Khurrum Rahman - Ride or Die

‘Told with striking panache. Announces the arrival of a fine, fresh new thriller writer’

Daily Mail

‘Combining humour and tragedy is one of the hardest literary challenges, but Khurrum Rahman succeeds.’

TLS

‘A brilliant thriller. You’d be mad not to buy this.’

Ben Aaronovitch

‘A very funny but tense thriller… Think Four Lions meets Phone Shop ’

Red

‘As much a coming-of-age story as a full-on action thriller, East of Hounslow is thought-provoking and entirely gripping.’

Guardian

‘Excellent book. Phenomenal writing.’

BA Paris

‘Sweary, funny and, above all, an absolutely cracking thriller that you’ll tear through, this is the anti-James Bond that the 21st century needs’

Emerald Street

‘ East of Hounslow , in which a young Muslim finds himself forced to become an MI5 plant in a group of jihadists, is as British as Nelson’s Column. A superb and exciting debut novel’

Telegraph

‘The best thriller I’ve read in ages’

Stephen Leather

‘I loved it. More please’

Mel McGrath

‘Builds to a heart-constricting climax’

Times Crime Club

‘Clipped dialogues, staccato sentences and the hilariously brilliant prose set the pace of this excellent unputdownable crime thriller. The climax will leave you breathless.’

New Indian Express

Born in Karachi, Pakistan in 1975 KHURRUM RAHMANmoved to England when he was one. He is a West London boy and now lives in Berkshire with his wife and two sons.

Khurrum is currently working as a Senior IT Officer but his real love is writing. He has a screenplay which has been optioned by a Danish TV producer but is now concentrating on novels.

His first two books in the Jay Qasim series, East of Hounslow and Homegrown Hero have been shortlisted for the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Novel and CWA John Creasey Debut Dagger.

Khurrum Rahman

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020

Copyright © Khurrum Rahman 2020

Khurrum Rahman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2020 ISBN: 9780008322434

Version 2020-06-16

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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008322434

In memory of my beautiful Dad x

Cover

Praise

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Prologue

Part 1

Chapter 1: Javid Qasim (Jay)

Chapter 2: Imran Siddiqui (Imy)

Chapter 3: Jay

Chapter 4: Imy

Chapter 5: Jay

Chapter 6: Imy

Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Jay

Chapter 9: Imy

Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Jay

Chapter 12: Jay

Chapter 13: Imy

Chapter 14: Jay

Chapter 15: Imy

Chapter 16: Jay

Chapter 17: Imy

Chapter 18: Jay

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21: Jay

Chapter 22

Chapter 23: Jay

Chapter 24: Imy

Chapter 25

Chapter 26: Jay

Chapter 27

Chapter 28: Jay

Chapter 29: Jay

Chapter 30

Chapter 31: Jay

Part 2

Chapter 32: Jay

Chapter 33: The Teacher

Chapter 34: Imy

Chapter 35: Jay

Chapter 36: Imy

Chapter 37: Jay

Chapter 38: Imy

Chapter 39: Jay

Chapter 40: Imy

Chapter 41

Chapter 42: Jay

Chapter 43: Imy

Chapter 44: Jay

Chapter 45: Jay

Chapter 46

Chapter 47: Jay

Chapter 48: Imy

Chapter 49: Jay

Chapter 50: Imy

Chapter 51: Jay

Chapter 52: Imy

Chapter 53: Jay

Chapter 54: Imy

Chapter 55: Jay

Chapter 56: Imy

Chapter 57: Jay

Chapter 58: Imy

Chapter 59: Jay

Chapter 60: Imy

Chapter 61: Jay

Chapter 62: Imy

Chapter 63: Jay

Chapter 64: Imy

Chapter 65: Jay

Chapter 66: Jay

Chapter 67: Imy

Chapter 68: Jay

Chapter 69: Imy

Chapter 70: Jay

Chapter 71: Imy

Chapter 72: Jay

Chapter 73: The Teacher

Chapter 74: Jay

Chapter 75: Imy

Chapter 76: Jay

Acknowledgements

Extract

About the Publisher

In that very heartbeat, I knew what I had to do.

As I watched, his small hand emerged out of his pocket, a detonator gripped high above his head, high enough for me to see. In a hall full of guests, I alone was his audience and he had my attention. The serene smile on the face of the ten-year-old boy was one of no regret and no fear of death, only victory. There would be no second guessing, no degree of falling to my knees and begging to sacrifice my life for the lives of my family.

There was only one way it would go. This was my punishment.

His serene smile was the last thing I saw before a white light filled my eyes and an explosion filled my ears. He took his own life and snatched away everything that I had allowed myself to believe would forever be mine.

I held my family in my arms, tight to me, their faces and bodies burnt and broken and breathless. Through my tears and through my screams, I never once asked why .

I knew why.

The rage was the only emotion that I’d felt and I welcomed it back like an old friend.

I knew what I had to do, and I would allow the rage to dictate my actions.

Fake News.

Definition: Bullshit information fed by bullshit media to fit a bullshit narrative.

Flat on my backside, arms flopped to my side, laid out on a sun lounger with one of those big umbrella things above me, protecting me from the blazing sun, with nothing but another lazy day ahead of me. On the small plastic table next to me, a bottle of water sat upright on top of a book. Yeah, a book! Seemed like a good idea at the time. Seemed like a holiday thing to do, but really I could not be arsed. Give me some credit, though, I attempted it, ripped through a few chapters, but it just felt way too much like homework. Fuck, man, I barely did homework at school, I sure ain’t doing homework on holiday! Next to the book was my phone, also taking a well-deserved rest, and some loose change that amounted to either a fortune or jack-shit. I don’t know, I still hadn’t sussed out the exchange rate.