Blunt drove down Hall Road and turned left at the roundabout that met Lilac Road. He turned left again and then drove into the MacDonald's car park: there being nowhere to park at the Q8 petrol station.
On entering the shop he noticed a young man tall, thin and sharply dressed speaking down to someone in staff uniform. His patronising explanation of how things should be stacked on the shelves and other matters grated with Blunt. The object of the dressing down, a dumpy young man in his late teens, exuded resentment. The other pretended not to notice, or more probably was so impervious to others' feelings and body language that he could not detect, the brooding antipathy.
'Mr Bell' Blunt enquired
The young man swung around
'Yes, You must be Chief Inspector Blunt'
'Correct'
'Good, Good, Good.' He strode over to Blunt thrust out his hand and gave him an over firm handshake. A tactic probably taught on a company management course thought Blunt.
'We're only too happy to help the police with their enquiries. Its in all our interest that we all do our bit'
Blunt nodded in agreement
'Good, good, good. If you come this way, Tommy Evans the member of staff is waiting in the back office'
As he led the police officer to the office he turned to the youth and said that he wanted everything done as said when he came back out of the meeting.
Tommy Evans was a callow youth, again late teens or early twenties, afflicted with acne. Probably, caused by not washing enough. He didn't feel comfortable in Blunt's presence: maybe his previous encounters with the law had not been pleasant. However, he provided a statement that put Morski and Pidrik at the station between 11.13pm and 11.28pm. They both alighted from the BMW at the same time. Pidrik to fuel the car whilst Morski browsed the food section.
The manager couldn't control himself and cut in,
'We've got a copy of their bill and CCTV of them both...' a harsh look from Blunt silenced Bell.
'Mr Bell, I will come to that later. I want to conclude taking a statement from Mr Evans first. Whilst I am doing that it would be useful if you could get the video ready so as to save time'
'That's fine. Yes, yes, yes. Good good, good. We managers are always busy'
'What an irritating prick' Blunt thought to himself. 'No wonder the staff were bordering on revolt'
Blunt finished with Evans, watched the video and asked if he could have a copy if required. The obsequious little sod Bell said he would have a copy done that day and dropped off at the station.
On getting into the car his phone rang. An unhappy Strumpshaw, the Chief Constable ordered his presence immediately! The urgency emphasised by the slammed down phone.
Finding the address of Shinton and Ransome had proved more difficult than Flint had imagined; even with the aid of a map. Poringland was a large estate on the southern outskirts of Norwich. As with many developments that had looked to maximise on the housing boom of the eighties the houses were crammed into too small a space. This meant that there were lots of twists and turns and cul-de- sacs. A recipe for getting lost.
Eventually she drew up outside a newish bungalow. A small Nissan Micra old style was parked on the drive down the side of the house.
A diminutive male with a relatively high pitched voice and fluttering hands answered the door and introduced himself as Bobby Ransome. He ushered Flint into an untidy sitting room. A large dark haired man about six foot seven in height and weighing probably 22 stone stood by the sofa. He had piggy eyes and an exceedingly neatly trimmed goatee beard and moustache. Something about the pair made Flint's flesh crawl. She couldn't put her finger on it. He shook Flint's hand and motioned to one of the armchairs.
Ransome, also had a trimmed goatee and moustache, although not as neatly trimmed as that of Shinton. He sat on the sofa, close, very close to Shinton.
Flint first of all covered the formalities and asked the pair to bear with her as it would take her some time to make notes. She took their names, ages and expressed surprise when Shinton stated that he lived at a Paxton House at 23 Dereham Road.
She did not ask them to elaborate on nor was any information volunteered regarding their living arrangements.
She dealt with Shinton first and took out the photographs of Morski and Pidrik that had featured in the media. He stated that he remembered seeing them both at the Attic.
'My Daniel, fancies the little tart that was with em' Ransome excitedly butted in.
Flint thanked him for his contribution and stated that he would get his turn and that she needed to take down statements from each of them independently. Shinton admitted that he found the young man with Morski and Pidrik somewhat attractive. Simultaneously to expressing that opinion he patted Ransome's hand. He remembered looking at the clock because he had noticed the three of them sometime before and thought that they had been together a fair while. Yes, he and Ransome were regular visitors to the Attic and had seen that young boy and several others there on a regular basis. In fact he and Ransome had thought of maybe trying for a threesome with that particular boy. He squeezed Ransome's hand again as he said it. The smaller man smiled with pleasure at the physical contact. Flint asked him whether he had seen Morski and Pidrik again. He answered in the affirmative and gave a time of about 2am.
Ransome added very little to the information provided by Shinton, although he embellished his statement with various catty remarks about people fancying 'his Daniel'.
When she had finished and they had both signed their statements she asked if it would be ok to contact them again if she needed some further information. Both answered in the affirmative.
She thought about their statements as she drove to Stalham where her next interviewee, Michael Loveday and Blunt resided. Not that they resided together. She reckoned that Loveday's flat should be relatively easy to locate as it was Flat 2, The Pharmacy on the High Street.
Meanwhile, Saeed found himself on the Larkman estate interviewing the man from behind the counter of the Pizza Takeaway on the Prince of Wales Road. A straightforward assignment. Yes, he recognised the two of them. They had ordered bacon pizzas with extra anchovies. He remembered the time, just after 3am because things had been slow and he had been clock watching. If necessary the time would be confirmed from a copy of the till roll. He signed his statement and Ahmed returned to the station.
Cushion and Leibnitz stood outside The Attic on Rose Lane. The establishment billed itself as the premier establishment in East Anglia for the Gay, Lesbian, bisexual and transgender community.
Like many nightclubs it lost all intimacy and felt stark and cold when all the lights were switched on. The manager greeted them but with a total lack of enthusiasm. Their request that all the staff be at the club in the morning had gone down like a lead balloon. The staff looked morose, tired and pissed off. What Cushion and Leibnitz didn't know was that they had been ordered in and told that they would not be being paid. The proprietors and managers of all clubs knew the sense and value of keeping on the sweet side of the police.
The manager then reiterated their commitment to staying on the right side of the law. After all they could not help but do so as some of the brave boys and girls in blue frequented the club. Cushion and Leibnitz exchanged glances wondering which of their colleagues attended the place. The manager noticing gave them a couple of cryptic clues. 'Happy by nature, happy by name'
Leibnitz caught on immediately and struggled to stifle a giggle at the thought of the hissy little shit, Gayde, wiggling his arse at another hissy little shit! Cushion looked at her quizzically. She said she'd tell him later.
The staff all agreed that Morski and Pidrik visited from time to time on a fairly regular basis. They remembered seeing them on the Saturday evening and two of the bar staff recollected serving them with vodka. They couldn't be sure about the time that they arrived, or when they left. However, one thought that he had seen them about 12ish. What made him think about that time. Because he had caught part of a programme on the TV in the staff room. That programme ran between 11 and 12. However, he couldn't be sure.
No-one could remember whether or not Morski or Pidrik spoke to anyone else and if so to whom. Leibnitz did not feel comfortable with their answers on this point but held her tongue.
Steve Cushion asked the manager what the two bedrooms were for?
The 'pat' answer concerned the prejudices of society at large when it came to those who were not heterosexual. In many places their presence was frowned upon in establishments that offered accommodation. The Attic provided two tasteful rooms where those of a non-heterosexual nature could stay in Norwich in a stress free and relaxed environment. A romantic haven for non heterosexual couples.
Cushion asked whether the rooms were ever utilised by gay or lesbian prostitutes. The manager feigned mock horror. He emphasised that The Attic was an establishment that scrupulously kept on the right side of the law. Cushion did not press the matter he knew only too well the difficulties of attempting to prove prostitution in such a place.
The two police officers then commenced the tedious and time consuming task of taking statements from the manager and the recalcitrant staff. Towards the end of their taking statements they received a phone call from Ahmed informing them that Blunt required everyone's presence at base as soon as they had finished taking statements.
When Blunt arrived back at the headquarters Saeed asked to speak with him. He informed him that he had to see Strumpshaw and they arranged to talk immediately afterwards. Blunt suggested they meet at a pub. Ahmed volunteered the Adam and Eve situated not too far away on Bishopsgate.
Strumpshaw ordered Blunt to sit on the chair the other side of his desk in an abrupt manner. The latter expected the worst. And it came, piece after piece. It transpired that the Asians interviewed by Blunt's team were creating a media storm. They had used influence with the Asian Network in the Midlands to get across a story that managed to put the police in an exceptionally bad light regarding the Gladstone Street fire. This had gone viral with the mainstream BBC picking up the story and sensationalising it. Strumpshaw had been tipped off that some of the interviewees were going to feature on that days six o clock news. The Evening News, Radio Broadland, BBC Norfolk, Anglian Television and BBC Norfolk were all clamouring for a comment. If they didn't receive one they were going to descend on mass and camp outside the headquarters.
Strumpshaw had also been berated by Rafique Khan in his position as a senior spokesperson for the Muslim Community. Khan is saying that the Asian areas are like a tinderbox due to the invasion of Iraq. The last thing anyone needed was Blunt and his team of misfits blundering about upsetting the delicate balance in Muslim areas. Strumpshaw nearly lost his temper and retorted that Khan had personally recommended one of the 'so-called misfits and nodded through the appointment of Blunt.
Shortly afterwards senior representatives from both the Home and Foreign Offices were on the line dressing the Chief Constable down for the ineptitude of the new team. Khan fulfilled a vital role in the new security team. He kept the security services abreast of developments in the world of Muslim extremism.
As the deluge of criticism deriving from representatives of the great and good continued to be dumped on him Strumpshaw saw the chances of promotion being buried under the mountain of ordure. His mood was black and his temperament turbulent.
'Well John what have you got to say for yourself?' demanded Strumpshaw
'How do you mean?' rejoindered a baffled Blunt
'What the hell do you mean asking how do you mean? You and your team have stirred the shit up well and truly over this Gladstone Road fire. I am told that your team have gone into Asian businesses and even a mosque accusing them of running a prostitution ring of underage white girls, barged or broken their way into a mosque and stolen documents. And that's just for starters'
'Sir, my team and I are due to meet later to debrief. So, at this moment I have no idea of the veracity of these claims.'
'The Muslim community is complaining that the police are racist and that instead of hunting down the killers of a law abiding and innocent Muslim family who have helped the police with their enquiries.' Blunt's senses heightened. How did the complainers know about the Patels helping the police?
Strumpshaw continued fulminating
'Furthermore, we are looking for another two Asians and implying that they may have something to do with the fires. What the fuck is going on John?'
'That is a good question sir. I need to debrief my team. Something is going on and I think that we are getting closer and closer. I apologise for all the flack you are taking and I will keep you in the loop regarding what we find. We need your PR skills to keep the media sweet'
'Are you patronising me Blunt?' demanded the Chief Constable.
'No sir. You are bloody good with the media. And for what it is worth I am grateful for your courage in giving me the task of this new team. I believe that you will not be disappointed.'
A slightly mollified Strumpshaw grunted an acknowledgement but then threw at Blunt
'A way of defusing this would be to use Saeed to front up the press release'
Blunt had to give it to the man. Using Saeed would be a masterstroke
Blunt marched into Cushion's office
'Right let us get off to the Adam and Eve. You can fill me in on yesterday. The shit has hit the fan and we have to start getting some kind of results. Strumpshaw is taking flak. We are taking flak. This unit may be finished before it has started. Come on.'
Ahmed followed in his superior's slipstream.
Once settled on the outside benches of the Adam and Eve out of earshot of other drinkers blunt asked Ahmed to fill him in on the events of the previous day.
Ahmed expressed his concerns and described the extremist material found at the Mosque. He also described the reaction at the taxi office when Leibnitz brought up the question of underage prostitutes.
Blunt said nothing but sat there sipping at his beer.
Ahmed jumped in to break the silence
'We have a lead on the two at the Patels'
'What' Blunt exploded splattering some of his beer over Ahmed.
''Yup, call came in when you were with Strumpshaw. The woman is Ayesha Saddiqe. Apparently from Bolton. Our informer states that she is one of the few women t5o have fought with the mujahedeen against the Russians in Afghanistan. She earned the nickname She Wolf because of her bravery in going behind Russian lines and planting mines and explosive devices. She became radicalised by Imams such as Abu Hamza. Her father owns two small newsagents and he's heavily indebted to the Khan's wholesale business. She volunteered when Khan recruited people for the holy war. She then spent time training with a guy forming what the informer says is a new and dangerous terror group. A guy called Osama Bin Laden'.
'What!' Blunt exploded 'what was that name again?'
The other drinkers looked around at the pair, one half of their minds hoping to witness a row. The other half expecting to turn away in faux embarrassment.
'What was that name again? Hissed Blunt as he remembered his chat with Robyn Fletcher.
'Osama Bin Laden. Do you know it?
'Carry on' Blunt collected himself.
'Ok Well Ayesha is supposed to be wanting to plan actions against the US because they had troops stationed in Saudi. And against all the allies except the Muslim countries who were involved in the action against Iraq. She believes that Shariah law should be declared in the UK. Now the literature that I picked up from the Dereham Road mosque basically espoused the same sentiments and beliefs'
'What about the man?'
'Zafir Sheikh from Keighley. Father is a solicitor and regarded as a moderate in the mosque. Zafir graduated in Law from Leeds University. Again he came under the influence of Saleh Hussein the man whose pamphlet I took from the Dereham Road mosque. Zafir went down a similar route to Ayesha Saddiqe. Trained in a mujahedeen camp in the Pashtun financed by Osama Bin Laden and was seen there with Rafique Khan. Apparently, after the Russians left he stayed behind and did further training with Osama Bin Laden: that training also included Islamist indoctrination. How does our informant know all this? Because he went down the same track before he realised that it led to nowhere. '
'What about the informant, will he give a statement?'
'He will not give his name. He is adamant that he will not give his name. He is fearful for his parents and siblings well-being as well as his own life. He says that Saddiqe and Hussein are the tip of the iceberg and that something is happening.'
Saeed went on to explain to Blunt how the Islamists would not let anything stand in their way. Their Imams justified anything that would take them towards the universal imposition of their version of Shariah law. That included robberies for finance and the murder and enslavement of any non-believer and even the punishment and murder of Muslims who got in their way. He recounted the information provided by his old friend Ashraf.
Blunt listened in silence: not a single interruption until Ahmed had finished. At several points his brow furrowed and a look of consternation clouded his visage.
'Ok have you got your brick with you?'
'No I left it in the office'
'We need to get back quickly. I want you to ring the others. I need everyone back as soon as they can'
'What do you want me to do?'
'Nothing. Just sit and think'
'What?' Ahmed had never heard of such a thing. As far as he understood policing was about action
'Just sit and think about everything we know to date. I am going to try and see Strumpshaw again and then I have other things that I wish to do'
Flint had no difficulty finding the Stalham address. Basically, Stalham's High Street comprised its total shopping experience apart from an optimistically named Loke Parade shopping centre. Walking up the High Street she paused to answer her brick. Blunt wanted everyone back at base as soon as possible.
On arriving at 2b The Pharmacy she had a shock when a woman answered the door and invited her into the tiny flat. The woman had a chunky looking face heavily made up, a short ginger bob, and wore an old fashioned floral print dress. The large hands and the 9'0 clock shadow by the ears made Flint realise that the individual in front of her was none other than Michael Loveday. However, he preferred to be addressed as Miss Loveday. She accepted the offer of a tea and asked if she could use the facilities. She noted that all the toiletries were female. Hanging from a line on over the bath were false bras, other items of women's' underwear and a dripping ginger wig. The last had obviously just been washed.
On returning to the small lounge she thanked him/her for agreeing to give a statement and explained what the procedure would be. Loveday did ramble around the houses a little. He felt as if he had to justify going to The Attic. He went to great pains to explain that he was neither a transvestite nor a homosexual. He used to be married and had two grown up children. All his life he had suffered from being trapped in a man's body. The only place where he could go and feel that he was not being vilified was The Attic. Everyone there suffered from some sort of discrimination when in the outside world. The venue provided an oasis where no-one accused and people that were regarded as 'not normal' could be themselves. Where they could let their hair down and enjoy themselves.
However, there were things about the club that he did not agree with. He felt that there were some male prostitutes there. One young man had asked for money just to provide company for Loveday. Flint let him get all this off his chest before she brought him back to the purpose of her visit. She showed him the photographs of the two Russians and reminded him that he had come forward to state that he may have seen the two on the evening in question. Yes, he had and it had been about 1'ish. How did he know that? Well because he had to leave to get the last bus home. He had noticed the two Russians talking with the barman. On being asked how certain he was he responded that he was fairly certain as they both did look a little odd. Hark at the kettle calling the pot black thought Flint.