First Response

INTERVIEW WITH MOHAMMED SAMI MALIK (9.30 p.m.)

Sergeant Barlow smiled at Mohammed Sami Malik and asked him if he needed anything else to eat or drink. He had been given an apple and a banana and a glass of orange juice. ‘I just want to go home,’ said Malik.

‘Home is Southall, right?’ said Barlow. ‘You live with your parents?’

Malik nodded. ‘They’ll be worried shitless.’

‘We’ve already informed them that you’re safe and well and they’re coming to collect you.’

Malik groaned. ‘Shit.’

‘What’s the problem, Sami?’ asked Gillard. He was standing by the door, his arms folded. ‘What’s the problem with your parents coming?’

‘My mum’s gonna be frantic, that’s what. Especially when she sees me like this.’ He gestured at the paper suit he was wearing. ‘She’ll go mental. She’ll be sure I’ve done something wrong.’

‘We’ve told them you’re helping us with our enquiries, Sami,’ said Barlow. ‘No one’s going to think you did anything wrong. From what you’ve told us, you were forced into it. You were in fear for your life?’

‘Like I keep telling you, Shahid was running the show. He was the only one who could detonate the vests, using his mobile. He said if we didn’t do exactly as he said, he’d blow us up.’

‘And you believed him?’

‘Fuck, yeah.’

‘Because?’

‘Because he killed a guy, blew him to fucking smithereens.’

‘Where was this?’

‘Some factory or something. The place where we were being held.’

‘Tell me about that place.’

‘I didn’t see much,’ said Malik. ‘Most of the time I had a hood on.’

‘But when the hood was off, what did you see?’

‘It was an old place, concrete floors and metal girders overhead. There were pigeons in the roof. They scattered when the bomb went off.’

‘Could you hear anything outside? Traffic? Trains? Planes overhead?’

Malik shook his head. ‘He only took the hood off that one time to tell us what we had to do. I don’t remember much about the place. After he’d killed the guy he put the hood back on and put us in the van.’ He sipped his juice and grimaced. ‘This tastes like shit.’

‘We’ll get you something else,’ said Barlow. ‘What would you like? Tea? Coffee? A Coke?’

‘I’d like to go home,’ said Malik.

‘Just a few more questions, please,’ said Barlow. ‘What time were you taken?’

‘About midnight. I’d been out with the lads and was on my way home. Someone shouted my name and when I turned something hit my head.’

‘Did they shout Mohammed or Sami?’

‘Sami. Like I said, no one calls me Mohammed.’

‘So whoever it was, they must have known you?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘And you didn’t recognise them?’

‘I didn’t see them. I just heard my name, turned, and bang.’ He reached up and rubbed the back of his head. ‘They could have killed me.’

‘And when you woke up?’

‘I was in a van with a hood over my head. They drove me to the warehouse and I spent most of my time lying on the floor before they tied me to the chair. Then I passed out, and when I woke up again I was wearing that fucking waistcoat.’

‘Your parents didn’t report you missing,’ said Barlow.

‘They probably didn’t realise I hadn’t come home. I usually get in late and leave for work before they’re up.’ He sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘It’s fucked up, isn’t it? Why me? Why the fuck did they pick on me?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to work out,’ said Chief Superintendent Gillard.

‘Wrong place, wrong time?’ suggested Malik.

‘No, they chose you,’ said Gillard. ‘They knew your name so it was you they wanted. You were all chosen, but the question is why.’

‘Yeah, well, when you finally do find this Shahid, give me a few moments alone with him, will you? I’d like to give him a good kicking for what he put me through.’