A. A. Dhand [Dhand - One Way Out

A. A. Dhand was raised in Bradford and spent his youth observing the city from behind the counter of a small convenience store. After qualifying as a pharmacist, he worked in London and travelled extensively before returning to Bradford to start his own business and begin writing. The history, diversity and darkness of the city have inspired his Harry Virdee novels.

This one was tough! A seismic plot, which did indeed push me to my limits as a writer.

Huge thanks to my incredible editor, Darcy Nicholson. Im not sure how we continue to do this! You push me to my limits and I appreciate it more than you realize. We are breaking boundaries and creating the sort of fiction that I always dreamt of writing. You work so hard on these books with me and continue to be my secret weapon. The entire team at Transworld is amazing, especially the copy-editing team. Thank you all, so much.

To former DCI Steve Snow, for allowing me to hound you, probably more than I should! I know I break the rules with my plots, but the fact that you are always there, guiding, advising and constantly trying to help me create the high-end drama I love to write is invaluable. Long may it continue! Ive got to be honest, sitting there and watching your expressions as I twist and turn the plots is great fun! As youve told me before, If you were not a writer, Amit, Id probably nick you Stay retired Steve! We have much more work to do!

To Rob Glover, for running me through a detailed plot strand which ultimately didnt make the final cut but rest assured, its coming!

Michael Shackleton, at Bradford City Football Club, for the generous access. Come on the Bantams!

Dr Jasjit Singh for assisting me with the finer points of Sikhism and Asian culture. I am so glad to have you on #teamVirdee!

My agent Simon Trewin for the continual support and for always being at the end of a phone.

To the Red Hot Chilli Writers Ayisha Malik, Vaseem Khan, Abir Mukherjee, Imran Mahmood and Alex Khan. Keep smashing the clichs guys! A wonderfully supportive space to be part of. Also, for the humorous hours of bakwas. Keep it coming!

My family I know its hard when Im writing and I disappear into the fictional world Ive created.

To the city of Bradford. Thank you for continuing to support Harry he will always keep you safe!

Finally, my wife. This one was bruising! I couldnt have done it without you constantly telling me; one more page, one more chapter, one more hour

You are the only person I write for and I couldnt do it without you. Four books done and Ive fooled you with the twists and turns each time! Seeing the look on your face when you finally read, the end is the only reason I keep doing this.

Ive said it before, Ill say it again:

Keep doing what you do it makes me do what I do.

STREETS OF DARKNESS

GIRL ZERO

CITY OF SINNERS

For more information on A. A. Dhand and his books, see his website at www.aadhand.com

City park had never been so full, the people of Bradford making the most of the July heatwave. Midday was approaching as the mercury soared past thirty, heading towards a forecasted record-high of thirty-four. At its centre, the parks powerful fountains had created a magnificent pool of water, where adults relaxed at the edges and children waded in for water fights. Around the perimeter the restaurants were heaving. The Wetherspoons pub had a queue two dozen deep.

Detective Chief Inspector Harry Virdee sat beside his mother, Joyti, and rested two cups of tea on the shallow wall surrounding the fountains. No matter the heat, it was always tea with her.

How much were they? she asked, watching her four-year-old grandson, Aaron, splashing in the fountains.

Does it matter? replied Harry, shaking his head.

He watched his mother prise the lid from the container and frown at the colour. I knew it would be like this.

Its how people like it, Mum.

If I had a stall here and made my Indian tea, these English people would never drink this filth.

Im English. I drink it.

Harrys mother frowned. Your blood is Indian, your brain English.

Im more English than you think. I stand in queues, prefer sandwiches to samosas and, most importantly, when you hit seventy, Ill be tempted to put you in an old peoples home.

His mother shook her head disapprovingly and sipped the tea, wincing at its taste. Harry slipped his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. God, he had missed this. With his brother, Ronnie, in India with his family, Harry was looking forward to a bit more time with his mother. He was determined today not to think of his father. Not if he could help it.

Harrys phone rang, interrupting his heat-hazed peace. He saw it was work and ignored it. These moments with his mother were precious; five years apart had been five years too many. Today was the first day of a fortnights annual leave, and he would be creating memories he could call upon during those frequent nights when his job dragged him to the citys darkest corners.

He kept his arm around his mother as she rested her head on his shoulder, both of them watching Aaron innocently splashing in the water.

Today, even more than usual, City Park was a vibrant display of Bradfords citizens. Women in burkas played with their children while beside them girls in Western swimwear were sunbathing. Boys, both Asian and white, had stripped off their tops and were flexing their muscles. Everyone was laughing and enjoying the weather.

Do you like the watch? his mother asked him.

Harry sighed, glancing at the Rolex on his wrist. Its a bit extravagant, Mum. You didnt need to.

Rubbish. You never had a proper wedding, so I never gave you a gift.

Usually the watch stayed inside its box but when he met his mother he made a point of wearing it so she could see that he appreciated the extravagance. Hed looked up the value on the internet.

Five grand.

Harry wasnt a flash bastard and, while he did have a thing for watches, hed never indulged it. A detectives salary didnt stretch that far.

Harry slipped off the wall and stepped into the water, soothing his sunburnt bare feet. He lifted Aaron and pointed towards the ice cream van.

You want one?

Aaron nodded.

I think wed better get dry first.

We come back here after, Daddy?

Maybe.

Aaron kissed Harrys cheek. I love you, Daddy.

Harry smiled and started towards his mother, who was ready with a towel. Love and affection when you want something, just like your mother.

Harrys phone rang again.

Work.

Again, he dismissed it and flipped the phone to silent.

Dont take the piss, Im off, he muttered to himself, annoyed.

As Harrys mother towelled Aaron, she took every opportunity to steal a kiss from him. Harry closed his eyes, taking a mental photograph. He hoped Saima would get here before his mother had to go.

She was due to meet Harry after Friday prayers.

Distracted from his son by an unfamiliar noise, Harry looked up to see a distant swirling of helicopter blades. More than one. As he saw them, the enormous cinema screen at the far end of City Park went black, before displaying a flashing red message, timed perfectly with the deafening roar of what appeared to be two military helicopters now almost directly overhead.

IMMINENT SECURITY THREAT. LEAVE CITY PARK IMMEDIATELY.

Only moments later, the same message boomed from the speakers.

Time froze in City Park. Everyone stared at the screen.

Nobody moved.

The message sounded again.

Harry watched as, in agonizing slow-motion, the panic started.