by Chris Thomas
As Saeed raised the mug to take a sip of tea, he stared at her; which was when she realised.
‘No, darling! Don’t drink it yet!’
But it was too late. She knew it, and more to the point Saeed didn’t even have to taste the tea to know it. In a way, he quite liked it when she got it wrong.
He put the mug to his lips, staring at her all the time, in silence. She stared back, her eyes almost begging him not to drink the tea. Very slowly he took a mouthful, his eyes not averting from hers as he swilled the drink around his mouth. With an exaggerated gulp, he swallowed the tea. Still fixing her gaze, he held his arm out straight, paused for a couple of seconds, and then slowly turned his hand, so that the liquid poured out in a narrow waterfall of tea, which spread all over the floor.
To Amanda it felt like it took minutes for the mug to empty. All the time it was splashing off the floor she knew that it was pointless trying to make him stop. She just hoped that it would be over quickly, for the kids’ sake.
For Saeed, the longer it took, the more he enjoyed the sense of helplessness he knew she was feeling. In the big scheme of things it wasn’t important, and he could very easily have put the teaspoon of sugar in the tea himself. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that she had forgotten, and by making all these little rules, he maintained a control over her. And he knew full well that, at this precise moment in time, she would be desperately hoping that this would end when the last of the tea hit the floor. Mopping it off of the floor was far preferable to the alternative. This, he considered, was her escaping lightly.
Mo started to giggle at the sight of his daddy spilling his tea everywhere. Saeed switched his gaze from Amanda to Mo, barely a flicker of emotion crossing his face, and then finally placed the mug back on the table. He stood up and grabbed the two slices of toast from Amanda’s plate before planting a kiss on her forehead and heading to the front door. After taking a big step over the brown puddle of tea in the middle of the kitchen he turned back towards his family.
‘Don’t wait up for me, I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
He collected his car keys from the table in the hallway and slammed the front door shut behind him. It always made her jump when she heard the door slam, but less so when she knew it was him going out. For now, she didn’t have to worry about him being around the house, and it was this time with her boys that she cherished. She heard the screech of tyres as his black BMW sped away from the house, and she wondered how long it would be before he returned.
As she got up from the table, the boys started their meaningless chatter once again and she set about mopping up the tea from the floor. During mundane tasks like this, her mind had a tendency to wander back to when they had first met. He hadn’t always been like this. At first he was charming, his personality warm and friendly, even to the point where she had started to disbelieve the stories of his past. She had stood by him during his short prison sentence and in the years since his release, defiant in the face of the hostility he had faced. They didn’t know him like she did. He’d made her feel special and she was unable to reconcile the man sending her flowers and chocolates with the man that the authorities had tried to deport. Perhaps that was the problem.
Once she had become pregnant, that was the start of his meal ticket. And once he was released, his sense of invincibility had grown and, slowly, almost indiscernibly at first, he had begun to change.
4
‘Look,’ said Joe, holding out his phone. ‘I’ve got five missed calls and seven unread texts, all from Ellie. She’s going to rip my bollocks off as soon as I go in there.’
Billy lowered his sunglasses so that he could read the texts, then stared in through the lounge window. They were sat in Billy’s silver TT convertible on the driveway of the non-descript semi in a quiet suburban road on the outskirts of London. They had spent the last five minutes shielding their very hungover eyes from the glare of the morning sun, waiting for Joe to muster enough bottle to go inside the house. There in the lounge was Joe’s fiancée Ellie, dressed in tight neon lycra exercise clothing, watching what was presumably some sort of fitness programme on the television, contorting her legs into the most painful-looking of angles.
‘It’s alright, look. She’s doing her yoga. She’ll be nice and relaxed and probably missed you so much that she’ll drag you straight to bed and give you a damn good seeing to,’ replied Billy.
‘I doubt that very much.’
‘Well if you’re not man enough to go in there, I’ll happily step in in your place. Look at that arse! Fantastic!’ said Billy. He had always joked to Joe about having a thing for Ellie. But since he also made a lot of comments about having ‘things’ for everyone’s girlfriends, and their mums for that matter, Joe didn’t pay it any notice.
‘Thanks, I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ replied Joe, rubbing either side of his throbbing head. It was about time he went inside and faced his punishment, and he opened the passenger door and started to get out.
‘By the way,’ said Billy, grabbing his arm. ‘Don’t forget. TOR browser. Just install it and enjoy.’
‘What, so I can watch more videos of people being run over? Great!’ responded Joe, grabbing his arm away. The door shut behind him and Billy reversed out of the driveway before accelerating off down the road.
Joe took out his key and tentatively walked through the front door to discover his fate. He walked into the lounge, where Ellie was still doing yoga, walked up behind her, and put his arms around her waist.
‘Don’t even think about it, you utter wanker!’ she shouted, whilst maintaining a perfectly poised vriksasana pose.
‘I’m sorry,’ replied Joe, sounding like a small child receiving a telling off from their mum. ‘I had one too many and Billy talked me into going back to his and then I fell asleep on the sofa and—’
‘Not interested,’ interrupted Ellie. ‘I’m going out shopping with Helen and Lucy once I’ve finished here. I’m going to spend lots of money and then we’re going out in the evening. And if I can be bothered I might come home tonight. Or I might let you see how it feels for once, wondering where the hell I am.’
She finished up her exercises and stormed upstairs to the bathroom. Joe slumped onto the sofa and propped his head up on his arm. He hated it when they argued, and he knew he’d been an idiot. But creeping into his thoughts were all the images and sounds of the bizarre new world that Billy had shown him last night.
Some amount of time later, he was jolted back awake. He had drifted off on the sofa, but for quite how long he couldn’t be sure. The noise of a very loud and disgruntled ‘Bye’ from Ellie, followed by the slamming of the front door, had been enough to drag him back to reality.
Slowly, he stood up, his balance still off, and walked into the new garage conversion via the kitchen, to collect a glass of water and an Alka-Seltzer. They had recently converted their garage into a games room and office. His new man-cave, it had become something of a sanctuary. He sat down at the computer desk and moved the mouse to start it up. He headed straight for Google and searched for the TOR Browser.
It was perfectly easy to find, especially considering how it had something of a reputation for allowing even the most computer-illiterate people like him the ability to access some of the most questionable content imaginable.
He read through the information on the site about how it was important for people to maintain anonymity and how it could protect the user and their family. Blah blah blah, as if that’s what people used it for. As if people used the ‘In Private’ setting on their browser to search for presents for their wives. Whatever. But he still felt uneasy installing what was essentially a portal into an almost unimaginable world. It was as though, on the one hand, he really had no desire to put this on his computer, but at the same time felt strangely compelled to investigate further. He felt as though he was a child heading into a dark cave that he had just discovered deep in the woods.
His hand wavered as he nervously held
the cursor over the button marked Download. He took a deep breath and clicked the left mouse button. The automatic installer started to work; he skimmed through the disclaimer, barely reading any of it, and clicked Install. After a few windows popped onto the screen mentioning something about configuring and settings and so on, most of which he ignored, it said installation had been completed.
Joe sat back in the chair and looked at the new onion-shaped icon on his desktop. He knew that the temptation would be too great, his curiosity would inevitably get the better of him. And with the whole day at home on his own, what better time to start than right now?
5
Swinging around the corner, the black BMW pulled up outside a run-down terraced house. Where other areas of the suburbs had shed their poverty-stricken image thanks to the new money of young, successful, trendy types eager to buy up property close to the city centre, this part of town remained a place that few would call desirable.
Saeed opened his car door and placed his designer sunglasses in the central console. As he exited, he grabbed the dark brown leather briefcase laid on the passenger seat. He shut the door and locked it. Even with his reputation, he still wanted to avoid the chance that someone in this dump might be stupid enough to break into or try to steal his car.
He walked to the front gate of the house. A short wall with chipped bricks and graffiti cordoned off the small, overgrown yard, which was more rubbish tip than garden. Even the fridge freezer propped up against the front of the house had become covered in more greenery and foliage than what passed as a flower-bed. Walking up the cracked, weed-ridden footpath, he kicked an empty can of super strength lager out of his way and pressed the doorbell.
As he waited, he admired himself in what little reflection came back from the smoky pane of glass in the middle of the door. The door opened, though a number of chains and security locks stopped it opening any more than a couple of inches.
‘It’s me, let me in,’ said Saeed, quietly.
The chains and locks clinked as the man inside released them and, after quickly glancing up and down the row of houses, Saeed went inside.
Inside the house, the dim lighting cast eerie shadows as it shone through the smoky haze hanging in the air. Loud music pumped through the walls from the floor above. He walked past what would have once been the living room. The television screen was smashed, and the wallpaper peeled off in large chunks. A stained brown sofa sat in front of a glass coffee table covered in beer cans, burnt-up spoons, syringes, and cigarette lighters. On the sofa lay a young girl, barely older than sixteen. She was seemingly unconscious, wearing nothing but white knickers and a soiled white vest top. Her arms were a mess of red scars and scabs, permanent badges of her drug abuse and self-harm.
Saeed smiled. Another broken home, another vulnerable young girl. They were easier to control in this country than back home. Give them a mobile phone and some nice clothes and they start to worship you. They didn’t need to be promised much, since whatever it was would almost certainly be better than what they had. And then you had them and there was nothing they could do.
The stairs creaked as he followed the man up into a large bedroom that had been turned into a makeshift office. In the room, his new informal business partner sat on a large, comfortable-looking sofa.
Saeed threw the briefcase down onto the table in front of him. The man stood up, arms outstretched. The display of tattoos showed his standing within his gang and the slashes showed the number of his victims.
‘Brother,’ said the man, embracing Saeed in a hug.
‘Aleksander, my friend,’ returned Saeed, before turning to Aleksander’s accomplice.
‘Saeed, this is my cousin, Janusz.’
Saeed shook his hand and the three men sat down.
At that moment, a door into an adjoining room opened and two men left. They were followed by another young girl, not much older than the one downstairs, wearing only her underwear. She was crying. Not loudly or dramatically, just sobbing. As she stumbled out of the room, she held out an arm to balance herself against the wall. Amongst the tattoos, bruises, and bright red scars were fresh red pressure marks on her wrists. Bright purple bruises stood out all over her pasty white legs. She slumped against the wall and slid down into a heap. Her head rested on bent knees while her arms crossed in front of her ankles. She rubbed her wrists to try and ease the pain. She continued crying.
‘Did they pay?’ asked Saeed, staring at the girl with as much compassion as a man examining a delivery of car parts.
‘Of course, twenty each. Did you bring the drugs?’ replied Aleksander.
Saeed leant forward and opened the briefcase. Inside were small plastic bags containing a variety of drugs, including marijuana, cocaine, and heroin.
As Aleksander reached forward to take one of the bags out, Saeed slammed the briefcase shut.
‘Where’s my fucking money from the last lot? I know those pathetic children you call dealers have sold it all.’
‘Sae, Sae, Sae. I thought we trusted each other,’ replied Aleksander.
Janusz sat up tall and leant forward on the sofa.
‘You get me drugs and girls,’ Aleksander continued. ‘I get you money.’
‘So where is my money?’ replied Saeed, through gritted teeth.
‘Tell you what. Why don’t you let Janusz look through this little selection that you’ve brought us, while you have some fun next door,’ said Aleksander, reclining back into the sofa, with his arms folded.
Saeed stared at the two men. Aleksander stared back, before glancing in the direction of the girl and holding out his hands.
Pulling the briefcase towards him, Saeed rotated the numbered wheels on the combination. As the clasps flicked open, he turned it back towards them and stood up. Janusz took it and began opening the bags. He dabbed a small amount of the white powder and snorted it up each nostril before looking at Aleksander and nodding.
‘I think we should be okay. Go on, have some fun,’ said Aleksander, in a mockingly friendly tone.
Saeed walked over towards the girl.
‘Get the fuck up,’ he said to her.
She groaned in pitiful protest. Saeed grabbed the girl by the hair and dragged her to her feet. She screamed, a mixture of pain, which the alcohol did little to mask, and of fear, which the drugs were now failing to numb. Ignoring her pleas, he threw her onto the grotty, stained, damp bed. As Saeed stood in front of her, unbuttoning his trousers, she turned over, trying to cover her eyes in a futile attempt to hide. He cared little for her ordeal, or what she had just been through; her sobs actually made him feel more powerful. She screamed again as he slammed the door shut.
After ten minutes or so, the door opened and Saeed walked out, tucking his shirt back in and fastening up his trouser button. Behind, the girl lay on the bed semi-unconscious, a pool of blood by her face and another by her crotch.
‘Get cleaned up and get this fucking room changed. You’ll have customers soon,’ said Saeed, as he shut the door behind him.
He went back over to the coffee table and sat down. Aleksander reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded wedge of twenty pound notes, which he tossed onto the table in front of him. Keeping eye contact, Saeed leant forward and picked up the notes.
‘Is this some sort of fucking joke, you stupid little Polish prick?’ demanded Saeed, as he thumbed through the notes, mentally totting them up as he went. ‘There’s easily four times this in the suitcase, plus you owe me my cut from the girls.’
‘When we sell it, you get more,’ replied Aleksander, unperturbed by Saeed’s aggression. ‘As for the girls, these pointless skanks will be of no use in a week or two. You get us more girls, you get more money.’
‘Fuck you, we had a deal. I can get better than this for these drugs,’ said Saeed. As he reached forward to snatch the briefcase, Janusz leapt forward, grabbing his right hand, but before the Pole had time to react, Saeed reached into his sock and pulled out a butterfly knife. Deft
ly spinning it open, he pulled his right arm away and plunged the knife through Janusz’ hand, pinning it to the table. Janusz screamed as he pulled the knife out, giving Saeed the time he needed to plant his foot straight into Janusz’ face. He collapsed, out cold, onto the floor.
Turning his attention to Aleksander, Saeed walked around the other side of the table and grabbed the man by the lapels, pulling him to his feet.
‘Saeed, Saeed, this is not necessary my friend. Don’t do something even more stupid, something you will regret,’ said Aleksander, keeping a cool and calculating tone.
Saeed swung him around, pinning him against the wall, and stared him coldly in the eyes.
‘You have fucked with me for the last time. This is my show now.’
Aleksander winced as Saeed’s forehead cracked him on the bridge of his nose, once and then again. Blood ran down his face as the back of his head was smashed against the wall. Aleksander fell to the floor in a heap. Saeed spat on the crumpled body and walked over to Janusz, who had started to come around. He slammed the heel of his boot down on Janusz’s stomach and then kicked him in the groin. Janusz writhed in agony.
Opening the small drawer in the coffee table, he pulled out a brick-sized pile of bank notes and placed them in the briefcase. He walked over to Aleksander and knelt down beside him.
‘Be grateful that I went easy on you, Aleksander, my friend.’
‘Fuck you,’ he replied semi-consciously, spluttering specks of blood all over Saeed’s white shirt.
Saeed stood up slowly and walked away. He had barely gone two footsteps before he swung around and kicked the prostrate man in the ribs.
‘That’s for messing up my shirt,’ he said, smirking.
As he turned away, he noticed the door into the adjoining room was ajar. He could see the bloodshot, tear-filled eyes of the young girl through the gap. For a moment their stares locked, and he could practically taste the fear, the anguish, the confusion, the total and utter despair. It was just how he liked it. One side of his mouth raised as he snorted a sound of complete contempt for the sorry figure in front of him; he now considered it a waste of his time to even bother intimidating her further.