But that wasn’t the worst sound.
The worst sound was a cruel‚ mocking laugh. A laugh that Daniel didn’t recognise‚ but knew came from him.
After a very long thirty seconds the video came to a stop.
‘Did you recognise the video which we just showed you?’ the SIO asked.
‘Yes‚’ Daniel mouthed silently. He swallowed and repeated louder. ‘Yes.’
‘Layla Younis took her own life that very same night.’
Daniel dropped his head‚ aimlessly chipping away at the edge of the table with his fingernail‚ trying to ignore the tears that raced down his face.
‘By size and height‚ we know that neither of the two perpetrators are you‚ Daniel‚’ the second officer said. Daniel couldn’t remember his name. Just that he was a Detective Inspector‚ and that he had a kindly face that made Daniel want to confide in him. ‘However‚ what we do believe is that you filmed the attack.’
It wasn’t a question‚ just a damning statement. So Daniel said nothing. The DI continued.
‘Were you also responsible for editing and uploading it online using the handle “Takebackourstreets” from an internet café in Cranford?’
Daniel took a breath. He wanted to tell the truth before it consumed him‚ but at the same time he could not stop thinking about Simon and Anthony. His only friends.
‘What will happen to them?’ Daniel asked.
‘If I were you‚ I’d be more worried about what’s going to happen to you.’ The SIO was clearly frustrated.
‘If you can provide the names of those behind the obscured faces‚ we may be in a position to help you‚ son‚’ the DI said‚ his tone conciliatory‚ more so than his superior.
Daniel nodded‚ knowing that he would never be free of the guilt‚ but at the very least he’d be free to rebuild his life.
‘Daniel Lewis...’ the SIO said. Daniel ran an arm across his face and wiped away the tears‚ a trail of elastic snot snapped between his arm and nose. ‘Can you confirm that you were on the one hundred and eleven bus on March nineteenth between 7.30 and 8 p.m?’
If he confessed to being on that bus‚ that would be it‚ the rest would come tumbling out just as he had rehearsed it on so many sleepless nights. His lips parted‚ the SIO and the DI leaned forward. There were two hard raps on the door. A uniformed officer popped his head in.
‘Daniel Lewis’ solicitor has arrived.’
‘Lewis has declined the right to an attorney‚’ said the SIO‚ clearly frustrated.
‘Well‚ he’s here. And he’s demanding to speak with his client‚ right now.’
65
Jay
I knocked on Naaim’s front door and waited all of two seconds before knocking again.
I stepped back from the front door and glanced up at each of his windows‚ searching for a twitch or a shadow to indicate that maybe he was simply just blanking me. If he didn’t want to open the door‚ I got it; I hated being caught off-guard. I’ve curtain-twitched at my bedroom window plenty of times and watched with satisfaction as the unwelcome visitor finally gets the message and fucks off. Especially on a Sunday morning.
Yeah‚ I should’ve got back in my car and come back at a more convenient time‚ but I was desperate to tell him the news that Simon and Anthony had been picked up and Daniel would be turning witness. I knocked again. Lifting the brass knocker all the way up and letting it drop‚ nice and gratifyingly loud. I did that a few times. When that failed I dropped to my knees and pushed open the brass letterbox.
A strong‚ rancid smell instantly attacked my nostrils. Naaim had been too preoccupied recently to worry about domestic duties. His house was a mess and the smell of fried food was overwhelming. This‚ though‚ was something quite different. It smelt as though somebody had tried to cook out-of-date eggs on a diesel engine.
Last year‚ I had visited Hisarak‚ a small village in Afghanistan. It had been devastated by drone attacks. I would never forget the smell of death. My brain made the connection and raced.
‘Naaim‚’ I screamed through the letterbox and instantly gagged as the smell entered my mouth. No response‚ I had to act quickly. I shot to my feet‚ gave another glance up at the windows. No movement. To the side of the house was a wooden gate leading to the back garden‚ a touch taller than me but manageable. I had a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching. There was an old lady with a red and blue tartan shopping trolley and a walking stick‚ sitting at the bus stop‚ eyeing me carefully. I did a pretty good job miming that I was locked out. My time spent as a mute after I’d had my throat slit was coming into good use. She continued to stare at me.
I gripped the top of the gate with both hands and lifted myself. My weight put some strain on the flimsy bolt lock and the gate moaned before slowly creaking open and taking me along for the ride. I stepped off‚ coolly giving the old lady a thumbs up. She surprised me by raising her walking stick as a nod to my success.
I walked quickly down the path leading to the garden. I tried the back door. Locked. I put my shoulder into it. Hard. It didn’t budge and it fucking hurt enough to not try again. I stood stupidly in Naaim’s back garden‚ rubbing my shoulder‚ when I noticed the kitchen window. It was one of those large old-school wooden sash windows‚ and it was very slightly raised. I prised my fingers underneath and lifted. It was heavy and I was struggling. I gritted my teeth and with my back foot pushing against the ground‚ I lifted as hard as I could‚ those three gym sessions last year coming to fruition as the frame shuddered noisily past the sticking point and then slid easily up.
I lifted myself up and crawled through the window head first. My hands fell into the sink‚ clattering amongst the tower of dirty dishes. The rancid smell‚ worse now‚ washed over me. One at a time‚ I tried to pull my legs in‚ but my knee knocked against the wooden frame‚ causing the lower sash to slide back down. I quickly got one leg in. The other didn’t quite make it‚ and the sash came down heavily‚ trapping my ankle. Shit! Fucking shit! My right foot was still hovering in the garden whilst the rest of me was in the kitchen. I tried to angle it‚ and in doing so my shoe got caught and my right Air Jordan dropped onto the lawn. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck’s sake! I felt a sharp thwack on my trapped foot‚ painful as hell! I turned my head. Through the window I could see my socked foot flailing hopelessly outside. Past that‚ the old lady from the bus stop‚ brandishing the walking stick‚ ready to strike my foot again.
Behind her stood Naaim.
‘That’s him!’ The old lady declared. ‘He was acting peculiar.’
‘It’s okay‚ Mrs Anderson. I know him‚’ Naaim said‚ lowering her walking stick and lifting the window.
I crawled backwards out of the window and fetched my shoe and sheepishly inspected it for dirt.
‘You need to get that window fixed‚’ I mumbled‚ as I got down on one knee and laced up. I noticed a Tesco carrier bag in his hand. I could clearly see the contents: several packs of Marigold washing up gloves.
I complimented the old lady on her swing and thanked her for being so vigilant. We put it down to a misunderstanding and she left‚ scowling‚ no doubt off to fight crime elsewhere. Naaim and I walked around to the front of the house in silence‚ and hovered near his front door. He didn’t look like he was in the mood for guests‚ particularly not one who’d tried to break in.
‘I think she broke skin‚’ I said‚ reaching down and touching just above my heel where the walking stick had made contact. ‘I’ll be alright‚ though.’
‘Jay‚ what were you doing?’ Naaim asked‚ obviously not in the mood for small talk.
‘I need to speak to you.’
‘I was out.’
‘I know.’ I nodded at the bag. ‘Marigolds.’
‘So you thought you’d break in?’
‘Funny story that.’ I flashed him a smile. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yeah. There was a bad smell coming from yo
ur house. I thought…. You know... Dead!’
Something crossed his face. He dropped eye contact and slipped the key into the lock. I noticed that the back of his hand and knuckles were red raw and peeling.
‘What’s up with your hand?’ I asked‚ trying to make the connection with the Marigolds but not getting there. ‘Looks burnt.’
‘Hot kettle. I wasn’t paying attention‚ it’s nothing.’ He swung open the front door and imposed himself at the entrance. I recognised the hint‚ but chose to ignore it and slipped past into the house. ‘Jay!’
‘Shit‚ Naaim.’ I clamped my hand over my nose and mouth. ‘The fuck is that?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to clean up much lately. I’ll open some windows. Look Jay‚ I’ve got a lot on. Do you mind if –’
‘I think it’s coming from upstairs.’ I moved across the hallway and stood at the bottom of the stairs. The smell was drifting down and making my eyes sting. With one foot on the bottom step‚ I turned to Naaim and said‚ ‘I’m gonna go check it out.’
‘Jay‚’ he said weakly. Then out of nowhere he opened his lungs and screamed ‘Ira!’
Apart from scaring the living fuck out of me‚ it served to justify my suspicion. Breaking guest/host protocol I bolted up the stairs‚ arm snaked tightly around my mouth and nose‚ my Air Jordans easily bouncing off the steps and elevating me two‚ three steps at a time.
I reached the top just as a wide eyed Ira stormed out of the bathroom. I caught a quick glimpse of her – she was wearing a surgical face mask. I didn’t give her the time or space as I ghosted past her. I could hear her muffled voice as she said something from behind the mask. It sounded a little like ‘Fuck!’ I pushed open the bathroom door.
The burn on the back of Naaim’s hand. The Marigold washing up gloves. That fucking acrid stench! All starting to fit horrifyingly into place. At school‚ along with most subjects‚ I’d failed chemistry‚ but I could guess that the foot deep of clear liquid inside the bathtub was some type of high strength‚ highly corrosive‚ revenge-is-a-dish-best-served-with-fucking-hot acid.
The seemingly innocuous but ill-timed comment Naaim had made.
Where’d they get that acid from?
It looked like he’d figured it the fuck out.
66
Hounslow Police Station
The solicitor’s name was Sandy White. A short‚ overweight man with red ruddy cheeks in a smart three-piece-suit. He smelt a little of aftershave‚ a little of sweat‚ and he was a little out of breath‚ as though he had expelled energy rushing to the police station.
He spoke with Daniel without any of the police officers present. No comment was ultimately the advice that he imparted. No more‚ no less. Simply: No comment.
‘They said they’re going to help me‚’ Daniel said and regretted instantly. ‘But I didn’t say anything‚’ he quickly added‚ acutely aware that the solicitor had been sent to him by Terry Rose.
‘How?’ White said. ‘Help you how?’
‘They didn’t say.’
‘Did they offer you immunity?’
‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘Understand this‚ Daniel. You had a part to play.’ White spoke slowly. ‘You were involved. The only person that can help you is you. From what I hear‚ you’re a bright kid‚ got a sunny future in front of you. Say the wrong word and you could be sitting in prison‚ leaving your poor old dad to fend for himself... Is that what we want‚ Daniel?’
This was a whole new world to Daniel‚ but he knew a threat when he heard one.
‘I wasn’t going to say anything‚’ Daniel said. ‘I swear.’
‘Good‚ good‚’ White said‚ and then he produced a neighbourly smile. ‘The only thing you need to say now‚ is…’ Sandy White put his fingers to his lips.
‘No comment‚’ Daniel said.
67
Jay
I was on a fucking mission‚ man. Too many people had got hurt doing stupid shit on my watch. The dark cloud that had followed me around since the death of my misguided idiot of a friend‚ Parvez‚ weighed heavy on me. I still wondered if I could have found the right words‚ been more of a friend‚ spotted the signs earlier that he was turning. Would it have saved him? No‚ I honestly don’t think so. But it didn’t stop me from feeling like a shit. Parvez was fighting for religion‚ embedded in a terrorist cell that shared the same beliefs as him. He was ready to wage war and take innocent lives‚ to make nothing more than a fucking point.
Naaim was different. For starters‚ he wasn’t a fucking jihadi. Naaim was fighting a personal war. One fuelled by revenge; one that you couldn’t fault him for. Layla‚ his girl‚ snatched away from him in agonising circumstances. Add into the mix an alcoholic father who had physically abused him‚ and a mother who had died from a broken heart.
His loved ones gone‚ Naaim’s intentions were clear.
He had nothing to lose but himself.
I made it my number one fucking priority that I would not stand by and watch another life wasted.
I wrenched open the living room curtains and cracked open the windows. Let the light in‚ let the smell out. Naaim and Ira sat quietly‚ close to each other on the sofa. I sat down heavily opposite them on an armchair‚ the heel of my hands digging into my eyes‚ until dark colours swirled behind my eyelids. ‘Jay!’
I heard Ira call‚ her tone sharp as though I had in-fucking-convenienced them‚ made me further vexed. I dropped my hands‚ shot to my feet and stood over them.
‘Acid! Are you out of your fucking minds?’ I screamed. ‘Seriously‚ the fuck are you thinking?’ Naaim dropped his head‚ as though I’d shone a light on his stupidity. Ira looked as if she wanted to rip my head off. ‘I can’t… I just cannot… believe how far you’re willing to take this. The hell are you trying to achieve?’
‘Who’d you think you are‚ Jay?’ Ira said‚ all her features knocking into each other. If she wanted to go‚ I was ready to fucking go. ‘Coming in here‚ chatting breeze… Stay in your fucking lane‚ yeah. This ain’t none of your business.’
‘I’m making this my business!’ I replied‚ then wondered if I could have delivered a less obvious line. ‘Naaim... Naaim‚ look at me!’ He reluctantly met my eyes. There was nothing but loss in them. ‘Let me make something crystal clear. You’re going to get caught! I guarantee it‚ there’s no two ways! And they won’t treat you like a dumb criminal‚ they’ll treat you like a Muslim. You hear me? Like a fucking terrorist!’ I let that sink in‚ then counted on my fingers. ‘No rights! No voice! No counsel! They won’t give a fuck about your grievances‚ your so-called precious vengeance. You’ll spend the rest of your days in a fucking hole licking the boots of those that you hate.’
‘Yeah‚ well‚ we ain’t getting caught‚’ Ira said.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Naaim broke his silence in a small voice. ‘It doesn’t matter if I do get caught. I have to avenge Layla.’ A tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Then it was umbrella season. He put his hand over his face as his shoulders started to dance.
I should have felt sorry for him. Put an arm around him. But he was winding me the fuck up. ‘Idiot!’ I said. ‘You think you’re doing this for Layla? Is that it? Some misguided notion of romance? Get. A. Fucking. Grip.’
‘Dickhead!’ Ira spat. She put an arm around Naaim. ‘That’s a shitty thing to say. Can’t you see he’s still mourning?’
‘Then mourn! Go find a dark corner‚ rock back and forth and sob your fucking heart out like a normal person. You don’t have to ruin your life. Let the cops deal with it.’
Ira snorted. ‘I didn’t have you down as naïve‚ Jay. You’re starting to sound like Zafar. Cops haven’t done shit‚ ain’t gonna do shit. You want us to just sit on our hands and let those Kafirs dig holes for us. The attack in Greenwich! Layla! Can you not see what’s going on? They won’t stop. Something has to change‚ someone has to step up. This ain’t just about those three anymore. It’s
about them against us.’
After seeing the acid in the bath tub‚ it’d all become too fucking real. I’d completely forgotten why I’d swung by here in the first place. I kneeled down in front of Naaim and gently removed his hands from his face.
‘Naaim‚’ I said‚ softly. ‘They’ve been arrested.’ He met my eyes and then blinked tightly. ‘Daniel… He’s giving a statement right this minute.’
‘Daniel!’ Ira exclaimed. ‘The same Daniel that filmed the whole thing? The same Daniel that stuck it online for the whole world to see? That Daniel?’
‘Yeah‚’ I said. ‘The same Daniel who turned up at Naaim’s door‚ begging forgiveness.’
Ira stood up. She shuffled through the clutter on the coffee table and picked out a set of car keys.
‘Where’re you going?’
Ira adjusted her hijab. ‘Fuck off‚ Jay.’ She walked out of the house‚ slamming the door behind her.
Good! Her presence was nothing but noise and confusion. She was better off out of sight. Naaim didn’t try to stop her‚ he just stared into nothing. I sat down‚ taking Ira’s place and stared into the same nothing.
‘He’s a good kid‚’ I said‚ after a moment of silence. ‘Daniel… He got mixed up in the wrong crowd‚ is all… He’s trying‚ man. He’s really fucking trying to make it right.’
From the corner of my eye‚ I noticed Naaim barely nod. I could have gone on but there wasn’t much else to say.
I stood up. I was done. I bent low and surprised myself by kissing him on the head.
‘It’s over.’
Homegrown Hero Page 28
