“Please, Detective, you’re upsetting my client.” Oxford tried to cover the picture with his pad, but Kate pushed it away. No way was this bastard getting off that lightly.
“I’m sorry about that. If he will answer the question, we can move on.”
Oxford stood up, rested his hand on Ahmed’s shoulder, and spoke quietly to him.
She had no idea what he said to the man, and, frankly, she really didn’t care. She wanted him to tell them what he knew, that was all. They could all have nightmares for the rest of their miserable fucking lives for all she cared. She knew she would. “Is this your daughter, Mr Ahmed?”
Oxford guided him back to his seat, hand still on his shoulder. “Please answer the detective’s question and then she can remove that picture, Tariq.”
“Yes.” Ahmed’s voice was a mere croak as he spoke. “Now get that out of my sight.”
Kate picked up the picture so he was no longer faced with it, but she didn’t put it away. She tapped the ball bearing picture again. “Do you know what this is, Mr Ahmed?”
He nodded.
“For the tape, please.”
“Yes.”
Kate waited.
“It’s a ball bearing.”
“And do you know why it was in your daughter’s bedroom?”
“No comment.”
Bollocks. “Did you know she was hiding this vest in there?” She pointed to the picture showing Nadia in the vest.
“No comment.”
Okay, Plan B. “Very well, Mr Ahmed.” She turned to Mel, but watched Ahmed out of the corner of her eye. “Have the other officers finished bringing in the rest of Mr Ahmed’s family?”
Mel’s eyes widened a little, but thankfully she played along. “I don’t know, Sergeant. Would you like me to go and find out?”
Kate nodded. “Yes, if they’re here, we’ll go and talk to them. I’m sure Mrs Ahmed will have more to say when she sees this picture of her daughter.” She laid the page in her hand back on the table as Mel stood and started for the door.
“No! Don’t. My wife is a proper woman, not like you. She will—she cannot… She must not see this.”
“Then save her from it,” Kate said, ignoring the insult. “Tell me what you know about your daughter’s plan to murder all these people.”
“My daughter was no murderer. She was a soldier of Allah.” He picked up the photo and held it to his lips. “She will live in heaven forever for her sacrifice.”
“Her crime.” Kate pushed the picture of Gregory to the front again.
“You and your pious know nothing. Judgements mean nothing in the face of our beliefs, our God. The flesh is weak, but faith, honour, sacrifice, they are eternal, and my sacrifice will be honoured amongst my people.”
“Your sacrifice? It was your daughter who gave up her life. Hers. Not yours.”
“My daughter, mine to command, mine to grant life, mine to grant death. I have given her the greatest gift she could have ever hoped for. I have granted her eternity at the Prophet’s side. The greatest of gifts.”
“Yours to command?” The words didn’t make sense; at least Kate didn’t want them to make sense. Because if they did, then it was even worse than she’d feared. Not only did Tariq Ahmed know his daughter was involved, he had condemned her to die with her victims. “You commanded her to do this?”
His lips twisted into a smile that approximated paternal pride, but how could that be? How could anyone be proud of what Nadia had done? Proud that he’d sent her to do that? How? Kate didn’t think she could be any more sickened in this case than she had been when she’d seen that overturned pushchair. God, had she ever been wrong. She wanted to hold her hand to her mouth to make sure the vomit didn’t escape, but she knew she couldn’t show that kind of weakness in front of this man. So she sat still. She schooled her features into neutrality and prayed she could maintain her professionalism for as long as this interview lasted.
Oxford put his hand out as though he could halt the flow of words now that they’d begun. “I must advise my client—”
“I trusted her with the greatest gift a father can give his child.” Ahmed ignored him. His gaze fixed on Kate as he bent over the desk, weight borne on his hands. He whispered, “Immortality.”
“Immortality?” Kate’s voice was shaky, and she only hoped it sounded more like anger than the revulsion she really felt. “She’s dead. There is no immortality.”
“Her name as a martyr will live on forever.”
“Her name as a murderer will live on only as long as the media interest does.”
He barked out a harsh laugh and flopped back into his chair again. “You know nothing of my culture, my religion.”
“Then teach me.”
“I would not waste my time.”
Kate’s hands shook in her lap, and she was glad she didn’t have to try and stop them to put evidence before him. She had only one more card to play to get him to talk. But she had this bastard. All she needed now was to tie it up in a bloody bow and get the fuck away from him. “You commanded your daughter to don a suicide vest, yes or no?”
“It was Allah’s will.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
She licked her lips and forced the next sentence into life. “You commanded your daughter, Nadia Ahmed, to go to a busy public area and detonate that device. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she was hiding the device in your house?”
“Yes.”
“Did you build it?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did build it?”
“No comment.”
“Was it built by Saba Ayeshydi?”
“No comment.”
“Was the bomb built by Ayeshydi’s husband?”
“No comment.”
“Did you target that shop specifically because it was the scene of your greatest failure?”
He said nothing…but a frown carved itself onto his face.
Aha. “It was where you used to have a clothes shop, wasn’t it?”
“No comment.” The creases across his forehead deepened, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Where you were forced into bankruptcy because you were a failure as a businessman, right?”
He ground his teeth and said nothing.
Bingo!
“I don’t think this has anything to do with Allah. Not for you. You’re too pathetic and bitter for that. You picked that shop because you couldn’t face knowing it was there, thriving where you failed. You almost lost everything, didn’t you, Tariq?”
He growled but held his tongue.
“You lost the business, your stock, the building. You almost lost your house too. Didn’t you?” She shook her head slowly. “And now it was there, selling condoms, chocolate penises, and vibrators. How shameful. That was once your pride and joy. Then it was everything you hated, wasn’t it, Tariq? That’s why it had to go. Nothing to do with God or Allah or jihad. Just plain, old fashioned male ego. And you didn’t even have the guts to do the deed yourself. Sent a child in to do your dirty work for you. Your own daughter. You spineless piece of shit.”
He slapped his hands on the table. “How dare you? I gave everything I had to being a good member of society when I came here. Everything. I worked fourteen hours a day, went to mosque, prayed. But you, all of you, you’re all racist. You all decided that my shop wasn’t good enough for you. You stopped buying your clothes from me. You passed my shop without even looking inside, and I lost it all. You took it from me. Every one of you. You took my hard work and my effort and you threw it in my face.” He dropped the page back on the table. “I am a proud man. A good man. I did not deserve the contempt you all showed me. So, yes, I sent my daughter to purify the site of the evil that contaminated it. It was my service to God, my sacrifice for the good of us all, and now my honour is restored.”
Honour? Honour? Where was the honour in death? Where was the honour in murde
r? How could a person, any sane or reasonable person, condemn their own flesh and blood to death for the sake of a concept as fleeting and misconstrued as honour? There was nothing noble or worthy of admiration in this. There was nothing to respect in this act. Honour spoke of deeds of moral character, distinction, acts to be venerated. Kate saw nothing here worthy of reverence. Not by anyone. If this was honour, she’d take shame any day of the week. If this was what it took to maintain a man’s dignity and pride, she’d take ignominy, humiliation, and scorn for the rest of her life.
Seeming to take her disgusted silence as her listening to his insane ramblings, he leant back in his chair and continued, “Nadia was glad to do this. She knew her duty to God, to her people, to me. She was glad to offer her life to Allah as a soldier.”
Kate swallowed and let her ire settle so she could speak without screaming. “Who built the bomb?”
He said nothing.
She knew she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. Not tonight. She was surprised they’d gotten as much as they had, if she was honest. She was willing to bet that Ayeshydi’s husband was the bomb maker. But there was one more question she had to ask. “Are there any more bombs out there?”
She’d been right. He didn’t answer. But the taunting smile on his lips made her blood run cold.
Fuck.
* * *
Kate closed the door softly behind her before she bolted for the bathroom. Having had nothing to eat all day, the acid burned her throat as she hung her head over the toilet and tried to keep her hair out of the line of fire. She heard the door open and close, and then a hand rubbed her back. She half turned her head to see Clare stood to the left and slightly behind her.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Kate said softly as another cramp gripped her stomach and she dry heaved over the bowl again.
“Don’t be. I’m surprised I’m not hanging over the bowl next door.” She tapped the divide between the cubicles, and Kate offered her a wan smile.
“Thanks.”
“You did well in there. Got a lot more than I expected out of him.”
“So much for religious zeal. It was nothing more than a way for him to get a personal revenge on all the wrongs we’ve done him.”
Clare nodded. “Yup. The very definition of those in power using religion to their own ends. Everything that’s wrong with every religion, all boiled down to one crazy sound bite.”
“You’re more cynical than you used to be.” Kate stood up and backed out of the stall. She ran the tap in the sink and held her hand under it.
“Nah, I just don’t need to hide it now I’m Chief Super.”
Kate sniggered and swilled her mouth out.
Clare offered her a pack of mints. “Here, I’ve been passing these out all day.”
“Cheers.” Kate took one and popped it in her mouth. “So, what’s next, Boss?”
Clare shrugged a little and leant back against the wall. “Until we find the husband or get any of that translated stuff back, nothing. We’ve already searched every known address for each girl, and we’re looking everywhere for Ishman Ayeshydi. Right now, I suggest we get some sleep and get ready for another long day tomorrow.”
Kate agreed, but it didn’t sit well with her. Ahmed hadn’t admitted it, but the look on his face was enough to convince Kate that there were more bombs out there, waiting to be strapped to someone else’s son or daughter and walked into a crowd. Or a church. Or a school. Or a mosque. How the fuck do you keep people safe when even those you’re trying to protect could be the very ones trying to kill you? Or was that just another weapon in the arsenal of terror? The insipid little smile that makes you think there are more out there when really there aren’t? Just to keep you guessing, just to keep you awake, and afraid. To keep you on edge. To make you paranoid about every little thing. Well, it was fucking working.
“It’s been an absolute pleasure to see you work today, Kate. The one true bright spot in all this shit.” Clare’s voice sparkled with the hint of pride and the raw edge of sadness. “I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, but I am truly sorry for everything that happened. You deserved better from both of us, and you sure as shit deserved better than both of us.”
She looked across the small room, and she could see genuine pain in Clare’s eyes. “I do believe you.”
Clare smiled. “You always were a good friend, Kate—”
Kate held up her hand to stop her. “I believe you’re sorry, and you’re right, I did deserve better… I do. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you for what you did. I looked up to you. I trusted you. Fuck, you were like a sister to me.” She shook her head. “Mel cheating on me… Well, if I’m totally honest, I could see that coming. But you?” She looked away from Clare’s gaze. “I never expected that from you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She pulled open the door. “Night, ma’am.”
Chapter 13
Kate checked her watch as she turned off the engine and climbed out of her car. One thirty in the morning and she needed to be back at the station by seven. They were only two days into the investigation, and she was already exhausted. Gotta love a major incident on the run-up to Christmas. Just one more day and she would have had some time off, but God alone knew if she’d get it now. As for Christmas…well that was anyone’s guess. She’d been looking forward to her time off over the Christmas period, the first one she’d not worked since joining the police force, and she was looking forward to spending every moment of it she could with Gina and Sammy. Maybe it would still happen. If they could get their hands on Ayeshydi. And find out if he was the bomb maker. And find out if there were any more bombs waiting to be detonated. Then…maybe. The paperwork would still be there if she had a day off.
She slid her key into the back door and let herself in.
“Hey.” Gina’s sleepy voice met her from the sofa, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree that hadn’t been there that morning illuminating the room like the tiny twinkling stars they were meant to represent.
“Jesus Christ.” Kate put her hand to her chest, gasping for breath. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry,” she said quietly with a small shrug.
“It’s okay. I knew you were here. I just didn’t expect you to be here, here.” She pointed to the sofa.
“Hi, Kate,” another voice said from the smaller sofa.
Kate stared at Gina, then at Alison, then back to Gina. “Hey, Alison.” She mouthed to Gina, What’s going on?
Gina smiled and shook her head.
Kate hoped this meant something along the lines of “I’ll tell you in a few minutes” and not “none of your bloody business”. But she wasn’t entirely sure.
“I should get going.” Alison said. “Thank you for, well, for everything, Gina.”
“You can’t go,” Gina said.
“I can’t?”
“She can’t?”
Kate and Alison had spoken at the same time.
Gina shook her head. “We’ve gone through two bottles of wine.” She pointed to the empties on the coffee table. “You’ll never get a taxi at this time of night. It’s hard enough to get one in the daytime, never mind after midnight. They’re all around the towns, not out in the sticks.”
Kate rattled her keys. “I can give you a lift.”
“Then she’s got a problem getting back for her car in the morning,” Gina said. “And no doubt you’ve got an early start, right?”
Kate nodded. “I need to leave here by six thirty.”
“Ouch.” Alison grimaced. “I don’t mind the sofa.” She smiled. “It was comfy enough before you got home.”
Kate chuckled. She didn’t really want to head back out to take Alison home, she just wanted to crawl into her bed and try to get rid of the thoughts of dead bodies, bastard fathers, and bombs careening around her mind.
But even those awful thoughts couldn’t shift her mind away from the fact that Gina had been there. She had been i
n that shop when Nadia Ahmed and Saba Ayeshydi had pushed those buttons. She’d been at the heart of it when it all started. Stella was still in the hospital because they had both been in the shop. And that was something Kate couldn’t get out of her head. She could have lost Gina before they even really got started.
She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, and when she opened them again Gina was standing next to her.
“Hey, you okay?” Her blue eyes swam with concern, and she wrapped her hand around Kate’s arm. “You look exhausted.”
Kate smiled ruefully. “I am.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get you upstairs. You can show me where the spare bedding is for Mum.”
Kate let Gina tug her towards the stairs. “Night, Alison.”
“Night, Kate. Sorry for crashing.”
Kate waved her hand. “No worries. Glad to see you two together.” With a smile on her face, she followed Gina up the stairs. She tugged her into the third bedroom, empty but for the huge wardrobe, some drawers, and a bookcase jammed full of books. The room was too small to make a decent-sized bedroom, so Kate had never thought to set it up as one. She’d always intended for it to be an office of sorts. How many spare rooms did a single woman with no real friends and no visiting family need, after all? “There’s an extra duvet in there.” She pointed to the wardrobe. “And a couple of pillows, I think.”
“Thanks.” Gina pulled it open and quickly removed what Alison needed for her night on the sofa. “I’ll just run these down to her, and then I’ll be back.” She nodded towards Kate’s bedroom. “Can I come in when I come back up?”
Kate looked at her, startled, confused, shocked…turned on. Was she…? Did she…? But I’m knackered.
“I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Is that okay?”
Kate let out a relieved breath. “Of course.” She chuckled. “I’ll leave the door open.”
The Last First Time Page 16
