself.’

  Idris’ eyes narrowed as he processed the information. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Look I can’t chat at the minute. Link me later‚ and I’ll fill you in.’

  ‘Is this about… you know? What we talked about.’

  ‘Idris. Seriously‚ man. We’ll chat‚ later‚ yeah?’ I said‚ not willing to give anything away. He nodded and I could see concern etched on his face.

  We bumped fists.

  ‘In a bit‚ yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. In a bit‚’ I said‚ and he disappeared inside. I took a deep breath‚ composed myself and followed suit.

  *

  I was directed to a waiting area by a rotund‚ grubby-looking copper whose not-so-white shirt was untucked from the back of his too-tight trousers. He made a note of my name and left me to it. I whiled away the time deleting text messages on my phone from customers wanting to be hit up. I started to calculate in my head roughly how much I would have made if I’d still been dealing‚ when an altogether smarter looking copper appeared and asked me to walk with him. He took me down a narrow hallway and we stood outside a room. Attached to the door was a gold-plated sign which read Chief Superintendent. He knocked on the door. A stern female voice informed us to enter. He opened the door and let me go through into the dimly lit office.

  She was sat behind a desk and eyed me with interest. There was a guy sat opposite her in a sharp‚ dark blue suit. He also gave me the eyes‚ but his carried something warmer‚ more friendly. It put me a little at ease.

  ‘I am Chief Superintendent Wakefield‚’ she said‚ all matter-of-factly. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’

  I nodded. Sharp suit stood and put a hand out to me. I took it and shook it. His grip was stronger than mine‚ his palms drier.

  ‘Nice to finally meet you‚ Javid. My name is Lawrence. Teddy Lawrence.’

  We sat in a triangle with the desk separating us from Wakefield. This Lawrence character seemed very eager to make me comfortable. He offered me a drink and he offered me a croissant. Never one to turn down a freebie I said yes and yes‚ much to Wakefield’s obvious disdain. For whatever reason‚ she didn’t take to me but I didn’t really care; I wasn’t there to make friends. I just wanted to give my statement and get the hell outta dodge. I waited for them to take me to one of those bright white interrogation rooms with the tape recorder and the pretend mirror which was really one way glass‚ but that didn’t happen.

  Wakefield picked up the phone‚ pressed a single button and in that clipped manner of hers that I was now beginning to adjust to‚ said. ‘Three coffees.’

  ‘Javid‚ I believe that you have been briefed and that you are fully aware why you are here.’

  ‘You can call me Jay.’ She looked at me as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. ‘But yeah‚ I am fully aware. I met with Kingsley Parker and he‚ you know‚ briefed me.’

  ‘Very well‚’ Wakefield said. ‘Mr Lawrence‚ here‚ is a colleague of Mr Parker and he is here in the capacity of…’ She struggled to find the right word.

  ‘Let’s just say I’m here to oversee‚’ Lawrence said. ‘Supervise.’

  ‘You know Parker?’ I said‚ turning to him.

  ‘Oh‚ yes‚’ he said. ‘I know Parker.’

  ‘So‚ moving forward‚’ Wakefield said. ‘The subject is Silas Drakos. You are to give a written and signed statement. It will take place in this room‚ at this desk‚ on your own. Do give as much detail as possible but only what you know. Only facts. You have as much time as you require. Clear?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Is that clear‚ Javid?’

  ‘Yeah‚ it’s clear.’

  ‘On completion pick up the phone‚ dial one and ask for me. We will go over the statement together and once we are all satisfied then we will require your signature. Any questions?’

  ‘No‚ that’s fine. I understand.’

  Wakefield gave me a pen and a pad of paper and stomped across the office to the door and held it open for Lawrence. He got up from his chair and bent down‚ his face next to my ear.

  ‘Don’t worry about her‚’ he whispered. ‘Best of luck with the statement. Make sure you bury this clown.’ I nodded. ‘And Jay… Welcome to MI5.’

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention.

  Welcome to MI5.

  *

  It felt strange picking up a pen and putting it to paper. I kept getting cramp in my hand and my handwriting was not how I had remembered it to be. But once I got flowing I was on a roll. It took me the best part of three hours and three sheets‚ front and back‚ to complete the statement. I threw everything at it‚ providing dates and times of pick-ups‚ drop-offs and amounts in cash and in weight. I named as many of his accomplices as I could‚ including that fucking thug Staples. Despite Wakefield insisting that I deal only in facts‚ I thought that it would only help if I mentioned the room. The mystery room. The lock-up that Silas had once taken me up to but changed his mind and denied me entry. I had a strong feeling that that room was housing some seriously heavy fucking artillery. If that was the case‚ then it would only serve to add to the time that Silas was looking at serving.

  I didn’t feel guilty. Not for a second.

  When I had finished‚ I picked up the phone and dialled one and asked for Wakefield. She was back in her office before I had even had the chance to put the phone back in its cradle. She sat‚ straight backed‚ and read the statement‚ twice. After the first time‚ she made me sign every correction that I had made.

  Seemingly satisfied and from the looks of it‚ quite impressed with the level of detail‚ she asked me to sign it.

  ‘Excellent‚’ she said‚ more to herself.

  Taking that as my cue‚ I stood up and stretched my neck and flexed my fingers.

  ‘What happens now?’ I asked.

  ‘Mr Lawrence is waiting for you. He is responsible for you now.’

  ‘I mean‚ with Silas? He… He won’t know that… You know?’

  She peered over at me over my statement. ‘No‚’ she said. ‘He won’t know.’

  25

  I walked out of Chief Superintendent Penelope Wakefield’s office a changed man. It’s funny‚ I’d never before referred to myself as a man‚ but that’s how I felt. A real man‚ with a real purpose in life. I had taken the first step towards my new life‚ into a world that I knew had changed. A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body. I switched my phone on and immediately it vibrated in my hand. I looked at the text message from an unknown number. It read:

  Visitors Car Park‚ Grey Volkswagen Passat

  I walked through the station quickly with my head down‚ wanting to avoid Idris. I stepped out and the sun was shining on me. I saw Lawrence before I saw the Passat. He was leaning against the driver’s side door speaking with a pretty Indian copper in uniform. She was smiling and playing with her hair. If Parvez had witnessed that‚ he would have been furious. He hated seeing white guys with Asian girls.

  I hung back whilst he said a few words to her. She slipped him a card and a smile‚ and walked away. He looked over at me and gestured with his head for me to join him as he got into the driver’s seat. I approached and jumped in the passenger’s seat. I
smiled at him like a long-lost cousin and he nodded coolly at me.

  ‘You can’t beat the German manufacturing‚ right?’ I said‚ babbling small talk as I took in the interior. ‘I drive German‚ too. Black BMW 5 series. Actually‚ scratch that. I used to drive a black BMW 5 series. It got jacked!’

  Something crossed his face and his head dipped slightly.

  ‘Did you report it stolen?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. But what’s the point?’ I said‚ shaking my head. ‘They’re not going to do a damn thing. Too busy pulling over Pakis.’

  Lawrence shook his head a little as though he agreed‚ but he seemed keen to move on.

  ‘First opportunity‚ we’ll get you to sign all the necessary documents.’

  ‘Secrets Act?’ I said‚ showing off what little knowledge I had gathered through a cursory Google search earlier.

  ‘That’s right‚ Jay. The Official Secrets Act. You will be entrusted with classified information and covert tasks. It is imperative that all information stays with you. Your role centrally is to help us with the targeting process‚ using your intelligence to map out what we can about the terrorist network.’

  There you have it. That word. I nodded it away casually even though my stomach was twisting.

  ‘Don’t worry‚ Jay‚’ he said‚ reading me correctly. ‘Your approach will be tailored to your skillset.’

  It made me uncomfortable. What skillset? The skillset of being a Muslim‚ that fucking skillset?

  ‘I trust your meeting went well with Chalk?’ Lawrence continued.

  ‘Chalk?’

  ‘Parker‚ sorry. We all know him as Chalk.’

  ‘Right‚’ I said‚ storing away that bit of information. ‘So‚ you guys working together?’