Imy slipped past me and took a seat and I sat opposite. A jug was placed on the table, filled with surprisingly clear water.
‘Shukria,’ I said, and she grinned at my effort to speak my own tongue, making me feel a little self-conscious. ‘Can I get a… Amritsari paneer bhurji,’ I said, looking up at the boarded menu. ‘Doh parantha, and, uh, masala chai. Cheers.’
She turned to Imy. ‘Same.’ He grunted.
The old man with the magnifying glass watched her sway away through the magnifying glass, before winking at me through the magnifying glass! I turned away quickly and noticed Imy had placed a stack of rupees on the table.
‘Walking around money,’ he said.
‘Thanks, I’ll sort you out first chance I get,’ I said, and just for a split-second, I pictured him as a friend and not an MI5 asset out to use me for their gains. That reassurance lasted as long as the blink of an eyelid, because I knew the man sitting in front of me was keeping secrets.
Chapter 52
Imy
I’d taken a seat across from Jay which faced the entrance, but the glass front to the restaurant had left us vulnerable. It wasn’t the location I would have chosen.
Our host had disappeared through beaded strings and into the kitchen to prepare our meal. The old man on the opposite side got bored of us quickly and went back to his paperback. I could feel Jay watching me intently, and I could tell that he was looking to get into it.
‘You knew all along?’ he started, as soon as he caught my eye.
‘Keep your voice down,’ I hissed at him.
‘Even before we set foot in Pakistan, you knew that my life was in danger.’
‘No, I didn’t know. Not for certain,’ I replied and waited for the onslaught.
‘Don’t play me for a fool. You knew! And Teddy Lawrence knew! It wouldn’t be the first time MI5 used me as worm.’
‘Will you listen to yourself?’ I said, trying to keep my voice neutral in an effort to pacify him. ‘Nobody sent you here, Jay. You alone made the decision to come searching for your father.’
‘His name! Use his name. Bin Jabbar, Al-Mudarris, The Teacher, whatever! Fuck, man, how many times do I have to tell you?’
There was no pacifying him. He was in full-on-Jay mode now. I glanced at the old man, we again had his attention. I threw him a look and he dropped his head quickly. ‘My point is,’ I remained calm in the face of frustration, ‘nobody forced you to be here.’
‘It would have been a little fucking polite if somebody had given me a heads-up!’
‘Would it have changed anything?’ I asked.
Jay buttoned up. It wasn’t a question to which an answer was deemed necessary. The desperation to see his father again was painfully obvious, matching only my desperation to find him. I looked through the beads leading to the kitchen in the hope that our waitress would emerge with our meal.
Jay leaned back in his chair, a touch calmer, and I had to make sure he damn well remained that way, but I could see behind his eyes a busy mind.
‘Al-Muhaymin,’ he said. ‘They’re out to get me. What d’you know about them?’
I hesitated, tried to think it through. How much did he need to know? If I divulged, what impact would it have in what we were trying to achieve? What I was trying to achieve?
‘I know as much as you do,’ I said, calmly.
A small smile played on his face and he nodded softly to himself as his eyes moved around the restaurant. I could read the signs. Jay was building himself up towards something, like a small ticking time bomb.
He pushed his seat back dramatically, the legs screeching against the lino. He shot to his feet and jabbed a straight finger close to my face. ‘I promise you, I will walk out of this joint and do this shit on my own if you don’t start talking.’
‘Sit down, you’re causing a scene,’ I said, wanting to snap the finger pointed at me.
I didn’t have to tell him a damn thing. I waited for him to sit the hell back down with his tail between his legs. With the attack on his life still fresh on his mind, Jay knew he wouldn’t last a second without me.
He needed me.
‘You think I’m playing?’ he said, unrelenting, a foolish determination plastered across his face. ‘You really wanna test me?’
I took a breath, and another, taking my time to read him. There was an unpredictability in him. Would he rather walk away, out of sheer stubbornness, than be kept in the dark? I couldn’t take the risk.
I needed him, too.
‘You’ve made your point,’ I nodded. ‘Sit down, I’ll tell you what I know.’
‘Yeah, do that!’ he snapped, before taking his seat. ‘Start with Al-Muhaymin.’
‘They’re small but quickly growing in numbers,’ I started, keeping my voice low in the hope that he’d follow. ‘But unlike their predecessors, they’re reckless. Ghurfat-al-Mudarris went decades with little indication of their presence.’
‘Reckless how?’ Jay asked. To my relief he’d dropped his tone.
‘GCHQ picked up communication, slow at first, trickling into a PR firm based in Copenhagen. Over the last few days there was a flurry of chatter to a pay-as-you-go phone in London. It all stopped the moment Bin Jabbar was located and rescued.’
‘I know that,’ Jay said. ‘Al-Muhaymin are responsible for releasing him. Omar told me as much.’
‘Right. Omar Bhukara. He’s the one that initially made contact with you?’
‘Yeah, he’s the one who pulled me back into this fucking mess. What else you got?’
‘You know as much as I do,’ I said, which was near enough to the truth, or as close to it as I could give him.
‘Alright, put that shit to one side for a minute. Tell me this.’ Jay pressed a finger onto the table, his voice a rising whisper. ‘Bin Jabbar told Mustafa who I am? Who else knows I’m the son of that son of a bitch?!’
‘I think Bin Jabbar made sure that his people were aware,’ I said. ‘And I think you know why.’
Jay sat back in his chair, his shoulders slumping as realisation dawned on him. He stared at the empty space on the table between us and he quietly said, ‘He’s trying to protect me.’
It signalled a stillness in him.
Abdul bin Jabbar had handed his people the ultimate test.
I know what it’s like to be a follower, the fierce loyalty, the unbridled passion, the belief that whatever Bin Jabbar feels, no question, you feel it too. It’s by that token that Bin Jabbar had revealed that Javid Qasim was his son. It had bought him a degree of protection.
However, Al-Muhaymin were a different beast altogether. Though their love for Bin Jabbar was as passionate, they wouldn’t be as forgiving. There was an anger, a hatred; they wanted to place the blame and they knew who to place it on. Jay had betrayed his Brothers to MI5, and brought about the end of Ghurfat-al-Mudarris.
‘You didn’t sleep on the plane, did you?’ I asked.
Jay fixed me with a glare.
The waitress emerged through the beads, balancing two thaals filled with much-needed goodness. She rounded the counter, her eyes on Jay and Jay only. She placed the thaals on the table. I nodded my gratitude and Jay muttered his. The waitress nodded and smiled before walking across the floor to the frail old man.
‘Ooht!’ she snapped, asking him to get up. He took his time placing a bookmark into his paperback. The waitress impatiently snatched it off him and hoisted him up by the arm and marched him to the door. I don’t think Jay noticed anything but the food in front of him.
I noticed, though. I noticed the way the waitress ushered the old man out in a hurry, the way she stood at the entrance and looked out onto the street over her shoulders before rushing back in our direction.
‘Jay!’ I whispered.
‘What?’
‘I think we should go.’
Before he could respond the waitress was bearing down on us, smiling sweetly at Jay. He returned the smile. It encouraged her to pull up a plastic chair and si
t between us. She twisted so her back was to me, and she faced Jay.
‘My English,’ she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger into a pinch. ‘Little bit.’
‘My Urdu,’ Jay said, holding up his thumb and forefinger into a pinch. ‘Little bit, too.’
They grinned at each other at the breakthrough, while every instinct told me that we had to move now! I took out my burner phone from my pocket and under the table I composed a message sharing my location.
Chapter 53
Jay
‘My name,’ the waitress pointed to herself, ‘Jameelah.’ She looked over her shoulder at Imy, who couldn’t have made it more obvious that he was secretly texting under the table. She turned back to me and carefully, very carefully said, ‘Your name Javid… Qasim?’
Without thought and without paying attention to Imy’s stare, I gave her a small nod. A tear ran smoothly down her face and her smile was that of someone who would never see me come to harm. ‘Mashallah,’ she said, as she measured her next words. ‘You talk very loud.’
I couldn’t help but laugh. She joined in. Imy decided to remain stony-faced.
‘Your father…’ she said, and the laughter came to an abrupt stop. ‘A great man.’
I had one question, and it was the natural one, and I said it quickly before Imy tried to intervene. ‘Do you know where he is?’
Jameelah searched her limited vocabulary. ‘On TV… They say he died.’ She shook her head like she meant it. ‘But we don’t believe.’
‘No, not dead. Alive,’ I said. ‘He escaped,’ I said, making cartoon running action with my fingers. ‘I’m trying to find him.’
Jameelah placed a hand on top of mine. ‘Some say Ghurfat-al-Mudarris finish,’ she said, ‘because you.’
Imy had put his phone away, and I could feel his leg hammering under the table. ‘Jay!’
I ignored him, and gave Jameelah some space. Despite what she’d said, my hand in hers didn’t feel trapped. With her other hand she tore a piece of parantha from off my plate, expertly scooped up some paneer, and brought it up to my mouth.
Imy glanced at my plate before fixing me a look and a small shake of the head, as though the Amritsari paneer bhurji had suddenly grown horns. Jameelah smiled sweetly, her hand still hovering in front of my face. I thought of the last time Mum had fed me like that.
I opened my mouth.
She placed a perfect-sized bite, with the perfect parantha to paneer ratio, into my mouth.
‘I… don’t believe. People… here… don’t believe.’ Jameelah placed a finger under her eye. ‘But dangerous for you, beta.’
‘Someone is watching me?’
‘Yes. Watching,’ she said. ‘Angry with you. Open!’
I opened my mouth and she fed me another bite.
Imy was on his feet, he walked to the entrance and had a good old nosey outside, before rushing back to the table. ‘We have to move.’ He took out more rupees than necessary and slapped them on the table.
‘What is it?’ I said, through a mouthful, another bite already lined up.
‘People are gathering.’
I looked towards the entrance, and yeah, people were gathering, all wide-eyed and broad smiles, hands and faces pressed against the glass. But they didn’t try to enter the restaurant. I felt their hesitance as much as their curiosity.
‘You are safe here, Javid. They not hurt you. They are… looking only.’
The crowd was growing, the two kids who we had passed, tiptoed, craning their necks, trying to get a peek in. Traffic had come to a standstill, people stopping, getting out of their cars and climbing on the roofs.
Word had ripped through this town.
These people knew who I was, and who I was meant something to them.
‘Thank you, Jameelah,’ Imy said, looking anything but grateful. He gripped my arm and helped me to my feet. ‘Is there a back way out of here?’
‘They not hurt you, Javid,’ Jameelah repeated.
I caught myself considering it: How it would feel to walk out and into their arms. They didn’t see my dad as a monster. He had once made them feel safe, when the rest of the world meant them harm. He gave them hope. And now that he was gone, did I? Did I give them hope?
I moved towards them.
And, I swear, it felt as though they all took a step back as though it was too much for them.
Imy was on me again, pulling me back, his hand vice-tight on my arm. I turned to him and I read in his face what he wanted to say.
Don’t be stupid, Jay.
I wrenched my arm away and rubbed it. I got it! My actions, playing spy, bringing down Ghurfat-al-Mudarris, there was a big fat fucking ‘kick me’ sign on my back. Yeah, I got it! But my dad, fucking monster that he was, played his hand, his last move, one that was designed to test the love, the trust, of those who worshipped him.
He had revealed that I was his son.
And despite everything that came before, despite all that I had done, it all came down to one thing.
To hurt me was to hurt him.
Chapter 54
Imy
As soon as Jay set foot into this country, I had no doubt that it would not go unnoticed, but this, I wasn’t expecting. I could feel the sheer energy, the powerful pull, and Jay, dumbfounded, wanted to be amongst it, to feel the overwhelming love that these strangers felt for him. It was clear what Bin Jabbar meant to these people. A man who had sacrificed his own family, his own life to devote himself to his people. To ensure that they were able to stand on their own two feet and fight back. He showed them glimpses of victory when defeat was, and still remained, inevitable. I know this. I was taught this.
But history has taught us, repeatedly, no one man can receive absolute adulation. There is, without fail, somebody ready to go against you.
I had to get Jay away from there, from them.
‘Jameelah,’ I said, ‘is there a back way out?’
‘Through kitchen,’ she said, hurriedly packing the food away in a tinfoil container.
‘Come on, Jay, we have to move,’ I said, with one eye on the entrance. A man was slowly but surely shouldering his way through the mass of bodies.
Jameelah handed Jay the container, and gently cupped his face. ‘Eat!’ she said. ‘Be strong.’
Jay nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbed. I could feel him getting emotional, and I knew if I pushed him, he would dig his heels. I placed a hand gently on his shoulder and guided him away from Jameelah as the crowd watched our every move.
We rounded the counter and slipped through the string beads into the small kitchen. There was a splintered wooden door at the end. I took a breath, not knowing what was on the other side. ‘Wait here,’ I said, pushing open the door and stepping carefully out.
It was an alley about a metre and a half wide, but it felt tighter, with bin bags buzzing with flies lined up against the backs of the shops. Running parallel was a six-foot grey brick wall. I stood on my toes and looked over. Beyond was a vast crop field. We could scale the wall with ease and we’d have plenty of room to manoeuvre, but we’d be an easy target.
I checked the burner. Live location was still active; I watched the red dot move slowly towards the blue dot that represented us.
‘What you waiting for?’ I heard Jay over my shoulder. ‘Which way?’
‘West,’ I said, stepping out.
‘Which way’s that?’
‘Left. You go first, I’m behind you. Walk. Calmly. Do not run.’
We moved in single file. His mouth was going but I couldn’t hear him, but from snatches of what he was saying, it didn’t seem like anything of note. I looked back over my shoulder. A man had appeared at the far end of the alley behind us. He stood stationary, watching as he smoked a cigarette.
‘A little faster,’ I said.
The man finished his smoke and threw it down onto the ground and stamped his sandal on it before walking away out of sight. I faced forward, forty, forty-five metres to go. Another glance a
t my phone, the red dot was getting closer.
Jay shook his head. ‘Did not see that coming? Those people… They knew who I am. Unbelievable! One of them must know where Bin Jabbar is being kept? We should have asked? I think we should go back and ask?’
I heard the splutter of a motor behind me, the push and pull of a throttle.
‘No. Keep moving.’
‘I think it’s the wrong move,’ Jay said. ‘Like Jameelah was saying, we’re not in any danger. Not here. They could help us… What’s that noise?’
I glanced back over my shoulder as the growl of an engine grew louder, a small front wheel turned slowly into the mouth of the alley, followed by a rusty black and gold body. The man behind the handlebars lit up a fresh cigarette and took a deep pull and let out a cloud of smoke. And through that smoke the auto-rickshaw came hurtling towards us.
‘Go!’ I pushed Jay. The tinfoil container slipped out of his hand, and he instinctively stopped to pick it up. His eyes were wide as he noticed the rickshaw moving towards us. ‘Run!’
The alleyway was tight, and the sides of the rickshaw scraped against the walls slowing it down a little, but not much. My eyes moved for a weapon, a stick, a rock, anything, but everything was flashing by me at speed. I reached an arm out and dropped anything that wasn’t clamped down, mainly bin bags, a stack of dirty pots and pans and a jahroo brush hanging off a hook. I risked another glance back. The rickshaw had adjusted to the narrow path, it was dead straight now and picking up speed as it blew away the obstacles I’d placed in its path.
Jay wasn’t moving quick enough, his ridiculous heavy footwear slowing him down. I pulled up a little so that my feet wouldn’t hit the backs of his ankles. Over his head, I could see the end of the alley, no more than twenty metres away, and then an opening to the left.
A red Honda hatchback reversed into the alley, effectively cutting off our path.
Jay skidded to a halt. ‘Fuck!’ he screamed. ‘We’re boxed in.’
I screamed back at him, ‘Keep going!’ I brushed past him, bunching his shirt in my fist and dragging him behind me.
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