East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  This felt like that‚ but at the same time it didn’t.

  My stop arrived first. We made rushed plans to see each other soon‚ to shoot some pool‚ but I think somehow we both knew that would never happen. It felt very much like the next time we saw each other everything would have changed.

  As I put the key in the front door of my empty house I heard a car pull up behind me. I turned to face a silver Ford Mondeo haphazardly parked halfway across my drive‚ inches from my Nova. I’d already lost one car recently; I wasn’t about to lose my fucking Nova too. I glared through the windscreen‚ ready to give the driver a piece of my mind‚ but first I wanted to get a good look just in case he was bigger than me. There were two of them‚ both white‚ one male and one female‚ and they were releasing their seatbelts‚ eyeballs fixed on me. I instinctively knew who they were‚ even before the second car pulled up directly behind them. This car was a white Vauxhall Astra with blue lights attached to the roof and the word POLICE written back to front on the bonnet.

  The hairs at the back of my neck stood to attention and I broke into a cold sweat. Four doors opened in tandem as the couple from the first car stepped out‚ and two uniforms got out of the police car and stood behind them. They stood in the middle of my driveway watching me carefully to see if I would make a move.

  I looked down the road to my left and then I looked down the road to my right. Escape was not an option. Mexico was a long fucking way away. Across the road curtains twitched and I knew what my nosy neighbours were thinking. His Mum has only been gone five minutes and look…

  I coolly turned back towards my front door and looked at the key still swinging in the lock. I turned the key and opened the door.

  I walked into my house and shut the door in all their fucking faces.

  18

  I think it was due. It had to be. I’d been on easy street for as long as I could remember. Even back at school I did pretty much whatever the fuck I wanted to‚ and I never ever found myself in detention or in the headmaster’s office. I don’t know why that was. I think maybe I had some charm‚ or an innocent face or whatever‚ but shit never seemed to stick to me. Teachers left me alone‚ bullies didn’t target me‚ and to an extent Mum let me be too. I just never got busted. Until now.

  The four little pigs knocked on my door and I answered it‚ nonchalantly eating a Twix. They didn’t seem too chuffed at having the door shut in their faces. A uniform reached across with handcuffs. I still had one full stick of Twix remaining so I clamped it between my teeth as they secured my wrists behind me.

  I was escorted out the front door and the twitching curtains had progressed to some of my neighbours standing out on their front porches‚ gawping.

  I think maybe it’s the rap music or the too many viewings of Scarface‚ but I acted like a man without a care in the world. I walked confidently with my chest out‚ the Twix hanging from my mouth like a Cuban Cigar‚ my steps measured and my gait straight up gangster.

  Better that than the world seeing me cry.

  *

  With my hands cuffed behind me‚ I was sliding all over the place on the leather seat every time we took a turning. We reached a junction and stopped at the traffic lights‚ and it took me a moment to realise that we were in the wrong lane. Hounslow police station was to the right but we were out in the left lane. I shifted around in my seat and looked out of the rear window‚ just as the patrol car left its position as sentry and manoeuvred next to us in the correct lane. I noticed my driver give the uniform the slightest of nods as the traffic lights turned green and the patrol car turned towards the police station. And we went in the opposite direction.

  I waited a minute‚ thinking maybe there was another car park for unmarked police cars. When that didn’t materialise my mind went into overdrive. I couldn’t think of one rational reason why they wouldn’t have taken me to Hounslow Nick and then with a jolt I realised that when they had arrested me‚ they hadn’t read out my rights or my charges.

  I started to see signs for Isleworth and then Brentford and the next thing I knew we were on the fucking motorway.

  ‘Where we going?’ I was frightened as to what the response might be. And they gave me the most unnerving response possible.

  Silence.

  I looked at the back of their heads. I could see their side profiles and they carried no-nonsense‚ business-like expressions on their faces.

  They definitely weren’t the police and this was definitely not an arrest.

  Was I was getting kidnapped? I know how that sounded‚ but I couldn’t think of any other explanation. Could this be Silas’ doing? He had always been one for the dramatics but I still had two days left before my deadline.

  I positioned myself so I had my back towards the door and I could just about grip the handle. But then what? Even if they hadn’t locked me in‚ what was I going to do? Jump out onto the motorway with the car doing north of seventy? I glanced around the car‚ desperately searching for other options. A boot to the side of the driver’s face would cause the car to veer‚ leading to a possible distraction. But at this speed‚ on the motorway‚ with a Heavy Goods Vehicle in the next lane‚ there was every chance that I could end up in a far worse situation than I was in already.

  My shoulders ached because of the unnatural position my chained hands were in. If shit kicked off and I had to defend myself‚ I would have no chance with my hands trapped behind my back. I had to try and bring them to my front. I pushed my shoulders back as far as they could go and tried to slide my hands from underneath. It was a tricky manoeuvre and I almost popped my shoulder at one point. Hollywood made everything look so easy. I was seriously out of breath and my hands were now trapped under my arse. Every muscle in my upper body screamed to give up. So I did.

  The car started to slow down without any obvious reason‚ there was no traffic for as far as I could see and there wasn’t an exit for them to take. The driver indicated left and pulled over onto the hard shoulder.

  That really threw me. Were they going to beat me‚ or worse‚ right there on the hard shoulder‚ with hundreds of witnesses driving past? This was bordering on the bizarre and if it wasn’t for the pain racing through my shoulder I would have had this down as some sort of cheese-induced dream.

  I heard the loud growl of an engine and I turned back to see a serious-looking black motorbike pull up a few feet behind us. The rider walked towards the car. He was still wearing his helmet and in his other hand he held another. The couple opened their doors and got out of the car. They stood in a tight triangle by the side of the car. The rider handed the woman the spare helmet‚ and I saw him reach up and take his own helmet off and hand that to the man‚ as well as the keys to the bike. I couldn’t see his face but he was tall and powerfully built. I watched as the couple mounted the motorbike and rode off. The driver’s side door opened and the rider climbed in.

  He turned and faced me and his dark‚ dead eyes seemed to look right through me.

  *

  You know when you give somebody cut eyes. That look‚ that glare. The one that says in no uncertain terms that I am not scared of you. You should be scared of me. In my world that look is second nature. It took me a while to perfect it‚ and I used it as a weapon. I could tell you about any number of occasions when I’ve got out of scrapes and misunderstandings just by shutting somebody down with that look. Eyes slightly narrowed‚ grinding teeth‚ jaw clamped tight. Measured and menacing. I had it down to a fine art.

  But this guy… Forget about it.

  He looked at me as if I wasn’t there. His eyelids drooped in a way that cried out for sleep. The whites of his eyes were tinged with yellow and his pupils were two black holes. His face made him look older than his body would have you believe. I couldn’t compete and I dropped eye contact almost immediately.

  ‘Javid Qasim.’ Not a question. He knew me.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I said‚ without sound. I swallowed and said it again‚ with as much confidence as
I could. ‘Yeah.’

  He reached into the pocket of his trampy pea coat.

  ‘Turn around.’

  ‘Fuck you.’ I hissed. False bravado making an appearance.

  He pulled his hand from his pocket and I recoiled. He was holding up a small key. ‘Turn around.’ This time I did and he removed my handcuffs.

  ‘Thanks.’ I muttered‚ as I twisted my wrists‚ trying to get the blood circulating back into them.

  He turned away from me and faced front. He adjusted the rear-view mirror until he had a good visual of me.

  ‘My name is Kingsley Parker. And right now I’m the only friend you’ve got.’

  19

  Friend?

  Like buddies? Like Best Friends Forever? Like‚ let’s go for a pint and try our luck with the local talent?

  I don’t think so.

  Parker passed me a deck of B&H over his shoulder. I took one out and slipped it between my lips. I lit it using the car lighter‚ while he watched me through the rear view mirror. I pocketed his deck.

  ‘Javid Qasim‚’ Parker said‚ and continued monotonously. ‘Jay‚ to your friends. You’ve lived all your life in Hounslow with your Mum‚ Afeesa Qasim‚ who just this morning flew from Heathrow to Doha‚ Qatar‚ with one Andrew Bishop. You were there to see her off‚ along with your childhood friend‚ and now Detective Inspector‚ Idris Zaidi.’ He waited a beat. I let it sink in. He continued. ‘You are not averse to a drink‚ most usually a pint of San Miguel at your local pub‚ the Rising Sun‚ and you like to have the odd gamble which you carry out online on your phone which‚ by the way‚ is a Samsung Galaxy S8.’ He turned his head slightly over his shoulder towards me. ‘You haven’t had much luck recently. Maybe gambling isn’t your thing.’

  ‘Kane missed that penalty in the last minute. Would have been quids in otherwise‚’ I said‚ as though this was a casual fucking conversation.

  He turned back and continued to address me through the mirror. ‘You attend Sutton Mosque every Friday for prayers and you helped with the clean-up and restoration of the mosque after it was attacked.’

  ‘Alright mate. Stop right there. Wanna tell me what you want?’

  ‘We’ve been watching you‚ Javid.’

  ‘No! Really?’ I said. ‘And call me Jay.’

  He nodded.

  I put out my cigarette in the small ashtray and clumsily climbed into the front seat. The sudden movement caused Parker to swiftly pull his arms up at chest height in a defensive stance‚ fists tight and ready. In doing so his elbow hit the wiper switch. I sat next to him‚ showing the palms of my hands in a placatory gesture. He relaxed and dropped his hands onto his lap. We both looked ahead in awkward silence and watched the wipers redundantly judder against the dry windscreen.

  ‘Look. I know you ain’t the fuzz‚’ I said‚ reaching across and turning off the wipers. ‘So… who or what are you then?’

  ‘I work for the government‚ son.’

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. He had already mentioned my affiliation with Sutton Mosque. Had they put two and two together and got twenty-two? ‘I’m not a terrorist‚ I swear.’

  ‘No. I know that.’

  I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

  ‘What the fuck‚ man? Can we stop playing twenty questions?’

  It was clear that Parker was uncertain where to begin. I wondered if maybe the guy who was originally supposed to be here had called in sick‚ and they’d had to draft in this clueless lump to take his place.

  ‘Jay‚ we are in the process of recruitment and development. Part of the reason for the surveillance was to establish personality. You‚ Jay‚ fit the profile and we would like you to come and work with us at MI5.’

  ‘MI5!? Get the fuck outta here.’ I snorted‚ looking around the car for hidden cameras. It had to be a joke‚ an elaborate set up. ‘Who put you up to this? Is this gonna be on YouTube?’

  ‘You are young‚ capable and according to your medical records you are fit and healthy. You would make a fantastic addition to the team. A real asset… We think you can make a difference. I am offering you a job‚ son.’

  The way he said that left me with no doubt that he was telling me the truth. And I hate to admit it but it excited me.

  ‘But…’ he said. And left it there.

  ‘Oh‚ here we go. But what?’

  ‘You’re in deep with Silas Drakos. You owe him some money and from what I’ve been told not only is it a substantial amount‚ but you haven’t got a hope in hell of paying him back. Now‚ unless you’ve got that kind of cash stashed somewhere we haven’t been able to find it‚ I think you’re about to be on the back end of a lashing. And given Drakos’ history‚ it’s not going to end well for you‚ son.’

  Not that I was counting‚ but that was the third time that he had called me son. I didn’t mind it. It felt strangely comforting.

  ‘You’re in a whole lot of trouble.’

  Parker turned to face me just in time to see me shrug. ‘You don’t know the half of it‚’ I said‚ under my breath.

  ‘No‚ you don’t know the half of it.’

  ‘That supposed mean?’ I asked. His agitation fed mine.

  ‘Aside from Silas‚ the police have evidence to make a very strong case against you. The way things are looking‚ you could be doing some hard time. They know about the flat in Cranford.’

  That shook me. They fucking had me.

  ‘It looks very much like its set up for growing some serious cannabis‚ judging by the fluorescent lamps and the bags of soil‚ not to mention the packets of feminized skunk seeds.’

  ‘I was going to give that flat up. I swear. It was a dumb idea. I could have never made it work‚’ I said‚ desperately trying to keep the desperation from my voice.

  ‘Regardless. Coupled with the fact that you are a drug dealer‚ albeit a low level one‚ it doesn’t look good for you.’

  ‘How long am I looking at?’ That whole venture with the flat was going to put me away‚ and I wasn’t ever really going to go through with it. I could not believe my shitty luck.

  ‘Wait.’ He held up a big hand. ‘There’s more… Eugene Milford is currently in hospital with severe concussion.’

  ‘Eugene who?’ Then it hit me. ‘Shit!’ I said‚ sliding down in my seat. The beginnings of a headache looming. ‘Elmsleigh Car Park.’

  ‘When Eugene got home that night‚ after suffering a heavy blow to the head‚ he collapsed outside his house. His father found him and called for an ambulance.’

  ‘How is he?’ I asked‚ feeling very fucking small.

  ‘Hard to say with a head injury… But signs are promising. However‚ Milford Senior insists that Milford Junior presses charges.’

  I closed my eyes. ‘How long?’ I asked‚ again.

  Parker expelled air. ‘If you get yourself a top lawyer‚ you’re looking at three years‚ and if you keep your head down inside‚ you’ll be out in two.’

  ‘I can’t afford a top lawyer.’

  ‘Then you’ll be provided with one.’ ‘A crappy one‚ though.’

  Parker nodded. ‘Yes… A crappy one.’

  I couldn’t go to jail‚ there was not a chance in hell I would survive three months‚ let alone three years. Yeah‚ I can handle myself‚ but that’s because I pick my battles carefully. In there I wouldn’t have that luxury. I closed my eyes‚ but behind my eyelids my eyes were dancing with harrowing visions of getting daily beatings in the morning‚ getting my food thieved in the afternoon‚ and getting royally shafted in the evening.

  As though he’d read my mind‚ Parker said‚ ‘We can make all this go away.’

  ‘What are you proposing?’

  ‘A two-tier agreement.’

  I had a strong feeling I knew what one of those two was‚ and I had a fair idea what the other one could be. But I asked anyway.

  ‘What’s the first?’

  ‘Silas Drakos. He’s part of a large ongoing investigation�
�� and with your help they can put him away for a very long time.’

  ‘He’s going to kill me‚’ I reasoned. Truth was‚ if I didn’t get my hands on 10K pretty fucking sharpish‚ he was going to kill me anyway.

  ‘He won’t know it’s you‚’ Parker said‚ not quite reassuring me. ‘Tomorrow you give a statement down at Hounslow police station. Tell them whatever you know about Drakos‚ and I have it on very good authority that he will be picked up that very same day.’

  No Silas‚ no debt‚ no threat hanging over me. But could I do it? Could I break the oldest rule of the streets? Could I grass?

  ‘I need to think about it.’

  ‘That’s fine. You have twenty-four hours‚ otherwise you will be arrested‚ and this time it will be for real.’

  I nodded wearily.

  ‘The second condition is that—’

  ‘I come work for you‚’ I said‚ interrupting him. ‘At MI5.’ I let out a small incredulous nasal laugh at the absurdity of it.

  ‘Yes‚ Jay.’

  ‘And you want me because I fit the profile‚ right? I could make a difference. Something along those lines?’

  I turned and faced him. He pursed his lips and I noticed his knee hammering. He knew what was coming.

  ‘Or is it because I’m a Muslim?’

  20

  Teddy Lawrence sat waiting outside Robinson’s office‚ surreptitiously eyeing up the PA. He had been shopping in preparation for his new role at MI5‚ a role more suited to his talents. Jeans‚ trainers and sweatshirts were off the menu. Now it was all about sharp‚ fitted suits and crisp shirts with polished black Oxfords. A proper uniform. No longer would he be the skivvy that carried out long‚ boring surveillance work‚ on his stomach in the dirt‚ armed with a camera and cheap coffee. And no longer would he be working for that has-been‚ Parker. Lawrence had already disliked Parker‚ but that had been a professional aversion. Now‚ with his ear still throbbing‚ Lawrence hated him with a passion.