The Inquiry. Will Caine

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СКАЧАТЬ up. People seemed to move more slowly, with less purpose.

      The demarcation between the neighbourhoods housing the South Asian Muslims, and the two-thirds of the population who were white English, was stark and discomforting. Patrick, a black Briton, was out of place. He would have to maintain a low profile.

      Samir Mohammed’s home address in the twelve-year-old file was given as 59 Gent Street. Patrick dropped her at the low number end of the street and assured her that his watch would be discreet. She made her way up, knocking or ringing on numbers 9, 19, 29, 39, 49. Only one, number 29, answered. Her market research questionnaire was devised to last no more than ten minutes and she was soon sounding the bell of No. 59. A single chime responded, followed by a late middle-aged Asian woman still in the process of covering her head with a black scarf.

      ‘Yes?’

      Before Sara had time to answer, there was a shout from a male voice above. ‘What is it, Mum?’

      The woman looked at Sara with her clipboard and retreated to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You come down, it’s a lady wanting something.’ Sara felt the excited flutter of the hunter closing on its potential prey.

      She heard footsteps, then trainers and jeans appeared down the stairs followed by a tracksuit top and the face of a tall man a year or two either side of thirty. The age fitted.

      ‘Yes?’ His expression was sullen.

      ‘Hello, my name’s Sara Shah and I’m doing a survey of young Muslims’ views of different government agencies–’

      ‘Don’t have time for that,’ he interrupted.

      She tried to engage him, her eyes enlarged with pleading. ‘I know, I understand,’ she said, ‘but I’ve been walking up and down these streets all morning. There’s no one who’s in or will give me the time of day. If I don’t do my numbers, I don’t get paid.’

      ‘You won’t get paid?’ He looked at her more closely, seeing the attractive face within the cotton surround.

      ‘Yes, it’s piecework.’ She held up the questionnaires. ‘No completed forms, no money.’

      ‘Can’t you make it up?’

      ‘They’ll find out. I’ll be sacked.’ He looked her up and down, his shoulders slumping, face peering up and down the street. Her chest tightened, cramped by his wavering. ‘Please, I’m getting desperate. Won’t take long.’

      He hesitated. ‘Nah, don’t fancy it, to be honest.’ She thought she had him but he wasn’t shifting. He made to close the door. She had to play her last card.

      ‘Wait a minute,’ she said, keeping one foot over the threshold. ‘There’s a budget I’m allowed to use.’

      Suspicion and interest competed in his eyes. He looked up and down the street. ‘A budget?’

      ‘Yes, I can offer you something. To help me reach my target.’

      ‘What something?’

      She took a purse out of her bag. ‘A hundred. It’ll only be a few minutes.’ He was wavering; she crossed the fingers of her other hand.

      ‘Nah. Not worth it.’

      ‘Hundred and fifty?’

      He eyed her closely. Until now, she hadn’t decided how far she’d go. ‘Nah.’

      She couldn’t lose him now. One final throw. ‘I’m not really allowed to do this. Two hundred.’

      His frown slowly turned to a smirk of victory. ‘Go on then, come in.’

      Sara made a mental note. There was something venal about Samir Mohammed.

      He signalled to the front room. ‘You wanna sit in there?’ He disappeared into the kitchen. She overheard him telling his mother that it was something about a survey and his mother asking if the lady wanted a cup of tea. ‘Yeah, she looks like she needs it.’

      He came back with a tray holding a teapot, two china cups on saucers, and some biscuits. ‘Mum likes it done proper,’ he said.

      ‘It’s kind of her,’ she said. He poured. ‘As I said, it won’t take long.’

      ‘I’m not in a hurry,’ he said. ‘Not now anyway.’

      ‘That’s great. First up, I should ask you your name,’ she smiled.

      He hesitated, frowning. She held both smile and silence. ‘Samir. That enough?’ She said nothing. ‘Most people call me Sami.’

      ‘That’s lovely, Sami, thank you. What’s your line of work? Don’t worry, nothing to do with this,’ she said, glancing down at her clipboard, ‘I’d just be interested.’

      ‘Security. Down at the Rovers. Mainly evenings and nights. Match days too. That’s why I’m home now.’

      ‘Blackburn Rovers?’

      His face spread into a broad, innocent smile. ‘How d’you know that?’

      ‘Well, they’re a big team, aren’t they?’ Sara blessed the width of her research.

      ‘Yeah, once.’

      ‘The Championship’s not a bad place to be.’

      ‘Maybe we’ll get back into the Premiership sometime.’

      ‘Do you play?’

      ‘Used to. Not much now. Tend to keep myself to myself.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yeah, easier, know what I mean?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said with soft sympathy, ‘I know exactly what you mean, Sami.’

      She sipped her cup of tea and looked happily at him, waiting. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What’s this all about?’

      ‘Just want to ask you a few questions for the survey,’ she said.

      ‘Survey?’

      ‘Yes. Governments do them all the time. All anonymous. Just trying to find out what people think of their lives, what can be done to improve them, what their experiences have been.’

      ‘Sounds all right.’

      ‘Shall I start?’ Sara laid the clipboard on her lap and began a list of questions with multiple choice answers. She’d designed it to be innocuous without sounding pointless – ranges of satisfaction or dissatisfaction over dealings with employers, council officials, education service and the like. Ten minutes or so in, she came to the final question. Omitting it would appear odd – it might also provide clues.

      ‘OK, Sami, last one. The police.’

      ‘Police?’

      ‘Yes. Can’t leave them out, can we?’ Was there an anxious СКАЧАТЬ