East of Hounslow: A funny, clever and addictive spy thriller, shortlisted for a CWA Dagger 2018. Khurrum Rahman
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we please. We’d still be watching him now if I hadn’t—’
‘You’ve made your point‚ Lawrence‚’ Sinclair said.
‘Well I think that shows a lot of enterprise‚’ Robinson piped up‚ happy to recognise a kindred spirit. ‘What did you say your name is?’
‘Lawrence‚ sir‚’ he said. ‘Teddy Lawrence.’
*
In the corridor outside‚ Sinclair indicated for Parker to hold back as they watched Robinson and Lawrence walk cosily away.
‘They may as well hold bloody hands‚’ Sinclair said. He turned and faced Parker. ‘It’s done. You don’t have to say it.’
‘Sir?’ Parker said.
‘Lawrence… He’s not your responsibility anymore. I’m going to ensure that he is moved somewhere better suited. His enthusiasm may impress some but moving forward we need discipline and a clear line of command.’ Parker nodded as Sinclair continued. ‘Get Wakefield on board‚ she has no reason to decline. Qasim can give her Drakos on a platter… And listen‚ I think we should have first crack at the boy. This whole Drakos subject is a by-product. Qasim has to agree terms with us first. And then – and only then – can he give a statement pointing at Silas. It has to be in that order.’
‘Yes‚ sir‚’ Parker agreed.
‘Get a couple of our guys to pick him up‚ arrange it so the boys in blue tag along too. But before he sees the inside of that police station… He’s yours.”
‘Mine‚ sir?’
‘I want you to handle him from here onwards‚ Parker.
*
Parker had already decided that he was not going to mention the rucksack or the BMW to Qasim. If he was going to have a relationship with him‚ it was imperative that it was built on trust. Revealing that they had his car and gear would be the wrong move. He was Qasim’s handler; he would handle him how he saw fit.
Parker needed to freshen up. He walked into the toilet and looked into the mirror. His tired eyes stared back at him. He reached up to his face and touched the pound-coin-shaped gap in his stubble‚ the result of alopecia brought on by stress. The cubicle door opened and Lawrence walked out. Parker dropped his hand from his face. They stood next to each other as Lawrence washed his hands.
‘No hard feelings‚ eh?’ Lawrence said‚ through the mirror. ‘I did what I had to do.’
Parker rolled and cracked his shoulders and turned on the tap.
‘You have to admit. Taking his car was the icing on the cake.’
‘You went against my order‚’ Parker said quietly as he slowly rolled up his sleeves.
‘Not really. You weren’t exactly giving out any orders to go against.’
‘Rule number one. Follow orders‚’ Parker said‚ as if rolling out an age-old mantra.
Lawrence noisily squirted soap onto his hands.
‘Still a bit sore about what happened in the meeting?’ Lawrence asked‚ smiling arrogantly. He turned off the tap and shook his hands dry‚ droplets of water splashing Parker. ‘What happened to you? Huh? Where’s this Chalk I keep hearing about? No offense‚ but you walk around looking like you don’t know what day it is.’
The speed and ferocity with which Parker gripped his right ear dropped Lawrence to one knee. The soft flesh burned and threatened to tear within Parker’s large hand. Lawrence‚ his face scrunched in pain‚ used both hands to try to pry away Parker’s grip from his ear. When that failed‚ Lawrence punched him with all the power he could muster in the ribs. From his position on one knee he had the perfect angle to cause some damage. Two punches in quick succession‚ hard and fast. Parker’s body didn’t react‚ and his grip didn’t waver. Instead it tightened and he viciously twisted Lawrence’s ear so it was almost positioned upside down.
‘Okay‚’ Lawrence screamed. ‘Fucking okay!’ Then quietly he hissed‚ ‘Please.’
Parker released his ear just as quickly as he had grabbed it. He turned to the sink and calmly washed his face. He dried off using the paper towels and walked out of the toilet without giving Lawrence a second look.
The minicab pulled up outside our house‚ or‚ I should say‚ my house‚ about mid-morning. I started to lug Mum’s suitcases into the boot as she rushed around the house‚ room to room‚ saying goodbye to all the furniture and all the things she held dear. I slammed the boot shut and the cabbie gave me a deathly stare. I put up an apologetic hand to him‚ just as Idris walked around the corner.
‘Don’t you check your fucking voicemail?’ Idris barked before he had even reached me.
‘The fuck is your problem?’ I said‚ matching profanity for profanity.
Idris and I had only ever argued the one time‚ when a chilli eating competition got out of hand. But if he wanted an argument now‚ then I was ready to give him one.
‘I’ve been trying to reach you‚ Jay‚’ he said as he got closer. He noticed the minicab. ‘What’s going on? Where you going?’
‘To the airport. Mum’s leaving today.’
‘Oh shit!’ Idris exclaimed. ‘That’s today? I knew that. I fucking knew that. Mum did tell me.’
I had never seen Idris so rattled‚ as though all his cool had left him. Mum walked out of the house looking like a seventies Bollywood starlet. White flared trouser suit teamed with huge oversized dark sunglasses‚ holding a midsize black leather travel bag.
‘Why don’t you come along? See Mum off‚’ I asked. ‘And then maybe you can tell me what’s on your mind.’
Idris looked towards Mum‚ who was waving happily at him‚ and it seemed like his brain had just rebooted as he walked over to her. He gave her a customary peck on the cheek‚ effortlessly liberated the travel bag and linked arms with her as he escorted her smiling to the waiting minicab.
Okay‚ so maybe not all his cool had left him.
*
We were sat at a Sports Bar in Terminal 2 at Heathrow‚ Idris opposite me as we waited in silence for our lunch to arrive. Mum and Andrew were now airside‚ no doubt stocking up on Duty Free goods. It was‚ as expected‚ an emotional farewell. Mum’s white suit had ended up stained with a mixture of her mascara‚ my snot and both of our tears. I hadn’t felt any shame sobbing my heart out in front of Idris‚ who had just about managed to hold it together himself.
‘So‚ what do you think of Andrew?’ I asked.
‘Yeah‚ he’s alright‚’ Idris answered‚ absent minded‚ his eyes flitting all over the place before landing on mine. ‘They seem good together.’
An Arab couple walked into the Sports Bar‚ the wife was covered from head to toe in a Burka. In a heartbeat‚ the tension in the room become palpable and the din died down for a millisecond and then started up again.
‘Poor bastards‚’ I said. ‘Do you reckon they ever get used to that?’
Idris didn’t seem to hear me. The food arrived‚ a Full English Breakfast‚ minus the scum. I tucked straight into it.
‘Jay?’ Idris said‚ ignoring his food.
‘Yeah‚’ I said‚ with a mouthful of hash brown.
‘Look‚ I don’t want to freak you out.’
‘Well‚ don’t then.’
I smiled.