Homegrown Hero

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘They won’t listen to me‚’ Daniel said in a small voice.

  ‘Daniel. I’m gonna need an address.’

  ‘I really don’t...’ Daniel checked his 4G signal. ‘Hold the line. I have an idea.’

  He removed the phone from his ear but he could still hear Jay; ‘Has he just put me on fucking hold!’ He opened up Maps‚ waited a second for the blue dot to find itself‚ then tapped it so that the street address and postcode popped up. He took a screenshot and sent it across to Jay‚ then put the phone to his ear.

  ‘Clever fucker‚’ Jay said. ‘Now listen to me very carefully. Call the police.’

  ‘Police... Why?’

  ‘Tell them there’s a bomb threat.’

  ‘Bomb‚’ Daniel mouthed. ‘Jay... What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s Naaim‚’ Jay said. ‘He’s coming for you‚ and he’s fucking pissed off.’

  76

  Jay

  It was the target. It had to be. Naaim and Ira had it all sussed out. Daniel‚ Anthony and Simon all in one place at a St George’s party in South London.

  ‘Any luck?’ Zafar said. Another question. Not a solution.

  ‘Possibly.’ I sat back in the car and entered the postcode on the maps app. Estimated time one hour ten minutes. On a Sunday evening I figured I could clock it within forty-five.

  ‘Where we going?’

  ‘South London.’ I inserted the key in the ignition and quarter turned it. ‘Oh‚ c’mon!’ I cried and smacked the steering wheel with the palm of my hand.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not starting! We’re gonna have to push start it. Do you mind?’

  Zafar pulled his sleeves up and stepped out of the car. He walked around to my side and ducked down to my window. ‘Clutch down‚ keep it in second‚’ he said‚ finally taking some semblance of control.

  I looked up at him apologetically. ‘Sorry‚ Zafar.’ I turned the key fully and my Nova kicked into life. I slipped it into gear and put my foot down. Zafar yelped. I may have clipped his elbow with the wing mirror. I figured he’d be alright as I watched him shrink in my rear-view‚ his face puzzled‚ cradling his elbow.

  Like Tahir‚ who had dramatically left the group chat‚ Zafar had a lot to live for. He was sitting on a Masters degree and I knew it was only a matter of time until he got himself a killer job‚ somewhere in the city probably‚ and led a full and rich life. I couldn’t have him walk with me into fuck-knows-what and possibly not come out the other side.

  Me? I had that MI5 training behind me. All five fucking minutes of it. I’d be alright.

  I just hoped that Daniel had called the police. I couldn’t do it myself. My phone battery was hovering in the red‚ and I needed whatever remaining juice to direct me to South fucking London.

  77

  Derelict Building Site, South London

  From the boot of the car‚ the stench of sulphuric acid was growing stronger. Ira slid down her window. The music was just loud enough to spill out of the function hall and into the car. The whine of guitar and heavy drums. Ira could just picture them all dancing‚ drinking‚ rejoicing. Celebrating all that was wrong with this fucking country.

  ‘Not one car has entered in the last thirty minutes‚’ Ira said. ‘You noticed?’

  Naaim wiped his clammy hands on his jeans. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Look at me.’

  Naaim gave her a steely determined look‚ filled with hatred and revenge. ‘I’m ready‚’ he repeated.

  ‘You look it‚’ Ira smiled. ‘Mashallah.’

  Both doors opened and they stepped out‚ meeting at the back of the car. Naaim popped the boot. Ira reached in and picked up the metal bar and a large‚ heavy-duty padlock. Naaim leant in and unzipped the main compartment of the rucksack. He stared at the ten plastic bottles‚ placed neatly and tightly inside. Satisfied‚ he zipped it back up then unzipped the side compartment. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle of the Bowie knife‚ the nine inch blade protected in its sheath. He attached it to the back of his belt and covered it with the tail of his shirt. Finally‚ he picked up the small detonator‚ trailed the wire through the inside of his shirt and tucked the loose end into his jeans.

  They walked in silence towards the construction site‚ their strides matching and purposeful. They entered the metal gate‚ Ira parting to the left and Naaim to the right‚ then pushed the gates shut. Ira took out the padlock and locked it. Naaim glanced at the Portakabin. The lights were off. They set off‚ ducking low‚ using the cars as cover‚ and made their way towards the shoddy hall. They had done their homework. They knew that there were only two entrances. The main entrance and the stage entrance to the side of the hall.

  The music faded out and they froze behind the bumper of a Bentley. The used the opportunity to scope the area through the back windscreen of the car. They watched as the door opened‚ and a man staggered out‚ an unlit cigarette between his lips. The dirty heavy guitars roared back to life. ‘Fucking Sex Pistols‚’ the man cried and turned back to the hall‚ the room chiming along to the chorus: ‘I am an anarchist!’ The door shut behind him.

  ‘Now!’ Ira hissed.

  Naaim was on his feet‚ and like a baton in a relay race‚ Ira slapped the metal bar in his hand. He ran the ten metres and wedged the metal bar in between the looped handles of the double doors. He signalled to Ira and she hurried to him at the entrance. She straightened her hijab and they slowly moved across the front of the hall and poked their heads around the corner. A man was standing facing the doors of the stage entrance. Naaim’s hand reached around his back‚ his fingers gripped the hunting knife.

  ‘Wait!’ Ira placed her hand on Naaim’s. ‘Just wait.’ Naaim replaced the knife in its sheath. The song faded out and the DJ made an announcement.

  ‘Gentlemen! I give you our host; our dear friend and the leader of The Second Defence: Terry Rose.’

  78

  Derelict Building Site, South London

  Daniel had called the police straight after speaking with Jay. He hadn’t given any thought as to how he was going to explain it. He didn’t quite understand it himself. He started with‚ ‘I think there’s a bomb threat.’

  A click and a rapid transfer‚ and then the questions came at him calmly but quickly. Questions that he mostly had no answers to.

  ‘What is your location?’

  Daniel still had the address that he’d sent to Jay. ‘Let me check.’ He took the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker.

  ‘Where exactly is the bomb right now?’

  ‘It’s not here.’ Hearing that word – bomb – back‚ the enormity suddenly dawned on him. With his hand forcibly shaking‚ he scrolled through his phone looking for the address. The operator continued to question him.

  ‘How did you come by this information?’

  ‘I... I... Somebody phoned me.’

  ‘What was the name of the caller?’

  ‘Jay. I don’t know his full name.’ The app icons on his phone were blurring into each other as his eyes filled with tears.

  ‘What form is the bomb in?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What is the current location of the bomb?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  Daniel’s nerves were shot. He closed his eyes tightly and when he opened them‚ the apps became clear. He remembered taking a screenshot of the address. He opened up the gallery app. All the photos were lined up in a neat grid of the life that he’d once had. One‚ in particular‚ called out to him. His finger gently stroked it and it filled the screen.

  It was a time before Simon‚ before Anthony‚ when his mum was his only friend. At the fairground‚ they were squeezed together in a lime-green bumper car. A ten-year-old Daniel gripped the wheel‚ his face a picture of determination‚ whilst his mum placed a guiding hand over his‚ a smile as alive as she once was.

  ‘Caller... Caller...’

  Daniel’s finger hovered over the image‚
unable to bring himself to minimise it.

  ‘We need a location‚ caller...’

  Anthony appeared‚ arms aloft‚ loudly singing the national anthem. Daniel minimised the photo as Anthony snatched the phone out of his hand.

  ‘Mr Lewis‚ don’t worry‚ I’ll get Daniel home early‚’ Anthony slurred. ‘Early in the morning!’ He laughed and spluttered into the phone before disconnecting the call. He lobbed it back to Daniel. ‘Come on‚ party’s kicked off. Let’s get wrecked!’

  *

  From the makeshift bar‚ which was just a long table‚ Daniel poured himself a third shot of vodka. The first was a double‚ which he’d knocked back just to keep up with Simon and Anthony‚ and the effects had relaxed him a little. The second helped clear his mind and he decided that he’d been massively overreacting.

  Daniel looked around the hall‚ as he sipped on his drink‚ the music pounding in his ears. Nigh on a hundred guests singing and embracing and celebrating the occasion. Anthony enjoying making a fool of himself on the dance floor. Simon worked the room‚ firmly establishing himself with The Second Defence.

  The group. The gang. The terrorist cell...

  Daniel laughed at the thought. These were people‚ people like himself who just wanted what was best for their country. He was seeing it clearly now. Just the thought of Naaim turning up armed with a bomb sounded absurd. Did he really know this Jay guy well enough to trust him? He didn’t. The more he thought about it‚ the more ludicrous it sounded. It was common knowledge that St George’s Day was not celebrated as it should have been‚ for fear of offending the ‘sensitive Muslims’. It was starting to sound more like a hoax‚ a ploy to get the party shut down. This was Daniel’s day‚ a day to be proud of his country.

  Daniel took out his phone and decided he’d call the police back and tell them it had been a misunderstanding. He stumbled his way to the exit‚ to get away from the noise‚ and attempted to pull the door open.

  It wouldn’t open.

  Before Daniel could make sense of it‚ the music faded out and the DJ made an announcement. Slipping the phone back in his pocket he looked up just in time to see Terry Rose walk across the stage‚ microphone in hand‚ to thunderous applause followed by chants of ‘Cherry... Cherry... Cherry.’ Daniel joined in. It was fun.

  Rose took his position on stage‚ ready to address his people. Behind him‚ to his right‚ was a six-foot Union Jack flag. To his left‚ the flag of England: the St George’s Cross bleeding across the white background. Rose stood perfectly between the two. It was a powerful image. Some of the guests took photos on their phones.

  So Daniel did‚ too.

  ‘A great man once said‚’ Rose began‚ as the room dropped to silence. ‘“There is a forgotten‚ nay‚ almost forbidden word‚ which means more to me than any other.”’

  He took the microphone away from his mouth and held it by his side. He ran his eyes over the crowd‚ who seemed to lean forward in anticipation‚ knowing what was to come. Rose brought the microphone back to his mouth and said: ‘“That word is England.”’

  A hundred plastic cups were raised and a hundred lions roared ‘England!’ back at him.

  From the back of the hall‚ Daniel noticed a small figure tentatively make his way towards Rose. Daniel blinked away the haze from his eyes and squinted at the figure. As his vision cleared‚ he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

  Naaim had just casually walked onto the stage.

  ‘Gentlemen‚ the evening’s entertainment has arrived‚’ Rose mocked‚ taking the sudden appearance in his stride‚ to a ripple of laughter from the crowd. Daniel tried to open the door again‚ but it was still jammed‚ and it was starting to make sense why.

  ‘What’d you want boy?’ Rose asked‚ ‘cos you really don’t want to be here tonight.’

  ‘He’s probably delivering curry‚’ a voice shouted from the crowd‚ and a few others joined in with the slurs.

  Daniel searched frantically around for his friends. Anthony was by the drinks table‚ enjoying the spectacle‚ happily screaming abuse at the boy. He hadn’t registered what was happening‚ though it seemed that Simon had. Daniel watched him muscle through the crowd towards the stage and stand beside Kramer. Daniel called out to him from the back of the hall but his small voice was drowned out by the growing aggression.

  79

  Jay

  My Vauxhall Nova was not built for the strain that I’d put on it. By the time I hit Croydon‚ black shit was smoking out of my exhaust. I reached the address that Daniel had sent me‚ but I couldn’t work out the location. I drove up the street and then back down again looking for any signs of life‚ of a party‚ of police presence. But it was quiet.

  I had my phone in my lap‚ and with one hand on the steering wheel‚ I redialled Daniel’s number. The battery died before it could connect. My car charger was probably still covered in blood in my Beemer.

  ‘Fuck!’ I took my eyes off my phone and looked up at the road just as a dark figure flew past my car. ‘Fuck!’ I swung to the right before straightening out. In the rearview mirror I could see her looking back at me over her shoulder. Her eyes wide as cymbals‚ either at nearly being killed or because I’d turned up to put a hole in her demented fucking plans.

  I flung open the door‚ jumped out and caught up with Ira. ‘Where is he?’ I screamed at her.

  ‘The hell is your problem‚ Jay? You got some sort of hero complex or what?’

  Ira tried to walk away from me. I gripped her arm and spun her back to me.

  ‘Take your hands off me or I scream rape.’

  ‘Do it! Get the cops down here.’ I was so fucking vexed that I shook her hard. Her hijab shifted a little‚ and I felt guilty about it. ‘Sorry.’ I let go of her. She readjusted. ‘Please‚ Ira.’

  ‘It’s too late.’ Her quick glance over my shoulder was revealing. I spun to see a metal gate. Past it‚ a shit load of motors tightly squeezed in and beyond that‚ I could just make out muted voices coming from a building at the back.

  Ira gripped my arm with surprising force‚ her nails digging into my flesh. ‘This ain’t none of your business‚ Jay‚’ she hissed through gritted teeth. I wrenched her hand away and sprinted across the road. The gate was at least ten-foot-high and secured with a padlock. There was nowhere to place my foot in order to climb it.

  I ran back to my car and dropped it in reverse and with the door still open I backed it up until the bumper touched the gate. I scrambled out and climbed onto the hood and then up onto the roof. I had to stretch‚ and I felt my back clicking and adjusting as my fingers found purchase on the top of the flat metal rail. It didn’t look pretty‚ but I managed to lift my bodyweight and throw a leg over the rail. I straightened out and sat on the flat rail. I looked out on the street‚ hoping to see police lights breaking the night with colour. I only saw the dark silhouette of Ira. I looked down at the ten-foot drop and swallowed.

  Nike Air Jordans. 2017 Limited Edition. Don’t let me down now.

  80

  Derelict Building Site, South London

  By now the crowd was tight‚ shoulder to shoulder‚ hurling verbal abuse at Naaim. Daniel struggled but managed to get through the abusive crowd to join Simon and Kramer at the foot of the stage.

  He wasn’t surprised to see Simon standing perfectly still as it all kicked off around him. Cigarette lighters and plastic cups were launched at Naaim‚ drenching his clothes in alcohol. Daniel looked across at Kramer; his face looked as though he was ready to explode.

  ‘You were told to take care of it‚’ Kramer snarled at Simon.

  ‘I’ll take care of it right now‚’ Simon said. He moved quickly towards the stage before Daniel could tell him about the bomb threat that Jay had warned him about.

  ‘Wait.’ Kramer grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him back. Daniel noticed that the anger in Kramer’s eyes had been replaced by something else. ‘We have to go.’

  Simon shrugged his arm away a
nd watched in contempt as Kramer‚ all six foot four of him‚ started to back away. Rose‚ the legendary Terry Rose‚ leader of The Second Defence‚ had already sloped off the stage. The missiles being launched at Naaim slowed and then stopped. The guttural abuse directed at Naaim‚ slowed and then stopped. Replaced momentarily with an acknowledged pin-drop silence‚ followed immediately by a wall of screams and the screech of footsteps on the linoleum flooring quickly backing away from the stage and towards the exit.

  Daniel turned his attention back to the stage‚ a picture forming in his head even before he saw it. Naaim was grasping something in his fist‚ his thumb running over the top of it and a wire trailing from below his grip. He had turned slightly to the side‚ and Daniel could now see the rucksack on his back.

  ‘Simon‚’ Daniel cried. ‘We have to go.’

  Simon stood firm.

  81

  Derelict Building Site, South London

  It was easy‚ Naaim thought. These were the same bastards who’d taken great joy in hurting and abusing people like Layla‚ without any thought of the consequences. Well‚ here’s your fucking consequence. He knelt down and with his free hand he picked up one of the lighters that had been thrown at him. He turned to the two flags draped proudly behind him and lit them at the corners. He stepped away as they caught fire quickly‚ the flames rapidly running across the edges.

  He slipped off his rucksack and placed it near his feet. With his right hand still aloft‚ gripping the detonator‚ he crouched down and unzipped the bag. One by one he neatly laid out ten plastic bottles in front of him on the lip of the stage. Over the top of his rucksack Naaim scanned the terrified faces in front of him. Where’s your filth‚ now? Where’s your supremacy? They were powerless... As once they’d made him feel.

  His eyes stopped‚ in turn‚ at the three people that had tilted his world.

  Anthony Hanson‚ who had mouthed off at Layla‚ taunting her and encouraging his friend to take away her modesty‚ was now hiding under the drinks table like a dirty cornered rat.