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‘They’ve taken my dad-in-law, just lifted the poor man up and went off wi’ him-’
‘Could you tell me your-’
‘Lifted him off-’ She broke off to sob theatrically and ask Dear God to help them.
‘Could I have your name and address, please? Madam, are you there? Can I have your name, please?’
‘Meeshra Anwar. They’ve took ’im.’
They were talking at the same time, the controller and Meeshra, and their voices coiled around one another:
‘… wanted ’im…’
‘… spell that…’
‘… shouting, looking for…’
‘… out for me?’
‘… some bloke called…’
‘… spell that name?’
Both voices stopped dead for half a second of dead air, and then Meeshra spoke: ‘Aye, they was shouting for some bloke but they couldn’t find him and just took Aamir instead.’
Morrow looked at the pad. Meeshra was avoiding saying the name. She looked at her writing: small and regular, the word less than half a centimetre long but pressed so hard into the paper that the free edges at the bottom of the page curled up to meet it. Bob? She touched it tenderly with her fingertip. Bob?
Reluctantly she pulled the sheet of paper out of the pad and stood up, stopping by the door, nodding a congratulations to herself for being honourable and giving up the information so quickly. She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Outside a uniformed copper was chatting lightly to a plain clothed DC showing him something in the paper. Night shift. Hard graft but there was a kindness about it. Everyone moaned about it but they missed it when they were promoted and went days only. There was a closeness in being sleepy together, in minding the drowsy city.
MacKechnie was still in, the light from his office spilling into the corridor. Morrow stood at the door and nodded politely. ‘Sir?’
‘Come!’ He always said that, not knowing it had another meaning and that they laughed at him. Morrow looked in and found him squinting at something on his computer. ‘Yes?’
‘Sir, I was listening to the 999 calls just now.’
MacKechnie frowned at her, one eyebrow arched accusingly. ‘Why?’
‘In case there was something on them.’
MacKechnie sighed at his clasped hands and sucked his teeth. ‘Sergeant Morrow.’ He had a way of pronouncing her name that made her flinch. ‘I have asked you to work with Ba
‘Ba
‘Ba
She stepped into his office and held up a hand to fend him off. ‘OK, that aside, they’ve all said the gunmen were asking for “Rob”. On the 999s they’re avoiding it but I think the son said “Bob”.’
‘OK.’ He looked confused.
‘He’s interviewing Omar now, shall I send him up a note? Get him to ask about it?’
Confusion gave way to certainty. ‘Yes.’
She withdrew and stood in the corridor a moment. She’d expected a bit more of a reaction. It was something concrete after all, and she’d discovered it. Disappointed, she went back to her office and wrote out the details, marked that the note was from her and caught a DC lingering by the board in the incident room.
‘DC…?’
‘Wilder.’ He stood to attention and she appreciated that he knew who she was.
‘Wilder, take this up to Ba
He took it from her and set off quickly, leaving the door to slam shut behind him. At least someone was taking it seriously.
Deflated, she went back to her office, dragging her eye and her pen across incident forms. The warm glow of her discovery was fading, swamped with tiredness and the mundane job. She broke off from the admin task to listen to the section of Meeshra and Billal’s emergency calls several times, her certainty paling a little each time.
She was about to do it again when Ba
‘Fine.’
‘How are you getting on?’
Morrow blinked hard, her eyes were burning. ‘Just… paperwork. ’ He slouched into the room. ‘Did you get my note?’
He had to think about it. ‘The note? About Bob. Yeah, the note. God, great, thanks for that. Great.’ He dropped into his seat and unlocked his drawer, pulling out a grain bar and ripping the wrapper open with his teeth.
‘And?’
He shrugged without looking at her.
She wanted to get up and go over and kick his shins. ‘What did Omar say about it?’
‘Well, I’d actually finished interviewing him by that point, so we’ll ask him next time.’
They looked at each other across the office and Ba
‘You didn’t ask?’
Ba
‘Look, come over here.’ She held up the headphones.
Ba
‘She’s dodging the question,’ she said. ‘And Billal said “Bob” instead of “Rob”.’
Ba
Morrow tutted and held her hands up. ‘Well, I’ve told you. MacKechnie knows I did, Wilder’s a witness I sent the note, so if it goes tits up because of you it’s nothing to do with me.’
He narrowed his eyes at her.
‘OK?’ She leaned across the desk towards him. ‘You can’t say I haven’t told ye.’
‘OK,’ he said slowly, as if trying to calm her down. ‘Thanks.’
‘If you want to fuck it all up, that’s up to you.’
Ba
‘This animosity,’ he was muttering, ‘you and me, professional jealousy, you know, I’m sure we can work around it.’ He was turning it around, making it about her and him, not Aamir Anwar’s safety.
‘Not if you’re going to act like a cunt, we can’t.’
She was too angry, almost dizzy and the words fell out of her before she could catch them. A hot blush ran up her neck. MacKechnie would hear that comment too.
A perfunctory rap at the door was followed by Harris looking in. ‘Ma’am?’
‘What!’
He paused, looked frightened and addressed himself to Ba
Without a word Ba
She was filling out the forms, cooling down to a cold rage when she heard excited footsteps in the corridor, an exclamation and a scurry.
Ba
They took a car from the yard and Ba