THE BROTHERHOOD

by Steve Jovanoski

  A convenience store came into view and he pulled over. He bought a packet of cigarettes, something he hadn’t done since his uni exams. Once back in the car, he drove to a cafe and away from Aust Global Fund and into suburbia. Sitting outside, shaking with fear, he ordered a coffee and lit a cigarette. He tried to calm his nerves but instead coughed his lungs out and stubbed out the cigarette. He stared at his mobile phone with a blank mind. What in the world was he going to do? After an hour he decided to get back in the car and drive home. He needed to get a change of clothes and disappear.

  Arriving at his parents’ apartment building, he sensed something was wrong when he saw the front security door ajar. He walked up the stairs and found the apartment door slightly open. Splinters were visible where once there had been a lock. Clearly someone had forced the door open and broken in. He couldn’t hear any noises from inside and slowly stuck his head around the door to see if anyone was there. The apartment was empty but whoever had got in had done the place over: everything was upside down and inside out. His books had been thrown on the floor, desk drawers were emptied and clothes were strewn all over the place. His home PC was missing and crumbs were on the desk, something he noticed because he never ate in front of the computer. It looked like Sam’s men had been there already: the place was trashed.

  At the corner of his eye an image came into view that startled him. From his bedroom he could just make out a hand on the floor. Cautiously walking in, the horror revealed itself. He gasped in astonishment at the sight of their neighbour Mrs Sparrow’s lifeless body. She had turned blue and the expression on her face was one of sheer terror. Looking closer, he noticed strangulation marks on her neck just below the hairline. Filled with fear and anxiety, he grabbed a bunch of clothes and some money he’d stashed behind a heap of blankets up high in the bedroom cupboard for emergencies. Going into the study, he opened the bottom drawer and grabbed the stun gun before bolting out of the apartment.

  Back in the car he sped away while the image of Mrs Sparrow kept flashing through his mind. What a terrible thing to do to another human being, he thought. Ever since Sophia’s death, Mrs Sparrow had tried to look after Aazim and his father in whatever way she could, be it cooking, cleaning or keeping an eye on the apartment when no one was at home.

  He ran scenarios through his mind, trying to imagine what could have happened. Loud banging noises when no one was meant to be home must have alerted Mrs Sparrow, and like a good neighbour she would have gone to check what was going on. Aazim’s father had given her a spare key in case of emergencies. In this case the intruders had broken the locks on the door and ransacked the place, and the message they’d sent him was clear. He was now under no illusions about the kind of people he was doing business with and how far they were willing to go to protect their secrets. If they had no hesitation killing a defenceless old woman they wouldn’t think twice about killing him. Compounding everything were Sam’s threats against his father, the only family Aazim had left. He had to get in touch with Ilias and advise him of the danger.

  It was getting dark and he needed a place to stay; it was no good just driving around aimlessly. He eventually found a motel on the outskirts of the city and paid the receptionist for a two-night stay. Ignoring his hunger pangs, he went straight to his room and switched on the television. As he surfed through the channels he anticipated seeing his apartment on a late-night news channel, the police taking away Mrs Sparrow in a body bag. He could just imagine what the media would do with it: ‘Dead body of an elderly Anglo woman discovered in an apartment occupied by two men with an Arabic background. One is missing in mysterious circumstances and the other is in Lebanon.’ The media would have a feast.

  To Aazim’s surprise there was no mention of it at all. He itched to get out of his sweaty clothes and take a shower. A feeling of loneliness overwhelmed him as he looked around the room and saw only the bare essentials. A dull old lampshade gathered dust on one bedside table and a complimentary Bible lay on the other. Aazim wondered if it was an attempt to dissuade suicidal thoughts. The worn industrial carpet emanated a stale odour of cigarettes, and old drapes clung to the single window like a large stain. He thought it was a scene that would be the envy of David Lynch himself. The squeaky, springless bed was far from the comfort of his own bed but he didn’t have the energy to care anymore. The bed was the last of his problems.

  His grumbling stomach demanded attention he could no longer ignore. After ordering some Chinese takeaway he washed away the day in the mouldy bathroom, loosening his tense muscles under the warm shower. Events replayed in his head, all the strangeness and ghastliness. He stood motionless, staring at the drain as the water trickled down his body and disappeared into the gurgling dark hole. The fear on Mrs Sparrow’s face lingered, tattooed into his memory bank.

  Emerging from the bathroom, he fell on the bed like a dead weight and slowly drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Morning came and Aazim woke up yawning and stretching. When he realised where he was, the previous day’s events burst into his mind. He sprang up, put on his clothes and went out for a quick breakfast at the bakery across the road. Beginning the day on a full stomach was a regimented routine for Aazim.

  Back in the motel he immediately swung into action, scribbling on a piece of paper and brainstorming through various options. Feeling sorry for himself was not one of them. At stake were his life and that of his father, but he knew that as long as he had the evidence his chances of remaining alive were higher. Suddenly he felt energised and determined to take on whatever was thrown at him. He wondered if his parents had experienced the same feeling in their rebellious past and struggle against the PLO. Here was a chance to do something meaningful and expose a lot of dangerous people, but first of all he had to warn his father of the impending danger he faced.

  As soon as he turned his phone on, messages started streaming in. Expecting them to be from Sam, he was surprised when he saw missed calls from Rami. He had forgotten about his friend. It was a relief to see his name and Aazim desperately needed any help he could get.

  There was no answer when he tried calling his father, but Aazim realised he was probably sleeping as the time difference meant it was early morning in Beirut. Aazim missed his father, and more than ever needed his comfort and reassurance. As he waited for Ilias to answer he decided that going to the police before making sure his dad was all right would be a risk, so he decided to call him later. He disconnected and dialled Rami’s number instead.

  ‘Aazim! Where’ve you been? Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, Rami. I need you to listen. I can’t talk for long.’

  Feeling paranoid, he asked Rami to meet him at a suburban parkland he’d driven past on his way to the motel before ending the call. He knew it was safer to be outdoors and among people. He warned his friend to make sure he was alone, promising to explain everything when he saw him. He drove off for the park straight away, his nerves on edge. He wanted to get there early so he could familiarise himself with the surroundings.

  Somewhat neglected, the park was the size of a football field. On one side was a children’s playground and a government housing estate, built in the early eighties and left to decay, loomed nearby. No wonder people look so depressed, Aazim thought. He noticed a few African children playing basketball. Probably asylum-seekers, he thought, just like my parents once were. Walking further into the park and over a small hill, he sat down on a bench and held open a newspaper, pretending to read. He felt a little comical, like a Get Smart character. He was glad to be in an elevated position; he could scan his surroundings, and the nearby shrubs provided some cover.

  Half an hour later he saw Rami’s car pull up. His friend was alone. Rami headed straight for the benches in the middle of the park. Aazim was relieved to see a friendly face, and he was just about to walk over when he noticed a bearded man appear on the other side of the park. The face looked familiar and a feeling of uneasiness came over Aazim. Looking over
his shoulder, he immediately ducked down and crawled into the thick shrubs, making his way into the thickest and safest place he could find. Another bearded man in a black leather jacket had appeared just metres away on the opposite side of the hill. Aazim hadn’t seen him as he’d been facing Rami, but now he realised they were the same two men who’d led Kareem away. The closest one seemed intent on checking the hill where Aazim was hiding, but he hadn’t started looking into the bushes yet.

  Aazim knew he had to distract him. One look in his direction and the man would be sure to notice some part of his clothing that remained exposed; although the bushes were thick they didn’t give him complete cover. Crouching as low as possible, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. His heartbeat was thumping in his head. Looking up, he saw the man close in but he was busy observing the park beyond where Aazim was hiding. Pressing the power button, Aazim switched the phone to silent: the slightest noise and he knew he would become a burning bush. He nervously fumbled with the keys and typed an SMS message to Rami: URGENT! RUN NOW! BEING FOLLOWED. CALL YOU LATER. He pressed the send button and hoped Rami would leave and Sam’s men would follow. Five minutes later the dark figure looming in front of him disappeared. Rami must have left, he thought. The message had worked.

  He leaned back against the small shrub and breathed out deeply, relaxing his slumped body and staring up at the sky as the adrenaline dissipated. What a relief, he thought. That was too close. He decided to stay hidden for a while to make sure no one was still lurking about. What the hell were these guys doing here? How did they manage to follow Rami? He sat still for a moment as it dawned on him: the crumbs. Rami had been in his apartment when they’d trashed it; he must have been on his computer eating those damned cookies at his desk. Most shocking of all, he must have been there when Mrs Sparrow was killed. Aazim felt betrayed and then angry. The one person he thought he could trust had deceived him. Rami had been involved with Sam the entire time.

  Shit! Shit! You stupid bastard, how could you? Aazim got to his feet and ran back to his car, no longer caring if the men saw him. He wondered how Rami had got mixed up in all this. What was the real reason Rami introduced him to Sam? All those trips to the mosque, meeting mysterious men: what did it all mean? Aazim needed to know what was going on.

  He opened the glove compartment and took out the stun gun. He squeezed the trigger and an electric current zapped across the two rods; it was still charged. He drove straight to a hardware store and bought gaffer tape. His phone rang: it was Rami. Aazim didn’t answer. Instead, he sent Rami another SMS message, telling him to leave his car behind and to catch the midday train from the local station to the city. Aazim was calculating on his pursuers being more discreet this time and leaving a bit of distance between them.

  Aazim drove to the train station to ensure Rami did as he was told. He watched as Rami and his two companions boarded the city train, separating themselves by two carriages, obviously in case Aazim saw them and was scared off. They left their cars behind, just as he hoped. He had about thirty minutes to get to Flinders Street train station before they did. He needed a busy intersection and the one in front of this station was one of the busiest in Melbourne, intersecting main roads. He was slowed down by a few red traffic lights on the way but eventually made it there in time. According to the train itinerary they were due to arrive in ten minutes.

  He sent Rami another message, instructing him to get off at Flinders Street station. He waited in a taxi zone as close as possible to the traffic lights on the lower end of the station’s main entrance. From his vantage point, he had a view of the whole intersection.

  The city was bustling with life: people on their lunch breaks, buskers, preachers, performers. He was at the city’s pulsing heart. Tourists took snapshots of St Paul’s Cathedral, and across the road high school students were being led by their teachers to Federation Square, chatting and giggling along the way. He couldn’t stay where he was for too long – cabbies were giving him dirty looks as they drove past and pointed to the Taxis Only sign. And it was only a matter of time before parking inspectors showed up.

  It was well past the train’s arrival time and there was still no sign of Rami. Aazim wondered if the signal hadn’t reached him while he was in the underground loop, so he sent him another one, with additional instructions to turn right in front of the station stairs just before the traffic lights. There was a large pedestrian crossing where hundreds of people traversed every couple of minutes. No way could they spot him in all that confusion.

  Suddenly Rami appeared, cautiously walking down the station steps and stopping on the corner of the intersection. His two escorts emerged from the entrance, shuffling about and trying to look inconspicuous. As soon as the traffic lights turned green Aazim stepped on the accelerator, cutting off another car and narrowly missing it. The furious driver beeped the horn and hurled profanities at him. Aazim reached the other side where Rami was, the tyres screeching as he came to a sudden halt, and pushed the passenger door open.

  ‘Get in, quickly!’

  Rami looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were on foot.’

  ‘Hurry up, there are cars behind me!’ True enough, he was blocking the same driver he’d cut off.

  Rami gave a quick glance over his shoulder and half hesitated before getting in. As he sped off, Aazim watched in the rear-vision mirror as the bearded pursuers ran hopelessly after them. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he felt himself grinning.

  ‘Slow down, Aazim! What’s your hurry?’ Forgetting himself, Rami turned around again and looked back.

  ‘Relax. We’ll just go somewhere we can talk.’

  Rami nervously clipped on his seatbelt. ‘What’s with all the secrecy, Az? You haven’t been at work and you haven’t answered my calls. What’s going on?

  ‘I’ve been busy running around,’ Aazim replied coolly and stared at the road.

  Neither spoke another word as Aazim drove out of the city and onto the freeway. He passed the airport sign and then the large hangers of the Tullamarine airport. He knew of a lookout at the back of the hangers where he used to take his lovers in his younger years. Many romantic conquests had ended up with a trip to the airport to watch the planes land. Although he didn’t want to sully the spot by bringing Rami here, it was a good place for a private conversation and the open spaces allowed him to see approaching would-be assailants. A handful of cars sprawled along the narrow road but the couples inside were too involved with each other to notice any newcomers. Aazim found a spot away from prying eyes, parked the car and switched off the engine.

  Reaching across Rami, he grabbed the plastic bag from the glove compartment and took out the stun gun and the gaffer tape. Rami observed the gadget with a silent curiosity. Leaning towards him, Aazim zapped the gun just centimetres away from Rami’s chubby legs and a violent electrical flash buzzed in the air.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Rami yelped and turned to open the door.

  Aazim beat him to it and pressed the central locking on his side.

  ‘Don’t move or I’ll send fifty thousand volts through your fat arse,’ he warned.

  ‘Let me out of here!’ Rami screamed.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you,’ Aazim said through clenched teeth. ‘I thought you were my friend, Rami. All those long talks we had about us being like brothers. What was that about?’

  ‘I’m still your friend. I meant all those things,’ Rami squeaked.

  ‘Shut up! I don’t know what’s going on here but you’re going to tell me everything I need to know. Do you work for Sam? What were you doing in my apartment? And who were those men you brought with you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother …’ Rami said weakly.

  Another zap came from the gun, this time skimming the surface of his leg and giving him a slight shock. Rami gave a high-pitched squeal and his leg jerked. It felt numb and he rubbed it until feeling returned.

>   ‘Don’t lie to me! I know you’re in on it,’ Aazim shouted. ‘If I don’t get what I want I’ll zap you with a full blast, tape you up and dump you in a ditch. You’ll make a big fat cookie for a hungry rat.’ He was playing the role convincingly, and he had his friend sobbing.

  Rami was in no state to fight. He was not the fittest person and the thought of rats gnawing at his body terrified him. Aazim knew that if he zapped Rami he wouldn’t need restraining because the voltage delivered to the body from a stun gun was so high that the blood-sugar level drops in an instant and is converted into lactic acid, leaving the victim unable to produce energy and too weak to move.

  ‘Okay, okay, what do you want to know?’

  ‘I told you what I want. Now start talking. What were you doing in my apartment?’

  ‘Look, Az, you are right to be angry with me but you don’t know how important that data is.’

  ‘Is it important enough to strangle an old woman to death?’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that, I swear. She came in and took us by surprise. Sam’s men grabbed her and I thought they would tie her up in your bedroom. By the time I found out what had happened it was too late.’ Rami’s eyes pleaded with him. ‘You have to believe me, Az. I’m not a killer.’

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘I don’t work with Sam in the way you think. I met him at the mosque. We both belong to a group called The Brotherhood for Justice. It’s an organisation of Muslim brothers from all professions. We donate money, legal advice and other type of help to Muslims all over the world. Our members are politicians, doctors, lawyers, managers and IT guys like you and me.’

  ‘And how did you end up mixed up in it?’

  ‘You know how I like spending my holidays in Egypt. Well, a couple of years ago in Cairo my cousin introduced me to a religious teacher. He spoke of many good things The Brothers do. I was inspired and wanted to learn more. They asked if I would be a messenger for their contacts in Australia and spread the word to others, and I took up the offer. He was here not long ago, teaching the word of the prophet and spreading the word of The Brotherhood.’