Khurrum Rahman - East of Hounslow

The car started to slow down without any obvious reason‚ there was no traffic for as far as I could see and there wasn’t an exit for them to take. The driver indicated left and pulled over onto the hard shoulder.

That really threw me. Were they going to beat me‚ or worse‚ right there on the hard shoulder‚ with hundreds of witnesses driving past? This was bordering on the bizarre and if it wasn’t for the pain racing through my shoulder I would have had this down as some sort of cheese-induced dream.

I heard the loud growl of an engine and I turned back to see a serious-looking black motorbike pull up a few feet behind us. The rider walked towards the car. He was still wearing his helmet and in his other hand he held another. The couple opened their doors and got out of the car. They stood in a tight triangle by the side of the car. The rider handed the woman the spare helmet‚ and I saw him reach up and take his own helmet off and hand that to the man‚ as well as the keys to the bike. I couldn’t see his face but he was tall and powerfully built. I watched as the couple mounted the motorbike and rode off. The driver’s side door opened and the rider climbed in.

He turned and faced me and his dark‚ dead eyes seemed to look right through me.

*

You know when you give somebody cut eyes. That look‚ that glare. The one that says in no uncertain terms that I am not scared of you. You should be scared of me. In my world that look is second nature. It took me a while to perfect it‚ and I used it as a weapon. I could tell you about any number of occasions when I’ve got out of scrapes and misunderstandings just by shutting somebody down with that look. Eyes slightly narrowed‚ grinding teeth‚ jaw clamped tight. Measured and menacing. I had it down to a fine art.

But this guy… Forget about it.

He looked at me as if I wasn’t there. His eyelids drooped in a way that cried out for sleep. The whites of his eyes were tinged with yellow and his pupils were two black holes. His face made him look older than his body would have you believe. I couldn’t compete and I dropped eye contact almost immediately.

‘Javid Qasim.’ Not a question. He knew me.

‘Yeah‚’ I said‚ without sound. I swallowed and said it again‚ with as much confidence as I could. ‘Yeah.’

He reached into the pocket of his trampy pea coat.

‘Turn around.’

‘Fuck you.’ I hissed. False bravado making an appearance.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and I recoiled. He was holding up a small key. ‘Turn around.’ This time I did and he removed my handcuffs.

‘Thanks.’ I muttered‚ as I twisted my wrists‚ trying to get the blood circulating back into them.

He turned away from me and faced front. He adjusted the rear-view mirror until he had a good visual of me.

‘My name is Kingsley Parker. And right now I’m the only friend you’ve got.’

19

Friend?

Like buddies? Like Best Friends Forever? Like‚ let’s go for a pint and try our luck with the local talent?

I don’t think so.

Parker passed me a deck of B&H over his shoulder. I took one out and slipped it between my lips. I lit it using the car lighter‚ while he watched me through the rear view mirror. I pocketed his deck.

‘Javid Qasim‚’ Parker said‚ and continued monotonously. ‘Jay‚ to your friends. You’ve lived all your life in Hounslow with your Mum‚ Afeesa Qasim‚ who just this morning flew from Heathrow to Doha‚ Qatar‚ with one Andrew Bishop. You were there to see her off‚ along with your childhood friend‚ and now Detective Inspector‚ Idris Zaidi.’ He waited a beat. I let it sink in. He continued. ‘You are not averse to a drink‚ most usually a pint of San Miguel at your local pub‚ the Rising Sun‚ and you like to have the odd gamble which you carry out online on your phone which‚ by the way‚ is a Samsung Galaxy S8.’ He turned his head slightly over his shoulder towards me. ‘You haven’t had much luck recently. Maybe gambling isn’t your thing.’

‘Kane missed that penalty in the last minute. Would have been quids in otherwise‚’ I said‚ as though this was a casual fucking conversation.

He turned back and continued to address me through the mirror. ‘You attend Sutton Mosque every Friday for prayers and you helped with the clean-up and restoration of the mosque after it was attacked.’

‘Alright mate. Stop right there. Wanna tell me what you want?’

‘We’ve been watching you‚ Javid.’

‘ No! Really? ’ I said. ‘And call me Jay.’

He nodded.

I put out my cigarette in the small ashtray and clumsily climbed into the front seat. The sudden movement caused Parker to swiftly pull his arms up at chest height in a defensive stance‚ fists tight and ready. In doing so his elbow hit the wiper switch. I sat next to him‚ showing the palms of my hands in a placatory gesture. He relaxed and dropped his hands onto his lap. We both looked ahead in awkward silence and watched the wipers redundantly judder against the dry windscreen.

‘Look. I know you ain’t the fuzz‚’ I said‚ reaching across and turning off the wipers. ‘So… who or what are you then?’

‘I work for the government‚ son.’

A cold shiver ran down my spine. He had already mentioned my affiliation with Sutton Mosque. Had they put two and two together and got twenty-two? ‘I’m not a terrorist‚ I swear.’

‘No. I know that.’

I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

‘What the fuck‚ man? Can we stop playing twenty questions?’

It was clear that Parker was uncertain where to begin. I wondered if maybe the guy who was originally supposed to be here had called in sick‚ and they’d had to draft in this clueless lump to take his place.

‘Jay‚ we are in the process of recruitment and development. Part of the reason for the surveillance was to establish personality. You‚ Jay‚ fit the profile and we would like you to come and work with us at MI5.’

‘MI5!? Get the fuck outta here.’ I snorted‚ looking around the car for hidden cameras. It had to be a joke‚ an elaborate set up. ‘Who put you up to this? Is this gonna be on YouTube?’

‘You are young‚ capable and according to your medical records you are fit and healthy. You would make a fantastic addition to the team. A real asset… We think you can make a difference. I am offering you a job‚ son.’

The way he said that left me with no doubt that he was telling me the truth. And I hate to admit it but it excited me.

‘But…’ he said. And left it there.

‘Oh‚ here we go. But what?’

‘You’re in deep with Silas Drakos. You owe him some money and from what I’ve been told not only is it a substantial amount‚ but you haven’t got a hope in hell of paying him back. Now‚ unless you’ve got that kind of cash stashed somewhere we haven’t been able to find it‚ I think you’re about to be on the back end of a lashing. And given Drakos’ history‚ it’s not going to end well for you‚ son.’

Not that I was counting‚ but that was the third time that he had called me son. I didn’t mind it. It felt strangely comforting.

‘You’re in a whole lot of trouble.’

Parker turned to face me just in time to see me shrug. ‘You don’t know the half of it‚’ I said‚ under my breath.

‘No‚ you don’t know the half of it.’

‘That supposed mean?’ I asked. His agitation fed mine.

‘Aside from Silas‚ the police have evidence to make a very strong case against you. The way things are looking‚ you could be doing some hard time. They know about the flat in Cranford.’

That shook me. They fucking had me.