Islamic State: England

by John Morris

  “I wanted to keep track of what they were doing.”

  “Then tell that to the police. Tell them it was your insurance policy. Then tell them what the others were doing.”

  “I cannot. My family come first”

  “You were sold to them, just as I was. They are not your birth parents. I saw the bill of sale. Your father is sterile.”

  Ayesha walked towards the door. Waheed begged her to stay, but she stated, “Turn Queen’s evidence, or you will never see me again. Goodbye brother.”

  Ayesha was upset, and rushed to the waiting car. Looking up, she saw a hairdressers, and said, “Martin, I’m going to have my hair cut. I can no longer be two people. Run me back to the village later.”

  Meanwhile, Waheed had broken down in tears. He was a wreck of his former self. Felicity waited until his spirit filled with despondency, before entering in a chirpy frame of mind. She sat down opposite with his diary in her hands, and said, “What’s it to be, Waheed?”

  He eyed her like a rodent might a snake, but said nothing. She opened the book and began reading abstract lines. “We used this information to thwart Muslim attacks. I could put in a good word for you, and my testimony carries a lot of weight. Just tell us all you know.”

  “I don’t know. This is so difficult. Please, I am being torn between family duty, being faithful to Allah, and telling the truth. I need advice. Is there a mosque I could attend?”

  “No. But there is an Imam nearby whom you could talk to. He is a moderate, not a ranting halfwit, preaching fear and loathing for this country. Will you see him?”

  “Yes please.”

  Felicity departed with diary in hand, and some minutes later ushered the Imam into the interview room. The official crime interview tape was still running, although the room was also monitored by superior recording equipment.

  “Alayhi al-salām. What is wrong my son? Please tell me.”

  “Alayhi al-salām. I don't know what to do. My duty lies to Allah, my father, and telling the truth. They do not fit together.”

  “Ah, I see. You are torn inside, but you must know right from wrong. This is one of the good Lord's teachings, so choose wisely.”

  “But what do I do--say to them?”

  “Is your faith true?”

  “Yes. I worship every day, and recant sutra's when needs be.”

  “Is that lip service, or belief? I ask because there is a great difference, and grave danger if we get confused. I know a little about this case, and I know you are in a difficult situation, so allow me to continue.”

  “Please, sahib.”

  “Islam is the true religion of peace. Yet, when I look around, Moslem brothers are blowing other Moslems, or self-perceived enemies to pieces. It is not right. It is against the will of Allah.”

  “But I must obey my Father's instructions.”

  “Of course you must. But you can question why. Your father came to this country, and gained citizenship. That was due to the British Commonwealth. You were born here. That is different. So many times have I seen it, young and old. Waheed, where does your allegiance lie?”

  “To Allah, to my father, and my greater family. Why do you ask?”

  “And what about your allegiance to your country of birth?”

  “I am British, and proud of it.”

  “But yet you support your father and greater family, who are determined to turn this country into a caliphate of Islam. We are guests of Briton. We do not have that right, even you, born here.”

  “I disagree. I am a UK citizen, and I have equal rights.”

  “Yes you do, but no you do not. This is a Christian country, one that follows the words of our great prophet, Jesus. When we turn against our brother, be it in religion, Moslem versus Christian, or Sunni versus Shia, extremists and fanatics with no moral soul come in to cause mayhem and kill. That is the history of Islam. Let me explain about the fourth Caliph, Ali, his battles with Aisha, your sister's namesake.” The story was long and familiar to Waheed.

  “...And so you see as before, so it repeats today. It never ends, unless we grow to encompass the international community; you must embrace being either British or Pashtun. You can no longer be both. If you are Pashtun, then go home. If you are British, then stay and fight for integration, for without it we will be set upon and marginalised.

  “Instead, moderate Moslems hide their heads in the sand, as do Imams, and deny any of this is happening, or is their own fault. They do not report extremists, or local mafia, and we live with the results. It becomes like it was back home. By standing up for yourself, your culture, and telling the police what they need to know, you will be doing every moderate Moslem in this country a very great service.

  “Tell me, how did you like living under the yoke of Daesh?”

  “It was hell. They are animals. They are not Muslims, but bullies and terrorists. We lived under threat of execution for petty offences. One of my friends was beheaded for allowing his wife to wear no head covering at home. She was stoned to death in front of their children. The boys were taken for training, the girls as slaves.”

  “And what is the lesson to be learned, my son? Maybe their faith, their ideology is twisted by radicals. Perhaps they are badly advised, and avoid contact with moderate Moslems. A few may pretend to be Moslems, but are not. They are thugs and bullies.”

  “What about my father? He was strict, but very devout. He never missed prayers, and helped in the mosque.”

  “Yet he was an enforcer. I know of him from Luton, where he controlled the local gangs, as if he were still a Pakistani Farm Lord. He was responsible for murdering a good friend of mine...”

  They spoke at length, the Imam charting a middle course through troubled seas. He never told Waheed what to do, but counselled the young man on actions and consequences.

  Later, they prayed together, and the Imam rose to depart. “Choose wisely my son. These days bring many changes. ‘alayhi al-salām’.”

  The Imam knocked the door to leave, and Felicity thanked him for attending. A constable took him back home, as Felicity returned to her interview. “Waheed, I hope that was helpful for you. We only want to assist you during these trying times. Now is the time to decide. You are either a suspect or a victim. Will you tell us what went on?”

  “Yes, okay.”

  Felicity could hardly contain her delight, but pulled a straight face, and began the interview proper. After serious revelations, she called a short break for refreshments. Seeking to further break the divide, she took him to the police canteen, adopting Dan’s ploy of having her mobile phone on voice record, inside her inner top jacket pocket.

  The break had a beneficial effect on both, Waheed looking much more comfortable. Felicity said, “Shall we resume—Get this over with?”

  It was almost two hours later when she terminated the interview, but Waheed had come across to their side. He freely offered vital information. “Father hides important things like papers and guns in the bedroom. There are two leather cases in the wardrobe, and the keys are behind the dressing table. The bed is floor-standing, but has a false bottom beneath the mattress.”

  “Thank you Waheed. This is great news, and a large plus for your case. I will make my recommendations accordingly, after searching your father’s bedroom. However, you must remain here until the trial.”

  She returned home with the one interview tape, and diary. Dan ran the recording through his software, Felicity received digital and physical copy, and he kept a copy for the team, saving her hours of transcription.

  “That’s one hell of a breakthrough, and Ayesha the catalyst, once again. She’s some girl. It’s just gone seven, and I need to check in with the team, and you need to break the good news to Ayesha. Let’s have a beer and curry at the inn tonight. It’s been a while since we did normal.”

  “No, I can’t I have to finish a report, and … Okay.”

  “Quick shower and change. Ready in ten.”

  The evening proved great th
erapy, which was followed by excellent sleep. The feeling of bliss was shattered when Sir Jack called early on Monday morning. “Dan, Excepting Birmingham, we take the last major target today, Leicester. They will be expecting us, and defend with full force. What’s the latest from Makaarim?”

  “I’m sending her report through to you now, with my report, and Sinjun’s revised tactical analysis. He suggests that as you will be expected, to do the opposite to normal. His plan is a little bizarre, and should have them completely bamboozled. I’m here as needs be, but need to prepare for a long day in court tomorrow.”

  “Humph. Do you know what day this is?”

  “Yes of course, Monday.”

  “Many people also call today Christmas Eve, Dan.”

  “With respect, Sir Jack.”

  “I suggest we pick this up again, trials in Norwich are set for Friday. People need a break, and we need to show that we are a Christian country. Our main objectives are virtually taken. Merry Christmas Dan.”

  “Likewise, Sir Jack.”

  Chapter 52 ~ Great Britain

  Dan went straight to Felicity, “Do you know what day it is today?”

  “Monday silly.”

  “And when’s Christmas Day?”

  “Next Tuesday.”

  “That would be Tuesday, as in tomorrow.”

  She stared at him. “Oh My God!”

  Dan held her close, taking her weight as she melded her body to his. “Shhh. Sir Jack just told me, otherwise I had not connected the two. I’ll need to speak to my team, the trial is put back to Friday.”

  “That’s good news, I need the time to prepare. I’ll be in work today, and then on call, first call. Oh Dan, isn’t this wonderful, our first Christmas at home. Do you think it will snow?”

  “I don’t know, but I think I better beat a path to the butcher and buy a turkey, if there are any left.”

  “Go now, and I’ll see you this evening. Invite the team for Christmas lunch, and I’ll ask my parents to come over. Mwah.”

  Dan got a big, plump bird, and hoped it would fit in the oven. He checked when he got back, and it did, just. He put it in the pantry, which felt like a walk-in refrigerator. He had collected various stuffings, sausage and bacon rolls, and a pack of stilton with port. He added mince pies, Christmas cake, and Christmas pudding from the bakers, complete with store-bought, ‘home-made’ brandy sauce. He’d make the bread sauce himself.

  Dumping his purchases in the kitchen, pate and perishables in the fridge, he left at once for the office. He walked into the kitchen, and found Ayesha cooking breakfast. He stared at her auburn, shoulder length hair, before complimenting her.

  She smiled back and said, “Now there is no need, I feel free to have my hair as I wish. Meeting Waheed yesterday, it changed my thinking.”

  Stella hurried in and said, “Watch the shop for a moment, me-dear, I’ll finish up here. Full English Dan?”

  “Yes please.” Dan sat quietly for a moment, soaking up the normality. Percy came in carrying bags from the butchers and baker, followed by Veronica back from an early morning Christmas shopping trip. He sat and sipped his coffee until Ayesha returned, all were seated, and eyes turned to look at him expectantly.

  “I’ve just discovered something. Not only is today Monday, but it is also Christmas Eve. We need to discuss the festive holidays.”

  Alison said, “Already sorted, Dan. I’m leaving this morning, taking five days off, and Veronica has the same when I return. This base will always be covered. Martin and Percy have chosen to take longer breaks, the threat being annulled. Sinjun?”

  “I will accompany you this morning, if I may, Alison. I will sojourn in Hereford, and return early in the New Year.”

  Dan said, “Sir Jack asked me to put you back on the payroll, they have been using your tactical analysis almost exclusively. Today will be key. I’ll let you know how that works out. Do you accept the job?”

  “Maybe. I’ve enjoyed working here, and moving to London would suit me greatly. I’ll let you know when I return.”

  “Good. I got the impression there might be a promotion in the wings, a better pension to boot, so make the choice that suits you best. Oh, and keep working on Birmingham, they are saving the biggest cancer for last.”

  “Ayesha, your work with us is about done. We can always use your skills, and teach you new ones. You have a job with us if you want one.”

  “Thanks Dan. I enjoyed it, but it is not for me. Brian is opening a new restaurant in Lower Meddlington, and he wants me as manageress. I’ll keep in touch though, and am always willing to help out.”

  Dan smiled and said, “Okay. Those of you left here, are invited to my house for Christmas dinner, tomorrow, late lunch. The other date is Saturday, seventh of January, less than two weeks away, and our wedding in Lower Meddlington. I hope you can all attend for that occasion.”

  Talk buzzed the table, before people rose to either work, or leave. Martin offered Alison and Sinjun a lift to central London, which they accepted, and all left to pack. Veronica went up to monitor consoles, Dan stood with Percy, and turned to face him. “Would you consent to being my Best Man?”

  Percy spluttered in consternation. “Yes. But why?”

  “I was raised an orphan in Malta. I was good at school, but was always moving on. Then I ended up in the MI6 academy. They like orphans––no family history, no ties. I’ve never had a friend, not until you, and I never knew what love was, until Felicity showed me. Now, with a wife, and child on the way, I have something to personally fight for, to protect. What do you say?”

  Dan’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Percy. “I’ll be honoured, Dan. Now what about your stag do…”

  Dan was worried about Veronica being alone, and bored. He checked and she showed him a mountain of work, and the morning’s call list, most if it information requested by military and security services. Once Dan knew she would be busy, and was happy, he felt much better. He and Percy stayed to help her process, and covered all the immediate tasks before buffet lunch, but left immediately afterwards. A light snow had begun to fall, and Dan preceded Percy down the road, as they carefully made their way home for the duration.

  Dan drove on to the shopping centre, where he was lucky to get one of the last, large, plastic Christmas trees. He bought a selection of lights, baubles, and other Christmas paraphernalia, before purchasing a gold necklace from a jeweller, and perfume from the shop next door, hoping Felicity would like them. He escaped the massing throngs as quickly as possible, and headed home to sort out the house.

  By the time Felicity arrived home, he had the turkey ready for stuffing, a coal fire warming the living room, and the Christmas tree set up after a fashion. “Dan, I love it!” They kissed passionately, as they stumbled inside. More may have developed if a car had not arrived in the drive, at that moment, bearing Felicity’s parents.

  The women enthused about Dan’s preparations and purchases, and then began on improving things. “I’ll leave you to stuff the turkey. Tom, what’ll you have?”

  “A beer, yes, but let’s go to a pub. I fancy relaxing in a friendly environment, and to enjoy a bit of normal life for a change.”

  “Same here, I’ll check the girls are okay, and we can get on our way.”

  The women joined them some time later. They ate at another pub, and relaxed in front of the home fire before going to bed.

  The next day was busier. Veronica, Stella, and Ayesha joined them. Ayesha explained her views about Christmas. “It is not a Muslim holy day, but Jesus is our revered prophet, so honouring his birthday causes me no problem. Regardless, this is a Christian country.

  The meal was a master class of Christmas culinary art, and there was much left over. Ayesha asked if she could take some to the pensioner who first rescued her runaway self, and found her security. An alms basket was put together, and Felicity drove, the address and person being closer to her interests. Ayesha also visited her old boss and landlady, giving each a small basket of
alms, but did not go inside. They were away for over two hours, but it was time well spent, and their effort was greatly appreciated.

  Dan and Felicity enjoyed a quiet Boxing Day together, returning to work mode on Thursday. They had ample time to decipher notes, and assemble a mass of verifiable evidence against the accused, which Dan backed up on his laptop. They were set.

  Friday saw an extensive and complicated series of interrelated trials take place at Norwich city court. There were three courts in operation, each dealing with different aspects of the court list. The third court mainly dealt with trials that overlapped.

  At times, due process of law appeared haphazard, especially when lawyers representing Mohammad, Hussein, and Ali, proved so divisive and deceitful, they were removed to the dock. They were charged with interfering with evidence, perverting the course of justice, and working for an enemy of the state. They were found guilty of treason, and arrived in Afghanistan five hours later, stripped of their British citizenship.

  The case against Anglo-Asian Holdings was proved, and their rights to property disproved. The large farm managers' statements, and personal testimony from Constable Parfitt and ‘Aunt Dotty’, being enough to secure conviction. It warranted opening a new investigation into all of the company’s dealings. Matters relating to Norwich, Newmarket, and Thetford were kept on file. The company effectively ceased trading immediately the verdict was announced.

  The properties had been lapsed tithe, belonging to nobody. They were made Crown settlements with special arrangement. Only Longstanding British nationals with proof of occupancy could claim title. The rent was little by market standards, but set a precedent. The Crown also took legal possession of all tithe property ten years or more out of ownership, thus closing the loophole.

  Ali Brothers were next, and the trial was short, as related evidence from previous trails remained open to the judges in Court Three. With Dan’s analysis of their bookkeeping, and money flowing to offshore accounts, the charge of money laundering was quickly proved. They were shut down immediately, the directors being barred from practicing law. When asked to take an oath of allegiance to Queen Charmaine, they all refused, and were sentenced to immediate deportation.