‘Daniel Lewis‚’ he said. I shut my eyes. ‘He’s going to make it.’
As frustrated as I was‚ I allowed the relief to wash over me.
‘Largely down to you‚ Jay.’
‘What do you want?’
‘To talk.’
‘You’re wasting your time‚’ I said. ‘This has nothing to do with MI5. Naaim was not a terrorist.’
‘That depends on your definition of the word.’
‘That supposed to mean?’
‘It means that Naaim Sarker and his accomplice Ira Abdikarim were picked up by police three miles outside of Heathrow Airport. They had on their person passports and flight tickets. To Syria.’
‘That’s bullshit! It’s been planted.’
‘Grow up‚ Jay.’
‘Fuck off‚ you grow up!’
‘One fatality tonight‚ heart attack. Eighteen casualties‚ burnt‚ disfigured. One lost his eyesight... What were you doing there‚ Jay?’
‘I thought I could help‚’ I said. It sounded pathetic out loud. ‘He’s just a kid. What he did was brutal‚ I get that! But what he’s had to endure was just as fucking brutal. There’s no grey area‚ Lawrence. There’s no political or religious agenda. This was nothing but revenge.’
He nodded and flicked his wrist so his Tag slipped out of his sleeve and shone into view. ‘It’s late. I just wanted to swing by to give you a heads up. We’re going to have to speak to you tomorrow morning about what’s taken place tonight.’
‘It’s going to have to wait. I’m going back to work tomorrow‚’ I said‚ surprising myself.
‘Don’t think that’s a good idea. Give it a day or two.’
‘Yeah‚ well‚ I think it’s a good idea. I think it’s the Michael fucking Jordan of ideas. I’m through with all this crap. This world is going to shit with or without my interference. Right now‚ all I want is my alarm slapping me across the face in the morning. I want a commute‚ I want a desk‚ a computer‚ fucking small talk by the photocopier. I want normality.’
‘I’ll need to debrief you‚’ Lawrence said. ‘We can do it after.’
‘What?’ I just about summed up the energy to form an incredulous expression. ‘Debrief. De-fucking-brief! What’d I just say to you about normality? I don’t work for you‚ or your shit-for-brains organisation anymore‚ Lawrence.’
‘Don’t be naïve‚ Jay. You may not work for the Secret Service anymore. But you’ll always be an MI5 asset. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Fucking leeches‚’ I shouted‚ as he walked out of the room. I put the tumbler to my lips and for the first time in months I let the drink in. I let my eyes close and decided that my armchair would be my bed for the night.
87
Hounslow, West London
Teddy Lawrence walked away‚ not particularly pleased with himself. It seemed every time Lawrence met with Jay‚ he just ended up troubling him further. It was not his intention.
Lawrence had already tried once to get Jay back on board‚ and he wanted to ask again. It was on his lips‚ but he could see that with the mood Jay was in‚ he was not going to respond well to being asked. It was disappointing. A waste of a talent. Jay had proved himself greatly in the past‚ and again tonight. If he hadn’t turned up at the old construction site in South London‚ there was no doubt there would have been more fatalities. Numerous witnesses had reported that Jay had opened the doors‚ allowing the potential victims to escape; and rather than escaping himself‚ Jay had tried to calm the situation inside the hall.
A damn good asset‚ but his tendency to play devil’s advocate had made him enemies in high places on both sides of the war. Although no longer an official MI5 asset‚ Jay would remain on their radar. And Assistant Director of Counter Terrorism‚ John Robinson‚ had found a new way of using Jay without his consent.
Lawrence clicked on his seat belt‚ started the car and switched the radio on. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Diana Ross‚ he manoeuvred out‚ without so much as a glance at the parked Toyota Prius and the shadowy figure inside.
He reached the end of Jay’s road‚ indicated and turned. As soon as he was out of sight‚ Lawrence pulled up. He killed the engine and radio as he flipped open his centre console‚ picked up the Bluetooth ear piece and placed it around his ear. He pressed the dial button and as it rang he stepped out of his car and hurried back‚ stopping at a neatly trimmed bush at the corner of Jay’s road.
‘Suze. Teddy Lawrence‚’ he said‚ as his colleague from Thames House answered. ‘I need you to run a car registration‚ quick as you can.’ Lawrence relayed the number plate. He grimaced as his ear piece signalled call-waiting. He slipped out his phone from his pocket and saw that it was John Robinson. ‘Call me back as soon as you get a hit‚ I have to take this.’
‘Sir.’ Lawrence took the call as he discreetly peered around the bush. Ten cars down‚ the Prius was still parked across the road from Jay’s house.
‘Lawrence‚ my boy‚’ Robinson bellowed chirpily‚ in stark contrast to his recent depressive state. ‘Come in. I have news.’
‘I’m in the middle of something right now‚ sir‚’ Lawrence said anxiously‚ as he waited for the results of the car registration. ‘Can it keep?’
‘Bin Jabbar has been sighted.’
Lawrence whipped his head back behind the bush. ‘Sir?’
‘A Mr and Mrs Hanif sheltered him for one night in Pakistan. It appears that the so-called Teacher‚ the much respected man of the people‚ took away their children to ensure silence. They called it in. Chapter and Verse. He then headed to Port Gwadar‚ where he boarded a cargo ship en-route to Dubai‚ and we’re certain of his destination from there. It’s all the confirmation that we need‚ Lawrence.’
MI5 had known that Bin Jabbar had placed a call from a remote village in Afghanistan before fleeing. Now he had been placed in Pakistan‚ and the eyes of the security forces were upon him. Lawrence recalled the meeting with Robinson‚ and how he’d desperately tried to reason with him. It was a high risk and dangerous move‚ but it seemed that Robinson had been proven right.
The Teacher was on the move and they knew his end game.
It was time to bring Jay in and place him under protection‚ before it was too late.
‘Two teams are in position one mile out from the perimeter of the compound‚ we estimate his arrival between twelve and twenty-four hours‚’ Robinson said. ‘Now come in and watch it unfold. There’s a drink waiting for you.’
‘Javid Qasim‚’ Lawrence started. ‘We have –’
‘No!’ Robinson cut abruptly. ‘We don’t go anywhere near Qasim. Not until this is over. Is that clear?’ he barked‚ disconnecting the call.
It troubled Lawrence‚ how far Robinson wanted to go with this. It was only a matter of time before Bin Jabbar was caught‚ but until then Jay’s life was still in danger. Lawrence peered around the corner. He was two minutes away from Jay’s house‚ half that if he ran. Robinson’s warning to stay clear rang in his ear.
Lawrence turned the corner and casually strolled. His ear piece signalled another call‚ he answered it on the first ring. ‘Suze?’ he answered. ‘What’ve you got?’
‘Blue Toyota Prius. Number plate‚ mike‚ hotel‚ six‚ five‚ yankee...’
Lawrence watched the car door opened and a figure step out. He looked around uncertainly before crossing the road towards Jay’s house.
‘The vehicle is registered to an… Imran Siddiqui.’
Lawrence disconnected the call‚ and started to run.
88
Jay
I’d already knocked back two shots and poured myself a third‚ but it hadn’t helped to dim the madness in my mind. One more shot and then I resolved to get up and get things done. I had to shower. I had to iron my itchy black trousers and pull out my bland tie and novelty Monday socks. I’d meant what I said to Lawrence; I was going to work tomorrow.
In one swift motion I necked
the third shot. Before I could sink any further into my armchair‚ I got to my feet quickly. I felt light-headed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a bite. I put my hands out to steady myself‚ took a breath and headed to the kitchen to put the tumbler in the dishwasher. A small act‚ but one that would put me back on the road to normal – but even that glimpse of normality was snatched away from me.
In the hallway‚ through the frosted pane of the front door‚ I clocked a still figure. I marched down the hallway and pulled opened the door‚ ready to give Lawrence what’s fucking what.
Instead‚ a man was pointing a shiny gun in my face.
I looked at the empty glass in my hand. The fuck was in that drink!
I’d had my throat sliced. I’d just walked away from an acid attack. Let’s not even get started on my involvement with the Oxford Street attack. My world was so violent that I simply shrugged and made my way into the living room with the gun feathering the back of my neck. I slumped back down in my armchair. I took in the plastic bags on his feet. The black leather gloves. The Glock .40 handgun trained on me. The silencer‚ the cherry on top. A right fucking professional. I met his eyes. I swear to God‚ nothing surprises me anymore.
‘First‚ you save my life. Now‚ you want to take it.’
Even in my current predicament‚ I was quite happy with that line.
‘I’m sorry‚ Javid.’ He said‚ lowering his gaze‚ giving me an opportunity.
Aiming for his big head‚ I threw my glass tumbler at him. It flew out of my hands‚ a country mile away from him and landed harmlessly on the sofa on the other side of the room.
He locked onto my eyes. I gave him a sunny smile. ‘Jay‚’ I said. ‘Call me Jay.’
He steadied the Glock and pointed it at my heart.
‘You going to tell me your name this time?’ I asked.
‘Siddiqui‚’ Lawrence announced‚ entering the living room. The Glock found itself a new target. Lawrence had his arms up in the air when he should have had an arsenal pointing at this guy’s head. Teddy Lawrence to the rescue. Whoopee fucking doo! Don’t get any blood on your precious fucking suit‚ will you. He was directed to the armchair next to me. I shook my head at Lawrence in disapproval.
‘Imran Siddiqui. Born in Sharana‚ Afghanistan. An orphan at the age of ten. Moved to London at the age of sixteen. You were my first file‚ Imran‚’ Lawrence smiled. ‘I must have watched your every move for two months straight. It was redundant; it was always going to be redundant. The only reason your file dropped on my desk was to give me experience. Nothing was ever going to come from it. Every day‚ I watched you leave for work and pick up your colleague‚ a Shahzad Naqvi‚ if I remember correctly. Drinks at lunch time. A joint in the afternoon. I knew your every move and honestly‚ it bored the living shit out of me.’
‘Who do you work for?’ Imran asked.
Lawrence hesitated‚ the gun in the face making the decision for him. ‘MI5... Back then I was doing surveillance.’
‘There’s a file on me. Why?’
‘From the age of ten to sixteen‚ you were housed‚ educated and trained by members of Ghurfat-al-Mudarris.’
I groaned as I slouched down lower into the armchair and ran both of my hands over my face‚ then winced in pain as the bone in my broken nose shifted.
‘Does my father know you’re here?’ I said quietly.
‘Jay... Not a word‚’ Lawrence said.
‘Your father?’ Imran looked bemused. Not as fucking bemused as he was about to look.
‘Jay! You’ve signed The Official –’
‘Fuck The Official Secrets Act!’ I snapped‚ and locked eyes with Imran. ‘My father. Abdullah Bin Jabbar. The Teacher. Al-Fucking-Mudarris himself. Ring any bells?’
89
Imy
‘Is that true?’ I asked‚ training my gun back on Jay. He had a mouth on him.
‘Yeah‚ it’s true‚’ Jay snapped. ‘Now get that shit out of my face.’
I tried to process the information‚ but even if it was true that Al-Mudarris was his father‚ what did that change? He was in hiding‚ and would be for the remainder of his natural life. The Sheikh was now in command‚ and he’d issued an order which I had no choice but to carry out. I’d looked into Jay’s eyes and hoped he saw in mine the actions of a desperate man. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t war. Simply‚ it was my life or his. I took a step towards him.
Lawrence lifted himself off the armchair. ‘Sit back down‚’ I shouted. Lawrence carefully backed into his seat. The Glock swung in a pendulum motion from one to the other.
It was supposed to be one kill. Was it ever going to be that simple?
‘It’s not personal.’ I steadied the Glock on Jay. ‘The fatwa must be carried out.’
‘Fatwa? On who? On me?’ He placed a finger to his chest. ‘The fuck issued a fatwa on me?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘The fuck it doesn’t. Tell me who!’
‘Jay‚ be quiet.’ Lawrence said. ‘Let me deal with this.’
‘Sheikh Ali Ghulam‚’ I said‚ gently. He deserved to know.
‘Fuck’s his problem?’ Jay mumbled‚ digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. It made me desperately want to scratch my scalp.
‘That’s all I know.’ I glanced at the clock behind him‚ I had just under an hour before Pathaan took his fury out on Stephanie and Jack. My hand tightened around the grip and my finger tensed against the trigger. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t have to do this‚’ Lawrence blurted. ‘The fatwa is about to be lifted‚ Imran.’
The sight of the Glock moved to between Lawrence’s eyes. ‘What do you know about it?’ I asked.
‘Bin Jabbar has been informed about the fatwa. He’s on his way to see the Sheikh. It’s over‚ Imran. Put down the gun.’
I wanted nothing more‚ but I couldn’t. I had no trust in Lawrence. It was because of him and people like him that I’d ended up on this path. Jay dropped his hands from his face‚ words softly escaped his lips.
‘He came out of hiding. For me?’
Lawrence nodded. ‘He crossed the Afghanistan border into Pakistan and headed for Port Gwadar. He then boarded a cargo ship headed to Dubai. If he’s in Dubai‚ Imran‚ it’s almost certain that he’s making his way to Sheikh Ali Ghulam.’
On my mother’s grave‚ if he was lying to me‚ the immense guilt that I was feeling would vanish as I emptied the chamber into him.
‘Imran‚ listen to me‚’ Lawrence continued‚ as I searched for the truth in his face‚ ‘Two teams are awaiting Bin Jabbar’s arrival. We’re going to allow him to pass and conduct business with the Sheikh. The fatwa will be lifted.’ I glanced across at Jay‚ his face remained expressionless‚ as though it couldn’t decide what shape to form.
I removed my left hand from the Glock and slowly ran my nails along my scalp. Relief daring to wash over me. Hope tightening in my grasp.
‘Where is Al-Mudarris now?’ I asked‚ eyes on the clock.
‘Imran...’
‘Where is he now?’ I repeated.
‘We know he’s in the Emirates. We know where he’s going. We know the fatwa will be lifted,’ Lawrence said. ‘Twelve hours.’
‘It’s too late.’ I shook my head clear of any hope. ‘It’s too late...’ My left hand joined the other and steadied the Glock. I slipped the safety off. Lawrence flinched but my arm was already swinging away from him with Jay in my sight. The desperation‚ the unwanted determination drowned my every thought. I blinked rapidly. With each blink I saw Stephanie. I saw Jack. I saw Khala. I saw Shaz. A life and a family that I’d longed for. Lawrence moved quickly to his feet‚ I swiped him viciously‚ the barrel of the Glock crashing into his forehead and dropping him to his knees. I did it again‚ angry at the false hope that he had given me. He fell onto his side at my feet.
It was now. It had to be now. I stepped closer to Javid‚ raised the gun to his face. He nodded‚ seemingly ac
cepting his fate. He placed his hands gently on the cold barrel of the Glock and brought it forward so that it was in between his eyes. A trail of blood escaped slowly from his nose.
‘Do it‚’ he said. And I believed him.
I took a breath‚ it came in ragged bursts. Lawrence was on his hands and knees‚ scrambling to get up‚ screaming at me‚ pleading with me‚ looking to make a move that wasn’t there. I met Jay’s eyes‚ they met mine without fear.
My finger tightened.
‘I’m sorry‚ Jay.’
‘Do it!’
The Glock popped quietly through the silencer‚ and tears streamed down my face as I looked at the hole in the armchair‚ an inch away from Jay’s ear.
I’d lost. My life was over.
*
I moved slowly through Jay’s hallway‚ my head weighing me down as nothing but bad thoughts crawled over every inch of my skin. Would Pathaan believe that the fatwa was to be lifted? It didn’t matter. Was Al-Mudarris Jay’s father? It didn’t matter. All that Pathaan would see was that I had failed him again‚ and he would react. Pathaan was always quick to react.
He had been‚ at times‚ a father to me. At times an older brother. For six years he had raised me‚ looked out for me and loved me as his own. For six years we had shared the same dream of hope and vengeance‚ but our paths had crossed again at a time where that dream had long faded and been replaced by all that he despises. I could understand his rage.
But… I had to believe that the love was still there.
‘Imran‚ wait‚’ Lawrence called out. ‘You can’t leave. I have to bring you in.’ I pulled the front door open‚ but he caught up with me and palmed it shut.
I turned and faced him and noticed the open cut on his forehead from where I’d twice struck him with the Glock. I almost apologised. Sorry. That word forever on my lips. I don’t think anybody had ever said that word to me and meant it. He should‚ Lawrence should‚ be at my feet begging me for forgiveness. It was men like him that made men like me.
Homegrown Hero Page 33
