Homegrown Hero

by Khurrum Rahman

  ‘Somebody I know‚’ was all I could muster‚ her hand slipped away as I walked towards the stairs. I took the steps one at a time. Not trusting my legs‚ I held onto the bannister for support. I moved towards him. He was sitting dead centre of the large cafeteria. My walk felt unnatural‚ my arms stiff by my side. He watched me all the way‚ I dropped eye contact and took in the surroundings of the trampoline centre. None of it made sense. In that instant‚ my lives‚ which I had tried desperately to keep from colliding‚ collided.

  ‘Pathaan Bhai‚’ I said. He nodded towards the chair opposite and I sat down.

  ‘I thought‚ maybe‚ I should check one last time before leaving you‚ Imran. In case you have... what is that word? Overlooked anything.’

  I swallowed‚ hard. It would have been noticed.

  ‘I hold you in very high regard‚ Imran‚ I always have‚’ Pathaan continued. ‘And I know that you are more capable then most to carry out your jihad.’ He paused. ‘So you can imagine my surprise when my source informed me that Qasim is still living‚ breathing.’

  I watched him blankly as he placed the paan in his mouth‚ sinking his sharp teeth into it‚ and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘I think I understand what’s happened‚’ he said. ‘But why don’t you go ahead and explain it to me.’

  To my right a young family of four. Kids eating cake. Parents drinking coffee. To my left proud grandparents cheering on their somersaulting grandson from the side-lines.

  ‘I left him... for dead‚’ I said‚ finding my voice.

  ‘How did you do it?’

  ‘His throat. I cut his throat.’

  ‘You didn’t use the...’ Pathaan made a gun with his hand‚ pointed it at me and pulled the trigger. ‘It would have been quicker. Cleaner.’

  I shook my head. ‘No‚ I thought – ’

  ‘What‚ Imran. What did you think?’ Pathaan tapped a finger rapidly on the table. He waited no time for me to respond. ‘Maybe I tell you what I think. Somebody else got to Javid Qasim before you‚ and you chose to pass it off as your doing.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Young Qasim has made some enemies it would seem.’ He stopped tapping his finger on the table and it felt as though the whole room had silenced. ‘Tell me‚ Imran. Did you wait for his last breath as you held him in your arms?’

  With a jolt‚ the realisation hit me.

  Pathaan had been there. Had seen it all.

  ‘You lied to me‚ Imran.’

  There was nothing‚ nothing‚ I could say.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t read it in your face? I battled to shut down every instinct telling me to tear you down where you stood. Where you lied to me... I let you be‚ Imran. I walked away from your betrayal. I needed time and space to think.’ He dug his finger into the side of his head. I knew that above me‚ Stephanie was watching. It took all my strength to not look up and smile at her that everything was alright.

  But Pathaan did. He looked up at my family.

  ‘This country has made you weak.’

  ‘Pathaan Bhai...’

  ‘These... people have made you weak.’

  ‘Please‚ Pathaan Bhai.’

  I hesitantly looked up. Stephanie was watching from the viewing balcony. Jack by her legs. I smiled at them. Everything is alright. Jack still carried rejection on his face. I met his eyes and he hid out of sight behind Stephanie.

  ‘What do you want?’ I turned away from them.

  ‘The man who pulled the knife on Qasim. I need a name.’

  Silas was well known around West London. Shaz and I had picked up and smoked his weed through many of his dealers‚ Jay being one of them.

  ‘Silas Drakos‚’ I said.

  ‘He will try again‚’ Pathaan said. ‘I cannot allow that. It is of importance that Qasim is given his traitor’s death by a soldier of Ghurfat-al-Mudarris. You will tell me where I can find this Silas.’

  I nodded obediently‚ but I knew it wouldn’t be my only contribution.

  ‘Your failure is my failure. Allah will forgive. I may not be so generous.’

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked‚ again.

  ‘You will wait until Qasim has recovered. You will wait until he is able to see the promise of life in front of him. Word will reach you when the time is right and then I want you to snatch that very life away from him.’

  I closed my eyes and tried to even my breathing. I heard his chair slide and footsteps move away. When I opened my eyes‚ Pathaan was behind me over my shoulder‚ his sickly sweet paan breath my ear.

  ‘You are not to fail me again‚ Imran‚’ he glanced up at the balcony. ‘If you hesitate‚ I will give you all the motivation that you need‚ Brother.’

  33

  Jay

  You ever wished for something so hard‚ so fucking hard‚ that it actually comes true?

  I don’t know what I was thinking agreeing to his plan‚ but Idris was convincing and‚ really‚ what were my options? He’d planted the seed in my head and I had spent my two week stint in hospital considering it and nothing else.

  They kicked me out of hospital after a couple of weeks. I was healing nicely and my voice was getting stronger. I wasn’t far off from being back to my annoying best. Idris picked me up in my car. I had given him the keys to my Nova as my Beemer was still somewhere in police lock-up‚ being treated as a crime scene.

  ‘When do you think I’ll get my Beemer back?’ I asked‚ as I tried and failed to get the seatbelt on across my neck.

  ‘I’ll find out.’ Idris pulled out of the hospital car park. ‘As you’re not willing to talk‚ I’m sure it’ll be sooner rather than later... You sure you want to do this tonight?’

  ‘Fuck‚ Idris‚ it was your idea‚ don’t go bottling it now.’

  ‘I’m not. You should get some rest first‚ is all I’m saying.’

  ‘Well don’t. Let’s just get it over and done with.’

  I looked out of the window. It was a bright and crisp evening. I slid down the window and closed my eyes‚ enjoying the cool polluted air on my face as we joined the A4 on the way to Hounslow High Street.

  Idris’ plan was a simple one. This whole episode with Silas started way back‚ before MI5‚ before Teddy Lawrence – when my car was stolen along with Silas’ money and gear‚ and I found myself in debt to him for ten large. Today‚ I was going to pay it back‚ with a five grand cherry on top. It would put a dent in the thanks but no thanks money that I’d received from MI5‚ but I was earning now and willing to take the hit.

  Idris would be by my side‚ in the capacity of the law‚ just so Silas knew that he was on their radar again. Would it be enough to pacify him? I really don’t know. So as insurance‚ I’d written and signed a statement pointing at him as my attacker‚ and had given it to Idris to reveal in the event that there was another hit on me. I’d make that clear to Silas‚ and hope that a potential attempted murder charge hanging over his head would be enough for us to walk in opposite directions.

  I stepped into my bank branch‚ well aware what I looked like and what I was asking for. Behind the glass‚ the lady bank teller lost all her professionalism when she saw my sewn up throat. When I asked for fifteen large‚ she looked at me in fear‚ as though I was going to hold the place up. After I provided identification‚ she set me up with a man in a suit‚ who whisked me away into a stuffy room and interrogated me for twenty minutes before allowing me to leave with my money. A hold up would have been quicker.

  I walked the short distance to where Idris was waiting for me in the Treaty Centre car park‚ paranoid that I was carrying fifteen large in cash in a Tesco canvas bag. The thieves‚ the junkies‚ the hard hitters of Hounslow‚ would be able to smell money on me from a mile away.

  ‘You got it?’ Idris asked‚ as I reached him without incident.

  My throat hurt and my voice was weak so I nodded.

  Idris started the car and we headed for Kingston to make t
he drop to Silas.

  *

  I don’t know much about motorbikes‚ but the one that whispered past us just after we parked across the road from Silas’ house was sick. Dull black‚ with a splash of blood red around the rims.

  The biker parked his motorbike outside the gates to Silas’ place‚ on the opposite kerb to my Nova‚ and for some reason Idris and I both slid down in our seats. We watched him dismount. He was dressed in black leather and he kept his black helmet planted on his head as he walked towards Silas’ house.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Idris asked.

  ‘No. Possibly one of his dealers… Let’s wait ’til he leaves‚’ I said‚ a little relieved at the delay.

  ‘Agreed‚’ said Idris‚ the relief also apparent in his voice.

  34

  Kingston, Southwest London

  Pathaan parked his motorbike across the road from a dated Vauxhall Nova. Through the dark tint of his visor he discreetly scoped the wide suburban street. He felt confident that no-one would pay any attention to him on a quiet weekday afternoon. It was the kind of street that had never before experienced violence.

  He dismounted and walked calmly to the large double-fronted house. Five cars were parked in a neat semi-circle around a tall stone water fountain.

  A drug dealer with immaculate taste. Pathaan could appreciate that.

  It hadn’t been difficult for Imran to obtain Silas’ address. Pathaan had it a few hours after he’d requested it‚ but he sat on it for a while as he casually spent that time scoping the house. He had been surprised not to see any police presence‚ and understood it to mean that Javid Qasim had not talked. It would have been ideal if Silas had been arrested for attempted murder‚ keeping the path clear for Imran to carry out the fatwa. There was no way that the son of Al-Mudarris should die at the hands of a drug-dealing Kafir. Qasim’s death had to arrive at the hands of jihadi.

  But not just yet.

  Realising that no attempted murder charge was heading Silas’ way‚ Pathaan had instructed Imran to wait.

  The front door of the house opened and a well-built black male walked out. In one hand he held a bulky handheld radio transceiver‚ and in the other hand was a glass tumbler with a couple of fingers’ worth of gold liquid. The black man noticed him immediately‚ but it didn’t matter. Pathaan’s intention was not to hide.

  ‘The fuck are you?’ the sentry said as Pathaan walked across the drive‚ passing high-end German manufactured cars and stopping at the door. ‘what’s with the helmet? Ain’t nobody ordered a fucking pizza.’

  Now up close‚ Pathaan sized him up. He was big. Hard black muscles straining through a T-shirt too small for such a physique. His radio crackled and a voice came through.

  ‘Staples‚ who am I looking at?’

  Pathaan glanced up at the camera brazenly pointing directly at him from above the front door. Staples lifted the radio to his mouth.

  ‘I’m just about to find out.’

  Hand to hand‚ Pathaan could have dropped him‚ but considering Staples’ size‚ it would have taken a little time.

  ‘Lose the helmet‚’ Staples instructed. ‘Let’s see if I agree with your face.’

  Pathaan didn’t know what that meant‚ nor did he care.

  He reached a hand behind his back and his fingers moved across the handles of the seven knives that were tucked into his leathers. He slipped out a small push dagger and buried it into Staples’ right shoulder‚ an inch behind the collar bone.

  ‘Motherfucker!’ Staples hissed and reached around with his left hand to remove the protruding blade but before he could‚ a second dagger was inflicting the same punishment to his left shoulder. Staples dropped to his knees. Pathaan didn’t have much time. Silas would have seen the altercation and would be making suitable arrangements. He reached behind and pulled out an altogether larger knife‚ and tucked it under Staples’ chin‚ just enough pressure to kiss and break skin. Pathaan gestured for him to get up onto his feet.

  ‘Inside‚’ he said‚ as Staples spat out redundant threats‚ and pushed open the door.

  Pathaan slipped the hunting knife back in its sheath. He stood close behind Staples‚ using his bulk as a shield. He wrapped his hands around the ivory handles of the daggers sticking out of Staples’ shoulders.

  ‘Move.’

  ‘Fuck you‚’ Staples said. His voice came out hoarse‚ the sweat rolling down the back of his bald head as he stood his ground. Pathaan gripped the handles tighter and turned them so the blades moved a half an inch through the flesh.

  Staples started to move slowly through the wide hallway.

  ‘Take me to Silas.’

  At the end of the large hallway there was a room on either side. Pathaan looked into the large room to his left. A beautifully kept library‚ a grand vinyl record player sitting neatly on top of an oak cabinet‚ crackling out Sinatra. A young woman wearing a red and white string bikini stared blankly up at the chandelier‚ seemingly willing it to drop. She turned her attention to them and‚ despite the blood dripping from Staples’ shoulders‚ she smiled weakly. Pathaan cleared the room with his eyes‚ and when satisfied that‚ apart from the junkie‚ it was empty‚ turned his attention to the room to his right.

  A scrawny white male with a tattooed face and a second‚ dreadlocked male‚ both wielding machetes. Beyond them‚ a man‚ nonchalant despite what was taking place around him‚ was sitting back comfortably on a sofa. His legs stretched out on a coffee table‚ fingers moving quickly over a games controller as the reflection of the seventy-inch television danced wildly in his eyes.

  ‘I’d prefer it if they had guns‚’ Silas said‚ not taking his eyes off the screen. ‘It just seems like you know what you are doing‚ and I’d feel a touch safer if they were packing. Problem is‚ we got raided. Those busy-body coppers took all my pieces‚ but they still couldn’t keep me behind bars. I let somebody else suffer for that‚’ he laughed then swore under his breath as his avatar died a grisly death. He flung the games controller onto the coffee table. It landed noisily on a silver metal tray and made an indentation in the small mountain of cocaine. He turned his attention to Pathaan. ‘So‚ would you like to tell me who you are and what the fuck you are doing in my home?’

  Pathaan answered by ripping out the blades from the shoulders of a shrieking Staples. In the same fluid movement he dug them deep either side of Staples’ waist‚ gliding them upwards and opening up his sides‚ up to his armpits. Staples dropped for the last time‚ his scream fading to a gurgle. Silas took in Pathaan from head to toe.

  ‘I see you’ve met Staples‚’ he smiled. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Aaron and Cassius.’

  Tattoo-faced Aaron and dreadlocked Cassius exchanged smiles and walked side by side towards Pathaan‚ only splitting up on approach. They circled him until one stood in front and the other behind him‚ an arm’s length away. Both moving briskly on the balls of their feet‚ slicing the air with their machetes with murderous intent‚ but‚ Pathaan thought‚ without the will. It was clear that they were waiting for him to make the first move.

  So he did.

  Pathaan placed one foot over the fallen Staples‚ and left his other foot standing in place as he bent low at the knees. He spread his arms out to the side‚ the small bloody blades of the push daggers catching the light in his hands. He flicked his wrists‚ so that his fists were facing down.

  With his arms out to the side‚ his front and back were exposed. Aaron and Cassius saw an opportunity. Each took a step forward‚ machetes high above their shoulders‚ just as Pathaan knew they would. He spun ninety degrees on his heels‚ his waist and his arms moving with the same precise measurement. Both blades met with flesh‚ easily slicing a straight line across their lower abdomens. As their intestines began to spill‚ Pathaan finished them by slamming the daggers into the two men’s hearts.

  Silas watched in fascination as his men took their time dropping to the floor.

  ‘Bravo‚’ he
said‚ pointing a gold-plated Sig Sauer handgun at Silas. ‘That was one hell of an interview. I can confidently say that you have passed the physical.’ He released the safety. ‘Why don’t you sit down so we can discuss how much I’m going to pay you?’

  Pathaan looked at the gun.

  ‘Oh this‚’ Silas said. ‘The coppers didn’t find this one.’

  Pathaan reached back and felt his finger grip the hunting knife as he moved quickly towards Silas. The deafening sound of the gunshot offended him more than the bullet hitting his Kevlar vest and‚ red-teeth bared‚ he dug and twisted the knife into the side of Silas’ neck.

  35

  Jay

  A few minutes after seeing the biker disappear behind the tall gates to Silas’ house‚ our brief reprieve was lifted as he walked back‚ mounted his bike and left. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans‚ and glanced at Idris. He was looking back at me‚ mirroring my I’m not quite ready expression.

  ‘Idris‚’ I said‚ as the biker disappeared out of view. ‘I was thinking...’

  ‘Now’s not the time‚ Jay.’

  ‘I think you should wait in the car. Let me do this.’

  ‘Yeah‚’ Idris said. ‘Let’s not do that.’

  ‘Hear me out. If it all kicks off‚ you could lose your job.’

  ‘You walk in there alone‚ Jay‚’ Idris looked past me towards Silas’ house. ‘You’re not coming back out.’

  I nodded. He was right. I could have argued it‚ but it was pointless. I needed him there. He was an integral part of the plan. More importantly‚ I wanted my friend by my side.

  ‘Don’t go blaming me afterwards‚ then.’

  ‘Course I’m going to blame you‚’ Idris smiled. ‘Don’t worry‚ the plan is tight. In and out‚ yeah?’ He reached around to the back seat and grabbed the cash-filled Tesco bag and placed it on my lap.

  ‘Money talks‚’ he said‚ his glass half full.

  ‘Bullshit walks‚’ I said‚ mine half empty.

  We stepped out onto the street and side by side we crossed the road‚ and walked through Silas’ drive‚ past all of his killer motors. We stood at the door and pressed the doorbell. We waited a long minute before I decided to ring again.