Three Hours : A Novel (2020)

by Lupton, Rosamund

  When they found out about 14 Words, Hannah was sick in their bin liner. She’s as white as a sheet; a ghost.

  Rafi has to be okay, has to be. The woods are huge and they won’t find him. It’s still better that he’s outside than here in the library. But she imagines white supremacists hunting him down through the trees, Basi too, and it’s all her fault. If it wasn’t for her, Rafi and Basi would have got on a boat; if he hadn’t come back for her they’d be safe.

  * * *

  Through the snow and the trees Rafi has spotted a light coming from Junior School and he’s running as fast as he can through the woods towards it, the cat-’o-nine-tails wind whipping harder, the freezing air going deep into his lungs. He’ll get there soon and then Basi will be okay.

  Basi had been a little angel as a baby, it was Rafi who was colicky with crying fits and screaming sessions. He’d made up for it by being the good boy; the easy child. But Basi the angel baby became naughty and disobedient, Qarrad Saghir – Little Monkey. On the Journey the last part of that little boy had disappeared.

  But recently Rafi’s seen small signs of him again: a smile so wide his little teeth shone; a giggle that sounded like hiccups; last week Rafi saw him skip, a two-steps-only skip but a new rhythm. He still wets his bed and their foster mother is really kind about it, but Basi can’t be comforted. It started on the Journey, Basi asleep on the side of the road; a stain on the tarmac, the smell of it, and he woke up shaking with cold and cried because there were no dry trousers and pants and because he was ashamed. Dr Reynolds has told Basi that many refugee children Basi’s age routinely wet the bed. ‘You’re a casualty of war, Basi,’ he said, man-to-man; but Basi is still mortified.

  Rafi reaches the wire-link fence round Junior School; the playground is deep in snow, everything different and strange. His phone has kept vibrating with calls: Benny and his foster parents – loads of times, as soon as they found out – and other friends and Rose Polstein, but he didn’t answer because how can any of them help him? And because he needs to conserve his phone’s juice for when he finds Basi. Rose Polstein has also texted him, telling him to ring her urgently, but she’ll just want to know that he’s hiding and he can’t, not till he’s found his brother.

  The lock on the gate is broken and he walks through; no sight or sound of children, just the wind making the swings rock and the slide creak. He sees the hardback book on a swing, protected by the pirate ship canopy, a book of fairy tales, the jacket illustrated with woods and snow falling. He notices there’s a label attached – For Basi Bukhari – and remembers how kind everyone has been to Basi, giving him toys and clothes and books, and generous to Rafi too – a total stranger gave him a guitar, which he’s learning to play. When he sees Basi’s book he remembers all these strangers’ kindnesses; when they arrived, there’d been welcome banners, like arms stretching open.

  He picks up the book to take to Basi and sees a wire. He throws it. The book explodes, birds startling out of the trees, and his right leg is alight with pain.

  There are pieces of metal and burns through his jeans, a jagged piece of metal deep in his thigh. Feeling dizzy and sick, he takes hold of the larger piece of shrapnel and tries to pull it free of his leg, but it won’t come out. The startled birds have gone back to the trees but the air still hums with the shock of it.

  * * *

  Police surveillance UAVs are hunting for any terrorist drone over the pottery room. They have fifty minutes till Jamie Alton opens fire.

  Lysander comes on to the screen.

  ‘We’ve deciphered a post Victor Deakin wrote on the 14 Words website, a month ago, which wasn’t so heavily encrypted. I’m sending it to you now.’

  Rose reads: ‘The only good Muslim is a dead Muslim. If you’re a Muslim I’m going to enjoy shooting you in the head.’

  Her first reaction is anxiety for Rafi and Basi Bukhari, their vulnerability stripped raw; but worrying about them won’t help them, do your job.

  Victor taught himself ancient Greek and Latin for fun, so why’s he using such basic language?

  She phones Stuart Dingwall in counterterrorism.

  ‘Stuart? Rose. You got the post? This doesn’t fit with Deakin.’

  ‘No, he’s copied it from a white supremacist called Patrick Stein.’

  And that’s also strange, because why would Victor, a narcissistic psychopath who feels god-like, copy anyone?

  ‘What can you tell me about Stein?’ she asks.

  ‘Part of a terrorist organization in the US called The Crusaders, who planned to attack Muslims. Hold on, I’ll bring it up. Yes, their plot was uncovered by the FBI in October 2016; it was less than a month before the presidential election and it didn’t get a great deal of news coverage even in the US.’

  But Victor Deakin saw it and must have followed it closely to be lifting words from Patrick Stein.

  ‘They saw themselves as “patriots resisting a Muslim takeover of the United States”,’ Stuart continues. ‘They planned to massacre as many Muslims as possible, who they called cockroaches.’

  * * *

  The door to Junior School has been shot off its hinges, lying on the ground covered in snow. Rafi goes inside but doesn’t call out Basi’s name, in case a gunman is in the building; in case Basi replies and gives his hiding place away.

  He goes along the corridor, lined with shelves full of children’s books. His injured right leg is making him nauseous. He wants to try pulling the metal out again, to stop the burning pain, but then he’d bleed more and the man might see the blood; would find him, would find Basi.

  He goes into Basi’s classroom and for a shocking, gut-wrenching moment thinks that there are children lying on the floor, but it’s scarecrows, just scarecrows in children’s clothing. Snow is being blown by the wind through the shattered windows on top of the mangled scarecrows and shards of glass. The rage of the gunman is a presence in the room.

  He searches for Basi, looking in cupboards, under desks, going into every classroom and Mr Lorrimer’s office too. No sign of him.

  There must’ve been a reason he’d thought Basi was inside Junior School, but he can’t remember the reason, his brain too unfocused with pain.

  He goes back outside into the snow.

  * * *

  Thandie passes Rose a phone. ‘It’s Rafi Bukhari. Basi isn’t inside the Junior School building. And he’s been injured.’

  As she’d thought, he hadn’t done as she’d told him and hidden and stayed safe.

  ‘Rafi, it’s Rose Polstein …’

  To start with she can only hear the wind and then she makes out ragged breathing.

  ‘Rafi? Are you badly hurt?’

  ‘I don’t know where Basi is. There was a bomb meant for him.’

  ‘What kind of bomb?’

  ‘An IED in a book, there was a label with Basi’s name on it in the playground. Grimm’s Fairy Tales, I picked it up. Saw a wire and threw it. The book exploded. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry.’

  ‘It really hurts?’

  ‘I’ll be okay. It was there this morning on a swing, I saw it. He must have left it there this morning.’

  And if a different child picked it up that was okay because collaborators will be punished.

  She turns to Amaal. ‘Tell counterterrorism. And put out an alert to all officers that there could be IEDs; anything could be a booby-trapped bomb.’

  She goes back to Rafi, hears the wind howling around him.

  ‘I thought there was someone following me earlier. He might be after Basi.’

  He’s having to shout, but as if it’s hard, as if pain has taken strength from his voice.

  ‘Where did you see this man?’

  ‘I didn’t see him, just heard him, in the woods. And near Old School. But then I lost him. I might have imagined him.’

  She doesn’t hear him the first time and he has to repeat it, and she thinks this conversation is exhausting him.

  ‘Can you tell me what you heard?’

&n
bsp; ‘Thought I was just being crazy. An anorak rustling and a couple of times I heard a twig snapping.’

  He pauses and in between the strong gusts of wind she can hear the boy’s fast uneven breathing around his pain.

  ‘The thing you need to know,’ he says, ‘is that I have hypervigilant PTSD, with paranoia and psychosis. It was a real IED in a book for Basi, but the person behind me might not have been real. Most likely wasn’t, but I thought you should know, in case, for Basi. Even though I’m not reliable.’

  ‘You got all the children in Junior School to safety, hypervigilant PTSD or not. I think you’re pretty damn wonderful actually. When was the last time you thought this man was behind you?’

  ‘Not sure. Just after ten.’

  At that time, Jamie was in position outside the pottery room, Victor inside Old School. So, if Rafi didn’t imagine him, this is evidence of a third terrorist here at the school.

  The wind drops and there’s a moment of stillness at the other end of the phone.

  ‘Why would anyone want to hurt Basi?’ Rafi asks.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Rafi, the people attacking the school are white supremacist terrorists. They are wicked people, shameful people. Please hide. We’ll find Basi as soon as we can, I promise.’

  * * *

  Basi is hated. He is hated. They are why the school is under attack.

  He limps towards the gate out of the playground, the shrapnel working its way deeper into his leg.

  Hated.

  He tries to run over the thick snow towards the gate but a hole opens up – their worst hole – and it’s snowing in Aleppo.

  Five-year-old Basi is asleep on a beanbag and hasn’t seen it’s snowing, but Rafi’s watching out of the window, waiting for Baba and Karam to come home. They were taken by Assad’s men two days ago, to the airport, they think, but nobody knows; whispers that there are torture cells under the airport, whispers that burn his ears as he just stands and waits. Mama pacing and pacing and not sleeping, not for two nights.

  A loud noise on the street wakes Basi. Rafi sees a truck pull up but Basi only sees that it’s snowing and is too excited about the snow to remember to stay inside and runs out.

  Think of a face, quickly think of a face. The old man on the boat, his beard with salt in it, smelling of vomit and urine and excrement, as they all did. He’d been a judge and talked to Rafi about being a lawyer before that, and before that a student as Rafi would be one day. He’d talked to him about art and architecture and literature and philosophy, all through that first terrible night on the boat, as if Rafi was his equal, as if he wanted to have a proper conversation with him; and in the morning, he gave Basi his last lemon, because lemons help with seasickness.

  He’s back in Junior School’s playground, each step sinking into the snow.

  But still he sees his father and brother lying on the road, snow falling on to them, and he cannot blink it away. Will never be able to blink it away.

  Last term his English class read King Lear. ‘Enter Gloucester his eyes put out.’ Mrs Kale saw his reaction and must’ve guessed something and was kind, but he was glad there was that same violence in the play, wanted it pinned down and examined for what it was. He’d understood then why Baba quoted from playwrights and poets: he was using great culture to articulate the opposite of culture. ‘Did Heaven look on, and would not take their part?’

  He left Mama in that terrible place. He hasn’t spoken to her since he and Basi were in Egypt, over two years ago. He doesn’t know if she’s still alive. Mr Marr and various charities have tried to find her but no one has been able to.

  Daphne wanted him to play Macduff or Young Seward in Macbeth, but he asked to play the part of Fleance, because he is the one who runs away.

  * * *

  A violent gust of wind rocks the command and control vehicle as if they are momentarily on water. Police UAVs are looking for Basi, and a helicopter pilot is determined to search, but the area where he could be is huge and visibility appalling.

  Rose is part of an on-screen briefing.

  ‘How badly has Rafi been injured?’ Bronze Commander asks.

  ‘He says he’ll be okay,’ Rose says. ‘I think he’s being brave. Medics are on standby for when we can get to him.’

  ‘Bombs in fairy stories, what in hell are we dealing with?’ Bronze Commander asks.

  ‘Islamic State hid bombs in copies of the Quran when they left Ramadi,’ Stuart Dingwall says. ‘Left them lying in the street; and there were bombs in booby-trapped books in a village near Mosul. They also planted IEDs in teddies and dolls.’

  The cowardly inadequate bastards are copying each other.

  ‘Did anyone see it being left?’ Bronze Commander asks.

  ‘No, but we think it must have been this morning when parents dropped off their children,’ Stuart says. ‘Lots of people going in and out, siblings too. Jamie Alton or Victor Deakin could have posed as an older brother. Junior school staff would never have met Victor so wouldn’t know to be suspicious. And his mother’s Mini is parked in Junior School car park.’

  ‘Rafi thought he heard someone coming after him,’ Rose says. ‘After ten, when Jamie Alton was outside the pottery room and Victor Deakin was in Old School. Rafi has delusional PTSD, so he doesn’t trust himself to be reliable. He says he managed to lose him.’

  Lysander comes on to the screen.

  ‘We have decrypted some of the transactions on the dark net made by 14 Words. They bought a Ruger MKII with Outback II Suppressor and subsonic ammo. They also bought a pair of Steiner military series binoculars. There are other items more heavily encrypted that we can’t decipher.’

  A man dressed in the distinctive grey combat uniform worn by counterterrorism specialist firearms officers, CTSFOs, joins the briefing. He introduces himself as Safa Rahman. His snowy facemask and goggles have been pushed off his face, a link between their removed environment of screens and computers and what is physically happening at the school.

  ‘Steiner military binoculars are used by armed forces, often for perimeter and border patrols,’ Rahman says. ‘They’re sophisticated and powerful, sharp images and a wide field of view.’

  ‘The binoculars that the girl on TV saw glinting at the top of the high ropes course,’ Bronze Commander says. ‘And the guns?’

  ‘They’ve been shopping for the quietest weaponry out there,’ Rahman says. ‘The Ruger MKII with a suppressor, a silencer, is about as quiet as you can get. The subsonic ammo means that the bullets don’t break the sound barrier, so are virtually soundless.’

  ‘So, if there is a third man out there, he’s using a gun that we can’t detect,’ Bronze Commander says. ‘But Jamie Alton is flaunting his gun and Victor Deakin must know we think he’s got a similar weapon to Alton’s. Okay, so they don’t know we’ve found out their semi-automatics have been converted into fully automatics, but they haven’t been discreet about their weapons.’

  Rose agrees and thinks that even the rifle shots at the beginning of the attack were part of a game, rather than any attempt at concealment.

  ‘Locating a shooter with that kind of gun and suppressor and bullets is bloody hard, if not impossible,’ Safa Rahman says. ‘I’d say this guy doesn’t want us to take him out.’

  ‘We don’t know for sure yet whether there’s a third man,’ Lysander says; he looks pale and Rose likes him for this leak of emotion, because he’s afraid for Basi and Rafi, as she is, and doesn’t want this third man to be definite.

  ‘Detective Inspector Polstein, what do you think?’

  ‘My guess is that if he exists he’s not malleable like Jamie; nor does he want to go out in a blaze of murderous glory if that’s what Victor is planning. I would imagine him to be older. He wants to kill Muslims, punish the school and live.’

  ‘We should run the scenario,’ Bronze Commander says. ‘A third man on campus could have acted as lookout up on the high ropes course this morning, using the military binoculars.’

 
Rose thinks that even if there was a third man up there this morning, Victor Deakin was probably up there as well at some point, surveying the school from high in his eyrie; he’d have enjoyed the feeling of elevated power. But he’d have also got bored, probably wouldn’t have hung around being lookout.

  ‘The third man’s job would be to watch for the police arriving,’ Bronze Commander continues. ‘He watches the road and drive up to Old School, which are in the opposite direction to Junior School, half a mile away, so he doesn’t see the junior school children evacuating. Meanwhile, Victor Deakin is on the ground. The third man alerts Deakin when the police car is coming so that he can take the shot.’

  If this is the case, Rose thinks, then there was no scramble. No flaws.

  ‘The third man, still up the high ropes, sees the head teacher leaving Old School,’ Bronze Commander continues. ‘He goes after him. But the head returns to Old School and their original plan can go ahead. Then what does he do?’

  ‘As well as being lookout, he’d have a second job,’ Stuart says. ‘To murder Basi and Rafi Bukhari. The other children and teachers are collaborators but the object of their hatred is Muslims. So he goes to Junior School. A lone police constable who’s been shot at won’t go after him, and it’ll be a while before more police arrive, so he won’t be caught. I think he wants to kill Basi Bukhari first, as a message.’

  ‘But the Junior School building is empty,’ Bronze Commander says. ‘He doesn’t see the children from the top of the cliffs, doesn’t know they’re sheltering underneath. He thinks Basi Bukhari has been evacuated along with the others. He shoots up a classroom in a rage, not knowing Basi is watching him.’

  ‘And then he hunts for Rafi,’ Stuart says.

  ‘My guess is that he went back up the high ropes,’ Bronze Commander says. ‘Used his military-grade binoculars and spotted him.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be hard,’ Safa Rahman says. ‘Rafi was the only person moving, everyone else was in lockdown, and the snowfall wasn’t yet that heavy.’