by Parker Bilal
‘This is not taking us anywhere.’
‘It’s all about trust, right? Mutual trust. But so far this has all been one way. I have to tell you about myself, but what about you? What about your secrets?’
‘I think perhaps it’s better you leave.’
She moved towards the door and opened it.
Haynes stood up slowly and came over to stand in front of her.
‘You haven’t talked about your feelings of guilt.’
‘My feelings of guilt?’ she repeated. Crane was dealing with somebody who was more dangerous than she had realized. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she felt annoyed for having her time wasted.
‘The only reason we’re talking is because of your aunt’s connection to Doctor Rosen.’
Haynes just smiled. ‘Have you never questioned whether your so-called expertise could be part of the problem rather than the solution?’
‘Goodbye, Mr Haynes.’
After he’d gone, Ray moved back slowly behind her desk and sat down. She swung the big chair round to face the window, staring at the reassuring brickwork and the slate roofs across the other side of the street. Haynes was a creep, but hopefully he would be someone else’s problem from now on. She reached forward for the buzzer to summon Heather.
CHAPTER 27
Time was running out. Wheeler had been trying to call him all morning. Drake didn’t pick up, suspecting that the superintendent was only going to remind him that his forty-eight hours were up and that he still had Pryce breathing down his neck. He also didn’t know how to explain why he was so convinced that his best lead on the case so far was a mentally unstable young man who may or may not have been involved in an arson attack on a mosque. It wasn’t hard to imagine how that would go down with his boss.
It took all of fifteen minutes to track Waleed to a café on Earls Court Road. One of those places that seemed to be trapped in a time warp. Beige Formica tables bolted to a tiled floor. It resembled a cheesy burger bar from the eighties.
The man behind the counter bore a faint resemblance to an Indian Buddy Holly. His hair was spiked with enough gel to choke a seal. Negotiations led to two black coffees in Styrofoam cups. Buddy Holly looked so happy that he might have just performed successful open-heart surgery.
When Drake set the coffees down Waleed didn’t even look up. He had frozen when he caught sight of Drake coming through the door.
‘You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m not here to hurt you.’
Waleed gave no indication that he had heard him. His eyes remained fixed on the table, which looked as if someone had taken a bite out of it.
‘The thing is, I have the feeling you’d like to help.’ Drake paused to sip his coffee, and instantly regretted it. ‘Sometimes we try to do something good, and it turns out bad, right?’
Waleed sniffed loudly but said nothing.
‘I spoke to your mother.’
‘You spoke to her? What did she say?’
‘Well, she was upset, as you can imagine. Your father was badly hurt.’
‘I didn’t think anyone would be hurt.’
‘I believe you.’
Waleed spoke without looking up. ‘People hate us. Our beliefs. It’s because we are pure.’
‘Sure, tell me something I don’t know.’ Drake leaned his elbows on the table. He gestured at the coffee which Waleed hadn’t touched. ‘You want something else? Are you hungry?’
Waleed twisted round to stare at the bright menu board. ‘Maybe a cheeseburger.’
‘Fries?’
Waleed nodded as Drake headed back to the counter. Buddy Holly was pleased to see him. As he waited for the order to be filled he kept one eye on Waleed, half expecting him to make a run for it. When he put the tray in front of him, Waleed blinked in confusion, then realized the food was for him.
‘So, you were trying to help someone?’
Stuffing French fries into his mouth three at a time, Waleed nodded. ‘Akky. He needed money. To do Allah’s work.’
‘Akky? This is who you let stay in your room at the masjid?’
‘He’s my brother. I had to help him.’
‘Sure, I understand.’ Drake watched Waleed bite into the cheeseburger and chew with slow satisfaction. ‘So, this guy . . .’
‘Akky?’ Waleed squirmed in his chair.
‘What is that short for, Akram? Akeel? Akeeb?’
‘Akky is cool. He’ll do good things.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Did he cover for you at the building site, too?’
‘I never liked that work, man. I swear.’ Waleed grinned, suddenly cheerful. ‘One ring to rule them all.’
‘What does that mean?’ Drake frowned, afraid this was suddenly about to go sideways.
Across from them two young Asian women sat and compared images on their iPhones. Behind them sat a man who, in another context, might be described as a local character. He was hunched over. A career junkie. Drake recognized the type. Jaundiced skin the colour of leather, torn yellow anorak. Skinny frame. He was doing a bad job of pretending not to look at the rucksack the girls had obligingly left on the floor. The back of the bag had a picture on it of Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. One ring.
‘Tell me about this friend of yours.’
‘He’s not a bad person.’
‘I know. A true believer.’
Waleed looked up, mouth buried in his burger.
‘How did you get the job at Magnolia Quays?’
‘This guy who comes to the masjid regularly. He’s a bit funny, you know? Not that I’m like that. But he’s a hairdresser, so what do you expect.’ Waleed giggled to himself.
‘Are you talking about Marouan?’
‘You know him?’
Drake took another sip of coffee hoping it might have improved. It hadn’t. Over Waleed’s shoulder he watched the junkie as he stared at the ceiling, his long fingers snaking into the open rucksack. Drake leaned across.
‘You want to give that a rest, mate.’
The junkie sat up, studied the wall and ran his hands through his greasy hair. The two tourists stared at Drake as if he was a lunatic. They gathered up their things and left.
‘You know that Allah judges you by your deeds, by the purity of your heart, right?’ Drake said. Waleed gave a guilty lurch that might have been a nod. ‘Okay, so I am going to ask you again, because I know that in your heart you are good. You never meant your father to be hurt, right? You want to do the right thing.’ Drake paused, trying not to overdo it, giving his words time to sink in. ‘You were helping a brother in need. You let him stay and you let him take your job, yes?’
‘He wanted to work there. Said we could share it.’
‘He told you about Magnolia Quays?’
Waleed frowned. ‘I think so, yeah. He’d tried to work there, or he had worked there. I can’t remember. Anyway, he was cool. He’d even been to make jihad, to fight.’
‘He told you that?’
‘Yeah, you know, right?’
Drake glanced over at the junkie, who was rocking back and forth on his chair as if in pain. He got up and went over. ‘Do yourself a favour and move on, before they call the cops.’ He tucked a ten-pound note into the man’s jacket. ‘And get yourself something to eat, for god’s sake.’
The man disappeared out of the door without another word. Drake returned to his seat.
‘Okay, so listen to me carefully, Waleed. Did he tell you about the Thermite?’
‘Thermite?’ Waleed’s jaw hung open, revealing a mouthful of half-chewed burger and yellow clumps of cheese. ‘I don’t even know what that is.’
‘Okay, don’t sweat it. You’re doing well, Waleed. This is really helpful, but I need you to give me a little bit more. You see, I need to talk to your friend. You think he’d talk to me?’
Waleed squeezed his shoulders upwards. ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured softly.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Wallahi, I don’t know, I swear. If I did I would te
ll you.’ He was starting to unravel. Nose running, sobbing gently. God knows what he was on, but emotionally Waleed was a mess.
‘Okay, look, we’re really close now. I just need a little more. After the fire, he went away. He would need to hide. Did he have somewhere to go? A friend maybe? Somewhere nobody could find him?’
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ Waleed was hyperventilating. Over by the counter, Drake could see Buddy Holly looking worried.
‘You’re fine. You’re doing really well.’
‘A lock-up.’
‘A lock-up?’ Drake thought he might have misheard.
‘Yeah, like a place they keep cars at night.’
‘That’s great, Waleed. Really helpful. Do you know where? Can you tell me that?’
Waleed rocked back and forth, eyes closed, his face scrunched up as if in pain. Like a man with a fever, the words came out of him in stuttering fits and starts.
‘He gu . . . gets in at n . . . night. Nobody knows. The old m . . . man who runs the pl . . . is stupid and . . . old.’
‘Where? I need a name.’
‘Fenton. Used Cars. Over in Fulham somewhere.’ Waleed clutched at Drake’s parka as he stood. ‘My father will kill me if he knew. That masjid is everything to him. You mustn’t tell him. Swear you won’t!’
‘I won’t. Oh, before I forget. You didn’t tell me how you two met?’
‘We were in Maudsley hospital together.’ Waleed looked at his hands. ‘He said there’s a reason they lock up people like us.’
‘I have one last question,’ said Drake. ‘Was he alone, or were there others?’
‘Only one that I know of; his master, the murshid.’
‘His guide? Like what, a spiritual guide?’
Waleed grinned, a pale ghostly smile.
‘A guide to the eternal light of Allah.’
CHAPTER 28
Drake walked into the Murder Room to find the place buzzing. People were bustling about the corridors, blocking the stairs, bumping into him as they hurried past bearing stacks of files, photocopiers and monitors. The odd thing was that most of them were unfamiliar faces. An ominous sign had been taped to the glass wall of the conference room. It had only three letters on it: MIU. Drake shrugged off his coat and threw it over the back of his chair.
‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Wheeler.’ Kelly was sitting in her chair chewing a pencil. ‘He’s caved in to Pryce.’
‘Why didn’t I hear about this?’
‘You’re about to.’ Kelly nodded over his shoulder and Drake turned to see the superintendent coming through the door. The expression on his face was a familiar grimace. Drake had seen that look before.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Wheeler asked, leading Drake to one side.
‘Phone.’ Drake held up the offending item. ‘Ran out of juice.’
‘That’s the best you can come up with?’ Wheeler folded his arms. ‘I warned you that I couldn’t cover you indefinitely. This is not the time to go AWOL.’
‘With respect, sir,’ Drake began, breaking off as Wheeler’s hand rose to stop him.
‘DCI Pryce has accused you of interfering with a drug operation he’s running.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The way he tells it you were over in the Freetown estate, sticking your nose in where it wasn’t welcome.’
‘I was following a lead.’
‘What lead?’
‘The fire at the Birch Lane mosque.’
Wheeler’s face soured with disgust. ‘That was weeks ago, man. Are you saying there’s a connection between that and these murders?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘No, then what are you saying?’
‘I think there is a link between a suspect working on the site and the imam’s son.’
‘What did DCI Pryce say?’
Drake looked at the floor. ‘I haven’t actually spoken to him about it yet.’
Wheeler cursed under his breath.
‘I warned you about this, Cal. I told you that you were hanging onto this case by the skin of your teeth.’ Wheeler winced. ‘You disappear and then you turn up spouting all kinds of nonsense. I told you we needed results. I can’t tell the commissioners that you are off chasing down fires.’
‘No sir, I realize that.’
‘Well, your time is up. Pryce is ranking officer and he will be taking direct charge.’
‘Where does that leave us? I mean, ourselves and Doctor Crane?’ Drake threw her name into the mix thinking it might help his cause. From the look on Wheeler’s face it didn’t have the desired effect.
‘You’ll carry on, but you’ll coordinate with Pryce. They’re setting up a logistics base in here.’ Wheeler nodded over at the conference room. ‘I know there’s bad blood between the two of you, but at the end of the day he’s the ranking officer. That means you report to him, and remember, Cal, you’re part of a team now, so act like it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Wheeler was eager to move on. ‘Sort out whatever problem you have with Pryce. I don’t want your personal differences to affect the running of the case.’ Drake watched him disappear into the conference room, his frown turning to a smile.
‘So, we’re working for Pryce now?’ Milo sounded unhappy.
‘You heard the man, we’re part of the team.’
This was the way of things. Murder Investigation Units could be sent out when and where they were needed. It saved on keeping idle units staffed. It all made perfect sense, on paper.
‘But we’re still on the case, right?’ Kelly asked.
‘Uh huh.’
Kelly screwed up her nose. ‘How fucked up is that?’
‘We have no choice, Kelly.’
‘Right, so it works both ways? I mean, they’ll share what they have?’
‘That’s generally how it goes.’
‘And people said pigs don’t fly,’ Kelly muttered.
‘So, have we got anything new?’
Kelly scrabbled among the papers on her desk for a printed sheet.
‘Thwaite’s wife. Family name is Chaikin. Turns out they are originally from Belarus, somewhere over there.’ She waved vaguely in the direction of the east. ‘Her grandparents moved here to escape persecution.’
‘Okay, so this might fit in with something Doctor Crane told me.’ Drake sat back and put his feet on the desk.
‘Sounds like the two of you are getting very chatty.’ Kelly winked.
‘According to Crane, Mrs Thwaite was kidnapped while in Iraq.’
Kelly let out a low whistle. ‘Didn’t see that one coming.’
‘We should have picked up on it,’ agreed Drake.
‘When was this?’ Milo asked.
‘Ten years ago, before she became Mrs Thwaite.’
‘Why didn’t Thwaite mention it?’
Drake had been wondering about that. ‘Maybe he thought it wasn’t relevant. It was ten years ago. There was no reason to think there was a connection.’
‘But . . .?’ asked Kelly.
‘But there’s more. Three people were kidnapped and held for ransom.’
‘Who were the others?’
Milo beat them to it. He had been busy working the keyboard of his computer and now sat back to reveal the screen.
‘Tei Hideo.’
Drake and Kelly leaned down to take a look. The screen showed a page from a French newspaper. The picture in the centre of the article was an old black-and-white photograph of a younger Hideo waving as he came down the steps of a plane.
‘We have our connection.’
‘Well, that changes everything,’ said Kelly. ‘You said there were three?’
‘The third hostage didn’t make it,’ said Milo. ‘An American woman named Janet Avery.’ He swung round to face the others. ‘This gives us a connection to the Iraq war.’
‘Correct. We need to also reconsider Doctor Crane’s theory about a link to some kind of Islamist motive.’
‘Sounds like she should be here,’ said Kelly.
‘She’s going to join when we visit Thwaite.’ Drake turned back to Milo. ‘That’s another thing. She showed me a photograph of the crime scene that I’m sure I haven’t seen.’
Milo nodded. ‘Yeah, she already emailed me about it.’
‘And…?’
‘I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I don’t have that picture. I called over to forensics and they sent over another set.’
‘Is this important?’ Kelly sounded doubtful.
‘Right now, any cracks need to be examined carefully.’
A loud crash came from the conference room. A projector had fallen onto the floor.
‘Speaking of cracks. There goes the department budget,’ muttered Kelly. ‘Don’t forget we have an appointment with Thwaite.’ She tapped her watch. ‘We should get a move on. Also, I found stuff about his finances.’
‘What did you find?’
Kelly was shaking her head. ‘It’s a real mixed bag, chief. I mean there are companies, conglomerates, banks, foundations. And the money comes from all over. The Middle East, Russia, you name it.’ She was flipping through her notebook as she spoke. Now she stopped. ‘The upshot of it is that his shareholders are about to turn on him. I heard that these murders might just push him over the edge.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning they will take control of the company if it looks as if they are about to take a hit.’
Milo handed him a large brown envelope. ‘These are all the shots of the crime scene we got from forensics.’
‘Thanks. One other thing, Milo. Last night, I met the security guard who was on the site. Can you get someone to do a background check on him? Flinders? Kronnos Security. He was with the Light Brigade in Iraq.’
Milo noted down the details. ‘Any special reason?’
‘Other than idle curiosity? None.’
‘Okay, when I get a moment.’
‘See if you can get hold of his military record.’
Kelly waved her pencil in the air. ‘What’s going on with this fire? You said something about the imam’s son. Is he involved?’
Drake gave them a breakdown of the mosque fire and his conversation with Waleed.
‘So, the arson attack triggered this Thermite stuff that was already there?’
