East of Hounslow

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘What is this‚ Victorian?’

  ‘Edwardian.’ Parker looked at his living room through Lawrence’s eyes. After his wife and family had left him‚ he decided on a whim to buy the three bedroom semi‚ on a leafy street in a green part of London. He had hoped that it would help build bridges with his wife and children‚ show them that he had changed. They were yet to visit.

  ‘Yes‚’ Lawrence‚ clicked his fingers. ‘Edwardian‚ of course‚ the symmetry.’

  Parker just nodded‚ he didn’t quite understand what Lawrence had meant by the symmetry.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be with your family‚ Lawrence?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be?’ Lawrence replied‚ all too quickly. ‘And call me Teddy. We’re not at Thames House.’ He smiled‚ parking himself in Parker’s armchair.

  ‘What do you want‚ Teddy?’ It sounded wrong but he went with it.

  ‘What’s this?’ Lawrence said picking up the ready meal. ‘Pasta?’ He sniffed it. ‘Tuna pasta? Not very festive.’

  Parker took it from him and placed it back on the coffee table. It didn’t look like Lawrence was in a big hurry to leave‚ and it wasn’t like Parker had anything planned‚ so he sat himself down on the sofa adjacent to his armchair and asked again.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Susan‚ my wife‚ is in the kitchen preparing a feast for a small army. Her mum and sister too. I sensed that they wanted to have a bitch about me‚ so I left them to it for a couple of hours. Told ’em that I’m off to see my good mate.’ He smiled. ‘But he wasn’t at home so I thought I’d come and see you.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Parker asked for a third time.

  ‘Ah yes‚ I know what we need.’ Lawrence stood up and wandered out of the living room without explanation.

  Parker thought… well he didn’t actually know what to think. Lawrence had let himself in‚ made himself at home‚ and was now wandering around somewhere in his house. He eyed up his armchair and knew that it would be beyond childish to get up from the sofa and reclaim it.

  Lawrence walked in brandishing two wine glasses and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Parker comfortably back in his armchair. He looked at Parker in mock annoyance. Parker looked back defiantly. And then they both started to laugh.

  The ice slowly but surely started to melt.

  ‘It’s Christmas‚’ Lawrence said‚ finally answering the question‚ as he poured and handed a drink to Parker. ‘I thought it was as good a time as any to apologise.’

  ‘Well.’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Apologise then?’ Parker said‚ setting them both off again.

  ‘I’ve been a shit. You’ve had your moments too‚ but I know I pressed your buttons hard… And‚’ Lawrence smiled‚ ‘I’ve just become a father very recently. An event like that gives you… I don’t know… clarity. So‚ yeah. Sorry‚ Chalk. Truly.’

  It was quite the turn of events‚ but he appreciated the gesture‚ especially on Christmas Day. They clinked glasses and Parker congratulated him on fatherhood.

  ‘You think we’re ready?’ Lawrence’s tone now down to business.

  Parker sighed. ‘From the intel‚ yes‚ I think we are.’

  ‘I agree. I’ve heard the message from Qasim over and over. The fucking nerve of these guys. The audacity. On the busiest day‚ at one of the busiest times.’

  ‘It’s good plan‚’ Parker conceded.

  ‘You think? It screams hatchet job to me.’

  ‘I think the effectiveness is in its simplicity. Nine men‚ split into four groups. Two groups of two at one end of Oxford Street‚ the busiest end. One group of two at the other end. With the final group of three entering Oxford Street around the half way mark via Poland Street. It’s a variation of the pincer movement. Full control with thousands of shoppers blocked in.’

  ‘And throw some AK47s and Glocks into the mix…’

  ‘Carnage.’ Parker nodded.

  ‘Yeah‚’ Lawrence mirrored him. ‘Carnage.’

  ‘Thankfully‚ it won’t come to that. As soon as they set foot into the country they will be detained. The relevant authorities will be on alert from the 27th.’

  Lawrence frowned‚ ‘I think the 27th is too late.’

  ‘We have to rely on the intel. According to Jay‚ they will be arriving at Heathrow on the 30th. Even if they change from that location we will‚ by then‚ have every entry into the country under heavy surveillance.’

  ‘What if they change the date?’ Lawrence said‚ as he refilled the empties.

  ‘We have to rely on the intel.’ Parker said again and sat back in his chair‚ deep in thought.

  If the date‚ location or plan had changed‚ Jay would have found a way to get that information to him. He had been efficient and detailed in his communication so far.

  There was no reason to think anything had changed.

  74

  Unable to sleep‚ this time with good reason‚ I padded quietly to the bathroom. I gently placed the seat down on the toilet and sat. My head in my hands‚ palms pressed hard into my eyes. I was lost. I didn’t know where or who to turn to. There was nobody in that room who would or could help. They were ready to fight‚ willing to take whatever their bleak future threw at them for a piece of history‚ for a cause. For a belief that only a few could understand.

  I had to get in touch with Parker. Desperately. I had to find a way. Mustafa knew what he was doing when he took our fucking phones away. He went on and on about bonding and trusting your Brother‚ but he didn’t trust a fucking soul.

  I had already tried once to escape from the unit‚ but the door was heavy duty and locked from inside secured with three large padlocks. The three keys were currently with Salman‚ Kevin and Parvez. There were no windows that I could hop from. I looked up at the bathroom ceiling and there was a large vent‚ large enough for me to fit through. If I somehow manage to get the vent open without waking up eight angry terrorists‚ then what? Was I going to crawl around blindly through the spider-infested tunnels like an action hero‚ hoping it led me out to the outside world?

  I was running out of options. My only chance was that very small window of time when we leave the unit to travel to Oxford Street. And by then‚ it may be too late.

  A knock on the bathroom door shook me.

  Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t about to escape from the vent‚ I opened the door.

  ‘You’ve been in there ages‚ Bruv‚’ Akhtar said.

  ‘Yeah‚’ I shrugged. ‘The mirror is very flattering.’

  ‘What?’ He said‚ not getting it.

  ‘Nothing.’ I said‚ not explaining it. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

  He shook his head. ‘Do you remember what we talked about? At the camp?’

  I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bathroom and locked the door.

  ‘Fuck’s sake‚ Akhtar.’ I whispered. ‘Do you want the whole room to know?’

  ‘Sorry‚ Bruv.’

  ‘Yeah‚ I remember‚ what about it?’

  ‘Nothing‚ just want to say thanks for understanding. I don’t think anybody else would have.’

  ‘That’s alright‚ man. That’s absolutely fine. Just remember what I said.’

  ‘I don’t need to‚ Bruv. I’ve made my mind up.’ He smiled‚ big and forced. ‘I’m going to go out there tomorrow to kill as many Kafirs as I can‚ Bruv. Do Allah’s work‚ yeah?’

  I nodded while my heart broke. ‘Just remember‚ you can change your mind. You won’t be letting anybody down‚ I swear.’

  ‘What about you‚ Bruv. You ready?’

  ‘As I will ever be‚’ I said‚ knowing that I had lost him.

  75

  Boxing Day – 5.00 a.m.

  Fajr – morning prayers – were at six a.m. The alarm went off an hour earlier. In turn we all showered. The typical-looking Pakis amongst us changed their appearance as much as possible. Shaving off their beards‚ styling their hair to fit in with th
e West‚ leaving no reason to be randomly pulled over and searched. We got into our new clothes‚ and complimented each other on how different we all looked.

  We then stood side by side and prayed together for the final time.

  It was emotional for them. It was emotional for me. After prayers we all embraced each other tightly. The tears that came were inevitable.

  Still with a few hours to kill‚ some tried on their long coats‚ getting used to having the bulk of an AK47 strapped under their arm and a Glock in the side pocket. Others sat silently on their beds checking and cleaning their weapons. Nobody really conversed‚ everything that needed to be said had been. Decisions made‚ minds made up.

  I watched it all from my bed. Serene expressions all around me. Cool‚ calm‚ collected‚ even with the knowledge that they were about to unleash bloody hell on hundreds.

  ‘Any way I can get some fresh air?’ I asked to whoever was listening.

  ‘I don’t see why not.’ Kevin said‚ glancing at his watch. ‘I could do with some too.’

  ‘You know that’s not such a bad idea.’ Kamran joined in. ‘We can go out as intended‚ like a dress rehearsal. Get used to the idea of walking around with the AK47 strapped to our shoulders.’

  I sat forward on my bed in anticipation of a possible escape. Make that call to Parker. Get the fuck outta dodge.

  ‘No.’ The voice of reason. Salman.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘You’ll get all the fresh air you need in due course‚ Brother. For the meantime‚ let’s just stay put. Keep in mind we are not far from the A40. A police car sees a bunch of Pakis walking out of a unit‚ it is going to raise suspicions.’

  ‘We can go one at a time‚’ I countered‚ weakly.

  ‘I said‚ no‚’ he snapped. ‘Please‚ Brother‚’ he added.

  I looked at Kamran who just shrugged it off and then at Kevin who seemed to have lost interest in the venture. I sat back in bed‚ rejected. I looked at my watch‚ just over four hours until one.

  76

  9.15am

  Kingsley Parker had woken to find a smile on his face. He had a well deserved day off from work‚ and the visit from Teddy Lawrence on Christmas Day had affected him more than he thought it would. They had finished off the bottle of non-alcoholic wine‚ and exchanged some friendly conversation. He didn’t misunderstand though; despite the friendly exchange‚ they were never going to be actual friends‚ not really. But it was nice knowing that he didn’t have to worry about Lawrence tripping him up at every turn‚ just so that he could make himself look good and climb the ladder to wherever it took him. Especially with such an important result looking to go their way.

  Thanks to Jay‚ they had the known locations and compounds of The Teacher. A team had been dispatched promptly to Afghanistan to locate and capture Abdullah Bin Jabbar. It’s funny that even with all the resources MI5 had at their disposal‚ they had to rely on a Muslim drug dealer from Hounslow‚ snatched off the streets to work undercover as a spy‚ just to find out his real name. It had always been a long shot‚ scouting Javid Qasim as a possible asset‚ though it looked to have worked. Parker‚ though‚ couldn’t take all the credit for Jay. It was at a meeting twelve months ago that Major General Stewart Sinclair had insisted on Javid Qasim.

  ‘It has to be Qasim‚’ the Major had said. ‘I want you to make sure he has no choice but to work with us.’

  Parker had countered against it. ‘With all due respect‚ Major‚ he is an unknown quantity. And it’s going to take up a lot of resources. We have many Muslim agents who can infiltrate the Teacher’s network.’

  ‘They’ll see our guys coming a mile off‚ regardless of their religion. Qasim fits the profile.’ Inevitably‚ the Major had his way.

  Parker had wondered at the time‚ and wondered again now‚ as he recalled the conversation‚ if Sinclair knew more than he was letting on. Either way‚ it didn’t it matter. Very soon‚ months of hard work‚ work that wasn’t natural to Parker‚ who was better suited to the battlefield‚ would pay off. The Teacher would be located and eight of his disciples would be locked up in a hole for the rest of their lives.

  Parker reached for the bottle of vodka on his bedside table and stared at it‚ surprised at the lack of an urge to break the seal. He opened the draw of his side table and stuffed the bottle inside. That comfort blanket was no longer required.

  77

  10:30 a.m.

  ‘Kamran‚ Yasir‚ Irfan‚ Parvez‚ Jay‚ Akhtar‚ Kevin and Sister Amirah‚’ Salman said‚ standing in front of us. We were fully dressed‚ AK47s hanging from our shoulders‚ hidden under our coats‚ each with a Glock slipped in a side pocket and a rucksack full of ammunition. Plus the small bag of cocaine. ‘Each team will arrive at their destination at varying times‚ dependent on their mode of transport. According to the schedule‚ we should be in position well before one o’clock. Keep yourself busy‚ window shop‚ have a bite to eat‚ but stay low key. Make sure you are not far from your allocated position. Our watches have been synchronised to the second and our alarms set for one o’clock‚ where we will have a window of around ten minutes before we are set upon. When your bullets have been embedded into as many Kafirs as possible‚ lose your weapon and lose yourself in the crowd. Oxford Street will be heaving so escape shouldn’t pose too much of a threat. We meet back here‚ Unit 71. We still have it for another seventy-two hours.’ He watched us‚ one by one‚ relishing the position that he had seemingly given himself. He cleared his throat at the awkwardness of what he was going to say next. ‘The cocaine.’ His face fell. ‘As Jay pointed out‚ it increases the way your mind and body functions. Instincts will be quicker‚ reactions sharper. I will not advise one way or another upon the consumption‚ but it is there if you need it.’ Salman’s words trailed off.

  Kevin stepped in. ‘Too much can be dangerous‚ too little may be ineffective.’ He slipped the zip lock bag out of his pocket and pried it open. ‘I’d like to give a small demonstration for those who haven’t used before.’

  Using a small plastic straw and a small flat plate that was provided‚ Kevin sensibly advised the best way to consume. I looked around at the reactions of the others; they seemed uncomfortable at it being discussed‚ I could tell that they did not want it to be addressed. God forbid that they take some fucking coke‚ but taking lives‚ well‚ that’s just fucking acceptable in Islam! I was fuming inside at the sanctimonious hypocrisy of it all‚ and if Salman hadn’t continued with his motivational bullshit speech‚ I swear I may have fucking lost it.

  ‘This is not the end of our journey‚ this is but the beginning. Inshallah we will carry out our work with the efficiency and ruthlessness that is demanded of us. We have come a long way and we will not fail.’

  ‘Inshallah‚’ Kevin said.

  ‘We will not fall.’

  ‘Inshallah‚’ Parvez joined him.

  ‘We will take out as many as our body and our bullets allow us to. Do not let some misguided notion of guilt enter your mind. Be strong and you will be rewarded.’

  The chants grew louder as the rest of us chorused along.

  ‘We get through this and we live to fight another day and‚ most importantly‚ as according to the teachings of Al-Mudarris‚ we leave no man behind.’

  The room went into overdrive.

  78

  10:45 a.m.

  Kamran and Akhtar were the first to leave. They were to take the 487 Bus to Hangar Lane station and then a tube on the Central Line to Oxford Circus station where they would step out at the business end of Oxford Street‚ just under the Nike flagship store. They looked ready‚ game-face on. Even Akhtar looked in the zone. They left quietly with the silent promise of returning as heroes.

  *

  11.02 a.m.

  Salman‚ Kevin and Amirah were next. Amirah stalled‚ she dithered with her outfit‚ not quite comfortable. She complained that her trainers were too tight and her hoody too constricting around h
er neck‚ resulting in a touch of claustrophobia. Her coat‚ a beige mac‚ was too big for her and the strap from the rifle kept slipping off her slender shoulder and getting caught in the arm of her coat.

  ‘Shit‚ this coat is too big‚ it’s not keeping the gun in place‚’ she moaned. ‘And this fucking hoody… I can’t breathe in this thing.’

  Salman was stood by the door‚ impatiently tapping his foot on the floor‚ casting glances at his watch. Kevin walked calmly to Amirah and put his hands around her waist. Her eyes widened at the intimate gesture as he moved in closer and tightened the hanging belt on the mac around her waist. ‘That should keep your gun in place‚ Sister. Keep your coat buttoned and belted up until it’s time.’ He loosened the tie string around the hoody and stretched it away from her neck. ‘Is that better?’ She nodded. ‘Just keep breathing‚ okay? In through your nose‚ slowly out through your mouth‚ right?’ Amirah managed a nervy smile.

  ‘Ready?’ Salman snapped. Amirah shot daggers at him.

  ‘Yes‚ Brother‚’ Kevin said.

  They turned and nodded at us‚ Amirah’s eyes catching and holding mine. I had to look away and when I looked back they had gone. They had a short walk to the minicab office‚ where a cab had been booked to take them to Soho Square‚ where they then would walk to Poland Street and hold position before descending into the middle of Oxford Street.

  *

  11.15 a.m.

  The two brothers‚ Yasir and Irfan‚ stood in front of each other‚ both hands placed on the other’s shoulders‚ heads down‚ foreheads touching. Their eyes were closed as they said a hushed prayer.

  They opened the door and walked out. A silver Transit van‚ that hadn’t been there when we arrived last night‚ was waiting for them. On the side was a logo: Mohsin’s Electrics. Our prices won’t shock you. Parvez and I watched them get in. The keys were hidden in the sun-visor. Yasir started the van and they drove off without looking back. Destination Centre Point‚ where they would park in the nearest NCP car park and make their way on foot to Tottenham Court Road tube station. Opposite end of Oxford Street to Kamran and Akhtar. The objective to box in the shoppers.