Khurrum Rahman - Ride or Die

Samuel had informed Sophia that he had located her online, sifting through her various profiles on social media. Samuel Carter wasn’t in a position to help her further her non-existent career, but he was in the position to help her. Why he chose her, she didn’t know or ask, but she was aware enough to realise that her online presence exuded a certain desperation and a willingness.

The job he had presented to her was easy, low-risk and with a pay-off to the tune of fifty thousand pounds. Ten that had already been delivered after their one and only conversation, left in a locker at Metro Bank – that’s what the key attached to the phone was for. The money was there in a small bundle of fifty pound notes, which she had pocketed and transported safely back home and hidden amongst the guts of her computer. Samuel hadn’t been in touch since.

Sophia reached across to her cabinet and from the drawer picked out the pay-as-you-go Nokia handset. She turned it on and waited a long minute for any alerts to come through. When that didn’t transpire, panic didn’t quite set in, but it was nearby. Had Samuel changed his mind?

Sophia shuffled up on the bed and rested her head back against the creaky headboard. She tried to relax, tried breathing techniques to force the panic from knocking on the door. If Samuel didn’t get in touch, then what? Was it still on for tomorrow? Worst case, she still had ten thousand pounds. But ten wasn’t exactly fifty. She’d already spent the fifty in her head. She was going to update her portfolio and replace cheaply taken selfies with professional shots. Then she’d hire a music studio and lay down the tracks that she’d been writing since she was thirteen and finally direct and star in her very own, high-production music video, possibly in Paris, possibly Rome, and share the hell out of it, until someone important sat up and took notice. Hadn’t Justin Bieber got noticed online? She would stretch every penny of that fifty thousand pounds. She’d give it her best shot. Her last shot.

Sophia checked the phone signal, five solid bars stared proudly back at her. She checked the volume. She even called it using her own phone, and it rang loudly in her hand. Sophia considered her options. Samuel had treated her like an equal, she reasoned. It wasn’t just a set of instructions, he had actually asked her for advice about the task ahead. Just like a partner. A business partner. She stared at his phone number. He hadn’t said not to call, and surely one partner should be able to call the other.

Sophia pressed dial and butterflies the size of bats fluttered and danced away in the pit of her stomach. She cleared her throat several times as it rang once, twice, three times, before abruptly being cut off by a smarmy automated voice, telling her that Samuel Carter had found somebody better suited, or words to that effect.

‘ Shit!’

Sophia disconnected the call as the butterflies vacated, leaving her stomach feeling cold and empty. She stared at the phone until the screen dimmed.

‘ Shit! ’

The small screen came to life and the unexpected ringing made her jump.

‘ Oh, shit! ’

The butterflies were back with a vengeance, and they’d brought their butterfly friends with them. ‘Hello,’ she answered carefully.

‘I apologise,’ he said, and she thought she heard the slightest of accents, which hadn’t been evident the last time they spoke. He lost it by clearing his throat. ‘I had to find a quiet spot.’

‘Oh, yeah, yep, yes. No problem. Not. A. Problem,’ she replied, aiming for nonchalance but getting nowhere near it. She cleared her throat loudly and wondered how disgusting it would’ve sounded.

‘You called, Sophia,’ he said. ‘I trust everything is okay?’

She loved how he said her name, like it was meant to be said. Samuel waited patiently and Sophia had to switch on and recall why she’d called. Why had she called?

‘Are we definitely on for tomorrow? It’s just I hadn’t heard anything.’

‘Yes, Sophia. We are planning to go ahead tomorrow, as discussed. But, as I said before, it’s entirely your call. If you feel that you may encounter logistical issues, then, by all means, we can further discuss or… We can abort.’

She had never before, not once, been spoken to like that. He valued her opinion. He actually valued the value of her opinion. Sophia smiled as she wiggled her big toe through the hole in her tights. They were partners. Partners in crime! As for logistical issues, all she had to do was leave the patio door unlocked, turn a blind eye, and then deal with the fallout with the police.

‘I can’t see there being any logistical issues,’ Sophia replied. Check me out, talking logistics, she thought. ‘I think we should proceed.’

‘Excellent, Sophia,’ Samuel said. ‘It’s been a delight dealing with you. Now, I’m sorry to say that this will be the last time that you and I shall be speaking.’

‘Oh,’ she said, her heart taking a sideways dive. She wasn’t sure why.

‘I’m afraid so. After this call, can you possibly delete this phone number and call register and dispose of the cell phone discreetly.’

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll dash it. Like, an outside bin? Or even in the river?’ Sophia said, enjoying the drama of throwing away incriminating evidence in the river in the cold of the night, right under the noses of where the rich lived.

‘Outside bin is fine. Just as long as the cell is cleared.’

‘Okay,’ she said, nodding thoughtfully to herself, as she recalled the Jason Bourne movie she’d seen the previous night. ‘Should I take it apart piece by piece and put the battery in one bin, and the other bit in another bin, maybe on another street. And the sim card… I could destroy the sim card by frying it.’

Sophia thought she heard a sigh.

‘It’s fine to throw it away in one piece. It’s unregistered.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Sophia said, slightly cut. Maybe she was trying too hard. She should just say as little as possible, though that had never been her style. She had to think about number one. ‘When do I get the rest of the money?’ Sophia asked, carefully.

‘A second key for a second locker will be posted to your address. The same as last time. The remainder of the fee will be there.’

Sophia had no reason to doubt Samuel Carter.

The hotel room phone trilled in my ear. Shut the fuck up! I lifted the edges of the pillow tightly over my ears. The trill dimmed but just would not quit. Defeated, I reached out to it, blindly knocking a bottle of water off the side table as I located the phone.

‘Good morning, Mr Qasim,’ the smoothest of voices said. ‘This is your eight-thirty wake-up call.’

‘Yeah, I’m up, man. I’m up,’ I slurred. My tongue felt as though it was wearing a fur coat and my breath bounced back at me off the phone. I turned my face away in disgust and noticed that the bottle of water that I had knocked over was actually a bottle of beer, steadily dripping onto the carpet. That damn minibar had broken my defences.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ I groaned to myself as I straightened the bottle. That was going to cost me about seven quid in Qatari money!

‘Excuse me?’ the voice said, losing a little smoothness.

‘No, not you… Thanks. Bye.’

I replaced the receiver and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for my vision to clear, trying to piece together my movements before sleep had eventually found me at… who knows when. The last time I had glanced at the clock, it was four something, closer to five.

The thought of meeting Imy had twisted me up inside, and I just wanted to forget about him, just for a minute. I think I had a moment of madness. Me. On my own. Wanting to let the fuck loose with total abandonment before I faced up to my responsibilities.