Out of the Ashes: A DI Maya Rahman novel. Vicky Newham

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СКАЧАТЬ luck, the cyber-crime unit might already have data on LfA. ‘Did the posts say what the purpose was of today’s flash mob?’

      He’d said no but I wasn’t convinced.

      ‘He says they didn’t care,’ said Rima. ‘But from how he describes it, it sounds like it was something to do with anti-gentrification.’

      ‘Yes. Genti-thingy.’ He pointed at the street and lapsed back into Arabic.

      ‘Was any incentive offered to turn up?’

      ‘He doesn’t want to get anyone into trouble. They were told not to tell anyone.’

      ‘Tell anyone what?’ I looked from Rima to Ali.

      Ali was silent.

      ‘Who told them not to say anything?’

      ‘Frazer.’ Rima emphasised the name and raised her eyebrows. I got the impression she was trying to check I’d taken note.

      ‘What was the payment?’ Please, God, may it not have been drugs.

      ‘Sometimes he gave them a bit of money or some food,’ said Rima. ‘And masks.’

      ‘What sort of masks?’

      Ali and Rima talked in Arabic. ‘Black bandanas with the LfA logo on them,’ she said.

      This was news. ‘And drugs?’

      ‘NO.’ Ali was on his feet now. His eyes were flashing with fear, and for a moment I wondered if he was about to make a dash, but his body swayed and rocked. He put his hand out and sunk back down onto his seat. ‘Not drug.’

      ‘OK.’ I changed tack. ‘Today – who brought the speakers?’

      ‘He says they were there when they arrived.’

      ‘They?’

      ‘He came with his brother and his brother’s girlfriend.’

      ‘What are their names?’

      ‘Riad.’

      ‘How old’s he?’

      ‘Nearly sixteen.’

      ‘And Sophie,’ Rima said. ‘She’s doing A-levels at New City College.’

      ‘Does Riad live with you in York Square?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘What number in York Square?’

      ‘Twenty-eight. Opposite the entrance to the park.’

      ‘Where are Riad and Sophie now?’

      Fear filled Ali’s eyes and he covered his mouth with his hand.

      ‘He doesn’t know. They got separated . . . When the fire started . . . they ran for cover and . . . Riad’s not answering his phone. He says he’s scared.’

      ‘Which direction did they run in?’

      ‘That way and left.’ He pointed.

      ‘That way?’ I gestured. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘Ach.’ He punched his leg, as though he felt stupid. He turned to Rima and spoke to her.

      ‘Down there and right,’ she said. ‘He says his brother will turn up. He’s probably dropped his phone or they’ve gone to get some chips.’

      ‘Ali. Are you sure neither of them entered the building before it went on fire?’

      ‘They were both with him.’

      ‘We’ll need their descriptions . . . and a formal statement, Rima, if you can translate, please? Ali, if you hear from your brother or Sophie, please inform us straightaway.’ I summoned a uniformed officer and began briefing him.

Dan, 3.45 p.m.

      Mrs Jones, the blue-rinse lady who’d hurt her wrist, was shivering and fidgety, so Dan settled her on a fold-out chair in the stock room at the back of the mobile phone shop and went to fetch her a cuppa. As he returned with it, she made a point of checking her watch and sighing loudly.

      ‘You got a hot date to get to?’ he asked, grinning mischievously.

      Mrs Jones gave a giggle. ‘My old mum will be wondering where I’ve got to. She’ll have seen all this on the news and will be fretting. She doesn’t do mobile phones and neither do I.’

      ‘Thanks for waiting,’ Dan said. ‘Have a swig of this.’ He passed her the cup of sweet tea and squatted down next to her. ‘It’ll soon get you warmed up, eh.’

      She was trembling, but her expression relaxed a few notches and she sipped the tea.

      ‘Can you take me through what you saw when you arrived?’

      She nudged smeared glasses up the bridge of her nose with a shaky finger. ‘I was walking that way.’ She pointed in the direction of Whitechapel. ‘My mum lives on White Church Lane. Out of the blue, music started up behind me. Gave me a real fright, it did.’ She clamped her hand to her chest. ‘When I turned round, I saw people dancing in the street.’

      Dan guessed Mrs Jones was around his mum’s age: late sixties. Too much energy to do nothing, she always told him. ‘Who was in charge?’

      ‘No-one as far as I could see. Everyone was encouraging everyone to join in. D’you know what I mean?’

      Dan had seen flash mobs in Sydney and knew how quickly they snowballed. ‘Yes, I do. And the music?’

      She pursed her lips while she tried to remember. ‘The tracks were quite short. Prepared, ready, like those cassette tape things we used to make. The songs changed every couple of minutes.’ She looked as though she was enjoying having someone listen to her. ‘Those masks though. They were a bit sinister.’

Maya, 4 p.m.

      In the afternoon light, Dan’s ginger hair was glowing through his military buzz-cut. His usually pale skin was flushed with excitement as he strode the few metres along Brick Lane towards me. I could tell there’d been a development.

      ‘The kids at the flash mob were wearing—’

      ‘. . . masks. Yeah.’ I conveyed what Ali had told me.

      ‘London for All?’ He repeated the name back. ‘That certainly fits with anti-gentrification.’

      ‘Exactly. Let’s walk back to the cordon. Indra has just arrived. She’s asking if her husband is alive and I haven’t spoken to her yet.’ I told Dan about the man called Frazer. ‘I’ve forwarded the LfA link to the technicians and the cyber-crime unit. Told them it’s urgent. Screenshot СКАЧАТЬ