Homegrown Hero

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘I have to go.’

  I turned away from him and reached for the door. His hand gripped my shoulder. ‘It’s over‚ Imran.’ I spun quickly and pinned him against the wall by his throat.

  ‘Nothing is over!’ I screamed in his face‚ tasting the tears that raced down my face and into my mouth. The barrel of the Glock digging again into the cut in his forehead. Above me a light bulb flickered. I released him and took a step back.

  ‘I have to speak with Pathaan‚’ I said‚ softly.

  ‘Abassi?’ His voice was tight. ‘Aba Abassi?’

  I nodded weakly. ‘He has my family.’

  ‘Abassi is in the country?’ He slipped out his phone‚ unlocked it and dialled a number.

  ‘Don’t do that?’

  ‘Do you have any idea what this man is capable of?’

  Lawrence put the phone to his ear. I snatched it away‚ disconnected the call and pocketed it. ‘Nobody goes near him.’

  ‘Listen to me‚ Imran. This is a highly dangerous individual.

  You cannot do this by yourself. Let me help.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Think this through. He can’t be reasoned with.’

  ‘You don’t know him like I do‚’ I said.

  ‘No‚ Imran. You don’t know him like we do.’ Lawrence loosened his tie and exhaled. ‘An ex-recruiter for Ghurfat-al-Mudarris. The man is a specialist in pain. Responsible for eleven roadside IED attacks‚ that we know of‚ solely so that he could collect any official military equipment that he could get his hands on. Radios‚ guns‚ vehicles‚ even stripping our men of their uniforms‚ leaving our soldiers fighting for their lives without dignity. Have you any idea of his method of recruitment? How Ghurfat-al-Mudarris has over a hundred sleeper agents all over Europe and the US?’

  ‘Don’t‚’ I said‚ as every one of my senses rocketed.

  ‘Pathaan and his men arrive in small villages in stolen government-issued vehicles‚ head-to-toe in stolen fatigues and weaponry.’

  ‘It’s not true‚’ I said‚ my voice barely carrying.

  ‘They’d murder the men and rape the women before killing them. Leaving the villages burning in their wake.’

  Maybe I’ll play family man for a while.

  Pathaan’s voice in my head‚ I shook it hard and tried to clear it. Lawrence was looking at me‚ his features softening through my tears.

  ‘Only the children were spared.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Full of hatred and anger and revenge‚ putting the blame squarely at the feet of the West.’

  ‘No‚’ I screamed. I squeezed my head‚ my eyes shut tightly‚ but it was all I could see.

  Hiding under my bed.

  My father pleading. My mother screaming.

  The bed is lifted. A hand reaches out to me.

  Pathaan carrying me to safety in his arms.

  I opened the front door and ran.

  90

  Jay

  Devil’s sat on my shoulder my whole life. Maybe I was born to die young.

  At that moment‚ in that instant‚ I fucking welcomed it. I wanted him to pull the trigger and feel the bullet rush in between my eyes‚ deep into my brain so that all my thoughts would turn to nothing. I understood. I understood fucking everything.

  I took my eyes off the plant pot that I had been lost in‚ and turned to Lawrence who’d scampered back into the living room.

  ‘He’s taken my phone.’ Lawrence had his hand out. ‘Give me yours.’

  I’d run it over and over in my head until it made nothing but sense. I was just a pawn in their game‚ for them to move around as they pleased and topple over when they were done.

  ‘Jay! Give me your bloody phone.’ His eyes moved around the room‚ stopping at the landline on the side table. He rushed over and dialled a number. As he waited for it to connect he watched me carefully.

  ‘It’s Lawrence. Put an immediate trace on my phone. It’s going to come back to a residential address. Dispatch field agents Cooper and Carpenter. Send to their phones the file on Aba Abassi‚ AKA Pathaan. I want medics and SO19 present and on standby‚ sirens off and out of sight. We can’t have the target spooked; it’s imperative that we take him alive.’

  Lawrence disconnected the call and ran a finger across the cut on his head. He checked his watch and nodded satisfactorily to himself.

  And then... and then he fucking smiled at me.

  ‘You alright‚ Jay?’ He pushed out his cheeks and let out an extended whoosh. ‘That was close.’

  ‘You knew about the fatwa.’

  ‘Jay‚’ he frowned‚ hopping aboard my thought train.

  ‘You knew he’d come out of hiding.’

  Lawrence said nothing. I acknowledged it as an admission. I nodded. He glanced at the landline as though it could offer him escape‚ when it didn’t he said‚ ‘We’re fighting a war‚ Jay.’

  ‘Yeah‚’ I said.

  ‘We had to find a way to entice Bin Jabbar out of hiding. Robinson‚ he...’ Lawrence sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Robinson…?’

  ‘I didn’t agree to it.’ He walked across the room until he was stood in front of me. ‘I offered you an in‚ Jay‚ you should have taken it.’

  ‘I’ve never once told anybody about my involvement with MI5. Dad... Al-Mudarris... The world’s most wanted man... He would have known‚ he would have sussed it out. Maybe he always knew.’ I summoned the energy to shrug. ‘But he wasn’t the one to slap a fatwa on me. In fact‚ he’s risking everything that he’s ever worked for to put an end to it. The Sheikh issued it.’ I caught his eye.

  ‘Tomorrow‚ you will be briefed.’ He took his time reading the time off his fucking Tag. ‘It’s late. We’ll answer all your questions‚ tomorrow.’

  ‘I just have the one‚’ I said. ‘How did the Sheikh come by that information? Only me and you knew... And I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell him.’

  I blinked at him and took in his hand-tailored fucking crumpled suit‚ his tie loosened at the collar‚ a shiny sheen across his forehead. His face unable to conceal the truth.

  ‘You. Fucking. Snake... You orchestrated the whole thing.’

  His lip twitched as if preparing itself for a smile‚ a charming smile that would explain away everything – but anything he could possibly say would be nothing but noise. I knew the truth.

  ‘You’ve got him‚’ I said. ‘You’ve finally caught The Teacher. Pat yourself on the fucking back. But know this: me and you‚ we’re through. There is no reason for our paths to ever cross again.’

  ‘If you just hear me out. Tomorrow‚ come in and we’ll –’

  ‘We’re through!’ I lashed out with a kick. It was petulant‚ a schoolboy kick‚ like when somebody nicks your spot in the dinner queue. I barely made contact‚ just brushing his shin and leaving dirt on his trouser leg from my Jordans.

  I straightened up as calmly as I could and told him: ‘get the fuck out my house.’

  91

  Imy

  The curtains in Jack’s bedroom were drawn. Through the small gap the soft glow of the night light was seeping out. From our bedroom window‚ Stephanie was staring down at me.

  I gripped the Glock tightly in my hand and held it by my side. I inserted the key into the front door and I stepped inside. As I turned to close the door‚ a black Audi had pulled up across the road. Two men stepped out and paced towards me.

  I closed the door.

  I glanced into the empty living room. One of Stephanie’s pink slippers lay abandoned on its side. I blinked away the picture forming in my head.

  I stood at the bottom of the stairs and placed one hand on the bannister. It was loose‚ as though it had been dearly held onto for solace. I looked up. On the top step was Stephanie’s other slipper. I closed my eyes and felt blood boiling inside me‚ every inch of my skin tingled. I held my breath and climbed one step at a time.

  I rounded the corner. Stephanie was standing o
n the landing. Her feet were bare‚ her dressing gown wrapped high and tight around her‚ but not able to conceal the reddening of skin around her neck. Her curled hair‚ that she’d worn for Sunday lunch at Khala’s‚ was straggled‚ tangled. She glanced at the gun by my side‚ revealing the last part of me.

  ‘I didn’t make a sound.’ There was steel in her voice. ‘Jack doesn’t know.’ She stared absently at the block letters on his bedroom door that made up Jack’s name.

  I tapped the Glock against my thigh and turned away from her. I gently pushed Jack’s door open. The nightlight illuminated his beautiful face as he slept. On the other side of the bed‚ on the nursing chair where I’d spent many nights reading bedtime stories‚ Pathaan had his finger to his lips.

  ‘Sshh.’ He smiled.

  In his other hand he held an ivory-handled curved knife to Jack’s neck.

  ‘You couldn’t do it.’ Pathaan kept his voice low‚ his gaze on the gun by my side and then back on me. ‘It seems that your priorities have changed‚ Imran. It doesn’t matter‚ there are hundreds waiting to take your place. Better men than you. Men that shun the very Shaitan that you now embrace.’ He knuckles turned white as he gripped the knife tightly and lifted it under Jack’s chin. ‘You were warned‚ Imran. Your failure has come at a price.’

  Downstairs there was a loud crash as the front door was forced open. Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs until they were behind me. On the yellow walls of Jack’s bedroom the nightlight cast shadows of two men looming‚ their shadows getting larger as they trained their guns on me‚ voices overlapping as they shouted for me to drop my weapon.

  Pathaan lifted Jack out of bed by his hair and held him in front‚ like a human shield‚ the knife point touching the base of his throat. Jack’s eyes flew open and locked onto mine. Dad‚ softly escaping from his lips. I heard Stephanie’s feral scream as she escaped the grip of the men and ran into the room. She dropped to her knees beside me‚ her hands clasped together‚ pleading through tears with the same man who had violated her.

  I did this. I had brought this into her home.

  A single tear slowly rolled down my face. Pathaan smiled from behind Jack. His face partially visible‚ taunting me‚ daring me to risk the shot. The gun twitched in my hand.

  ‘You shed tears for these people?’ he said. ‘The very same people that killed –’

  I couldn’t bear to hear that lie again.

  I shot him clean between the eyes.

  92

  Jay

  As a child‚ probably around seven‚ something like that‚ Mum would often drag me to the Civic Centre‚ London Borough of Hounslow. Normally to discuss something mind-numbingly boring‚ like a council tax query or planning permission. For a hyper seven-year-old it was the most tedious place on the planet. I’d wait for her in the main reception room with people who had no place to live‚ all their possessions in a black bin liner or two. Beaten by the system‚ battered by life. The staff were just as depressed‚ just as stressed. Bearers of bad news. The whole set-up would freak me out.

  After the night I had had with Naaim‚ and Imran‚ and fucking Teddy Lawrence‚ I was craving that tedium. Despite my hangover‚ despite nor having slept‚ for the first time in my life‚ a boring day at work was all I wanted.

  In the grey light of Monday morning‚ I stood outside the large‚ red-brick building. Slowly‚ I made my way through a cigarette‚ staring up at the Welcome sign‚ repeated in ten different languages‚ and considered the turn of events that saw me working in that very place. I’d hated as a kid.

  I tried to look on the bright side.

  It was local to me‚ only a five-minute drive. I didn’t have to wake up ridiculously early‚ like those ambitious types who worked in the City. I wasn’t located in Social Services or the Housing Department‚ or any of those high-stress environments. I was in the ICT Department. I’d sit on my backside on the helpdesk for seven hours and twelve minutes‚ which suited the lazy in me. Only getting up for a lunch break and the odd cigarette. It wasn’t taxing work‚ answering and logging calls before passing them on to the clever bods in the glamorous Desktop Support Team. I could do the job with my eyes closed‚ which‚ on occasion‚ I did.

  It was a soulless job‚ but what did that matter? MI5 had killed my soul.

  I looked at my watch. It had just passed nine-thirty. I shrugged and walked into work. It was a warm morning‚ but I’d wrapped a lightweight blue and white striped scarf around my neck to cover the scar. I didn’t need nor want the attention. But I was a little excited at the reception that I would receive on my return. I’d play it cool.

  I walked confidently through the lobby. A curt nod to Tim the security guard who stared blankly at me and then asked me for identification. I flashed it at him as I walked towards the pavilion‚ and used my ID card to enter through the doors and into the ICT department‚ trying to suppress my smile as the rest of the team noticed me.

  Jay’s back!

  How’s it going‚ matey?

  We missed you‚ Jay. Good to have you back. New trainers?

  Yeah‚ none of that happened.

  I made eye contact with Carol; she peered at me over her thick glasses and inclined her head to a desk space.

  Not so much as a glance or a nod or any sort of acknowledgement. Fuck‚ tough crowd! I attempted to log into my computer‚ but just like many of the needy idiots that called in‚ I’d forgotten my password.

  I peered over the desk partition opposite me‚ at Malcolm‚ who didn’t seem to be on a call. Malcolm was a character. A little aloof‚ and a bit of a rebel by all accounts. He once changed the London Borough of Hounslow logo on all the templates to London Borough of Howslow. Instant legend status!

  I stood up and peered over the partition. He was updating his Facebook status on his phone.

  ‘Malcolm‚’ I said‚ brightly. ‘Wha’s happening?’

  ‘Alright‚ Jay‚’ he said‚ without taking his eyes off his phone. ‘You’re back then.’

  ‘Yeah‚ I’m back. I see you’ve grown a beard while I was away. Suits you.’

  Malcolm raised his eyes away from his phone and looked at me‚ crestfallen. ‘I’ve always had a beard.’

  ‘Ha!’ I laughed nervously. ‘I know. I know.’ My voice reached a Mariah Carey high. ‘I’m just playing... Can you change my password‚ please?’

  ‘Log a call.’ Malcolm clearly offended‚ went back to his phone.

  ‘I’ll change your password.’ Next to me‚ ending a call‚ Kelly flashed me a cute smile and I wondered if she’d consider having a drink with me.

  ‘Nice one‚’ I said‚ flashing her what I hoped was an equally cute smile.

  To my right‚ Davey slid his mobile across my desk. I looked at him‚ a little flickering bogey doing the hokey-cokey from his nostril every time he took a tangerine breath. ‘You have to see this‚’ he enthused. ‘It’s Wolverine versus Batman. It’s amateur‚ but it’ll make you think. Can you imagine if DC and Marvel comics crossed over?’

  I looked at the time stamp‚ the YouTube video was seven minutes long! I settled back in my chair and watched it‚ making all the appropriate noises.

  I spent lunch with my team in the‚ actually very decent‚ canteen. Davey was still waxing lyrical about the video‚ Malcolm at every point finding plot holes in it‚ and the two of them having a heated debate whilst I made eyes and conversation with Kelly. In the afternoon and on a heavy stomach‚ I had a return-to-work meeting with Carol. We agreed a gradual return‚ three days a week‚ then four‚ then back full time. She informed me that we had a new call logging system which I’d have to be trained on.

  I shrugged. Smiled. It was good to be back.

  Normality.

  It was a nice enough day. I walked home‚ as my Nova wasn’t talking to me after what I’d put it through. I patted it on the roof by way of apology as I walked to my front door. Behind me I heard heavy rattling. I turned to see a transporter carefully
wobbling down my road. It pulled up outside my drive and I smiled so hard at the sight of my Beemer gleaming proudly on top.

  I quickly signed the release papers‚ slapped a fiver in the driver’s hands and waved him goodbye. I opened the door carefully, sat in the hot seat and took a breath‚ but it wouldn’t come out properly because of the stupid grin across my face. I ran my fingers over the steering wheel and it felt like home.

  I connected my phone via Bluetooth and played the first song on my playlist‚ created just for this very moment. ‘Str8 Ballin’. I turned it up high‚ let the bass wash over me as 2pac rapped about his life as a street dealer. I slid my seat all the way back‚ leaned back‚ kicked off my Jordans and loosened my belt. I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  I was three songs in‚ when my phone rang.

  Without looking at the caller display I accepted the call with the press of a button on the multi-function steering wheel.

  ‘Javid?’

  A voice now so familiar came clearly through my speakers‚ as though my father was here right next to me‚ calling my name‚ and it hurt so fucking much.

  Before I could stop myself‚ I said‚ ‘They’re coming for you.’

  93

  Abu Dhabi

  When The Teacher met the Sheikh there was only going be one outcome.

  The long journey from the rural village in the Maimana region of Afghanistan to Dubai‚ via Pakistan‚ was gruelling but without incident.

  The shorter journey from Dubai to Abu Dhabi felt as though Bin Jabbar’s position had shifted. He had felt eyes on him.

  It didn’t matter anymore‚ he thought‚ as he looked out of the window from the Sheikh’s home office. His hands clasped behind his back as his eyes moved around the large‚ luxurious estate. Bin Jabbar tried to recall the moment his fight‚ his jihad‚ had become more important than his son. For all his efforts‚ really nothing had changed. Muslims were still being mindlessly murdered‚ at a rate which could never be matched.

  ‘It’s done‚ Al-Mudarris.’ Sheikh Ali Ghulam replaced the receiver back in its cradle and straightened his headdress. Bin Jabbar turned away from the window and stood in front of Ghulam’s well-kept desk. ‘I have informed the appropriate contacts. It shall be communicated to Pathaan. Inshallah. The fatwa on Javid Qasim has been lifted.’