LITMIR.BIZ

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of rival firms. Rose ran the organisation‚ Kramer recruited. It wasn’t the size of the English Defence League‚ but then with size came exposure.

      A young girl wearing a hijab was pushed onto a train track as a tube pulled in at Piccadilly Circus Station. The push was mistimed and her face connected with the side of the moving train‚ leaving her needing facial reconstruction.

      At an outdoor five-a-side football pitch in Islington‚ two Muslim community football teams were set upon by two Pit Bull Terriers and a Rottweiler. Four men were savagely mauled.

      A grandfather was attacked walking his seven-year-old grandson home from the Mosque after evening Prayers. He was struck on the head with a blunt object as the assailant sped by on a bicycle. That didn’t kill him. But the fall to the ground‚ the impact of his head against pavement‚ did.

      They called themselves The Second Defence.

      Kramer decided the time had come to make himself seen.

      ‘Everything alright?’ Kramer asked Rose‚ stepping into the Portakabin. The two coppers turned briefly to look at him.

      ‘Dean Kramer‚’ nodded PC Mohammed or Mahmoud or who gives a fuck. The same Paki copper they sent every time there was a hint of a skirmish involving his people.

      Kramer frowned at him‚ taking in the pristine fucking uniform that he should have never been allowed to wear. Kramer didn’t mind though‚ because ever-present with him was the delectable WPC Jenkins. She could wear the uniform for him any time she wanted to.

      ‘I tell you what‚’ Rose said. ‘Why don’t you leave the video behind and I’ll see what I can find out.’

      ‘I can’t do that‚’ PC Mahmoud said. ‘Do you or don’t you know the identity of the three assailants? It’s a simple question.’

      ‘When did this take place?’ Rose asked.

      ‘Yesterday evening‚’ WPC Jenkins replied. ‘Between six and eight.’

      ‘CCTV?’

      ‘Vandalised‚’ PC Mahmoud said‚ growing frustrated. ‘Do you recognise them‚ Rose?’

      ‘Hard to tell‚’ Rose pointed at the laptop screen. The faces had cartoon characters superimposed on them. ‘How’d they do that? It’s pretty clever‚ eh?’ Rose smiled.

      ‘You think that you’re pretty clever‚ don’t you Rose?’ PC Mahmoud took a step closer. ‘An innocent girl took her own life after an unprovoked attack.’

      Kramer felt his blood spike when WPC Jenkins put a placatory hand on the Paki’s arm.

      He couldn’t bear it if they were fucking.

      ‘Rose‚ this belongs to us‚’ WPC Jenkins said‚ slipping the flash drive out of the laptop. ‘But if you want to view it again‚ see if it jogs your memory‚ you can easily find it. It’s plastered all over the internet.’

      ‘Where’d you say this happened?’

      ‘Hounslow.’

      Kramer and Rose glanced at each other and quickly away again. Rose scrunched his nose.

      ‘I don’t know anyone in that part of town. But‚ you know‚ I’ll put the word out.’

      ‘The girl was only sixteen‚’ Jenkins reasoned. ‘Call us if you find anything‚ Rose.’

      ‘Sure‚’ Rose replied. ‘Your number still 999?’

      *

      Kramer guided the officers out of the Portakabin which served as an office‚ and watched them drive out of the old construction site and into the night.

      ‘Did you speak with those lads?’ Rose asked from behind his desk.

      ‘Yeah‚ at the rally yesterday‚ in Hounslow.’

      Rose rubbed his chin. ‘Come round.’ Kramer walked around the desk and watched Rose over his shoulder as he fired open a search engine.

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘Some girl topped herself‚’ 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.’

16

       Jay

      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

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