First Response

MARBLE ARCH (6.05 p.m.)

Imad El-Sayed and his son came down the stairs cautiously. El-Sayed pushed open the door to the coffee shop and flinched when he saw two armed officers with carbines held across their chests. When they saw him they shouldered their weapons and aimed at his chest. ‘Armed police, hands in the air!’ shouted one.

‘We are civilians!’ shouted El-Sayed, throwing up his hands. ‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Hassan, put up your hands.’

‘Shut up and move forward!’ shouted the armed officer.

El-Sayed stepped forward with his hands up, Hassan behind him. One of the officers quickly patted them down. Satisfied that they weren’t armed, he nodded at his colleague. Both men lowered their weapons. ‘Who are you?’ asked the older of the two.

‘My name is Imad El-Sayed, and this is my son, Hassan.’

‘Where were you?’

‘We were hiding upstairs.’

‘You work here?’

El-Sayed shook his head. ‘We are customers. We hid while the bomber was here. I run a bureau de change down the road. Can I show you my business card?’

‘Go ahead,’ said the officer.

El-Sayed slowly reached into his robe and pulled out his wallet. He took out a card and handed it to the officer, who studied it. ‘Okay, Mr El-Sayed.’ He gestured at the policemen in fluorescent jackets who were talking to the customers. ‘Please talk to one of these officers before you leave. They have a few questions for you.’

‘Is it over?’ asked El-Sayed. ‘Have the ISIS prisoners been released?’

The officer gestured at the television on the wall. ‘You can watch it while you wait,’ he said.