East of Hounslow: A funny, clever and addictive spy thriller, shortlisted for a CWA Dagger 2018. Khurrum Rahman

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СКАЧАТЬ me‚ and before I had a chance to turn I was being lifted off my seat by my hair‚ pulled sideways over the arm of the chair. I scrunched my face in pain as Staples tightened his grip. I could feel cold metal around my ear as a stapler was clamped around it. Before I could react‚ Silas was on top of me‚ straddling me‚ laughing manically. He had the blade of the nail clippers in my nose‚ stretching my nostril. I stopped wriggling and froze. I didn’t want my ear pierced or my nose sliced.

      ‘What did you say to me‚ boy?’ Silas hissed.

      ‘Nothing‚’ I said‚ as the stench of toenail clippings reached my brain and his erection dug into my chest. I wanted to vomit.

      ‘That’s what I thought‚’ Silas said‚ as he dismounted. Staples released the grip on my hair and moved the stapler away.

      I was breathing hard. Silas took his seat opposite me.

      ‘Why are you still here?’

12

      Kingsley Parker walked out of his apartment for the third time in a matter of minutes. He had got to the end of the quiet‚ leafy road which he hated‚ when he realised that he’d forgotten his phone and had to turn back. With his phone in his possession‚ Parker had got as far as South Kensington tube station‚ when he once again had to turn back‚ having realised that the details of his destination‚ haphazardly scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper‚ were still sitting on his bedside table‚ under the year-old bottle of vodka‚ seal unbroken‚ that acted as his security blanket. More time wasted. Parker was going to be late.

      The Tube journey was uneventful and he bided his time eyeing up passengers for signs of sinister nervousness. It wasn’t his intention; it was his training. His knee jackhammered and his stall-bought coffee threatened to spill as he questioned himself and his ability to carry out his job. The same thoughts as yesterday. The same thoughts as every day.

      Parker arrived at Church House Conference Centre to find Dr Thomas Gladstone sitting in a booth in the canteen reading a file. He cleared his throat and the doctor looked up.

      ‘Hello‚ Chalky‚’ Gladstone said. They shook hands and Parker slid into the seat opposite him. Parker squirmed at the mere mention of his nickname. Gladstone picked up on this immediately‚ and gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement.

      ‘I am sorry that you’ve had to meet me here but I have lectures all week. Needs must‚ hey? Shall I be mother?’ he said‚ pouring the tea for them. ‘Drop or an ocean?’ he asked‚ holding up a small jug of milk.

      ‘Somewhere in between. Thanks.’ Parker watched him pour. He had to force his knee to stop hammering.

      Gladstone brought the cup to his lips and blew the steam away as he eyed Parker. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Yeah‚ I’m fine‚’ Parker lied‚ shrinking under Gladstone’s gaze. Gladstone let it slide.

      ‘So? Small talk or shall we get straight to it?’ Gladstone asked‚ trying to lighten the mood.

      Parker said nothing.

      ‘Straight to it it is then‚’ Gladstone said‚ as he placed the file on the table and put his hands over it. ‘Why him?’

      ‘We’ve had watch on a few candidates but there’s something about him. He seems as comfortable on the streets as he does in the mosque‚ able to change his dynamic as required.’

      ‘I see you haven’t lost the old instincts.’

      Parker shrugged. Unwilling to commit.

      ‘Do you not think that one of our own would be more suitable?’ Gladstone asked.

      ‘No. I don’t. He is well known in the community and he has ties to Sutton Mosque. I think the risk factor of him getting made is slim.’

      ‘Whereas our guys may stick out?’

      ‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’ Parker nodded towards the file. ‘What did you think? I realise that you’ve only had a few hours to look at the file‚ but what are your impressions?’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. A few hours or a few days‚ my reading would be the same.’

      Parker waited for Gladstone to elaborate. He didn’t.

      ‘And?’ Parker was getting tired of prompting him.

      ‘He’s perfect‚’ Gladstone exclaimed. ‘Or he’s all wrong.’

      What the bloody hell does that mean? Parker thought‚ and he gave Gladstone a look that said exactly that.

      ‘You want to use him as an asset‚ but will he play ball? Lord knows you have enough on him to persuade him. Trousers well and truly around his ankles and with his fingers in the cookie jar‚’ Gladstone said. ‘He is impressionable and if handled correctly he can be willing. But therein lies the problem.’

      ‘How so?’ Parker asked‚ rubbing his temples. This was not what he wanted to hear.

      ‘Willing and impressionable. Two very significant words. Given the right environment he can be willed and impressed upon in the other direction. Take him or any young man for that matter and put him in a hostile situation. Training camps‚ lectures‚ Imams‚ weapons‚ jihadists. Bonds are formed‚ lessons are learnt and seeds are planted. How do we know that he won’t deviate?’

      ‘With all due respect‚ Dr Gladstone‚ that’s what I’m asking you. It’s your area of expertise. Do you think that he could double cross?’ Parker said‚ the hint of desperation in his voice evident and he hated himself for it. Gladstone smiled passively.

      ‘Look‚ Parker. I have successfully profiled rapists‚ serial killers and paedophiles and had a direct hand in their capture. But this… This is different. It’s grey. What we know about extremists is that we don’t know very much. Not really. Especially not enough to profile them. They can come from any background. A diverse bunch. Only a few months ago we have had a high-flying‚ suit-wearing‚ secretary-shagging lawyer blow himself and everything around him up outside the American Embassy in Turkey. In the last twelve months we’ve seen scholars‚ junkies‚ alcoholics‚ bin men‚ the unemployed‚ all turn. It doesn’t matter. Status does not matter. The popular‚ the loner‚ even the non-religious.’

      ‘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

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