Homegrown Hero. Khurrum Rahman
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he said‚ as he typed into the search bar Bus - Attack - Muslim.
‘Paki?’ Kramer asked.
‘Yeah‚ Paki.’
He got a hit immediately. The video had been removed from the first three links‚ but the fourth had it available in full high definition glory. They both watched the short footage in silence.
‘Is it them?’ Rose said‚ as it came to an end.
‘Can’t be certain with their faces covered liked that. But‚ yeah‚ judging by the size and the way they’re dressed‚ that could well be Simon Carpenter and Anthony Hanson. This happen last night?’
Rose nodded.
‘Fuck! They don’t hang about. That must have been a few hours after I saw them at the rally‚’ Kramer said. ‘I broke their balls about fucking about at these marches. I think maybe they went too far trying to prove a point.’
‘They certainly did that. There was a third person with them – whoever filmed it.’
‘Yeah‚’ Kramer nodded. ‘I think I know who that could be.’
Rose closed the lid of the laptop and drummed his fingers lightly.
‘Go find them‚ Kramer. I want the three of them in my office.’
After Heston Hall‚ after hearing Naaim’s story‚ I couldn’t go home‚ not with it ringing around my head. I’d wrongly assumed it was going to be a soppy‚ mixed-relationship-parents-don’t-approve tale. I’d heard many of those before and crap like that did not impress me‚ especially with all the real crap taking place around the world. I was cynical. I had become cynical. The last twelve months had hardened me‚ my experience jolted me awake to the serious threat that Muslims faced every minute of every day.
‘Before you ask‚ the answer’s no‚’ Idris said‚ trawling around in my mind. It was alright‚ though‚ I had known Idris long enough to grant him a little room in my head. We were shooting pool in an empty bar in Chiswick and I’d just finished telling him about Layla.
‘No what?’ I said‚ bent over the pool table‚ lining up a spectacular double on the black ball when other easier options were available. It was the showman in me.
‘C’mon‚ Jay. You want me to find out about the investigation.’
I shrugged and swung my cue‚ clumsily slicing the white ball and sending it straight into the pocket.
‘Shit‚ Jay‚’ Idris spluttered into his Sprite‚ then pulled off the shot that I had just royally screwed up. I dug into my pocket and paid him his dues‚ a two-pound coin.
‘Just ask around‚ is all I’m saying.’
‘It’s not my department‚ Jay. But‚ yeah‚ there’ll be an inquest into the suicide‚ and if I hear anything‚ I’ll let you know. Seriously though‚ don’t make it your business.’
‘I’m not‚’ I said‚ and I wasn’t. And I don’t know why I asked him in the first place.
‘C’mon‚ that’s enough pool for the night‚ grab a seat‚ I’ll get ’em in.’ He grinned‚ showing me in the palm of his hand the ten quid in coins that he had liberated from me.
I slumped down on a stool at the bar and rested my elbows on a drenched bar runner. I swore under my breath as a day’s worth of spilt beer seeped through my sleeves and touched my skin. It was the first fucking time in a long fucking time that I had been that close to alcohol‚ and it was tempting to upgrade my soft drink to something a little harder.
‘Here‚’ Idris absent-mindedly plonked down a Fanta in front of me‚ his eyes taking in the barmaid. She smiled easily at him. If he wasn’t my best mate‚ I swear I would hate him.
‘Oi‚ Pakistani Ryan Gosling‚’ I said‚ ‘Drink up‚ I wanna get out of here and hit the pillow. I’m shattered.’
‘Didn’t you have a day off from work today? Don’t give me that exhausted crap‚ Jay. I’ve been up since before dawn‚’ he said. I sighed and waited for one of his never ending supply of cop tales. ‘We raided a family home today in Feltham‚ three young children under the age of four‚ including a baby girl only six months old. The nursery upstairs‚ where she slept‚ was a fucking treasure trove of Class A drugs. Check this out‚ the sick fuck had… You know what Aptamil is? It’s powdered formula that’s used to make milk for babies‚ right. He had about a dozen of these Aptamil containers all laid out neatly on a shelf. Inside half of them were exactly that‚ powdered milk‚ but the other half…’
‘Coke.’
‘Yes‚ Jay‚ fucking cocaine.’
I may have had a day off from work‚ but I did have a scary little run-in in the queue at Wilko’s‚ and then I’d heard Naaim recount a pretty traumatic story. I had a right to be exhausted too. God bless Idris‚ but he could be patronising‚ his cop stories always seemingly aimed at me because of my own drug-dealing past. I love him like a brother‚ but he didn’t half love to straddle that high horse as though he was the only one making a difference.
I once made a difference‚ too‚ but he could never know that. I could never tell him. It would change our friendship into something else‚ and at that moment I just needed a friend.
‘The fucked up thing was‚’ he continued‚ ‘what separated the coke from the formula powder was a tiny black dot on the bottom left hand corner of the container. His wife‚ the baby’s mother – who‚ may I add‚ was high at the time of the raid – can you imagine if she’d scooped out a couple spoonsful of coke instead of Aptamil? And fed it to –’
‘Yeah‚ alright Idris. I get it.’ I knocked back my Fanta. ‘I don’t do that shit anymore.’
‘I know‚ I know‚ I know‚’ he said. ‘I know you don’t.’
‘I’m just trying to get by‚ that’s all.’
‘I know.’
‘Just seems like these stories are always aimed at me. I was never like that‚ I was small time‚ yeah‚ just a little skunk.’
‘I know.’ He sighed.
‘And I do have the right to be exhausted too‚ you haven’t got a monopoly on being tired.’ I shrugged my jacket on aggressively‚ just to make a point‚ and walked out of the pool hall and into the car park‚ where I waited for him in my Beemer. I let the purr of the engine cradle me to sleep‚ only to wake up a few minutes later when the door opened and Idris slid into the passenger seat grinning; he was holding up a piece of paper with a phone number.
‘Good for you! Shut the fucking door‚ you’re letting the cold in.’
‘No high five?’ Idris said‚ his hand held high. I slipped the car into first gear and manoeuvred out. ‘You used to be a lot more fun‚ Jay‚’ he said‚ and for some reason‚ I wanted to cry. ‘This has really affected you… what’s her name again? Lyla?’
‘Layla! Fuck‚ Idris. Did you not listen to a word I was saying?’
‘Alright mate‚ keep your topi on! And what’s his name?’
‘Naaim‚’ I sighed.
‘Listen‚ Jay.’ Idris took his time‚ choosing his words carefully. ‘This is going to sound harsh‚ but it’s not your problem.’
‘Did I say it was