When she got there it was mid-morning, and the house was filled with the comforting sounds of domesticity, women talking over coffee, some children playing on a swing in the back garden, a washing machine rumbling. Kathy asked for Nargis and was surprised when Briony Kidd appeared.
‘Nargis is at prayer,’ she said, sounding hostile. ‘Can’t you leave her alone? She was upset after that grilling you gave her last time.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Briony. I have to do my job.’
‘That’s what the Gestapo said too, wasn’t it?’
The words blurted out, angry, and Kathy waited a moment before she replied. ‘That’s not fair. We were the ones who brought her here, remember?’
Briony flushed. ‘Sorry. This is all just so awful. I wish it would all be over. Do you… do you want a cup of coffee?’
They sat at the kitchen table and Briony explained that she had been to Chandler’s Yard that morning to collect Nargis’ clothes for her. ‘She’s too scared to go anywhere near Shadwell Road yet. But the social worker has put her in touch with people who can stop her father from stalking her.’
‘Where do you live?’ Kathy asked.
‘In Bow. I rent a house with a couple of other grad students. It’s damp but convenient.’
‘Did Max mix socially with his students much?’
‘You mean me, don’t you? I was the only one.’
‘There were others before though. I just wondered if he was a very sociable person.’
‘He wasn’t a hermit, if that’s what you mean. We’d go to the pub sometimes for our tutorials, sometimes Dr Pettifer would come along too.’
‘So you must have been as close to what he was working on as anyone, I suppose? Did he talk about that? Things he was writing about?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Do you remember if he said anything about a “protocol”?’
‘A what?’
Kathy checked in her notebook to get the term right. ‘Something called a “BRCA4 protocol”?’
Briony picked up a pencil and wrote it down on the tail end of a shopping list. ‘I think I do remember him using the word “protocol” once or twice.’
‘Can you remember what he said about it?’
‘Not exactly…’ Briony screwed up her nose, thinking. ‘He was being scathing about scientists, I think, “with their evil protocols”, that sort of thing. I don’t remember a specific number like that.’ A light dawned in her eyes. ‘This is something CAB-Tech is doing, isn’t it? Yes, I do remember he referred to a specific project they were involved in. And it had a code number, like this. I didn’t take it in at the time.’
‘OK.’ Kathy nodded and went to put her notebook away, but Briony gripped her wrist and said fiercely, ‘You are investigating them, aren’t you? I knew you would. It’s them, isn’t it? They’re responsible for what happened to Max.’
Then her eyes skipped up over Kathy’s shoulder and she got quickly to her feet. ‘Nargis!’ she cried, and Kathy turned and saw the other girl standing in the doorway watching them.
‘Sergeant Kolla wants to speak to you again. Are you up to it?’
Nargis came silently to the table and sat down. ‘I was praying,’ she said softly. ‘For Abu.’
Kathy said nothing, thinking of the grief she might cause when she showed her the photograph, and wondering whether to let it go. But she knew she had to ask.
‘I’m really sorry to intrude again, Nargis, especially with this. I just need you to identify something for me, a snapshot of you and Abu.’ She took one of the copies from her bag and placed it on the table. But the girl wasn’t distressed, only puzzled. ‘That looks like one of mine. How did you get it?’
‘Yours?’
‘Yes, I’m sure it is. It was last spring, wasn’t it, Briony? In the pool at Thamesmead.’
‘Who took it?’ Kathy said gently.
‘Why, it was Briony. Wasn’t it? With Abu’s camera.’
Briony shrugged. ‘I remember the day we went to the pool. George and Kasim came too, didn’t they?’
‘So it was Abu’s film. Do you know where the other pictures are?’
‘Abu gave them to me. They’re in my room in Chandler’s Yard. Why?’
‘It was just a loose end we had to tie up.’
‘I suppose somebody else might have taken pictures that day. George or Fran maybe. I can’t remember.’
Nargis stared sadly at the image. Kathy said, ‘Keep it if you like,’ and got to her feet before the girl could ask her again how she’d come by it.
When she returned to Queen Anne’s Gate Kathy retrieved the inventory that had been made of things in Max Springer’s room. She eventually found what she was looking for in a long list of items under the general heading ‘Files and papers’. Number 1076 was listed as ‘File marked “BRCA4 Protocol”: empty’.
They had arranged a schedule of interviews with CAB-Tech staff through the Monday, booking interview facilities in a modern divisional police station just across the river from the UCLE campus. Brock kept Darr and Haygill until last, hoping that some discrepancies would emerge in the statements of the others, but his hopes faded as they went on. Of course, yes, they knew Abu very well, as a colleague and friend; they saw him every day, prayed with him, shared their meals with him; he was universally liked as a quiet, sincere, loyal and competent workmate. And no, he had given no indication that he was planning any violence to anyone; he had never spoken in anger against Professor Springer; he had never spoken about firearms. The whole thing was incomprehensible.
After several hours of this, Bren sighed with frustration. ‘The same story every time.’
‘Psittacism, Bren,’ Brock grunted. ‘Pure psittacism.’
‘What’s that on a clear day, chief?’
‘Repetition of words and ideas parrot-fashion. Did you notice how the same phrases kept coming up? They’ve been taking classes.’
‘And we can guess who the teacher was.’
‘Yes. Let’s have him in, shall we?’
Dr Darr didn’t repeat the exact phrases of the others, but the ideas were much the same. Abu simply wasn’t an unpredictable or highly emotional type, and it was impossible to imagine him doing anything so terrible. From there Darr went on to gently challenge his questioners. What would Abu have to gain? Were the police absolutely confident about their evidence? Could it not be a case of tragically mistaken identity? Or even, a deliberate attempt to discredit CAB-Tech through Abu, by a rival organisation perhaps? He couldn’t suggest any specific names, but theirs was a cut-throat research area, and it was well known that certain American companies could act ruthlessly when their commercial interests were at stake.
Richard Haygill was accompanied by a solicitor from a firm that represented the university, and appeared even more tired and drawn than the first time they’d met. He sat down and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Brock asked him if he was all right, and if they could get him anything, and he apologised.
‘Sorry, I had to fly out to the Gulf again over the weekend and I’m a bit behind in my sleep. This business has been incredibly disruptive, you understand. It’s been very hard for us to focus on our work.’
‘Yes, I can imagine that your overseas partners would find it a little disturbing.’
Haygill raised his eyes. ‘More than a little, Chief Inspector, I can assure you. The sooner we can put it behind us the better. Incidentally, may I ask something? I felt very bad that we weren’t represented at Abu’s interment. I understand that there was a young woman there, and that there was some kind of incident. Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine now.’
‘Good. Is she a relative?’
‘I understand she was a friend of Mr Khadra’s.’
‘Really. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend, you see, and I wondered if I should get in touch with her, express our regrets.’
‘If you wanted to send a note to me, Professor, I’ll make sure she gets it.’
‘Oh… thank you. I wrote to the address we had for his family in the Lebanon, but I haven’t heard anything.’ He sighed. ‘It’s so hard to know what to say.’
Brock began the formal interview. ‘Professor Haygill, there is strong forensic evidence to suggest that Abu Khadra was the man who murdered Max Springer, but we are puzzled by his motive. Why would he have done such a thing? Have you any idea?’