by A. A. Dhand
Azeez raised his eyebrows.
‘An extremist nutter.’
‘You are so ill-informed. I pity you.’
Harry reached for Azeez’s Koran and placed it on his lap.
‘This is very simple. You tell me which page, section, chapter states that you can kill innocent people, like you were going to do back at the nursing home, and on my life I’ll release you.’
FIFTY-THREE
Saima had moved away from the grand hall into the foyer, her head throbbing.
Finding the sleeper cell was not something she was going to manage. The more she looked, the more she convinced herself she was seeing things that were not there.
Darkness was starting to set in across the city now and Imam Hashim had told the congregation he had been advised to close the shutters outside the windows. The mechanical noise of steel slowly descending across the glass was startling. Once they were closed, they would no longer be able to see what was happening outside. Saima imagined an increase in police personnel, floodlights erected and, somewhere in the darkness, plans being finalized for a full-out tactical assault should the Patriots’ demands not have been realized.
Saima watched the view she was looking at slowly vanish. With a final clang of metal Bradford disappeared. A momentary feeling of claustrophobia hit her and she hoped the finality of seeing the windows black out did not push the congregation inside the grand hall into a panic.
She was spinning her phone in her hands, thinking of Imam Hashim’s emails and his explanation for them. She believed him, no question there, but was struggling with keeping it from Frost. He needed to be warned.
Could he stop it from happening?
Saima doubted it. The police were surely already at breaking point.
Harry wasn’t answering his phone, no doubt up to his neck in part of the investigation. She had hoped that with her life at risk, his priority would have been keeping himself out of harm’s way, focusing on being there for Aaron if this all went to hell.
She knew it was unlikely. He didn’t have it in him to stand down.
Downstairs four men continued to guard the front doors. She moved into the corner of the foyer, back against the wall so she could see if she had company, and called Frost.
He answered immediately, her calls no doubt being prioritized. She spoke softly and quickly, confirming there had been no progress on the sleeper cell.
Then Saima told him why the other hundred and four mosques had not emptied.
And why Frost had less than three hours to counter it.
FIFTY-FOUR
The jail cell was a claustrophobic, nightmarish space. The air was close and suffocating, sweat dripping down Harry’s face. He waited.
When another minute trickled by and Azeez had still said nothing, Harry took the Koran back.
‘Funny that. You can’t tell me where it says you can kill a room full of innocent elderly people.’
Harry held the book high and spoke a couple of lines that Saima frequently quoted to him. ‘And do not kill one another, for God is indeed merciful unto you.’
‘My wife is Muslim. She recites those lines to me, usually when people like you, terrorists, do something like the shit you tried tonight.’
Harry tried again. ‘The first cases to be decided among the people on the day of judgement will be those of bloodshed.’
Azeez raised his head.
‘Oh, you’ve read that bit?’ said Harry.
‘The bloodshed has been that of our people for many years.’
‘Your people? And who are those? Homosexuals? Refugees?’
Azeez smiled. ‘I know the voice of the shaitan and it is yours.’
Harry sighed. ‘Profound of you. So, this devil of yours, is it him that inspires you to kill the innocent?’
‘Fuck you.’
‘There I was, trying to be respectful and not use bad language in the presence of your holy book. My wife would have my tongue if I disrespected it that way at home.’
‘She’s not a Muslim if she is married to a kaffir like you. She’s a fucking slut.’
Kaffir – disbeliever.
Harry calmly placed the Koran on a stack of water. Usually he’d have knocked Azeez’s teeth out for the remark but he couldn’t show this weakness. Azeez would never stop if he saw it. He grabbed a bottle of water, opened it and took a long gulp, wincing that it was warm, like the humid air they were trying to breathe, the two men cramped together in that tiny space.
‘Homosexuality?’ said Harry, replacing the Koran in Azeez’s lap. ‘That allowed?’
Azeez was looking at the Koran. He remained silent.
‘Not like you can hide that sort of thing, is it? I mean, the Almighty knows everything, right? So, when you’re filming your best moves with your boyfriend, he knows about it.’
Harry pointed at Azeez. ‘Shall I go and fetch the laptops we got from your place? Play you a few clips? Jog your memory?’
Azeez was starting to breathe heavily. He tensed as if he were about to charge but Harry pointed to the chilli powder in the corner of the room.
‘Be a good little boy and settle down.’
‘What do you want?’
‘To know where Abu-Nazir and Amelia are.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Sure you do.’
‘Even if I did, I would never tell you.’
‘So, you do know and you’re not telling me?’
‘I know my rights. I don’t have to talk to you.’
‘Your rights?’ said Harry bemused, unable to hide the smirk on his face. ‘Now you want to talk about rights.’
‘I want my fucking lawyer.’
Harry removed the Koran from Azeez’s lap and walked out of the cell, placing it in the hallway out of view. It was Saima’s influence, not his own superstition.
Back in the cell, he pulled the plastic gloves over his hands and grabbed the chilli powder. He moved quickly over to Azeez and tried to yank his jeans down. Azeez started to thrash. He was strong, his torso thick with muscle.
Harry couldn’t manhandle him and backed off.
‘I warned you. Unless you want another blast of this in your eyes, you better calm down and let this happen. If you start talking, we stop.’
Azeez was grunting with rage. Harry came closer with the pot of chilli powder. Azeez turned his face away and stopped kicking out.
Harry pulled Azeez’s jeans down, then his boxers. Quickly, he flipped him over, kneeling into his back, pinning the big man to the floor. This wasn’t going to be easy.
He poured chilli powder into his gloved hands.
‘Last chance. Either tell me where Abu-Nazir is or I’m going to light you up from the insides.’
Harry yanked Azeez’s head off the floor and got a barrage of abuse. He let go.
‘Have it your way. I’m not going to lie to you – this is going to burn.’
FIFTY-FIVE
Joyti checked on Aaron for the third time in an hour. She was sure he would sleep right through the night but couldn’t help herself checking.
She entered the living room where Ranjit was sitting on the floor, in a dressing gown, hair loose on his shoulders. He hadn’t eaten much, spoken even less and spent over an hour in the shower. When he had emerged, he had asked Joyti to do something she had not done for years. Massage his head with coconut oil and comb his hair.
Joyti sat behind him, his head in her lap, and poured oil into her palms, rubbing them together, then started to massage Ranjit’s scalp. He relaxed, eyes closed.
The house was eerily quiet.
After a moment he said, ‘How much of your life have I taken from you?’
‘Don’t say such things,’ she replied, tutting.
‘I have though, haven’t I?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve always served my needs. Always listened to what I said. You never fought me. Even when I banished Hardeep.’
She hesitated. Joyti couldn’t remember the las
t time her husband had said her son’s name without despair or hate.
‘Why ask these questions of me now?’ she said, pouring more oil into her hands.
‘I’m just a man, Joyti,’ he said sighing.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I’m not as strong as you. Women have always been stronger. Stronger will. Bigger hearts. You never stop giving and men never stop taking.’
‘Stop this foolish talk,’ she said. ‘You gave a lot to this family.’
She couldn’t find a better reply.
‘I ask you again, how much of your life have I taken from you? Be honest.’
Joyti thought back to the years of not having seen Hardeep. Of missing her grandchild being born. Of feeling … incomplete.
Ranjit grasped her hand. ‘Your silence tells me I am right. Do you know what I was thinking about in the shower?’
Joyti moved her husband’s face to the side and continued to massage his scalp, stroking the skin on the side of his wrinkled face. ‘What?’ she said.
‘I was thinking why I didn’t die last year when I had my heart attack.’
She tutted again. ‘What has gotten into you?’
‘I should have. My heart stopped for more than a minute. Until she saved my life.’
She.
Saima. He still couldn’t say her name.
‘She did her job,’ said Joyti.
‘She did more than that. She’ – he paused, eyes closed – ‘showed me her spirit.’
Joyti’s hands stopped.
‘What you saw, was it –’ Now she had to think carefully about her words. ‘– a good thing?’
Ranjit took a moment replying. ‘It was,’ he said.
Joyti’s lip quivered. Something had changed today.
‘You have stopped,’ said Ranjit.
‘I … need some more oil,’ she replied, lifting the bottle.
‘What is she like?’ asked Ranjit. Joyti blinked back tears. Her answer had to be the right one or she might end a conversation she had never thought she would have with her husband.
‘She is like Harry.’
‘Go on.’
‘Big heart. Loving. Tough.’
‘Tough?’
‘Mmm.’
‘I suppose they have loved together and lost together. They would be similar.’
Ranjit raised his hands, putting them on top of his wife’s, holding them where they were on his head. ‘Sum her up for me in one sentence.’
‘Why?’ she said, feeling him squeeze her hands.
‘Humour me.’
‘Why only one sentence?’
‘My father always told me that if you cannot sum up another person in one sentence – often one word – then that person is not to be trusted.’
Joyti thought hard. ‘I will if you will do the same for me first.’
Ranjit laughed, a tired, empty sound. ‘That’s a good answer.’
They kept their hands holding each other’s.
‘I can give you one word or one sentence,’ he finally said.
‘You choose.’
He nodded, squeezed her hand a little harder and said, ‘Pure.’
She smiled, glad he couldn’t see her crying behind him. ‘Charmer,’ she said.
‘I haven’t heard you say that in a long time.’
‘Because you haven’t been.’
‘True.’
‘My turn, is it?’
He nodded.
Joyti thought of Saima. She had only really known her for the past year, their relationship still felt so new. She knew what she was made of, what Saima was capable of. She saw that in Harry’s eyes when he talked of her.
‘Sacrifice,’ she said finally, letting go of Ranjit’s hands and resting hers on his temple, stroking it. ‘Is it a good word?’
Ranjit nodded.
FIFTY-SIX
Harry took Isaac out to the centre of the football pitch, a lone floodlight highlighting the stand. His eyes were drawn upwards. He could hear helicopters continuing to circle in the distance. His thoughts turned to Saima. Daylight had faded, leaving vivid streaks of purple in the sky. On any other day it would have been something to savour. Now he only wondered if the darkness would bring further complications inside the mosque.
In the far corner of the field, a solitary light was on in Ben’s office, visible through the vast windows. He was busy deleting the last sixty minutes of CCTV recordings and then disabling the system. Harry had made sure of it.
Isaac appeared sullen.
‘Azeez didn’t tell me anything,’ said Harry.
‘I told you he wouldn’t. Beating him up won’t help.’
‘I hardly touched him.’
Isaac looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow.
‘I’ve given him something to think about but I doubt he will talk,’ said Harry, resigned.
‘What now then?’
‘Plan B. You.’
Isaac looked confused.
‘He trusts you, right?’ Harry asked.
Isaac nodded.
‘I’m going to throw you in the cell, hands and feet taped, but I’ll leave a little slack between your wrists. You can’t ask him straight out where Abu-Nazir is because he’ll get suspicious. Instead, ask him for a safe location for you guys to escape to. Get him to offer up the information. By that time, you’ll have worked your hands free, you can loosen his restraints and make a break for it.’
‘You said he’s in a locked jail cell.’
‘I’ll leave the keys in the outside of the door. One twist and you’re both out. Soon as I hear the lock, I’ll head in and drag you outside to teach you a lesson. From there, we’ll go wherever Azeez wanted you to go.’
Isaac was nodding, his demeanour a little softer.
Harry sighed and shook his head. ‘I … can’t have you going into that cell looking as you are.’
‘Huh?’
‘Unmarked.’
It took a few seconds for the penny to drop.
‘You see that you cannot go in unharmed?’ Harry pressed his point.
Isaac shrugged. Harry didn’t take his eyes off him, making it uncomfortable. Finally, Isaac nodded, reluctantly.
‘You see that door over there?’ said Harry, pointing past the boy. As soon as he turned to look, Harry punched him in the face.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Harry bundled Isaac into the cell and shoved him to the floor, next to Azeez who was still handcuffed and gagged. The boy’s nose was bleeding, his T-shirt stained heavily. He’d been angry, outraged, when Harry hadn’t even allowed him to tend to the wound.
‘Got another of your mates, Azeez,’ said Harry, kicking out at Isaac and just missing. ‘You don’t look so good. Feel like talking yet?’
Azeez’s face was pouring with sweat, the chilli no doubt now fully absorbed into his body.
Harry held up a bag of ice he had lifted from one of the freezers in the food concourse. Azeez’s eyes lit up and he mumbled something incoherent into the gag around his mouth.
Harry placed the ice on the floor, inches from Azeez, and lowered the gag, pulling back just in time to avoid being bitten.
‘You fucking pig!’ Azeez spat.
‘I bet your ass is hotter than the sun right about now. You remembered where Abu-Nazir might be yet?’ asked Harry.
Azeez swore every profanity Harry had ever heard, eyes bulging with fury. Harry could not even imagine what damage the chilli was doing to his insides. He opened the packet of ice, pulled out an ice cube and popped it in his mouth, holding it between his teeth so Azeez could see it. Harry spat it on the floor.
‘Such a waste,’ he said.
Harry removed another, repeated what he had done.
Azeez was panting heavily, the lower half of his body wriggling on the floor.
‘You see this, Isaac,’ said Harry, standing up and gesturing at Azeez. ‘This is what you’ve got to look forward to. I’m popping out, going to buy some extra-hot chilli powder.�
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Harry exited the cell and secured the door.
‘Twenty minutes,’ he smiled.
Isaac waited for Harry’s footsteps to recede.
Alone now with Azeez, he stared at the ceiling.
He was doing the right thing.
He was sure of it.
But Isaac was tired.
He started to struggle with the tape securing his hands. There was plenty of give. Blood continued to drip from his nose.
He’d been pissed off when Harry had struck him, even more irate when he’d tripped over his own feet and hit the ground.
Whatever it took to get back to Abu-Nazir.
Azeez continued groaning like a dying man. After witnessing what Azeez had been about to do at the nursing home, Isaac found it hard to feel sorry for him.
‘I’m getting us out of here,’ said Isaac, playing along with Harry’s instructions. ‘Do you know where we will be safe?’
Azeez wasn’t listening. Sweat poured down his face. He looked delirious.
It took only a few minutes for Isaac to get his hands free. He wiped the blood from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing hard, then turned to Azeez.
‘How … how did you?’ said Azeez, momentarily sobering.
Isaac couldn’t free Azeez’s hands but he did, for the sake of keeping this charade alive, loosen the tape around his feet.
‘Ice,’ said Azeez desperately, nodding towards it.
Isaac grabbed the bag.
‘You need to help me,’ Azeez whispered, head bent low.
Isaac was unsure. ‘How?’
‘Take my jeans down, open the ice and let me sit on it.’
‘Do you know where Abu-Nazir is? We need to get out of here and get somewhere safe.’
Azeez shook his head. ‘Don’t know.’ He nodded at the bag of ice. ‘Open it. Help me. Quickly.’
Isaac opened the bag of ice and pulled at Azeez’s jeans, hesitating at his underwear.
‘My boxers. Pull them down.’
He watched as Azeez lowered himself on to the ice, letting out a sigh of relief.