‘Christmas four years ago.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bethan asked.
‘I’m sure.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because it was Christmas. We don’t celebrate Christmas but it’s impossible to miss it in England.’
‘Why are you sure it was four years ago?’
‘Because I count the days and weeks since he left.’
‘To join ISIL?’
‘I don’t know where he went.’
‘You don’t know he went to join ISIL?’
‘Eventually. Yes. But I don’t know where he went at first. I don’t think he joined ISIL as soon as he left home.’
‘When’s the last time you heard from him?’
‘A year ago. Last November.’
‘How did he contact you?’
‘He telephoned me?’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘He didn’t have long to talk.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘He talked about how he was feeling. How he hated the food and the heat. He mostly called to say goodbye.’
‘Why goodbye?’
‘Because he knew he was going to die.’
‘Why was he going to die?’
‘He said he was joining a big battle and he didn’t think he would survive.’
‘But he did.’
‘No, he did not.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘My son is dead. He died in that battle as he predicted he would. All this talk about him coming back to England is lies. Or they have made a mistake.’
Gunnymede looked at the photo of Saleem, the cold, unholy eyes he knew so well. ‘That’s your son?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Mrs Saleem said dramatically as she looked upon it.
‘Do you pray for him?’
She looked at Gunnymede as if he was odd. ‘Of course I pray for him. Many times each day.’
‘Where do you pray for him.’
‘Here of course.’
‘Do you see him when you pray?’
‘See him?’
‘Yes. Do you see him?’
‘Of course I see him.’
‘I mean, do you see him?’
‘Yes, I see him.’
‘Next time you see him can you send him a message from me. Tell him the one he tried to kill in Syria a few weeks ago is alive and well and I’m going to find him and kill him.’
Her eyes darkened as she stared at him.
‘I’m going to kill him slowly and painfully, with these.’ He held up his hands. ‘Tell him,’ Gunnymede said before heading for the door.
He stepped onto the street and did his best to calm himself down. Bethan remained inside for several more minutes. When she came outside they walked back to the car.
‘Wasn’t that a bit obvious?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘Goading her into making contact with him.’
‘I got angry. That old bitch knows he’s alive. She’s spoken to him since he’s been here.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m sure he didn’t tell mummy where he’s staying in England. But he has an ego the size of Iraq. I’m assuming he got it from her.’
They climbed into the car and sat looking towards the house as Gunnymede’s mind churned.
‘What now?’ she asked.
His phone chirped and he answered it.
It was Neve. ‘Where are you?’
‘Saleem’s house.’
‘Did you just talk with his mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m assuming you tried to wind her up.’
‘I did my best.’
‘She just posted a message on Telegram.’
‘What was it?’
‘No words. They think it was an emoji.’
‘She told him something,’ he said and disconnected. ‘Told you. Ego the size of Iraq.’
Gunnymede and Bethan sat in a quiet corner of a pub nursing a couple of half pints. He was nibbling from a plate of fries. It was dark outside.
‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ Bethan said.
‘No.’
She looked at him with a frown.
‘Do you always have to be analysing people?’ he asked. ‘Can’t you take a day off now and then.’
‘Yes. No.’
He ate a couple of chips while she stared at him. He sighed. ‘What kind of personal question?’
‘Is it true what Neve said about you going back to prison when this task is over?’
‘I was treading on her ops officer toes. She was putting me in my place.’
‘Is it true, though?’
‘I have no control over that.’
‘Can I ask why you’re not in jail anyway?’
‘Not really.’
‘Can I ask why you went to jail?’
‘I told you.’
‘Heroin thief.’
‘What’s your problem?’
‘You don’t like it when I call you that, do you.’
He stuffed another chip in his mouth.
‘You’re not comfortable with that label,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell whether it’s because it doesn’t really fit or it makes you feel guilty.’
He put on a false smile as if inviting her to guess. A second later it disappeared.
The door to the street opened and in walked Neve. She came over and sat opposite them.
‘You look the perfect couple,’ Neve said playfully but the barb was obvious.
‘Have we got our bird up yet?’ Gunnymede asked, ignoring her quip.
‘Only just. It was getting a bit crowded up there. We’ve got priority now. What exactly did you say to her?’
‘Something about wringing her son’s neck when I got a hold of it.’
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Bethan asked her.
‘No thanks. If I drink I have to pee and things always seem to kick off when I go for a pee.’
‘Then have a bloody drink,’ he said.
Neve looked pleased she was winding him up. ‘Good point,’ she said as she picked up his drink and took a sip.
They all sat uncomfortably together for a long, quiet minute.
‘Why did you do it?’ Neve eventually asked Gunnymede.
‘Do what?’
‘Steal all that heroin.’
‘Christ! What is it with you two?’
‘I was disappointed when I heard.’
‘You were disappointed,’ Gunnymede said mockingly. ‘My old headmaster would’ve been disappointed.’
‘So why’d you do it?’ Neve persisted.
Gunnymede rolled his eyes. ‘Why is it so difficult for you people to understand the simple concept of temptation. I
