East of Hounslow - Khurrum Rahman Jay Qasim

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you stop fucking hopping around for a minute and let me think?’

      ‘But Jay‚ we—’

      ‘Let’s go‚ Parvez.’ This time the interruption came from Khan. Parvez looked at me with expectant eyes.

      I expelled air and said: ‘I’m coming too.’

      The sight of Khan approaching my car with a cross spanner‚ a metal bar‚ and a cricket bat made me want to run him over. He got in and dumped the makeshift weaponry in the back seat and I watched Parvez weigh them up. At Khan’s request‚ we stopped at Parvez’s house first for a change of clothes. He now had on a topi and a lightweight‚ beige shalwar and kameez‚ over which he had on a bloody black leather jacket. He looked like an idiot. Or a target.

      I drove at low speeds because I didn’t want to be pulled over with bats and bars in the back seat and weed and cash in the boot. My palms felt sweaty and I wiped them on my jeans. I flicked the radio on and tuned it to Sunshine Radio‚ an Asian community station which operated out of the heavily Asian-populated town of Southall. I heard the unmistakeable voice of the resident DJ‚ Tony Virdi.

      New reports are coming in thick and fast. It seems that further attacks have taken place around the Ashford area. Five Asian youths were seen running from St Mary’s Church which had its windows smashed and was broken into. Also some local shops have been vandalised on the Ashford High Street and a local pharmacy has been set alight. It is not confirmed yet whether this is retaliation but the signs do not look good. After the commercials we are joined by Dr Riaz Ikram‚ the author of the best seller‚ “War‚ What Isn’t it Good For?” But please‚ for your own safety‚ stay at home tonight folks. This is Tony Virdi reporting—

      I killed the radio.

      ‘Looks like Ashford’s taken care of‚ eh lads?’ Khan said to no response. ‘Yeah‚ Staines is the place to be. Especially Elmsleigh Car Park… You got any battle tunes‚ Jay?’

      The last thing I wanted to do was put on some Gangsta Rap‚ it would only serve to make Khan more volatile. I looked in the rear view and Parvez was looking out of the window blankly.

      ‘Parvez. You alright‚ mate?’ I asked.

      ‘Course he’s alright. He’s a fuckin’ soldier. Ain’t that right‚ Parvez?’

      ‘Yes. I’m fine‚’ Parvez said. His words a stark contrast to his tone. ‘Soldier of Islam.’

      ‘Why Elmsleigh‚ Khan?’ I asked.

      ‘Elmsleigh Car Park is Kafir city. The place is full of good-for-nothing white boys. Doggers‚ slags‚ dealers‚ chavs‚ fuckin’ name it. Place is filth. They deserve to be hit.’

      ‘But what’ve they got to do with the attack on the mosque? Why are we moving on them?’

      ‘We won’t be the one making the first move.’ Khan said‚ inclining his head towards Parvez and smirking conspiratorially at me.

      I pulled up around a hundred metres away and looked towards Elmsleigh Car Park and it looked back at me with bad intentions. Harsh orange lighting seeped through the slits between the three storeys‚ lending to its menace. The car park just seemed to breathe and pulsate wicked energy. From what I remembered from my one and only visit‚ there were badly designed‚ narrow bays and ticket machines that never worked‚ broken CCTV and the strong smell of piss. A haven for junkies and pissheads. Sexual activity of all kinds was reserved for the middle level‚ and the floors were littered with used condoms and joint butts. I scrunched my face at the thought of wheeling my Beemer in there.

      ‘Lose the leather‚’ Khan said to Parvez.

      ‘Have a heart‚ Khan‚’ I said‚ as Parvez slipped his jacket off. ‘At least let him keep his jacket on. It’s freezing out there.’

      ‘It is okay‚ Brother‚’ Parvez said‚ placing his hand on my shoulder before stepping out of the car in only his shalwar‚ kameez and prayer hat. We watched him make his way to the car park on foot. God help him. Dressed like that it wasn’t just the cold that was going to get him.

      Khan reached in the back seat and grabbed a cricket bat and a small metal bar.

      ‘Take your pick. Or there’s the cross spanner if you prefer. But not easy to conceal.’ As if a cricket bat was! I took the cold metal bar. ‘Good choice. When it kicks off strike to the head. Do not pull your arm all the way back‚ they’ll see it coming a mile off. Short‚ sharp bursts. Boom‚ boom‚ boom‚ and then on to the next one. Got it?’

      I nodded‚ I had no intention of striking anybody in the head. I was only there out of some misguided notion of loyalty for Parvez. If anything happened to him‚ his Mum would destroy me.

      ‘Okay. Drive. Slowly.’

      I pulled in and it was immediately clear that we would be outnumbered.

      ‘More Kafirs than I thought there’d be‚’ he said‚ helpfully.

      ‘Can we go now‚ Khan? Please.’ I was coming across like a coward but I couldn’t care less. ‘Let’s just grab Parvez and go. This is ridiculous‚ we’re so fucking outnumbered.’

      Khan reached inside his jacket and pulled his weapon. The blade alone was twelve inches long and it looked to be at least half that across. I couldn’t tell you if it was a knife‚ a meat cleaver or a machete. But it was shiny and jagged and I could see in the reflection the fear etched on my face.

      ‘This should even things up‚ eh?’ Khan said‚ as he pressed his finger on the tip of the blade and drew blood‚ which he then proceeded to calmly lick off.

      Parvez had clocked us drive in and positioned himself where we could see him‚ leaning against a pillar situated outside the lift about ten metres to my top right. To my left‚ eight hostiles‚ all white‚ a mixture of baseball caps‚ hoodies and skinny jeans. Not the culprits‚ but in Khan’s eyes; as close as fucking possible. They were curiously watching Parvez with a measurement of suspicion‚ wanting to react but uncertain in their approach. In fact‚ by their bemused expressions‚ they seemed more worried about him. There was muted conversation and puzzled looks. One guy‚ a grey hoody tightly over his head‚ shouted something across to him. Parvez put a finger innocently to his chest in a – sorry‚ are you talking to me? – gesture. I slid my window halfway down and wrinkled my nose as the stench of urine crept into my car. The guy shouted louder this time‚ loud enough for me to hear.

      ‘What’d he say?’ Khan asked.

      ‘He’s asking what have you got underneath your shirt?’

      ‘Ha! Does he think all Pakis walk around strapped with explosives?’ Khan said‚ as he typed out and sent a text message on his phone. ‘Sorted!’ he said quietly to himself.

      Parvez patted his chest and stomach to prove that he didn’t have anything underneath his kameez and they all took a tentative step back as though he was about to detonate.

      Grey Hoody leaned into the VW Beetle that he was standing next to and whispered something to the passengers. Two doors flew open and two guys stepped out‚ two seats were folded down and two girls stepped out from the back dressed in cheap tracksuits‚ one in blue shell and the other in sickly purple velour. They confidently strutted towards Parvez who had now pushed himself off the pillar. I watched him straighten his topi. There were about a dozen guys who had now gathered around the Beetle watching carefully‚ feet shuffling‚ a bundle of nerves and anticipation. Velour spoke first.

      ‘So… what?’ she said.

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