East of Hounslow Read online

  ‘Yes. Okay. I get the picture‚’ Parker said. Not rudely‚ though that’s how it sounded.

  ‘They do not fit a single demographic profile and they all have different views and assumed paths. Drawn in for reasons political‚ personal‚ religious or otherwise. They don’t wear a uniform and they don’t play by any particular rules. So you tell me. How do we know? How can they be profiled?’

  Parker nodded thoughtfully. Gladstone was right. How do we know?

  Parker took a sip of tea. Gladstone did the same.

  ‘It’s a judgement call‚ Parker.’

  13

  I had killed thirteen prostitutes‚ sent a missile into a cop car and accidentally shot my best friend in the head. In the process I’d made almost a half a mill and that figure was rapidly rising. But it wasn’t the kind of money that would impress Silas‚ and hiding in bed for two days straight‚ playing Grand Theft Auto‚ was not going to solve my problem.

  I was fully aware of the deep shit I was in‚ but I needed time to think. And the result of all my thinking? Not a goddamn thing. I would have to resort to asking Mum. There was nothing to be ashamed of in asking a parent for help. It’s my right to ask and it’s her right to provide.

  I pushed myself out of bed and I padded my way downstairs. Halfway down I heard an unfamiliar voice.

  A male voice.

  I pushed open the kitchen door just as said voice uttered something so fucking hilarious that it made Mum throw herself onto his lap. My presence soon put a stop to their laughter and they both smiled nervously at me as they took in my evident bedhead and my Batman onesie. Mum had the good grace to detach herself from him. She walked over to me and planted one on my cheek. I sat down opposite whoever the fuck he was and Mum slid into the seat closest to him – even though the seat next to me was available!

  ‘This is‚ um‚ Andrew. Andrew Bishop‚’ Mum said‚ by way of introduction. ‘Andrew‚ this is my son‚ Jay.’

  He put his right hand out‚ I put my right hand out too but it didn’t make contact. Instead I reached past his hand and in a pathetic act of rebellion I grabbed his coffee and took a sip of it whilst eyeballing him from over the rim.

  One-nil to me.

  He took his left hand into his right and shook his own hand at some attempt at humour and it made my Mum unsuccessfully stifle a laugh.

  One-one.

  We sat in awkward silence for a few seconds as I finished off Andrew’s coffee‚ daring him to say something to me in my domain. I checked him out. Dark‚ wavy‚ presidential hair dropping effortlessly over his big forehead. A nose that can only be described as prominent and dark eyes which held mine without hesitation. Stripy shirt with a loose brown blazer‚ with patches on the elbow and a jaunty novelty tie that sat askew. Looking for all the world like a geography teacher.

  Andrew glanced at his watch. ‘Oh‚ look at that. Must dash.’

  Yeah‚ on your bike‚ mate. Dash away!

  ‘Andrew’‚ Mum said‚ ‘teaches at Heston Primary.’

  I knew it.

  I shrugged. Big and exaggerated. The kind of shrug that did not require decrypting. Andrew and Mum stood up in tandem. Mum stepped to him‚ straightened his tie and then tiptoed and kissed him on the face. On the fucking face! They smiled stupidly at each other for a second‚ and then they walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I heard the front door open but not close. I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway and made myself into a sixth toe. I watched them carefully talking in hushed tones. I sniffed loudly. I cleared my throat. I forced a cough until finally he got the message and walked out.

  Mum gave him a cheery wave and said ‘Good luck!’ She hesitantly shut the door after Andrew was out of sight‚ and I made my way back into the kitchen for some Coco Pops.

  Mum walked in as I was slamming the kitchen cabinet shut. She slapped me on the back of the head.

  ‘What the fu—’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘What was that for?’ I asked‚ rubbing the back of my head.

  ‘Calm down‚ Jay. You’ve made your point‚’ Mum said.

  I finished preparing my cereal and sat at the table whilst she loaded the dishwasher. This clearly was not the right time to ask for ten large.

  So instead I asked‚ ‘Good luck for what?’

  Mum didn’t answer me straight away. She took off her marigolds and pulled up a chair opposite me. Her features softened‚ her earlier annoyance with me no longer visible.

  ‘It’s Andrew’s last day at school.’

  ‘How sweet. Are all the kids going to sign his shirt and flour bomb him?’ I said‚ through a mouthful.

  Ignoring my sarcasm‚ Mum placed both her hands out invitingly onto the middle of the table. I looked at her curiously as I crunched loudly on my cereal. I slowly put the spoon back in the bowl and my hands reached out to hers.

  ‘Jay… We need to talk.’

  I swallowed. Never had she said that to me before. Yeah‚ we talk but we don’t talk.

  ‘What is it‚ Mum?’

  I could see her trying to piece together the words in her head which just added to my already increasing anxiety. Different scenarios ran through my mind‚ none of them pleasant.

  ‘Mum! What?’ I said‚ and it came out like a high pitched squawk. My hands had tensed and tightened around Mum’s.

  ‘Andrew and I. We‚ um… Well‚ we… I don’t know quite how to say this.’

  Okay‚ so they had been seeing each other. No big deal. I wasn’t that naïve to think that Mum was still pottering around the house‚ pining for a good Muslim man to make an honest woman of her. I released my hands from hers. It’s wasn’t like she was dying‚ or anything that would warrant holding hands. For a second there‚ just for a minute‚ she had frightened me.

  ‘Yeah‚ yeah‚ Mum. You don’t have to spell it out.’ I aimed for and hit nonchalance. ‘So you’re seeing this Andrew character. I get it. So what we looking at? Marriage? Is he moving in? Gonna live in sin‚ are we?’ I said‚ with a wink. I leaned back in my chair and continued to devour my Coco Pops.

  Silence for a moment. Then‚ ‘We are going to live together… In Qatar.’

  I stopped eating. ‘Where?’

  ‘Qatar‚ it’s in the—’

  ‘Yeah‚ I know where Qatar is.’ I said‚ unnecessarily raising my voice. ‘When?’ I asked‚ a little softer.

  ‘Soon… Wednesday.’

  ‘Wednesday. This Wednesday? As in the day after tomorrow? That Wednesday?’ I said incredulously. Even as I was saying this my mind was in overdrive. This could be my way out. Yeah‚ Wednesday. I can be out of here before my Friday midnight deadline and not have to worry about Silas. This could work!

  ‘I know what you’re thinking‚ Jay.’

  You have no idea what I’m thinking.

  ‘But Andrew has been offered a teaching job in Doha and he asked me to go with him.’

  I didn’t say anything. Thinking‚ thinking‚ thinking.

  ‘I kept declining‚’ she continued. ‘I must have said no a hundred times. I kept wondering how it would affect you. But then I thought… I’m not such a bad Mum. I’ve done a pretty good job raising you on my own. A beautiful boy to a handsome young man.’

  She kept on going. I tuned out.

  My mind was made up. In the last few seconds I had planned out my next few days. I had to see Idris… and I guess I should probably see that annoying twerp Parvez. Say my farewells. Goodbye lads‚ I am off to pastures new. Hot and exotic. I’ll send you a postcard. Goodbye‚ Silas‚ I’ll definitely send you a postcard. Maybe a picture of me on a sunbed browning myself with a Margarita in hand. Oh yeah‚ the ultimate fuck you.

  I tuned back into the conversation feeling elated.

  ‘You’ll never know how proud I am when I’m with you… But it’s time to think about myself. I know you’ll be alright‚ Jay…’ She wiped her tears. I hadn’t even realised that she had been crying. She cleared her throat. �
�I’ll leave everything documented for you‚ service providers and any important phone numbers.’

  What? Where is she going with this?

  ‘I’m confident‚ in fact I’m certain‚ that you can run things around here.’

  That’s when it hit me. Late to the party as always.

  ‘Am I not coming with you‚ Mum?’ I said‚ my voice only just above a whisper.

  ‘Oh‚ Jay‚’ Mum said‚

  She stood up and walked around the table and held my head tightly to her chest. I sat frozen‚ listening to her heartbeat and it took all my effort not to cry. I closed my eyes tightly and inhaled deeply her scent‚ the realisation hitting me that from here on‚ my problems were mine alone. I got myself into this mess. I had to get myself out.

  If Mum believed that I was ready to be a man then‚ fuck it‚ I was ready to be a man. I detached myself from her and emerged with a smile that told her exactly that.

  14

  Hounslow High Street hustled and bristled with every type of religion‚ culture and colour. Ten different languages could be heard in a two-minute walk. All walks of life from the prim to the pauper. Students‚ couples‚ doddery old dears‚ shoppers looking for their Pound Shop fix mingling with the shoplifters‚ chancers‚ dealers and thugs that kept Hounslow police station one of the busiest nicks in West London. In keeping with the rest of Hounslow‚ the police station was a nondescript‚ brown‚ square building‚ dull and dated. Scaffolding had covered the side of it for as long as anyone could remember‚ and the enquiries desk had been moved to a shoddy Portakabin plonked directly outside‚ with an ever present queue.

  As per usual‚ Idris Zaidi walked past the Portakabin at the start of his shift with a disappointed shake of the head‚ and as per usual Idris Zaidi promised himself he would work on his transfer out of Hounslow. A transfer to neighbouring and upmarket Chiswick would be nice. A better class of criminal. It was that fantasy that was ringing around his head as he carelessly brushed into the oncoming Chief Superintendent Penelope Wakefield.

  ‘Ma’am‚’ Idris said. ‘My apologies.’

  Wakefield mumbled something incoherent until she realised who it was and her eyes widened.

  ‘Zaidi. My office in ten.’

  ‘Yes‚ ma’am‚’ Idris replied‚ and stood straight to attention‚ noticing the man who was accompanying the Chief. He was dressed in a shoddy old ill-fitting pea coat‚ with a woolly hat pulled down low. Idris acknowledged him with a tight smile. The man stared back at Idris with such intensity it felt as if he was trying to see into his soul.

  *

  Idris stood in front of the large‚ pine desk. Files and documents were stacked neatly in the corner. The half-eaten remnants of a breakfast bar and a sealed fruit yoghurt sat in a small Tupperware box. A computer whirred breathlessly‚ as if exhausted by the punishment it had to endure. The Chief’s eyes were on him. Idris glanced down at the empty chair next to him‚ waiting to be asked to occupy it. Her phone had the audacity to ring and‚ without taking her eyes off him‚ she answered it before the first ring had faded. She greeted the caller with a stern ‘Not now!’ and the phone was back safely in its cradle. It would be a very long time before that caller tried to ring again.

  Idris was not about to play a game of who blinks first.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  Wakefield inhaled through her nose and then expelled air through her mouth. ‘We have shown a great deal of faith in you‚ Zaidi.’

  ‘Yes‚ ma’am.’

  ‘You got a first in Law from Queen Mary University.’ It wasn’t a question‚ so he didn’t answer. ‘We saw the potential in you from very early on and we admitted you in the Fast Track Promotion and Development Programme‚ a decision which was not roundly popular amongst your peers‚ especially those senior to you. The Fast Track Programme duration is three years‚’ she squinted at him ‘You completed it in two.’

  ‘Yes‚ ma’am.’ What else was there to say? Idris wondered why his CV was being regurgitated at him.

  ‘You were out of uniform‚ sub-heading and then heading teams in a remarkably short space of time. Your record speaks for itself.’

  ‘Yes‚ ma’am. Thank you‚ ma’am.’ Idris felt like he’d said too much even though he had hardly said anything.

  ‘With your Law degree you chose to uphold the law rather than stand in a court and pick holes in it.’

  Idris chose to say nothing.

  ‘So‚ my question to you is this: Why did you choose to become a police officer?’

  Idris cleared his throat. He knew the answer to this. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked this very question. In fact‚ he remembered smashing this very question when he’d first been interviewed for the Met.

  ‘I was attracted to the diversity of the role. Every new day brings a new challenge‚ which I thrive on both mentally and physically. The opportunity to help people make better choices and the opportunity to save lives. Being able to lead a—’

  ‘Stop. Start again. This time you tell me. I don’t want hear extracts from a handbook.’

  Idris swallowed‚ his throat was dry‚ his palms sweaty. His pupils floated to the far right of his eyes as he tried to recall the real reason that made him apply for a life in the force when he had other‚ easier and certainly more lucrative options.

  ‘My father‚ actually‚’ Idris said‚ smiling at the memory. ‘Yes‚ my father. He would say to me time and time again: Son‚ there is too much violence and evil in this world which we cannot control. But we can control what is happening on our doorstep. It’s funny but I’ve never told anybody that before.’ Idris looked at the Chief for some sign of softness or emotion. There was none. Wakefield’s eyes were steady and steely.

  ‘We grew up in a bad neighbourhood. My dad wanted to be part of the force but all he could manage was a job as a security guard. A job which he took very seriously. Sometimes to a fault.’ Idris shrugged. ‘And I wanted to emulate that attitude‚ that mentality. One day I’m going to have kids and I want them to grow up in a safe environment‚ which I know is probably just a pipe dream. But I have to try‚ and it’s not just for my children‚ it’s for everyone who cannot protect themselves. I want to protect them as my father protected me. I am sick and tired of the scum that litter our streets.’

  Wakefield smashed the palm of her hands on the table. The sound reverberated around the room. The neatly stacked pile of documents shuddered and dislodged‚ the top sheet decided to make a break for it and lazily arced through the air before landing itself in the bin. The shudder also disturbed the mouse and the PC monitor came to life‚ lending a harsh glow to Wakefield’s face.

  ‘So why is it that you have been seen on many occasions with a known drug dealer?’

  There it was.

  Jay.

  Wakefield calmly tucked a stray hair behind her ear which had become loose during her outburst. A feminine gesture which seemed out of character.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Idris asked in a low‚ measured tone.

  ‘Do you know how it would look for you‚ for us‚ if word got out that one of our own has been associating with a drug dealer?’

  Without taking her eyes off him‚ Wakefield opened up the top drawer to her right and picked out a brown envelope. She threw it down on the desk.

  Idris picked it up and slipped out several photographs printed on 7 x 5 glossy card. There were three photos‚ all taken within a very short period. Minutes.

  The first was of Idris and Jay in a Vauxhall Nova‚ Jay’s arm hanging out of the window with a dubious roll-up in his hand. The second appeared to show a third person peering through the driver’s window‚ seemingly in conversation with Jay.

  The third photo showed a clear exchange of currency and a small package.

  Idris calmly slid the photos back into the envelope and placed it back on the desk.

  ‘He’s a friend‚’ Idris said quietly and clenched his jaw waiting for the onslaught.

  �
�You stupid boy. The front page of every bloody tabloid‚ if this gets out. I can see it as clear as day. What do you think is going to happen to you‚ Zaidi? Hmm? Sitting in the bloody car with a criminal whilst a drug deal takes place right under your bloody nose.’

  ‘With all due respect‚ ma’am‚’ Idris countered. ‘He’s a low level juggler. He only deals to mates. It’s not like we’re looking at him.’ Idris’ eyes fell on the envelope. ‘Why are we looking at him?’

  ‘We’re not‚’ Wakefield said. A small change in her expression led Idris to believe that she had given away far more than she wanted to.

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong‚ ma’am.’

  ‘You have a bright future ahead of you Zaidi and you are in real danger of jeopardising all that you have worked towards‚ and all the trust we have placed in you… Am I making myself clear‚ Zaidi?

  Idris gritted his teeth and held his tongue.

  ‘I insist that you cut off ties with Javid Qasim.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘You are not to see him again.’

  Idris knew how this was going to sound but he said it anyway. ‘He’s my friend.’

  ‘Make a choice‚ Detective Inspector.’ Wakefield said‚ emphasising his title to hammer home the point.

  ‘This is bullshit‚’ Idris muttered under his breath‚ purposely loud enough for the Chief to hear. Wakefield let it slide as she replaced the envelope back in the top drawer.

  ‘Dismissed.’

  Idris stood his ground for a moment‚ his blood bubbled and threatened to spill over. He eyed the Chief momentarily before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. He placed his hand on the door handle but didn’t turn it. A question had been burning through his mind as soon as he had seen the photographs. He looked down at his hand and his knuckles had turned white. He released it and turned to face the Chief.

  ‘Who was that man you were talking to outside?’