by Menon, David
‘Muslim interests are being attacked too in the aftermath of the bombing, Mrs. Goldstein. A Muslim boy has died after being kicked to death’.
‘And can you blame people for taking revenge?’
‘Well would you say that to the little boy’s parents?’
‘Look, the point is detective, that our community, the Jewish community of which this city is so proud when it wants to show off its diversity, was attacked first. Therefore, we should be your investigative priority’.
‘It doesn’t quite work like that, Mrs. Goldstein’.
‘No, it wouldn’t because we’re Jewish. You see, you’ve proved my point for me!’
‘Mrs. Goldstein, I didn’t mean it like that, but look, have there been any further incidents since the daubing of paint on the doors of the six houses?’
‘Isn’t that enough, detective?’ asked Yitzhak. ‘Or should we Jews have a higher pain threshold than the rest of society because of our history? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Of course it isn’t!’ Sara snapped. ‘Some of your perspectives, if I may say so, are not only ridiculous but darn right offensive. I can assure you that my officers in my squad investigate crime without fear or favour and I won’t tolerate anything being said to the contrary’.
‘Look’ Hettie went on. ‘We’ve got more enemies than you can poke a stick at. Everyone hates us for their own reasons’.
‘Hettie, why don’t you go and make our visitors a drink?’ Yitzhak suggested.
‘Ah, he wants me to shut up’ said Hettie as she stood and made for the door to the kitchen. ‘I’m being too free with my mouth and my opinions. It’s like we’re going through nineteen forty-seven again and I thought it was all over. Sadly, the history of our people suggests it will never be over’.
Hettie disappeared into the kitchen and Adrian asked Yitzhak what his wife had meant by the reference to nineteen forty-seven. He’d actually switched off halfway through Hettie Goldstein’s rant. He’d been thinking about his son Tom and what could be bothering him so much. He seemed to have been in a mood for weeks.
‘My wife tends to ramble and get confused about different events’ said Yitzhak, hoping they’d believe him. ‘She’d only been in this country a year in nineteen forty-seven. But the fact remains, detectives. What are you going to do about this onslaught of violence against our community?’
‘What we’ll do, Mr. Goldstein’ Sara began ‘Is that we’ll begin by talking to our uniformed colleagues who patrol the area ... ‘
‘ ... waste of time’ said Yitzhak, dismissively. ‘Just tigers without teeth’.
‘ ... then’ said Sara, ignoring his comment. ‘We may conduct some further house to house enquiries because I don’t believe that nobody saw anything’.
‘Detective, all my working life I’ve paid my taxes and you both, as public servants have your salaries paid from those taxes. I’m sure you’ll remember that and do whatever is necessary to bring the perpetrators of this appalling violence to justice’.
Sara replied in measured tones. She detested that kind of patronising ‘I pay your wages so you’ll do as I say’ type of speech from a member of the public. They didn’t know jack shit about what police work was really all about and if they did they’d shut their stupid mouths.
‘In the meantime, Mr. Goldstein’ she said as she handed Yitzhak her card. ‘Please call me if anything else comes up. I can assure you that we will do our level best to bring this matter to a just conclusion’.
*
Alec prided himself on giving Nina the sort of seeing to that he knew she came for.
‘Go on, say it’ she urged.
‘I’ll feel stupid’ said Alec as he was pumping away into her.
Nina held her breath with the sensation and then said ‘Just say it once for me’.
‘Alright’ said Alec who was beginning to think that refusing to say it was harder work than trying not to. ‘Here goes ... ladies and gentlemen, the ... general .. secretary of the Labour party, Miss ... Nina Barry!’
And with that he climaxed and she screamed out loud with joy.
‘It’s a good fucking job the walls are thick in this place’ said Alec after he’d hauled himself out of and off her. ‘You’re turning into a noisy little number, girl’.
‘I think it’s reflective of what I’m experiencing but I won’t say too much about that because I don’t want to massage your male ego’.
‘Ah, don’t you get that sort of thing at home then?’
‘I married a husband as opposed to a lover’.
‘Ouch! There’s one for the ball breaking sisters’.
‘I just want to prove all the bastards who bullied me at school that they were wrong’.
‘What?’
‘Oh ignore me I’m getting too deep’.
‘So was I, love’.
‘I know. I thought you were going to come up inside my throat’.
‘Hey, I can’t help being a big boy!’
‘Makes me feel sad for all the rest’ said Nina as she outlined Alec’s cock with her finger tip. It stayed hard for a long time after sex too. ‘So come on then. What am I here for apart from a reasonable fuck?’
‘Reasonable?’
‘I told you, I’m not letting any praise go to your head’.
‘Well I thought we might watch a bit of telly, get a takeaway?’
Nina looked at him. ‘Are you serious?’
Alec burst out laughing. ‘No, but it was worth it for that look on your face! You don’t even wait for my man juice to finish dripping down your leg before you’re onto it’.
That made her shiver. It reminded her that they hadn’t used a condom and they’ve really got to start. She’d got carried away and that made her careless.
‘Time is money or in my case votes’ said Nina. ‘Anyway, I’m surprised you’ve got enough time to see me what with all the fuss there’s been over the pressure you’ve put poor Nicholas Trent under? As if his resigning from the cabinet wasn’t enough for you vultures. When you told me it was him you were going for I didn’t think you’d do so with quite such zeal. You and your paper must be riding on the crest of a journalistic wave’.
‘Oh we are’ Alec confirmed. ‘But what we’re really going for is how Faisal Hussein could’ve carried out his deadly deed when he was under surveillance. I think that’s the question the public really want answered’.
‘It certainly seems to be from all the public reaction’ said Nina.
‘Although the editor is nervous’.
‘Why?’
‘Oh I can’t imagine. It may have something to do with his political editor being tortured to death and then dumped in the Mersey because he knew something he shouldn’t. We’re all keeping a watchful eye over our shoulders’.
Nina grimaced. ‘‘I can’t blame you. But the paper has already delivered something massive. There’s so much pressure on Nicholas Trent to resign his seat altogether. Even before the inquiry into his activities with his so-called friend and business partner Howard Phelps they’re all lining up to proclaim him guilty’.
‘He doesn’t seem to have many friends in the Tory party, that’s for sure’ said Alec.
‘Oh he has friends. They’re just not ones approved by the Prime Minister’s inner circle. Trent has never been a moderniser in the same way as the Prime Minister. He’s a Thatcherite right-winger who doesn’t hold with governments trying to ensure social justice. To him it’s all about how much money you’ve got. I find him revolting’.
‘Me too’ said Alec. ‘But he could of course think that the boss, as in my editor Henderson, may be holding something back because he’s scared of letting on that he knows whatever that something is. Especially after he’s seen what happened to poor Rob Jackson’.
‘But if it was something with massive political ramifications surely his journalistic heart and soul wouldn’t stop him from releasing it to the world? He’d want to use it to make himself the star’
; ‘Nina, we’re not used to political journalists being murdered in this country because of what they know’ said Alec. ‘Henderson may have just got scared’.
‘Well look, I’ve got something for you’.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Professor Jacob Abrahams who was very nearly sent into the next world by some mad gunman, is very popular with the Liverpool Labour party for being the good little left-wing academic that he is ...’
‘Yeah, I know, we covered that at the paper’.
‘And you know that I’m as attracted to left-wing academics as I am to the idea of eating my own shit’ Nina went on with no ironic inference to her words. ‘But the word on the street is that he’s got himself a new little girlfriend who happens to be the DCI in charge of the investigation into the attempt on his life’.
‘Really?’
‘Yes’ said Nina, pleased that she’d got his interest. ‘Now what could you do with that little snippet of information if you felt like being the malicious little hack that I know you really are’.
‘There’s no loyalty to the sisterhood with you is there?’
‘Sisterhood? Is that a new girl band? I can’t stand girl bands’.
‘And is this DCI the same one who was injured in the Piccadilly station bombing that killed her sister-in-law?’
‘The very same’ said Nina. ‘I just thought it might be useful to you in some way to know’.
TEN
One of Craig and Dean’s favourite Indian restaurants was on the main road just shy of the centre of Oldham. It was just outside Craig’s Manchester North constituency but the food was always good and they’d got to know the waiters. As they drove up towards it with the centre of Manchester slowly slipping away behind them, they tried to forget about everything and focus on the wonderful food they were about to devour.
Craig hadn’t had the best of days so far. It was Friday and after he’d dealt with some of the paperwork he needed to look over and held his constituency surgery, he’d decided that it would be a good idea to go door knocking round the constituency to try and counter the menacing atmosphere that was hanging all over the city after the bombing. But all he got from most of the white people he spoke to were barrages of verbal abuse against Muslims. It had depressed him beyond belief especially when one man told him to ‘get that Paki bastard away from my property’ when he’d knocked on the man’s door accompanied by his agent, Mohammed, a man who was born in Britain and had worked every day of his adult life. Craig was extremely worried about it. He’d never known community relations to get this bad and it was so frustrating that people weren’t prepared to listen to reason. To say that every Muslim was a terrorist was such an outrageous insult. But nobody seemed to care less. Mohammed told him that being a Muslim was tantamount to being a paedophile at the moment. His kids have been spat at in the street because white people thought they were all involved in the bombing. Some of the people he worked with and had known for years were suddenly avoiding him. He said it was heart breaking, especially to see the groundless prejudice thrown at his kids. He and his family were as British as those who were giving them the cold shoulder but nobody seemed to want to appreciate that.
Craig and Dean were sitting on a sofa in the small bar of the restaurant waiting for a table to be ready and they’d both been handed menus. Then Craig groaned when his mobile rang and he saw that it was Nina Barry.
‘What do you want?’ he asked, unable to hide the slight irritation in his voice. He was suspicious of her at the moment. He didn’t like her to just ring up out of the blue like this.
‘Oh that’s nice’ said Nina down the line. ‘Happy Friday night to you’.
‘We’re about to sit down to dinner, Nina’.
‘Lucky you’ said Nina. ‘I had a bag of chips hours ago and the stupid shop had run out of vinegar. What’s that all about? A chip shop running out of vinegar? That’s the last time I’ll ever buy a bag of chips in Denton’.
‘I’m sure all the Denton chip shop owners will be running scared to their accountants’.
’Well if they’re not they should be’ said Nina, dragging on her cigarette and flicking the ash out of her car window. ‘Where are you having dinner?’
‘Your favourite curry house’ said Craig who remembered how Nina loved it there too. He immediately regretted telling her because he knew what was coming next.
‘I’ll join you there in about an hour? I’m only over in Salford’.
‘Nina, can I remind you that you’re just married and you should be racing to get home to your husband?’
‘An hour’ she repeated. ‘Save some for me’.
Craig put his phone down and wiped his face with his hand. ‘Fuck!’
‘What’s up?’ asked Dean.
‘Nina is joining us’ said Craig. ‘Sorry’.
‘It’s alright’ said Dean although he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t feeling particularly well disposed towards Nina at the moment. He didn’t like the pressure she was trying to put on Craig to adopt the kind of stance that questions the entire legitimacy of the Muslim faith. As far as Dean was concerned, that was the last thing the city needed it’s politicians to do.
‘But I wanted it to be just the two of us without any distractions’ said Craig. ‘Christ, we’re under enough pressure at the moment with one thing and another’.
‘She must really need to talk to you’ said Dean, smiling over his annoyance.
‘She’ll only want to know how it went tonight with the canvassing’ said Craig. He sighed. ‘I could tell her that in a fucking email. Nina has got the Labour party, or rather her own position on a career ladder within it, running through her veins competing for space with her blood. She’s very ambitious’.
‘She’s as ruthless as shit’.
‘That too’ said Craig. ‘And I know she’s up to something. I just wish I could work out what it is’.
When their food arrived they shared it out between them. Their feast comprised of Chicken Jalfrezi, Lamb Saag, with pilau rice and a couple of garlic naans and a side order of Dal Makhani. The naans were soft but firm enough for Dean to tear some of it off and scoop up the curry just like he loved to do. Accompanied by a couple of cobra beers they were both in cuisine heaven. When they were done, a waiter came along and cleared their table before handing them hot towels which they used to wipe their hands, face, and neck. Then they were joined by Nina Barry.
‘Well didn’t you save me some?’ said Nina as she sat down next to Craig and looked across the table.
‘You’re joking’ said Dean. ‘It didn’t touch the side with either of us’.
‘Greedy bastards’ said Nina. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be taking more care of your personal security, Mr. Sutherland? Anybody could get at you here’.
‘Well let them’ said Craig. ‘Whoever that lunatic is they’re not going to stop me living my life’.
‘Fair enough’ said Nina. ‘Now where’s that waiter?’
The waiter came over and Nina ordered a lamb vindaloo with a keema naan and a large cobra beer.
‘Anyway, I came to find out what it was like down at Westminster with all the pressure on Nicholas Trent’.
‘It’s at fever pitch’ said Craig. ‘It has been ever since the Manchester Evening Chronicle published their expose’.
‘FORMER FOREIGN SECRETARY TOOK BUSINESS PARTNER ON OFFICAL TRIPS PAID FOR BY THE TAXPAYER’
‘ ... the Chronicle can reveal today that the former foreign secretary, Nicholas Trent, MP for Cheshire Central, did take his friend and business partner, Howard Phelps, on official trips funded by the taxpayer in order for Phelps to pursue the international arms dealing business interests of himself and Trent. It is also strongly rumoured that the relationship between Trent and Howard Phelps goes beyond friendship ... ‘
‘So?’ Nina enquired. ‘Does Phelps push shit up Trent’s hill?’
‘Jesus, Nina!’ Dean exclaimed. ‘I didn’t think your language could get any cruder than your dress s
ense!’
‘But is it true?’
‘It’s been an open secret around Westminster for years’ Craig confirmed. ‘They’ve been lovers since university but Trent resolutely refuses to come out. Then when the Tory leadership contest was coming up a couple of years ago he married that poor sap and tried to put an end to all the rumours. But it didn’t happen’.
‘So no sympathy then?’
‘None whatsoever’ said Craig. ‘And Phelps must be an idiot to stick with such a one-sided arrangement’.
‘I suppose you can’t help who you fall in love with’ said Nina.
‘Hang on’ said Craig, smirking. ‘Am I hearing the faint beating of a heart inside that iron fist of a Labour party organiser?’
‘Don’t be so fucking stupid’.
‘Phew! Thank God for that!’
‘Yeah’ said Dean. ‘You quite scared us there, Nina’.
‘Oh you think you’re so fucking funny’.
‘And anyway’ Craig went on. ‘If Trent has taken Phelps on official trips funded by the taxpayer so that Phelps can make deals for their shared international arms dealing so-called business then he deserves to get what’s coming to him. That’s the trouble with Tory boys like Trent. They think they’re so high and fucking mighty that nothing can touch them. Well it’s about time these smug Tory bastards got reminded about real life’.
‘Smug Tory bastards like Trent will always end up smelling of roses though’ said Nina.
‘Yes’ said Craig. ‘That’s why I’m a socialist. To try and make sure that one day their days will be numbered. Ooh, sorry Nina, is that a bit too left-wing for the Labour party machine?’
*
‘Don’t sit down, Joe’ said Sara as she marched up towards him. ‘We’ve got a little job to do’. Superintendent Hargreaves hadn’t wanted to give Sara the job of personally escorting Raisa Hussein and her son to their next safe house but Sara had insisted and made it clear in no uncertain terms that she would consider it a negative comment on her professional abilities if he didn’t. The security services used the local plods for this kind of donkey work whilst they got on with the ‘higher level’ guarding and surveillance work. Joe drove the car and they pitched up outside the ordinary looking but conspicuously guarded house in Wythenshawe, just a couple of miles away from Manchester airport. The security services wanted to keep moving her every few days to minimise the risk of it getting out where she was.