Ride or Die

by Khurrum Rahman

  His name, his face would forever be intrinsically connected to everything that I had lost.

  I closed the wardrobe doors and zipped up my travel bag and sat on the edge of the bed with nothing to do but wait. Jay had preoccupied my mind and I realised that I hadn’t checked my phone for a while.

  There were two messages. One an email. The other a text.

  The email had arrived first, so I read it first. No subject, no message, only an attachment. An e-ticket under my name. PIA flight departing from Heathrow Airport tomorrow at 6.30 a.m. and landing at 2.10 p.m. local time at Islamabad International Airport.

  The text was from a withheld number but I knew the sender was the same. The only information that was given was an address that I was painfully familiar with.

  Chapter 37

  Jay

  I think it’s pretty fucking fair to say that my relationship with my dad is pretty fucking complicated. For starters, there is no relationship but in name and blood. I’ve only ever met him once, and even then we didn’t address what we were to each other. I hated him. But even in hate, there’s passion. When I was told he had been killed, my reaction was immediate and angry and misdirected. It dissipated quickly as I convinced myself that I was mourning a monster.

  Now fucking this. He’s alive and it’s fucking thrown me. Don’t get it twisted, I know what he is and I know what he’s done. I fucking know! To the world he’s The Teacher. Al-fucking-Mudarris. The leader of a terrorist cell. In a world where you’re either good or bad, he was the root of all evil. It’s simply as black and white as that.

  To me it’s grey. To me, he’s my dad, and all I want is to bring him back home and face justice the right way.

  In bed next to me, Sophia stirred.

  After I had told her that my dad was alive, we didn’t address it. Maybe something in my voice told her that I didn’t have it in me.

  Sophia was nobody to me, but the fool in me felt as though she could be everything. We were simply two strangers who had been brought together by circumstance. There was a desperation about her that reflected my own. I naturally felt a pull towards her as though whatever crap life threw at us, somehow, we’d always find each other, understand each other.

  But, as I said, that was the fool in me.

  I slipped the dressing off from my head, and, careful not to disturb her arm draped over me, I shifted and twisted my body and faced her. It was a single bed, so her nose wasn’t far from mine. I could see really small, really faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. I hadn’t noticed it before, and now that I did, I wasn’t likely to forget. Her eyes flickered. Said nose twitched. Her eyes moved behind her eyelids as though running the events of the night through her mind before having to face it. She blinked her eyes open.

  ‘Morning,’ I said, my voice morning hoarse. She moved the arm that had been over me and I felt its absence immediately.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said as though she’d crossed a line. I shrugged and smiled and wondered if it would ever be around me again. She tucked it out of sight and into the duvet. Things had changed, obviously, but not in the way they do after two strangers have to face each other in the morning after an awkward fumble. It felt softer somehow, like how I imagine a holiday romance to be; only without the exotic location, and the absence of any actual romance.

  Though, I did rescue her. That was pretty fucking romantic!

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, glancing at the cut on my forehead.

  ‘What’ve you been thinking?’

  She smiled into my eyes and I drifted into hers. The moment didn’t last long.

  ‘I’m going to tell the police everything.’

  I nodded gently. Sophia returned it with a shrug, a delicate movement of her shoulders under the duvet. She was part of a huge conspiracy to kidnapping and torturing a high-level MI5 officer. It wasn’t something she could run from.

  ‘I may have to go to jail.’ She smiled as though she had said something altogether different.

  ‘Maybe.’ I smiled back at her.

  ‘Probably share a cell with someone called Martha, or as she likes to be called, “The Duchess”.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll smuggle in a mobile phone for you.’

  ‘But at what cost, Jay? At what cost?’

  I let out a small laugh. Her smile widened. It was nothing more than a moment. We both had a future ahead of us that we didn’t anticipate and before shit got real, this… Well, this was nice.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Sophia said, her smile smaller now. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anyone waiting for me.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ I said. ‘When you come out, I’ll be casually leaning against a convertible Cadillac. Elvis shades, toothpick in my mouth and a five o’clock shadow,’ I said, trying to keep the moment going. But reality was looming over us. ‘Seriously… I’ll wait for you.’

  I watched her take a breath, a soft sigh, and then her body shifted a touch closer to me. My eyes dropped to her lips which were slightly parted. I ain’t a stranger to these signs. I played this game before with mixed results. I licked my lips, a subtle practised movement that if done correctly she wouldn’t have noticed. I moved my face close, closer. And after calculating the trajectory of impact I angled my head off the pillow and closed my eyes. That’s right, I was flying blind! But, man, I was rusty, and our noses bumped. After a quick recalculation I adjusted my head and our noses brushed gently before nestling side by side. And just before my lips could land on hers, an abrupt crack at my front door well and truly broke the moment.

  The looming reality had finally kicked in, and was standing at my door wearing a crumpled suit.

  I could have been spiteful. Unreasonable. Thrown a tantrum that a toddler would be proud of. Fuck, I wanted to. And maybe last night, I think I would have. But now, I felt calm, or as close to it as I could manage considering my old MI5 handler Teddy Lawrence was standing in my tight hallway.

  At that time of the morning, I expected him to smell shampoo fresh, with every strand of hair clamped down perfectly in place. That was the smug, slick Teddy Lawrence that I was familiar with. But what was in front of me was a mess. I’d never seen him look so dishevelled. His hair – oh man, I wouldn’t have been surprised if birds had set up a small village in it. And where the fuck was his tie? Yeah, his tailored suit probably cost more than my whole wardrobe combined, but it was creased. Fuck creased, it was crumpled, as though he’d slept and woken up in it. Though, judging by the passengers under his eyes, I don’t think he’d yet been to bed.

  ‘Sophia Hunt,’ he said, without preamble. ‘Where is she?’

  I took my time before answering. ‘She didn’t know.’

  ‘Didn’t know what, exactly?’ he said, frustrated.

  ‘She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.’

  ‘I’m tired and I’m in no mood for games. Tell me where she is or I’ll have this place taken apart looking for her.’

  I challenged him with a stare. Lawrence knew me better, knew that his bullshit threat wasn’t going to win me over. He shook his head. Wisely changed tack. ‘We can help her,’ he said.

  ‘If she helps you, that is. Isn’t that how it works?’

  His eyes travelled past me and up the stairs. Sophia was standing on the top step. I watched her climb slowly down the stairs. She had her coat on over my onesie, and a pair of Mum’s house slippers. She looked ready to accept her fate.

  Sophia stood beside me and placed her hand in mine. She nodded gently at me and together we faced Lawrence.

  ‘Sophia Hunt?’ he said, smiling warmly but falling well short of the mark.

  ‘What happens now?’ I asked. Lawrence ignored me and continued to address Sophia.

  ‘My name is Teddy Lawrence and—’

  ‘He’s MI5.’ I jumped in and it cost me a glare from Lawrence.

  ‘MI5,’ Sophia mouthed to herself, and nodded as she took in that information. ‘Why not the police?’

  ‘For now, the police
aren’t involved, and if things go as I hope, they won’t need to be.’

  ‘So… I’m not being arrested?’

  ‘No, we just want to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Samuel Carter?’ Sophia said.

  ‘Samuel Carter is an alias. The man you spoke to is Omar Bhukara, responsible for taking hostage and torturing a high-ranking government officer. A conspiracy that you were part of.’

  Despite everything Sophia let out a breezy laugh. ‘Sounds a lot like I’m being arrested.’

  Lawrence didn’t reply. He’d said all he needed to. Sophia wasn’t being arrested, not technically. She was being detained and questioned at a secure location without any counsel. That’s what it amounted to. Her life had changed and I knew from experience that no matter how much she cooperated, she would forever be in their pocket.

  Lawrence opened the front door. Sophia squeezed my hand. Together we looked outside. The wind had picked up. It had started to rain, again. Sophia pulled her sleeves over her hands.

  ‘Do you want a hat?’ I whispered. ‘I’ve got a baseball cap upstairs. Or an umbrella? I’ve got one knocking about somewhere.’

  ‘It’s been nice, Jay,’ she said. ‘You’re nice… maybe I’ll see you again.’

  I couldn’t find the words quickly enough, and she was gone.

  Lawrence led Sophia down my path and helped her into a waiting car. He tapped on the roof and the car was away. I watched her watch me from the back seat until she was out of sight.

  I was going to miss her. Fuck, man, I was missing her already.

  Despite the rain, Lawrence stood at the end of my path and took his time looking over his shoulders. He was waiting for somebody. He glanced at his watch before walking back down my path.

  I closed the door behind him and he stood dripping in my hallway. ‘We should talk,’ he said.

  ‘Tea? Coffee?’ I asked, and then answered the question myself. ‘Yeah, coffee, you look like you could do with one.’

  He muttered his gratitude and made his way into the living room and I made my way into the kitchen. I almost turned back to ask him how he took his coffee, but fuck him, he’ll take it as I make it. I knew why he was there, and it wasn’t just about last night’s events. It was about what I did after.

  I balanced two over-filled mugs into the living room and placed them on the coffee table in front of him.

  ‘How is he?’ I asked, playing the game. ‘How’s Robinson?’

  ‘Resting,’ Lawrence replied.

  I nodded as I decided if I should sit beside him on the sofa, or go solo on the armchair.

  Lawrence picked up his coffee and took a sip, as if he was desperate for a caffeine hit. It was scalding hot and he rushed it back to the table. We both watched a wave of coffee spill down the side of his mug.

  My eyes fell on the nest of tables. On top sat a tissue box and a stack of metallic coasters which I’d never before noticed. I plucked out a tissue and slipped out a couple of coasters. I lifted his mug, a stain was already forming into the wood. I ran a tissue across it before any long-term damage, and then slipped a coaster on the table and placed his mug on top. It felt like a fucking production, but I think there was a part of me that wanted to show him that I wasn’t that same person. I had grown up.

  ‘Looks like you could do with a little rest yourself,’ I said, dropping on the armchair across from him.

  ‘Who were they?’ he asked. No beating, no bush. Worked for me, I was in no mood to dance. I’d tell him whatever I knew and then he could walk out the same fucking way he came in.

  ‘Omar Bhukara,’ I replied. ‘His father was Adeel-Al-Bhukara.’

  Lawrence nodded. ‘I recognised the address.’

  ‘A lot of young Muslims went in through those doors one way and came out another.’

  ‘I know that, Jay,’ he said sharply, as though I was wasting his precious time, and it pissed me off. It’s always been the fucking case. No one cares how or why these Muslims turned, there’s no preventive fucking measure in place, no education. All they give a fuck about is dealing with it, after. ‘And the other?’ he asked.

  ‘Tommy. I didn’t get a surname.’

  ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘Lives local. Southall.’

  ‘Convert?’

  ‘I think so. I can’t be sure?’

  ‘There’s doubt there,’ Lawrence said, swooping a hand through his hair and making things worse. ‘Why?’

  ‘Something,’ I said. ‘I can’t put my finger on it. Omar had said as much, but it didn’t fit.’

  ‘What didn’t fit?’

  I considered it for a second under Lawrence’s watchful eye. ‘Maybe it’s lazy thinking on my part,’ I said. ‘Tommy didn’t greet me with a Salaam, he wasn’t throwing around Inshallahs or Mashallahs.’

  ‘Nor do you, Jay.’

  ‘I know, that’s what I’m saying. Lazy thinking, tabloid thinking! Fuck, man, we come in all sizes and guises. It’s just… A Muslim convert would, I don’t know, try harder.’

  I could see Lawrence trying to make sense of it, but I wasn’t sure if there was any sense to be made. It was a feeling, is all. If the man says he’s a Muslim, the fuck am I to argue? Lawrence wrapped a hand around the coffee mug and, being careful not to spill it again, brought it slowly to his lips.

  ‘What I do know is that he’s not part of Ghurfat-al-Mudarris. From what I understand his part in taking Robinson was just a transaction. It was Omar who wanted Robinson.’

  ‘And what was Tommy’s end in this transaction?’

  ‘Guns. Omar was gonna supply him with a sawn-off AK-47 and a handgun, from a contact in Coventry that his old man used.’

  ‘The same weapons that were used at the Boxing Day attack on Oxford Street?’

  ‘And most likely the same contact. Wasim Qadir,’ I said, from memory. Lawrence made a note on his phone.

  ‘Did either Omar or Tommy mention a target?’ he asked me carefully.

  ‘No… Why are you asking me all this? I said, as the pieces fell heavily into place, in what was turning out to be the world’s crappiest jigsaw. ‘Lawrence… Tell me you’ve got them. Tell me they’re sitting in a guarded locked room somewhere.’

  He didn’t tell me shit. I shot to my feet.

  ‘You were watching the fucking place, you must have seen them walk out.’

  ‘Sit down, Jay.’

  ‘Fuck sitting down. What happened, Lawrence?’

  ‘We had four agents in two cars on Jersey Way, and another in the house opposite with a camera on Al-Bhukara’s place, feeding back to Comms. Taking into account the hostage we couldn’t draw attention to the house, we had to be discreet. Two streets away we had Armed Response Units and SO15 waiting.’

  ‘All that manpower and they still got away, that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘We didn’t know what to expect, we even had a bomb disposal unit en-route. We were prepared for the worst. Yes, we saw Omar and Tommy leave the house, but you have to realise our only priority was the release or rescue of John Robinson. We made a calculated decision for two agents to tail them at a distance. They were followed to an underground car park in West Drayton. Our agents intercepted them as they tried to switch cars.’ Lawrence took a moment to compose himself. Whatever he was about to say wasn’t coming easy, and I wasn’t going to make it any easier.

  ‘And!?’ I snapped and heard it echo in my head.

  ‘One of them, and it’s not clear which one, was armed.’

  ‘Tommy.’ I slumped back in my chair, leaned my head back. ‘Tommy had the gun.’

  ‘One of our agents is in a critical condition. The other died from multiple gunshot wounds.’

  I closed my eyes tightly and Tommy’s grinning face invaded my every thought. I was responsible for that gun. The same fucking gun I’d taken from Imy so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing. And now, two agents had been shot, one killed, and I didn’t think I knew w
hat the right fucking thing was anymore.

  I questioned all those past decisions that had led me there. I questioned the decision I’d made just a few hours ago. Was it the right one? It didn’t matter. Nothing had changed.

  ‘There’s another matter that we need to discuss,’ Lawrence said, trawling through my head.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ I said. ‘Yeah, ’course you fucking know. Still keeping tabs on me like an obsessive ex.’

  ‘Yes, we know. We know that in the early hours of the morning you booked a flight to Islamabad.’

  ‘So?’ One word. Two letters. Full of challenge and intent. My mind will not be changed.

  ‘I’m not here to stop you, Jay. I want to help.’

  I ignored him. I ignored him because my eyes were at my window, at the crappy Prius that had just pulled up across my drive.

  No. There’s no fucking way.

  Chapter 38

  Imy

  I stood at the door struggling to keep my anger in check. I never thought I would be seeing him again, let alone this damn soon, and back in the house where my decision had cost me so dearly.

  I couldn’t bring myself to knock. I couldn’t predict what my reaction would be upon seeing his face when he opened the door.

  It turns out I didn’t have to. Lawrence opened the door.

  ‘Come in.’ He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on when came to see me in the early hours. His state just as bad, worse.

  ‘No,’ I said, standing firm, as memories of what had taken place here flooded back. ‘I don’t want anything to do with him!’

  ‘I can hear you, for fuck’s sake!’ Jay’s voice came through from the living room.

  I shrugged past Lawrence and stomped into the living room ready to give it to him. I stopped in my tracks. He was sitting in the same armchair where I’d once failed to kill him.

  ‘I want my gun back,’ I said.

  He casually picked up a mug of whatever he was drinking and took a delicate sip without taking his eyes off me over the rim. I knew his play; I was on his territory now, and he was trying to dictate proceedings. I took a step forward and stood over him and leaned down into his face. ‘Do you really want me to ask you again?’