East of Hounslow. Khurrum Rahman

silence said all that had to be said. Silas watched me‚ amusement in his eyes‚ waiting for me to respond.

      I opened my mouth to apologise. Silas narrowed his eyes in anticipation.

      I thought better and closed my mouth. Silas clenched his jaw in irritation.

      He looked above and behind me. I turned my head a touch to the side and I could feel the presence of Staples‚ standing directly behind my armchair.

      ‘How much?’ Silas asked‚ just above a whisper‚ loaded with understated menace

      ‘All of it‚’ I said‚ my voice feeble.

      ‘Cash? Gear?’

      ‘Both.’ His eyebrows told me to elaborate. ‘Seven grand in cash and about two grand worth of green.’

      ‘Ten grand?’

      ‘Nine‚’ I said‚ correcting him.

      ‘Ten grand‚’ Silas said. ‘Would you like me to get you a calculator?’

      ‘Ten grand‚’ I said‚ defeated.

      Sinatra had given up the ghost and the room was filled with an eerie hiss. Silas stood up and tightened the belt to his robe accentuating his non-existent waist. He paced up and down in front of me‚ four steps one way‚ then four steps the other‚ hands knotted behind his back‚ his suede loafers padding softly on the carpet.

      ‘The thing is‚ Jay‚ I like you. Always have. You’ve been a good servant to me.’

       Servant!

      ‘But I just can’t let this go. Do you know why I can’t let this go?’ Silas asked.

      ‘Principles.’

      ‘Jackpot‚ Jay… Principles. The cornerstone of every successful business.’

      ‘I’ll pay you back‚ Silas. I just need time. If you just give me some more gear‚ I’ll have the ten back to you and then some in no time.’

      Silas‚ still pacing in front of me‚ shook his head‚ barely a movement‚ but it was clear I wasn’t leaving there with fresh supplies.

      ‘Okay‚ fine. That’s fair‚’ I said‚ to appease. ‘I’ll find another way.’ There was no other way. I had nothing. I couldn’t even sell my car and I couldn’t wait for the insurance money to come through because I hadn’t got around to insuring it. ‘I just need time‚ Silas.’ I repeated. ‘I can get a job and pay you in instalments.’

      Silas grinned. I caught a flash of his too-white teeth. ‘Instalments?’

      ‘Yeah. I can sort you out a G a month‚ every month‚ without fail.’

      ‘So… A grand a month‚’ Silas counted ten on his fingers. ‘For ten months and we’ll be square? Is that what you’re proposing?’ A twinkle in his eye. Hope in mine.

      I nodded. Even if he agreed‚ it was going to be impossible to come up with that kind of loot without dealing.

      ‘I tell you what‚ Jay‚’ I heard nasty phlegm rattling around as he cleared his throat. ‘You have until next Friday. Midnight.’

      That’s when I fucked up.

      ‘C’mon Silas‚ be fair.’ Silas stopped pacing sharply. He turned on his heel and faced me. My words seemed to echo around the room.

      Silas took his eyes off me and glanced behind 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.