‘And you think that taking a bride would have changed you?’
‘I don’t know.’
Baharat looked up. ‘Rajiv-ji, did he …’
‘I came on to him.’
The two men looked at each other. Baharat had to see the truth in his son’s eyes for his own sanity.
‘I swear to you!’ Ali said.
After a moment Baharat said, ‘I know. I can see that in your face.’ Then he said, ‘Have you always …’
‘Yes. Yes. I don’t know why. I have never wanted a woman. I have tried to.’
‘You have been with a woman?’
‘Once. It was awful. I-I paid …’
‘Ah. Then maybe that was the problem. Such women are …’
‘Abba, I can’t bear it,’ Ali said. ‘Women’s bodies are … They don’t make me feel anything. I can’t. I can’t do anything.’
The old man sighed.
‘I started it with Rajiv, because I had always loved him,’ Ali said. ‘Even when I was a boy.’
‘When did this between you start?’
‘Eight years ago. It lasted four years and then …’ He trailed off. ‘I have not … With no one else.’
‘Why did you stop?’
‘Because it was a sin! I couldn’t live with myself!’
‘And Rajiv?’
‘What do you mean? Could he live with himself?’
‘Well, of course he could! Rajiv-ji was always himself! No! What did he do when you finished with him? Was he upset? Was he angry? What?’ He was getting angry and he knew it wasn’t helping. He said, ‘I’m sorry, my son, do please go on.’
Ali sighed, then he said, ‘Rajiv was heartbroken. He even said he’d sell the Leather Bungalow and we’d go and live far away from London where no one would know us. He would have given up everything for me. But I just couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
He put his head down. ‘My family, my religion. When it came down to it, I just couldn’t. I broke Rajiv’s heart and my own.’
‘And so you became a fanatic.’
‘I became an observant man, Abba,’ he said.
‘No, no, you became a fanatic. What are those boys in your house if not fanatics? Abusing the man you had loved in the street. What is that? Is that religion? I think not. Islam is a religion of peace and of intellect. You have exhibited neither in recent years.’
‘I did what I had to in order to stop my thoughts!’ He stood up. ‘Thinking about what I had with Rajiv every day! I purged everything except Islam! All I allowed myself to think about was my religion and the fight against the rising tide of Islamophobia that is taking over the world. My desire to help people in Syria is genuine! I want to help. I do.’
‘And you think it helps that you criticise the way your sister’s daughter chooses to dress? I have puzzled at the bitterness that comes out of you, Ali. I have tried to force myself to live with it. Now I know its cause …’ he shrugged.
‘Abba, don’t reject me because of this, please!’
Ali began to cry again.
‘Because of what?’
‘Because of my sin!’
‘The feelings you cannot crush? In spite of yourself? No,’ the old man said. ‘I will not reject you for that, my son. What I will find hard to forgive are your lies. Those you told me and those you have told yourself. Because now this dishonesty, this moving in circles that can only bring us harm, has put this family at risk. It has brought the police to our door.’
‘I didn’t kill Rajiv, Abba! I didn’t!’
He sank to the floor and put his head in his hands. His father stroked his head, gently.
‘I know you didn’t, Ali,’ he said. ‘I know.’
‘Can men see a girl’s face if they’re engaged?’ Lee asked.
‘These days we all see each other’s faces before we marry,’ Mumtaz replied. ‘Unless of course you’re a …’
‘Nutter like Abu Imad.’ Lee shook his head. ‘Not that I should be using the word “nutter”. He has his point of view.’
‘No, he is a nutter,’ Mumtaz said. ‘And his point of view stinks. I’ll wear the niqab for the Skype session and let’s see what happens. I won’t offer to take it off. I’m still not sure he’ll buy me as an eighteen-year-old.’
‘He liked your photograph.’
‘Taken by a very talented photographer.’
They both fell silent for a moment. Now that Mishal was ‘engaged’ they had moved more quickly than either of them could have anticipated towards some sort of conclusion.
Lee said, ‘You know we have to draw him as close to the UK as we can.’
‘Yes, Lee,’ Mumtaz said. ‘You’ve spoken of little else today.’
‘I was at home with me old man. Aks him!’
Ricky Montalban had a particular hatred for anyone who wasn’t Afro-Caribbean talking as if they were.
‘You mean “ask” him.’
‘Yeah, aks, like I say.’
Ricky shook his head. ‘So why did you bugger off down to Miss Ahmadi’s flat in Wapping when you knew, because your dad must’ve told you, that we wanted to talk to you?’
Zayn shrugged. ‘Everyone goes down Rashida’s one time or another. I wanted a little bit lollipop action, you get me?’
‘You what?’
‘She sucks cock better’n anyone. Trust me.’
Ricky looked down at his paperwork. ‘So she gave you a blow job that lasted two days? Impressive.’
‘Nah! I just spend some time wit the girl.’
‘So you didn’t have to talk to me?’
‘Nah.’
‘I think the word you’re struggling for is “yes” but let’s see where we are, shall we?’ Montalban said. ‘Your dad says he’s not sure whether you were with him or not on the night that Rajiv Banergee was murdered on Brick Lane.’
Zayn sucked his teeth.
‘On account of being off his face,’ Montalban said. ‘By his own admission. As for your “Boyz”, they were all apparently tucked up in bed, with the exception of Sultan Ibrahim. He says he was out and about that night, with you.’
‘He’s lying.’
‘Is he?’
‘Yeah. Sultan’s a pussy, he’ll say anything. He’s frightened of you feds, innit.’
‘Sultan’s frightened of everyone,’ Montalban said. ‘But he’s mostly frightened of you, you being such a stickler for good behaviour in the Lane.’
‘Don’t want no skanks on the Lane, no perverts. This is where Sharia is king, you get me.’
‘Yeah,’ Montalban said. ‘So zero tolerance on gay people.’
‘They ain’t gay, they unnatural. Our religion don’t allow that, man.’
‘The Muslims I know accept gay people.’
‘Pussies.’
The gangsta language wrapped around a poor understanding of a religion Zayn claimed to love was unnerving.
‘Where were you on the night Rajiv Banergee was murdered?’ Montalban asked.
‘I told you. I was at me dad’s.’
‘No you weren’t. Where were you?’
‘Me dad never told you I was out.’
‘How’d you know that, Zayn? Were you there when I asked him?’
‘No. Why’d you think that? Course I weren’t.’
Montalban was fast coming to the conclusion that somehow they’d missed Zayn when they’d searched Suleiman’s flat.
‘Sultan says you were with him,’ Montalban said. ‘So put that together with your dad saying you were out …’
He let that information hang. Zayn was stupid in many ways, but not when it came to his own personal safety.
‘If I say I was out you’ll fucking charge me.’
‘Not necessarily. Depends what you were doing.’
Zayn looked down at the floor.
‘Sultan reckons you were on patrol,’ Montalban said.
The boy remained silent.
‘I asked him what he meant and do you know what he said?’
‘He told me you look for drunks, or should I say people who’ve had a drink,’ Montalban said. ‘Looking for drunks was my job last time I looked, but you and your mates watch out for people who’ve had a few jars. You like, according to Sultan, to catch hold of people of Asian heritage particularly. Like Rajiv Banergee …’
‘I never even saw the old pooftah!’
‘Oh, but you were out?’
He mumbled. ‘Yeah.’
‘So you lied to me.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘No? I think I understand very well,’ Montalban said. ‘You go out and force your will on other people so you can feel powerful. Nothing to do with religion. Everything to do with you and your pathetic little gang. I get it, Zayn, I do! I grew up on the Lane watching all the bankers come down from their glass towers to gawp at us all through curry house windows. Being treated like something subhuman by fucking tits with pink hair and trust funds. It fucking stinks. But if you want it to change, roughing up pissheads ain’t the way. Now I’m gonna have to take your DNA …’
‘Man!’
‘What do you want me to do, Zayn? You can tell me you didn’t kill Mr Banergee until the cows come home, but I have to prove you didn’t.’
‘Well, you wanna DNA them boys what live in the house of Ali Huq, then,’ he said.
Montalban had interviewed both lads who, unlike their landlord Ali Huq, told him they had been in all night. The issue with them, at present, was the triumphalist jihadi images on their computers.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because they’re into ISIS and all that, innit.’
‘Yeah. So are you, aren’t you?’
Zayn shook his head. ‘Ain’t the same, man!’ he said. ‘And, anyway, them two boys were out the night Rajiv died. I saw them. So did Sultan. Aks him if you don’t believe me.’
THIRTEEN
‘You must come now.’
‘How?’
‘You get a flight to Istanbul and then a bus to a place called Gaziantep where I’ll meet you. Lots of Sisters have made that journey.’
Mumtaz had to force herself not to look at Lee. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with Abu Imad. Whenever she did so for any length of time, she felt violated. She didn’t know why. He had not, so far, been sexually suggestive to her.
‘But I’ve got no money,’ Mumtaz said.
For a moment he looked as if he might get angry. But he just sighed. Then he said, ‘Look, Mishal, you really want to come and be with me, right?’
‘More than anything!’
Mumtaz felt her skin crawl underneath her scalp.
‘Well, then you’re gonna have to trust what I say,’ he said. ‘Trust that it’s right. Because it is, Mishal. That you come here to the Caliphate and be part of Allah’s plan is the most important thing that you will ever do. We will raise our children to be pure warriors here. That’s impossible where you are, in the land of the kaffir.’
‘I know, but—’
‘Listen!’ he raised a commanding finger. ‘Sacrifices have to be made, yeah? And one of those is your family. I know it’s hard to hear, Mishal, but they are infidels. You’re not telling them about your plans for a very good reason. I mean, why aren’t you asking them to give you money for your flights?’
‘Because they wouldn’t approve,’ she said.
‘Right. And they won’t approve because they’re living in darkness. They’re infidels! I’m sorry, Mishal, they are. Anyone who isn’t with us, is against us. If you don’t come, you’ll be against us and I would hate that.’
‘Me too!’
‘Because what we have here is the pure land Muslims have always deserved,’ he said. ‘If your parents can’t see it, that’s their problem. What you have to do is get over your feelings for them so that you can reach your full potential. They will only hold you back!’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Does your mother have a bank card?’
His eyes shone as he spoke. He looked through her.
‘Yes …’
‘So buy your ticket online with it,’ he said.
‘Steal it?’
‘Borrow it. A flight to Istanbul is a hundred and fifty pounds. Nothing! And when you get to Istanbul the bus to Gaziantep is pennies. Then we’ll be together!’
She paused. This was a momentous decision for Mishal. She said, ‘I’ve never been anywhere on my own before …’
‘No. But I will be at the end of your journey, waiting for you. Think of that, Mishal! Hold onto that!’
Did he really believe what he was saying? Could anyone be that arrogant?
‘I will.’ She lowered her eyes.
‘But you know that it is permissible for me to see your face before I become your husband,’ he said. ‘Provided we are betrothed. And we are, aren’t we, Mishal? I have arranged for us to marry as soon as possible.’
‘Oh.’
He smiled. ‘I knew that would make you happy. Now you make me happy, eh? You take off your niqab and show me your beautiful face.’
‘Do you know where this meeting your lodgers attended was held?’ Montalban asked.
‘Not exactly. South London somewhere,’ Ali said. ‘Nabil and Qasim attend a lot of religious meetings.’
Ricky Montalban leant back in his chair. It was strange for him to think of straight-laced good-boy Ali Huq as homosexual.
‘How’d you come to take the boys in?’
‘There are many refugees from Syria at the moment,’ Ali said. ‘We do what we can.’
‘We?’
‘There are many organisations dedicated to assisting displaced Muslim children from Syria.’
‘So which one did Nabil and Qasim come from?’
‘Mr Aziz Shah runs a small local charity …’
‘Aziz the tailor.’
‘Yes.’
Another ‘person of interest’.
‘You have their computers and you’ve questioned them,’ Ali said. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘The problem,’ Montalban said, ‘is that they were seen in the vicinity of Arnold Circus on the night that Rajiv Banergee was murdered.’
‘Well, that’s quite possible. They were probably coming back from their meeting.’
‘Their meeting, Mr Huq, was, according to you, in south London. Arnold Circus isn’t on any route back to your place that I can see from round there.’
‘Have you spoken to them?’
‘I’m just about to,’ Montalban said. ‘Do you want to tell me anything before I do?’
Mumtaz had never felt so exposed. On reflex her eyes quickly flashed towards Lee.
He saw it.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘Oh, er, I’m just a bit nervous,’ she said. ‘My mum’s downstairs.’
‘OK.’
He was so volatile. His mood could change in a second.
He smiled. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said. ‘Better than your photograph.’
She’d put on more make-up than she usually did. Young girls tended to wear more than she had when she’d been a teenager. But did she really look eighteen?
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Maybe the background of Shazia’s bedroom helped? Soft toys, flamingo lights and posters.
‘Man, I can’t wait until we can be together,’ he said. ‘It will be soon, inshallah!’
‘Inshallah.’
She felt as if she’d just blasphemed. Using the Sacred Name to one who had killed.
‘A lot of men here like to have converts for wives, white girls,’ he said. ‘But a girl born and bred a Muslim is a real jewel.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You know what a warrior needs, by instinct.’
What did that mean? Mumtaz felt her stomach turn when she remembered her husband who had said something similar once.
‘We must plan for our wedding immediately,’ he said. ‘I’ll fix everything this end. You must get tho
se tickets booked as soon as you can.’
She hesitated for a second. Just a second. But he noticed.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘The problem?’
‘You seem hesitant,’ he said. ‘Don’t you want to come to me? Don’t you want to be my wife? You know those convert girls I told you about? They’d all be my wives if I wanted them to be. But I’ve been waiting for a real Muslim girl. I’ve been saving myself. Don’t disappoint me, Mishal.’
His voice was calm but there was menace behind it. She would have to reassure him somehow if she didn’t want to lose him.
She said, ‘I’m afraid.’
‘Afraid? What’s to be afraid of? I’ll be waiting for you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you! I will be your champion, Mishal. Like one of Saladin’s warriors, I will stand between you and the Crusaders unto death!’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m offering you paradise and you say, “yes, but”… What is this Mishal? Are you just playing with me?’
‘No!’
‘Then why are you scared? You know I will care for you. Take your mum’s card and book that flight! Believe me, if I could come to the UK and get you, I would. But if I set foot in that hellhole, they will arrest me because I would be a big catch for them.’
‘Taking money from my mum …’
‘She won’t notice if it’s on her card!’
She had to think fast.
‘She won’t, but my dad will,’ she said. ‘He checks their joint bank account every day. If over a hundred pounds goes out, he’ll ask questions and then they’ll find out and go mental.’
He blinked, but didn’t speak. Mumtaz suspected that he was boiling inside.
Then her phone rang.
Aftab Huq put his phone in his pocket and walked out the back of the shop to where old George was having a smoke over by the disreputable shack Aftab described as his warehouse. George had worked for Aftab ever since he’d ‘retired’ fifteen years ago.
Aftab said, ‘Got a fag?’
George gave him a cigarette. ‘Shazia on the counter?’
‘Yeah.’ Aftab lit up. ‘Been trying to talk to her mum about Wahid Sheikh,’ he said. ‘But she ain’t picking up.’
‘Ah.’
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