‘So‚ what are you going to do for money?’ he asked‚ letting go of me.
My mind flashed back to the paying-in books that I had found in the loft. Three grand a month income from our mystery contributor.
‘I have a bit saved up‚ enough to get me through.’ I shrugged‚ nonchalantly.
‘I can’t tell you how happy that makes me‚ Jay‚’ he said. ‘That’s Allah’s will‚ Brother.’
‘Yeah‚ it is. It really is Allah’s will.’ I wasn’t about to tell him that it was actually Silas’ will.
‘So I guess that explains why you’re always at the mosque‚’ he said‚ in a eureka moment.
‘Yeah‚ man. As I said‚ it’s a combination of things. Mum chipped‚ I knocked dealing on the head and…’
This was it‚ this is where I had planned for the conversation to lead. I composed myself and took an internal breath.
‘And what?’ he asked.
‘The attacks in Canada‚’ I said‚ in a hushed tone. ‘It got me thinking‚ man. You know? It’s bad what’s happening to us. Islam is being blackened. I want to help those people‚ somehow.’
My hand was rubbing the back of my head‚ perfecting that stressed out look.
Parvez instinctively took a step back‚ the heel of his Crocs hitting the wall behind him. His mood changed and he looked nervously around over his shoulders. Then in a meek voice he said‚ ‘What do you mean? Help how?’
‘Just‚ you know. There is a right way of doing things… And a wrong way. Take the attack on the mosque a few weeks back. Remember how we retaliated? I mean I was dead against that shit‚ but now‚ in retrospect‚ I think we did the right thing. We sent a message out to those bastards. Yeah‚ it wasn’t the actual guys that vandalised the mosque but that’s not the point‚ you know. The point is we didn’t stand back and let it happen. We did something. An eye for an eye‚ right?’
I think I went too far‚ judging by the way Parvez was looking at me. Questions and curiosity etched over his face‚ none of which he expressed vocally.
I was tempted to say more‚ entice something out of him. I had a feeling that something was going on with him‚ something related to Number 15. At that moment I wasn’t doing it for MI5‚ I just wanted to find out the extent of his involvement and get him as far away from there as possible. Because that boy is as naïve as they come and that naïvety could well see him strapped to an explosive vest.
Anyway‚ I had put the seed out there; it was up to the weather to determine how it flourished.
‘Can I ask you something‚ Parvez?’
‘Yes‚’ he said‚ but he was still a bit spooked.
‘Why have you been ignoring me at the mosque the last week or so? It seemed like you were pissed off with me. Like‚ it wasn’t my place to be there.’
‘It’s not that.’
‘I mean‚ you’ve been trying to get me on the straight and narrow for as long as I can remember. It’s partly down to you that I started to look at my life and started to think about the afterlife. How I would answer to Allah.’ I sighed‚ theatrically‚ took a breath‚ and continued. ‘I’ve known you all my life‚ man‚ and it saddened me that you‚ you of all people‚ wasn’t sharing and rejoicing in… in… whatever this is!’
‘You’ll never know how happy I am for you‚ Brother‚’ he said. ‘You have chosen the right path and I am guaranteed a place in paradise for helping you see that path.’
‘Then‚ what? Why the cold shoulder?’
Parvez looked up into the clear sky; the moon was out in its full glory. A tell-tale sign that it was time for Prayers. Then‚ tearing his eyes away from the night and landing on mine‚ he said‚ ‘Because… I think that you are being watched.’
33
Robinson was sitting cross-legged‚ one arm draped across the back of the three-seater sofa. A jug of water and one glass sat in front of him. His eyes flitted between the clock and the door‚ waiting for the knock. He had already visualised how he would greet them all; no need to get up and shake hands when a curt nod would suffice. The speaker on the table buzzed. He acknowledged it and smiled to himself. He heard the knock on the door‚ counted ten seconds in his head and then barked ‘Enter’.
Sinclair‚ Lawrence and Parker walked into the office. In that order. Robinson gave the rehearsed curt nod to Sinclair who returned one of his own‚ and sat down opposite. Lawrence sat down next to Sinclair and crossed his legs‚ letting his designer socks come into view. Robinson watched with amusement as Parker looked around for somewhere to sit. Robinson could have moved to one end of the sofa but he didn’t want to. In the end‚ Parker decided to just stand by the tall window.
Sinclair started‚ without preamble. ‘There has been a development which I would like to inform you of. I don’t know how it will change things. But first‚’ he addressed Parker‚ ‘I would like an update on Javid Qasim. How’s our boy getting along?’
‘Well. Very well indeed. He’s surprised me. Jay has leapt into his role‚ he’s enthusiastic and has contributed ideas of his own. I think he is going to be a real asset to the team.’
‘That’s all very well‚ Parker‚’ Robinson smiled‚ a little mocking. ‘But would you mind telling us what he is actually doing.’ He caught Lawrence’s eye and saw amusement in it reflecting his own.
‘He is keeping as close to his own life as possible. The only thing that has changed is that he is visiting Sutton Mosque more often and keeping his eyes and ears open.’
‘Is that it?’ Lawrence said. ‘No intel?’
‘No‚ Lawrence. That is not it.’ Parker said. ‘There is a house in Osterley‚ Number 15 Jersey Way. Supposedly it is used for Islamic Studies‚ but the whole set up suggests otherwise. There has been some suspicious activity‚ which Jay would like to further investigate. It may well prove that this address is being used to potentially groom young Muslims. He has a friend who is involved and through this friend he will try to infiltrate.’
‘Who is this friend?’ Sinclair asked. ‘Do we have a name?’
‘Negative‚ sir. Jay is hesitant to reveal the identity and I haven’t pushed for it. Not yet‚ not until necessary.’
‘We need a name‚ Parker‚’ Robinson said. ‘Jay isn’t in a position to be calling the shots. You’re his handler. Handle him!’
Parker opened his mouth to respond‚ but Lawrence beat him to it.
‘Parvez Ahmed.’ Lawrence felt every eye shoot towards him and he loved it. Seemingly from thin air‚ he pulled out an iPad and placed it on the table. He opened up the photos app and slowly scrolled through several photos of Parvez. ‘A childhood friend of Javid Qasim. He was present with Qasim at the riot at Elmsleigh Car Park‚ the night after Sutton Mosque was vandalised.’ Lawrence looked at each person in turn‚ just to ensure that he had everyone’s attention and continued. ‘He is a regular at said mosque‚ attends daily‚ at least three times a day‚ five times on a Friday. He is currently unemployed and living with his parents in Hounslow‚ across the road from Qasim. No priors‚ but he has travelled to Islamabad on two occasions. I’ve requested a background check.’
Parker looked intently at the image of Parvez until the power save kicked in and the screen went blank. He looked up to find that Sinclair was staring at him.
‘Bravo‚ Lawrence‚’ Robinson said‚ somewhat unnecessarily. Lawrence just nodded coolly‚ but his insides were having a party. ‘Job well done. Anything to add‚ Parker?’
‘Jay has also become close to another regular at the mosque who may be of interest. His name is Kevin.’ Parker knew what question was coming next and he hated himself for not knowing the answer.
‘Do we have a surname?’ Sinclair asked‚ hopefully.
‘No‚ sir‚’ Parker said.
‘Lawrence?’ Robinson prompted.
‘I’m on it. Shouldn’t be too difficult. He’s obviously a convert‚ I’ll have his full name by end of play‚’ Lawrence said‚ making a note on his iPad.
/>
‘Right. Well. If there’s nothing else to add on Qasim‚ Sinclair can update us on the new development‚’ Robinson said‚ giving the floor to the Major General.
‘At 9 a.m. this morning‚’ Sinclair announced‚ ‘Silas Drakos was released from custody.’
34
Sinclair waited for the news to sink in before he continued.
‘Drakos’ counsel managed to cut a deal.’
‘Deal? What the bloody hell are you talking about? We gave them Drakos on a goddamn plate in return for Javid Qasim’s safety‚’ Robinson raged‚ his face scrunched so all his features were touching. ‘That was the fucking deal!’
Parker stood at the window‚ his hands tightly clasped behind his back‚ looking out at the London skyline. He was certain where this was heading‚ and he was certain what the outcome would be. It was an outcome he would not agree to.
‘Is this confirmed information?’ Lawrence asked.
‘I got word from Chief Superintendent Wakefield this morning.’
‘Drakos is‚ without question‚ the biggest drug dealer in West London‚’ Robinson said. ‘We have a written statement from Qasim pointing a finger at him. From what I understand they found significant quantities of narcotics and weapons at his house‚ and more at a second location. The Met have enough on him to put him away for a very long time. So‚ Major General‚ I ask you again‚ what the bloody hell are you talking about?’
‘The guns‚’ Parker said‚ quietly. ‘This is about the guns.’
Sinclair nodded. ‘That’s right. Drakos has agreed to give up his supplier. A Simon Pratchett‚ currently based in Manchester.’
‘Is that name supposed to mean something to me?’ Robinson asked.
‘Simon Pratchett was arrested in 2012 trying to supply eight thousand AK47’s and thirty-six million rounds of ammunition to a terrorist cell in Darfur‚ Sudan. The hearing was delayed until 2014‚ and ultimately thrown out of court. Pratchett went underground. However rumours and chat circulated that he was still dealing in arms but on a smaller scale. Mainly keeping his business afloat on our shores.’
‘That’s where Drakos comes in‚’ Lawrence chimed.
Sinclair nodded.
‘Bigger picture?’ Robinson asked. ‘How does this affect us?’
‘It won’t take long for Drakos to work out who was responsible for seeing him put away‚ if he hasn’t already. One moment Qasim owes him ten thousand and the next he’s in handcuffs. Drakos is many things‚ but stupid isn’t one of them.’
‘How about if Qasim pays the debt? Would that make a difference?’ Lawrence asked.
‘Silas Drakos is as crazy as they come‚’ Sinclair said. ‘How do you second guess a bloody madman?’
‘Bloody hypocrite.’ Lawrence stood up abruptly‚ shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Correct me if I am wrong‚ but didn’t Drakos just grass to get himself out of trouble?’
‘Short term‚’ Robinson held out his hand‚ indicating that a decision had been made. ‘Let’s arrange eyes on Drakos. Qasim is to go nowhere near him. You understand me? Not until we see this thing through.’
Lawrence sat back down and nodded.
Sinclair didn’t respond but his silence was one of agreement.
Parker‚ still at the window‚ his back to them all‚ listened to the reasoning and the inevitable result of it. There was not a thing he could say that would make a difference.
But he said it anyway.
‘We have to get him out.’
‘Don’t be absurd‚ Parker‚’ Robinson snorted. ‘What do you expect? Witness protection‚ relocation‚ a new bloody identity?’
‘He can’t be part of this anymore.’ Parker turned to faced Robinson. ‘His life is in danger.’
‘Not going to happen.’ Robinson dismissed it with a flick of the wrist.
Before anybody could react‚ Parker had cut the distance between them in one stride and was towering over Robinson‚ his fists balled. His face screwed up in wrath.
‘His life is in danger!’ Spittle flew from Parker’s mouth.
‘Parker!’ Sinclair was on his feet‚ his hand firmly on Parker’s shoulder. ‘Stand down.’
Parker walked out of the office before being ordered out. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He waited outside for Sinclair‚ pacing‚ burning a hole in the carpet. He knew‚ he knew‚ they were dead-on. It was the right move‚ the only move. But it was a nightmare scenario. Jay was potentially the key‚ the missing piece of the jigsaw that could provide a breakthrough and lead them to their number one target‚ The Teacher.
The office door opened and Sinclair stomped out. He did not appear impressed as he walked towards and then past Parker. ‘Walk with me.’
In Sinclair’s altogether more humble office‚ Parker stood in front of his desk silently.
‘You are not a damn soldier anymore‚ Parker.’
Parker said nothing.
‘This is not the barracks or the bloody mess hall.’
No‚ Parker thought‚ it’s not.
‘I shudder to think what would have transpired if I hadn’t been there.’
Parker knew what would have happened. It replayed over and over in his mind‚ each time‚ increasing in violence.
‘I’ve vouched for you from day one‚ when all I heard was opposition. I have spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince Robinson not to have you relieved of your duties.’ Sinclair exhaled through his nose. His toned softened‚ to one that he wasn’t comfortable with. ‘Parker… It’s the only solution‚ and I know that you know that it’s the only solution. It’s bloody crap‚ but it’s the right bloody move. We have a very big player in our sights and the safety of one man cannot jeopardise that.’
What could Parker say?
‘So‚ going forward.’ Sinclair’s tone back to business. ‘Eyeballs on Drakos to be organised. But Qasim continues. He’s doing a good job‚ which in my books means that you are too.’
Parker dismissed the compliment without any thought of entertaining it. He knew when he was being pacified.
‘It is imperative that he is not informed of this development.’
Parker nodded. Just about.
Sinclair eyed him momentarily until he was satisfied that the message had sunk in‚ and then dismissed him.
Parker left the room without having said a word.
35
So they were watching me. When Parvez told me that‚ I freaked a little. Worried that my cover had been blown. That‚ in my eagerness‚ I had somehow given the game away‚ talked to too many people‚ asked too many questions. Painted a target on my back.
But it wasn’t that. Not at all.
They were looking at me. But in a completely different way. Parvez went on to explain that they noticed a change in my prayer patterns. The heavy attendance. The new leaf being turned over.
Hounslow has a large Muslim community‚ but like all communities everybody seemed to know everybody else’s business. They knew that my mum had left me on my own. They knew that I had stopped dealing and assumed I had no job‚ no income. They knew about my involvement in the fracas at Elmsleigh Car Park. I was viewed as one who was vulnerable. A young Muslim who was at a crossroads in his life‚ trying to determine which path to take. They wanted to help me choose a path.
They saw me as a potential recruit.
Now all I had to find out was who the fuck they were.
Parvez wasn’t about to divulge that information. He would just say that my name had come up on occasion‚ that questions had been asked. He warned me to keep a low profile and that I shouldn’t get involved.
The problem was that I wasn’t sure how to get involved. So I continued in the same vein. I started to attend Basic Islamic Studies within the mosque‚ led by our cleric‚ Mr Hamza‚ in the hope that whoever was watching would notice.
The classes took place once a week in a small back room at the mosque. The attendees ranged from the very young – I’m ta
lking four year olds – to the very old. The lessons themselves were pretty tame. Knowing the difference between good and bad. Respecting your parents and elders. Charity‚ five pillars‚ reciting the Quran‚ etcetera. We sat uncomfortably on the carpeted hard floor and listened intently to Mr Hamza‚ while we chorused Inshallahs‚ Mashallahs and Alhamdulillahs.
In one session‚ Kevin joined us. He looked around the class until he spotted somewhere suitable to sit‚ which just happened to be next to me. Other spaces were available. Mr Hamza was telling us a story about a Chinese man who‚ after a failed suicide attempt‚ woke from a coma. Due to the brain trauma‚ he didn’t recognise his wife or his kids. Although somehow he knew all the words of the Quran from memory. A man who had never ever picked up the holy book‚ never showed any interest in Islam.
‘It’s a miracle!’ exclaimed Mr Hamza.
I wasn’t quite sure his wife and kids saw it that way.
‘I haven’t been to this class in years‚’ Kevin whispered to me‚ as he tried to get comfortable on the floor.
‘Yeah? I would have thought this would be right up your street.’ I whispered back.
‘Yes‚ it was. But these classes have a cycle. After a few sessions‚ they become repetitive. Take this story‚ for example‚ about the Chinese guy. I have heard it on many occasions.’
‘Is it true?’ I asked.
‘Until you see something with your own eyes‚ what is true and what isn’t?’ he answered‚ somewhat cryptically.
‘Right. So maybe I should look elsewhere. You know‚ to further my learning on Islam.’
‘Don’t get me wrong‚ it is about Islam and living your life cleanly. Perfect for somebody like yourself who is relatively new to this‚’ he replied. ‘It also educates you on the meaning of jihad. It really is interesting how—’
East of Hounslow Page 14
