City of Sinners

by Dhand, A. A.

  Harry handed Aaron to Ronnie, who struggled to take him.

  ‘No! No! No!’ screamed Aaron, the wail echoing around the warehouse.

  ‘Get him out of here,’ said Harry.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know, just get him out!’

  Ronnie retreated with Aaron back towards the entrance; Aaron’s screeching was deafening.

  ‘I don’t know how you found me,’ spat Imran. ‘But I’m glad you’re here. Now you get to watch as I take something from you that was never yours to begin with.’

  Harry inched forward, hands out passively, desperately looking for a way out of this.

  ‘It’s over, Imran. Just … let Saima go and we all walk away. If you do this, yes, you will take Saima from me but I’ll also take something from you. You’ll go to jail, you won’t be able to be with your family. We’ll both lose.’

  ‘She destroyed my family the day she broke with tradition. The day she chose you over my brother.’

  ‘That’s not how it happened. We … we … hadn’t even met, then.’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘It’s the truth, Imran,’ said Harry, continuing to creep forward. ‘I just want this to end with no more bloodshed.’

  ‘How did you find us?’ spat Imran.

  ‘I’m a police officer.’

  ‘No … What did you do to my brother to make him tell you?’

  ‘I offered him a deal. And he took it.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Is he dead?’

  ‘No,’ said Harry. ‘You want to talk to him? I can make that happen.’

  ‘No. I want to see you suffer. I want you to watch your wife die. I want to regain my family’s honour.’

  Imran’s veins were bulging on his neck.

  ‘Okay!’ said Harry, eyes searching desperately for Enzo in the shadows, ‘I understand we’ve got to pay. Just … let me have a final few words. At least give me that.’

  Imran nodded. ‘Say what you have to.’

  Keeping his hands outstretched, Harry took a few precarious steps towards Saima.

  Only a few feet now between them.

  ‘Try anything smart and I’ll kill you too,’ snapped Imran.

  ‘Saima,’ said Harry and smiled, ‘listen to me.’

  She blinked back tears, mouth still taped shut.

  ‘Just lower the knife, Imran. An inch, that’s all. She can’t focus on me with the blade against her skin.’

  Harry dropped to one knee and laid his crowbar down on the floor beside him. ‘Look, I’m not going to try anything. I’m surrendering the only weapon I brought with me. You can see that.’

  Imran lowered the knife, only an inch.

  ‘Saima, before this happens, I want you to think back to Tuesday morning.’ Harry laughed. ‘Remember when we were in the bathroom with Aaron. You were getting ready, brushing his teeth. Remember what he did?’ Harry smiled, really selling the family memory bit. ‘Before you’re taken from me, think about that. It will help you.’

  Saima’s eyes were on Harry’s.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  Saima dropped her head on to her chest, the blade now again in contact with her skin.

  Harry watched her, fists clenched, tense against the barbed wire. Then, with a strength he had never seen in her before, she sent her head backwards, the back of her skull thundering into Imran’s nose.

  It shattered on impact.

  Aaron had given Saima a nose bleed.

  At the same time, Harry leapt forwards, shoving Saima out of harm’s way.

  Imran didn’t hesitate, he came forward with a mad fury. Blood dripped down his face.

  The men struggled and Imran dropped the knife, which clattered to the floor. He raised a knee into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind from him. As Harry crumpled to the floor, he lashed out, sending his palm into Imran’s nose to compound the damage.

  Imran fell backwards, toppled over and hit the floor, blinded by his own blood.

  Harry struggled for breath as Imran got urgently to his feet.

  This guy was unstoppable.

  Harry watched in horror as he picked up the knife.

  Before he could use it, Harry heard Saima scream as she swung Harry’s crowbar at Imran’s head, striking him across the temple.

  Imran froze and crumpled to the floor.

  Saima’s face was as dark as rotten fruit, eyes narrow, face contorted like she was possessed. She gripped the crowbar in her hands, barbed wire cutting into her wrists, making them bleed. She stood over Imran and struck his head again.

  ‘You don’t get to live after what you did,’ she screamed as blood started to pool around his head.

  Imran didn’t move.

  Harry froze, pure disbelief at what Saima had done.

  History repeating, Harry with a body at his feet, blood all over the floor, weapon in hand.

  ‘Saima,’ whispered Harry, gently putting his hands on hers.

  She gritted her teeth, stared at Imran’s lifeless body, jaw muscles tensing.

  Harry put his arms around her and tried to pull her towards him.

  He heard footsteps and turned to see Ronnie rushing into the room, gun drawn. As soon as he saw Imran’s body he put it away.

  ‘Shit,’ said Ronnie, stopping by Harry. ‘Did you?’

  Harry shook his head. Danced his eyes towards Saima.

  Ronnie sighed. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he whispered.

  ‘Where’s Aaron?’ asked Harry.

  ‘With Enzo. He … couldn’t get in the back. Window was too small.’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘How is the little guy?’

  ‘Wants his daddy.’

  ‘I know.’

  Harry pulled Saima away from the scene, back towards the office.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. She still looked possessed by fury.

  ‘I want to go home,’ she whispered coldly.

  ‘We’re going,’ said Harry.

  ‘I’m not going to jail,’ she replied. ‘Not for him.’

  ‘You’re not,’ said Harry forcefully. ‘I will sort this.’

  ‘How can you—’

  ‘Nobody will ever know.’

  She nodded firmly. ’They don’t get to win. You hear me?’

  ‘They won’t. I … I … just need a minute with Ronnie. Let me take you to Aaron. Enzo is a good guy. He’s one of us, a police officer,’ lied Harry. ‘I need you to be with Aaron. Calm him down and leave me for a few minutes to arrange this. Can you do that, Saima?’ asked Harry, holding her face in his hands.

  ‘I can,’ she said, the defiance of what she had done clear in her face.

  ‘Good. Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get your hands free of this damn wire and get you to Aaron.’

  Harry and Ronnie stood by the side of Imran’s body.

  ‘I’ve got a crew on the way,’ said Ronnie.

  ‘Good,’ replied Harry. ‘His body needs to disappear.’

  ‘It will.’

  ‘Bury it deep in the tunnel, Ron.’

  ‘Not the tunnel. Too good for this piece of shit. I’m going to torch it. Make his brother watch.’

  Harry grabbed Ronnie. ‘Not Adnan. You know what needs to happen to him!’

  ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Tornado 2-ply barbed wire. Make sure,’ said Harry.

  ‘I’ve got it from here.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Ron.’

  ‘You don’t need to. Whenever this settles down – next week? Next month? You remember you promised me something.’

  Harry embraced his brother.

  ‘I owe you, Ron,’ he said. ‘More than you’ll ever know.’

  EIGHTY-SIX

  THE NEXT TWO days were a blur.

  Dog walkers had found Adnan’s body the following morning, hanging from a lamppost near the Leeds–Liverpool Canal. Whoever had done it had used the same barbed wire which Adnan had used to strangle his victims.

  With his repu
tation for violence and intimidation, Tariq Islam had become the prime suspect. He’d denied any knowledge of it. Far from being enraged and actively pushing out a campaign to deny his involvement, Harry had watched as he addressed the media, repeatedly saying,

  ‘I’ve given my statement to the police and I’m happy to cooperate with their investigation as fully as possible until this matter is resolved.’

  The man was a national hero, the ex-military politician who had used his connections to enact his own revenge on a twisted ethnic serial killer.

  He was gathering an enormous online following, the public having a real appetite for the street justice handed down to the killer.

  Truthfully, it had done his reputation no harm.

  Ronnie had covered his tracks.

  In the moments following Adnan’s abduction, CCTV showed three armed men racing away from Trafalgar House. Whilst Bradford had a robust camera network, there were black holes. Each and every one of which had been exploited by Ronnie’s men, on direction from Harry. Harry heard someone say it looked like an inside job.

  The car used to abduct Adnan had been dumped and burned.

  The police had no leads.

  No one at Trafalgar House was crying over Adnan’s murder.

  A somewhat muted investigation into the fire had been launched, but since there were no CCTV cameras in that area, it had simply been put down to mechanical error.

  Harry had been signed off work for a month with the injury to his arm. He was keeping a low profile and hadn’t left the house. No one was pressing for an alibi, but the hospital records were air-tight, Balraj having signed him out at six a.m.

  Harry had nothing to worry about.

  Apart from Saima.

  Aaron had done as only a three-year-old could and got back into his routine quickly, unaware of what had really happened.

  But Saima was a different matter.

  She’d gladly nudged her sister into believing that Imran had finally left her for his other woman. But when it came to her own recovery, she wasn’t doing so well. She had slept for almost two days, content to let Harry look after Aaron. Harry had let her be but she knew she couldn’t hide for ever.

  Seventy-two hours later, Saima was sitting at the dining table, having showered and finally changed out of her pyjamas. Harry saw it as progress but her face was drawn and she had large bags under her eyes.

  ‘Hey,’ said Harry, pouring himself a Jack Daniels and bringing it to the table.

  Saima looked at his glass.

  ‘I could absolutely understand if the last few days made you want to finally have your first alcoholic drink,’ he said.

  She smiled weakly. It faded just as soon as it had appeared.

  ‘Where to begin?’ whispered Saima.

  ‘For you? Or me?’

  She shook her head, smiling ruefully. ‘Who has the greatest secret to tell? That was some heist to pull …’ she hesitated to say his name, ‘that bastard out of jail. Balaclavas? Ropes? Guns?’ she said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

  She finally looked at Harry. ‘Just who did I marry?’

  Harry looked down at the table.

  ‘I know what happened between you and Adnan,’ said Harry. ‘What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me?’

  She shrugged. ‘I was a kid. I erased it from my mind. The Saima who didn’t get on that plane as a naïve girl died the day she took that stance.’

  She pointed to Harry’s drink. ‘Does it help? With the lies?’

  Harry sighed. ‘No,’ he said, pushing it aside.

  ‘What we put that little guy through?’ Her hand went straight to her throat, guilt clear on her face.

  ‘Hey,’ said Harry, moving across to her and kneeling by her side. ‘Aaron’s fine. He doesn’t even know what happened. You should have seen him tonight in the bath. Honest, he won’t ever remember it.’

  ‘I will.’

  Harry paused. Held his breath for a moment.

  ‘Did he hurt you, Saima?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. He said he was going to. But he didn’t get the chance, the twisted fuck.’

  Saima swore so rarely, Harry was a little stunned.

  ‘I killed someone,’ she said, turning to face him. ‘I’m a murderer.’

  ‘No,’ said Harry. ‘You can’t think that way.’

  She raised her hand to silence him. ‘You know the worst part?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t even regret it. When I did it, the release of rage it gave me— God, what am I saying?’

  ‘He got what he deserved. It was him or you.’

  ‘I’m glad it was him. What I don’t understand is how I’m still sitting here. Why I’m not in prison? How … how … I got away with it? How you found me? How …’ she again refrained from using Adnan’s name, ‘… he was found hanging from a lamppost after being broken out of jail. He was the only one who knew where we were. That means … you? You did this? But how?’

  Harry stood up, picked up his drink and turned away from Saima.

  ‘Don’t stand by the window, Harry. Not this time. You’ve got something to tell me, then you do it right here at this table. Face to face.’

  Harry sipped his whisky.

  He wanted to stand in the bay window, he wanted to feel safe.

  But Saima was right.

  Not tonight.

  Harry sat opposite Saima and put his drink on the table.

  ‘My brother, Ronnie,’ he said. ‘There’s something about him you need to know. Something about me you need to know. Something that started nineteen years ago, in our corner shop, when I killed someone.’

  EIGHTY-SEVEN

  FRIDAY NIGHT, A week after the trauma of what had occurred with Saima, Harry arrived at the Leeds–Liverpool Canal, where Ronnie had left Adnan hanging from a lamppost.

  The snow had melted, leaving the ground waterlogged and glistening under the glare of streetlights. Harry walked the route he had done when Adnan had killed his fourth victim, throwing her from the bridge.

  Why here?

  Why now?

  He saw the silhouette of a man sitting on a bench. Harry scanned the area. He couldn’t see Tariq Islam’s personal protection detail anywhere but assumed they were close by.

  ‘Thought you would have had enough of this city by now,’ said Harry, taking a seat next to Tariq.

  ‘I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime,’ replied Tariq, offering Harry a plastic cup of coffee.

  ‘Thoughtful,’ said Harry taking it.

  ‘Least I could do.’

  ‘You surprised the hell out of me with your call.’

  It was a lie.

  Harry had been expecting it but hoping the call would never come.

  Tariq was staring at Harry, smiling.

  Harry sipped his coffee, waiting for the inevitable.

  ‘And people thought my history was murky,’ said Tariq finally.

  There it was. As loaded a statement as Tariq could have delivered.

  ‘Don’t follow,’ said Harry, staring at a bridge he had jumped from a few days before. He shuddered at the memory of how cold the water had been.

  Tariq told Harry that he had looked into Adnan’s history at the Home Office. The visa application submitted by Imran, who just happened to be married to Nadia.

  ‘Took a little digging to bring this thing back to you,’ said Tariq. ‘Figured out Nadia and Saima are sisters.’

  Harry sighed. ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Nobody yet. I’ve sealed the papers. Perhaps they’ll go missing.’

  Harry stared at Tariq. ‘Why would you do that?’

  He waited for an answer.

  ‘Some heist you pulled off. No idea how you did it. Looked into you. Nothing stands out. Brother’s got a record. But nothing there to link to this. So how did you do it?’

  Harry tightened his grip around the coffee.

  ‘Don’t follow,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Group 13. People ha
ve been hounding me with that shit for years. Covert ops. Whispers of assassinations. All that stuff people love to speculate about.’

  Harry let him speak.

  ‘That’s what it would have taken to pull off what you did. That kind of discipline,’ said Tariq.

  He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed it. ‘Out-fucking-standing,’ he said.

  Their eyes met. Harry saw that Tariq was beaming.

  ‘Tell me how. And I’ll kill the investigation from my end. Burn the papers. Make Adnan just another illegal who wanted to do this country harm. But I want to know how you did it. I need to know.’

  Harry sipped his coffee.

  How much could he trust Tariq?

  ‘You told me that if I saved Aisha – put myself on the line – you would owe me a favour.’

  ‘Yes. And I seem to recall getting the distinct impression there was a favour down the line to be had.’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘He deserved what happened to him – Adnan.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Can’t we just leave it at that? Call that my favour.’

  ‘We could. Except, that makes us even. No more favours down the line.’

  Harry sighed. Thought about the pact he had made with Ronnie and how badly they needed someone like Tariq Islam for what their future might hold.

  ‘Are we off the record here?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You want me to trust you with this, I need something in return.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I don’t know. A secret I could bury you with. Something which makes us even.’

  ‘You don’t need that. We are alike, you and I. We get shit done. Sometimes at the expense of how things should be done. I don’t know what I would have done had I lost Aisha, she’s all I’ve got. For saving her life, you have my allegiance. The fact you managed to string that son of a bitch up to that lamppost,’ said Tariq, nodding in the distance to where Adnan had been found, ‘simply makes me admire you.’

  Harry grinned. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I will. But when the time is right. Can we leave it at that?’

  Tariq thought about it. ‘I don’t like not knowing. Makes me wonder just what else you are capable of.’