A Time Honoured Killing

by Samesh Ramjattan

  “Fuck sakes!” Carley muttered under her breath and hung up.

  She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes and summoning enough courage to endure the rest of her journey home.

  But then just as she stepped out from under the cover of darkness, he appeared like a hooded gory spectre, and grabbed her.

  Carley struggled and tried to find the force of her voice, but his bony fingers formed a guard over her mouth, obstructing any sound and stifling her breathing. Then she saw it, glistening in the moonlight, a bright long sabre that thrust downward. She used her hands to block it, but nothing could yield its velocity. She felt it conquer her soul like a foreign invader, interrupting the flow of her life force. It wasn’t even the wound that mattered, it was more the realisation of the end of mortality – the end of her life.

  Her attacker removed the blade and then reinserted with more vigour and it plunged higher up closer to her heart.

  Carley felt warm fluid travel up the back of her throat and spurt out of her mouth. She struggled, clasping the hood with her hand to reveal his face. Another hand launched up for his throat, but he fought her off and she could only grip on a wrist chain as she fell backward. But she held on and locked the chain in her fist as she fell to the floor.

  For a moment she lay on the floor and stared up at her attacker, and he stared back at her. Her eyes became blurry and uncontrollable fatigue began to close in, but the image of his face was imprinted on her mind. He tried to pry her fist open, but she would not let him. Something must have disturbed him. A passerby or an onlooker. Whatever it was, he quickly fled.

  So many thoughts passed through her mind, as she lay there. Her mum and dad. Her school. Her first time with Peerless. Tyson. And of course, Nick. He was her final thought. She felt loved. She would miss him and all the little things. But she could leave this life behind because she knew love and she had given it selflessly.

  Her eyes became heavy. Then they closed.

  19

  Nick stood under the hot spot lamps over the gurney that held Carley’s body. The light blue cloth that covered her was wet with blood, fresh from her inflicted wounds. Nick was transfixed by it feeling like an embalmed corpse himself. He looked her up and down, full of disbelief that Carley lay under it. His mind was blank. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel. Only, a few hours earlier he had been with her and she had sat right before him. She was as happy as he had ever seen her. He felt like they had truly turned a corner and he could tell her how he felt. The conflict had subsided, but how ironic that just as they found the truth and solace in each other, she was dead. He had lost her forever, never able to sound the words of pent up emotion that finally liberated itself. But still, even the thought of that made him feel nothing. The truth was that he was empty – devoid of any emotion. He had nothing left to give after the tumultuous set of emotions and experiences that had occurred. Maybe he was now a true detective, the man that everybody expected him to be, as his father had said to him. This emptiness was what he needed to finish this thing. To do what it took without the complications of obligation, anger and grief. He knew what he needed to do, to bring it all down. For Adilaah. For Carley.

  Aisha appeared before Nick with her usual casual indignance at the corpse that lay in the lab. But somehow, she stemmed most of her blatancy and displayed an air of compassion and emotion as she took hold of the cover sheet, ready to unveil the body. She looked at Nick woefully as he gave her the nod to proceed, and Aisha slowly pulled the cover over, revealing Carley’s face.

  Nick stared at Carley’s face blankly. “How did she die?” He said quietly.

  “Knife wounds. Double entry to the abdomen. Cardiac arrest on the street…” Aisha said as she looked at Nick, realising her blunt prognosis was about someone Nick cared about.

  “Sorry. I forgot you were close,” She apologised. “She tried fighting back. Found this tightly wrapped in her hands.”

  Aisha showed Nick an evidence bag containing the Moon and Star Emblem wrist chain, as she removed it and displayed it to Nick. Nick took it in his hands and studied it.

  “D-N-A has a match, but the file seems to be sealed. Doesn’t make sense,” Aisha pondered.

  “Yes, it does. Perfect sense,” Nick announced furtively as he clasped the blood stained Moon and Star Emblem chain tightly in his fist, almost cutting through his skin, and placing it in his pocket. He looked back at Carley, gazing at the Gold Locket necklace still around her neck.

  “I was going to process that,” Aisha blurted.

  “Leave it,” Nick interrupted. “She deserves to take to with her.”

  ~

  “Let her go!” Nick shouted with the full volume of his voice so that Ashraf wouldn’t mistake his tone. By now Ashraf had pinned her to the floor beside the bed and in her drunken catatonic state, she was putting up little resistance.

  Ashraf had asked his best friend to head across the street for another bottle of cider, and even though he had had enough, Nick never knew when to stop his drinking. Ashraf knew this well and had often plied his friend with alcohol so that he could get him drunk and help him in his sordid exploits.

  Today was just like all those other times. They would drive up to the council estates, and Ashraf knew all the right ones, and offer the girls that hung around, bored and with no money, the time of their lives. Vodka, cider, beer, all that they wanted, but not before making a trip through the ‘Maccidees’ drive-thru. They loved it and it wasn’t long before Ashraf and Nick had a reputation. Sometimes there were too many to fit into Ashraf’s pimped-up silver Golf GTI, and they had to turn them away. They would sit in the car park of the local park, blasting out R & B and Rap music, drinking and smoking, making them believe that for today they were living the high life. They knew that they had to play their parts too, for all that excess came with a price, in the form of fondling, groping or a bit of flashing.

  But eventually this all became all too tame for Ashraf and he wanted more. Much more. Nick could see it happening. What had started as a bit of adolescent fun, turned into a predatory sport for Ashraf, almost as if the luring of these teenage skanks was the dress rehearsal for something far more malicious and macabre.

  Ashraf knew just who to pick. He could seek out and lure the girl who was wayward, had already had a promiscuous reputation, and was estranged from her parents – a bit of an outcast and loner. At the time, Nick dismissed it as his friend wanting to have fun, and that he knew the boundaries. But deep down he knew that Ashraf was capable of so much more. He had seen that dark side on many an occasion and he had tried to stay clear of it.

  On that particular day, they had bunked college. They were in their final year so to them it didn’t matter much. Ashraf had his sights on one girl in particular – Megan. On the face value, Megan looked like she did not belong on a council estate. She looked prim and proper, conservatively dressed, sweet, kind and pretty. She had auburn red hair with a fresh excitable face and ecstatic laugh that was infectious. But she too had a dark side and that was blatantly apparent when she had a few drinks. The fiery redhead came out of her and she lost all self-control, gaining a reputation for being outright crazy. However, the one thing that Megan never did was let anybody touch her, despite her raucous and raunchy reputation. In fact, she was probably a virgin. Something that Ashraf saw as a challenge. The other thing that sat in contrast to Megan’s diametric personality was that she was quite shy and sensitive when she was sober and could hold an intelligent conversation once she came out of her shell. But for some reason she chose to hide that part and let the outlandish aspect dominate. Nick had spent some time talking to her about the loveless environment she grew up in, especially as the alcohol wore off. He felt that perhaps that she masked her true feelings because she was terrified of love and did not know how to give or receive it. Hence the wild party animal triumphed. But Nick wished he could see more of that side of her. He liked it, and he knew she liked him. But there was only one problem. Ashraf liked
her too. But not in the same way. He saw her as prey that he could hunt and consume.

  Nick knew that Ashraf had sent him out of the room for a reason. Ashraf had often brought girls to these rooms. They had sat above his family’s curry restaurant where he took most of his meals.

  As he entered the room, he heard Megan’s muffled cries, something that he had heard many times before. Ashraf often got them drunk and forced himself on them. They were always White, and he took a certain pleasure from hearing them whimper and plead. Often, they had passed out and he would have rough intercourse with them, gleefully laughing and then occasionally slapping them in the face. Nick tried to stop his friend but somehow felt powerless to do so. If he intervened, that would place him on the opposite side to Ashraf, and it would jeopardise their friendship and arouse his anger. Deep down Nick despised himself, for he felt he was party to it, an accomplice who could just as easily, be on top of that girl himself.

  But this time it was all too much. He knew that Ashraf had purposefully left the door unlocked, and as he entered he saw that Ashraf was between her legs ready to enter her. That was when he shouted, and the grin that Ashraf had on his face turned furtive.

  “What?” Ashraf barked as he faced Nick’s challenge.

  “I said get off her,” Nick commanded as he launched forward, lifting Ashraf off Megan and throwing him across the room.

  The shock and vigour of his friend’s actions took Ashraf by surprise as he tried to compose himself.

  “What are you doing? Ashraf questioned his friend’s rebuke.

  “I’m done with this!” Nick announced loudly.

  “Done?” Ashraf sniggered. “But we’re best friends.”

  Nick moved over to Megan and helped her to her feet. He hoped that Ashraf wouldn’t try to stop him, as he was much stronger.

  “No. We’re not,” Nick answered bluntly. “This is not what friends do.”

  Ashraf stared at Nick somewhat bewildered as he led Megan out the door. He couldn’t understand why Nick had reacted in that way. He knew his friend was soft-hearted, but he had always counted on his loyalty.

  ~

  Ashraf sat hunched over a table in the empty restaurant, swilling down spoonsful of rich butter chicken and naan bread as Nick pushed the door open and entered. It was no different from when they would spend their days discussing football, wrestling or their favourite TV shows. But now things were different, very different. Ashraf was no longer his friend, but a killer he had come to arrest.

  Ashraf did not even lift his head up from his meal, as Nick coolly walked up to him. The restaurant was half baked by the setting sun and Ashraf sat in the dimly lit back end.

  Nick ardently placed the Moon and Star Emblem chain on the clothed table in full view of Ashraf as he ominously sat directly before him.

  “You lost it the other night,” Nick said biliously.

  “Good of you,” Ashraf taunted, as he gazed at the chain with a wry smile. “A gift from my father. Not as nice as the one you gave Adilaah.”

  “Why’d you do it? She meant nothing to you,” Nick questioned.

  “But she did to you,” Ashraf retorted. “Besides she meddled in affairs that she shouldn’t have. If you left things the way they were meant to be, she’d still be alive.”

  “And Adilaah? Did she meddle too?” Nick persisted.

  “Adilaah betrayed us and everything we stood for,” Ashraf lamented.

  “Do you stand for murder?” Nick quizzed.

  “Do you? You apply your principles when they suit you. Everything I’ve done was out of honour,” Ashraf continued.

  “Is that you, or your father speaking?” Nick probed.

  “I have my father’s respect. I’ve earned it,” Ashraf confirmed.

  “If that’s how he wants you to earn it, then it’s not respect!” Nick declared.

  “My father loves me…” Ashraf stuttered.

  “Yet he came to me to find Adilaah’s killer?” Nick said as he watched his old best friend overcome by his argument.

  “My father is a man of god – doing god’s work,” Ashraf muttered, as his resolve weakened.

  “Look what he’s done to you. Turned you into a killer. In the end Adilaah wished for death, but at least she tried to live, to love, to be free,” Nick said calmly.

  Nick paused as he watched Ashraf stare into the warm sunlight flooding into the restaurant.

  “He killed you a long time ago,” Nick slowly exclaimed. “By turning the boy, I knew, into the man you think he wants you to be. You smashed her skull in, but your father is the real murderer. That’s why you wrapped her up…” He continued as he watched tears form in Ashraf’s eyes.

  “You turned her around because you couldn’t face her,” Nick said.

  “She had so much love to give. I watched him take that all away,” Ashraf confessed as he wiped his tears away and recomposed himself.

  The two men stood silent for a moment and looked at each other with an unspoken resolve. Despite being on opposite sides, something had been settled between them.

  “Ashraf don’t make this any harder on yourself,” Nick pleaded.

  “Nick, I wish things could be different, like when we were boys – simple. I wish the world was simple. But this is all that it is. All it’s ever going to be for me,” Ashraf spoke as he slowly got to his feet, looking toward the front windows of the restaurant.

  “Rabbi-ghfirlee, Rabbi-ghfirlee [O my lord, forgive me! O my lord, forgive me!],” Ashraf repeated as he noted the lines of armed Met Tactical Officers ready and in position outside, with high powered rifles posed to fire.

  “They have shoot to kill orders,” Nick advised. “From me.”

  Ashraf slowly retreated from the table as he realized the gravity of his situation. This was not going to end well for him. Overwhelmed, he turned and bolted toward the rear of the restaurant.

  “Be advised, suspect is fleeing on foot to the rear of the building. D-C Shankar in pursuit,” Nick blurted into his radio as he raced after Ashraf.

  Nick burst through the doors of the kitchen struggling to keep a firm foot on the slippery floor, confronted by befuddled staff. By now Ashraf had scampered passed them and pushed his way through the rear door out into the courtyard.

  As Nick caught up to the rear service yard, he watched as Ashraf bolted across the street dodging screeching cars. Nick raced in Ashraf’s direction, hopping over the first few cars but then he trapped his foot and fell flat into the roadway, just as a car screeched to a halt. He curled his body protectively, shutting his eyes, just as the car stopped just in front of him.

  Ashraf had cleared the curb and made a beeline for the vast green common that straddled the road, racing furiously across the grass. Nick sprung to his feet and pursued, determined not to let him get away.

  Nick made out a Met squad car, as it screeched to a halt in the adjacent street. The officer alighted and placed a telescopic rifle on the roof of the car, taking aim at the fleeing suspect. Ashraf was running directly towards him and was firmly in his gun sights. He slowed his pace down as he spotted the officer with the rifle pointed at him.

  Ashraf stopped dead and turned to face Nick as he caught up.

  Ashraf looked Nick in the eye with an expression of dejection.

  “Don’t do it,” Nick barked, as Ashraf reached into his trouser removing a knife and giving Nick a nod of acceptance. Nick could see that he was not going to come quietly and had accepted his fate.

  The officer squeezed the trigger of his rifle and the expelled bullet exploded in Ashraf’s chest, launching him to the ground with his knife in hand. Nick caught up to Ashraf’s lifeless body, as blood poured from the large cauterized wound.

  “Bag the knife. It’s wanted in a homicide,” Nick announced bluntly to the officers arriving on the scene. He walked off trying to catch his breath.

  20

  It was hard to tell whether Mahmoud was in prayer or simply waiting for him, Nick thought as he walked into
his office. The gates and doors had all been open and the Madrassa was deserted at this time of night. Every sound echoed like a choir of tolling bells, loud and obnoxious. His approach was far from stealth and he could tell Mahmoud was expecting him, however he was unsure what kind of welcome he would receive. But Nick was prepared for anything, even his own demise. A determined and resolute peace had settled over him and now nothing was going to stand in the way of its conclusion, not even his own sense of self-preservation or fear. He felt a strange calm and enlightenment, driven by a higher power. The power of righteousness and love. Perhaps that was the reason that Adilaah appeared in his life, at that wedding on that hotel rooftop to help him fulfil his moral conclusion by serving hers. She was a holy light of sanctity that had appeared to purge all the corrupt and wicked ways that had become so rooted in their constitutions, and by the purity of her love, she sacrificed her life to save their souls.

  “You’ve come for me now have you?” Mahmoud announced loudly from behind his desk, as he watched Nick enter his grand marbled office that resembled a great hall rather than an office. “Like a knight on a holy crusade! Charging your officers to me.”

  He still had a way with words, Nick thought.

  “I’ve come alone,” Nick replied bluntly, in no mood for Mahmoud’s theatrics.

  “Is he dead?” Mahmoud asked incongruously.

  “Shot while fleeing,” Nick answered without emotion.

  “He was weak. Not like you. You found your conviction,” Mahmoud waxed. “You always had respect for me. You should have been the son I deserved. If only you were Muslim.”

  “You already had the son you deserved,” Nick lamented. “But he wanted so desperately to earn your respect that he tried to live like you and be you. And for what? An ideal such as honour,” Nick lectured.

  “How can you stand there and lecture me about ideals, when it is the very thing that made you who you are. You are part of a generation who have the luxury of preaching about ideals and never having worked for them. You can say these things, but you never have to know the pain of sacrifice in order to protect the very ideals you take for granted. Your father made sacrifices. His entire life just so that you could be standing here.”