First Response (36 page)

‘I don’t know,’ said Talpur. He frowned. ‘No, I think it was Shahid who was driving. He drove, and when he had parked he climbed into the back.’

‘So he was working alone?’

‘I think so. Yes.’

Gillard took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

‘Is something wrong, sir?’ asked Talpur.

‘I just find it hard to believe that one man could have such complete control over all nine of you,’ he said.

‘We were scared,’ said Talpur. ‘Terrified. He could have killed any of us with just one phone call.’

‘There were no explosives,’ said Gillard. ‘They were all fake. You were never in any danger. No one was.’

Talpur shook his head fiercely. ‘I saw one of them explode. There was blood and shit everywhere. It was real, no question.’

‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ said Gillard.

‘One of the guys started screaming that he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Shahid told him to be quiet. He wouldn’t listen. He was hysterical. Shahid took him to the other end of the warehouse and used a phone to set off the vest. Fucking thing blew him into a thousand pieces.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to swear, sir. But it was intense. I was sure I was going to die.’

‘And you saw this man blown apart?’

Talpur nodded. ‘No question.’

‘But what about shrapnel? Why were none of you hurt? An explosion like that in a confined space …’

‘There was this metal screen hanging from the roof. Shahid pulled the guy behind it before he set off the vest.’

‘So you didn’t actually see the explosion?’

‘No, we saw it. And we heard it. There was a blast and blood and there was a leg.’

‘A leg?’

‘Part of a leg. A foot. In a trainer. Blood and bone and …’ He shuddered. ‘It scared the shit out of me. Out of all of us.’

Gillard wrinkled his nose. ‘I think that was the intention,’ he said.

Talpur frowned. ‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at, sir.’

‘Shock and awe, Kash,’ said the chief superintendent. ‘He wanted you to follow instructions and for that he needed you terrified.’

‘We were, no question. Like I said, I was sure we were going to be killed.’

Kamran was watching the interview through a one-way mirror with Chris Thatcher. ‘What do you think?’ asked Kamran.

‘He’s nervous, but that’s understandable,’ said Thatcher. ‘But all his body language and micro-expressions suggest he’s telling the truth. He feared for his life, there’s no question of that. He really believed Shahid would detonate the vest he was wearing.’

Kamran nodded thoughtfully. ‘Let’s see what the rest of them have to say for themselves.’

Gillard left the interview room and a few seconds later joined Kamran and Thatcher. ‘What d’you think?’ he asked Kamran.

‘He seems to be telling the truth. And it makes sense. They thought they were going to die.’

‘Shahid killed one of them, I get that,’ said Gillard. ‘Blew him to bits in front of them. But why the fake explosives in the vests? If he had access to the real thing, why send the rest of them out with dummies?’

Kamran shrugged. ‘It doesn’t make sense, does it?’

‘We need to check that Talpur is telling us the whole story,’ said Gillard. ‘And we need to do that quickly. I suggest you and I lead the initial interviews. I’ll take Bhashir, Ahmed, Malik and Masood. You take Pasha, Hussain, Chaudhry and Osman. We need to find out if they’re all singing from the same hymn sheet.’

Rabeel Bhashir was sitting at a desk wearing a paper forensic suit and with paper shoe covers on his feet. He had been given a cup of tea and a chocolate muffin but didn’t seem to have touched either. Chief Superintendent Gillard introduced himself and the detective sergeant who had accompanied him, Kevin Barlow, an SO15 detective, who was one of the anti-terrorism unit’s best interrogators. Gillard stood with his back to the wall as Barlow sat down opposite Bhashir. Barlow had an A4 notepad. He placed it on the desk and took out a cheap biro. ‘So you’re an ISIS warrior, are you?’ asked Cooke. ‘You must be the first real adult ISIS member I’ve come across. They’re usually kids who don’t know any better. But you’re, what, fifty?’

‘I’m forty-five,’ said Bhashir. ‘And I’m not a terrorist.’

‘The suicide vest you were wearing tells a different story,’ said Barlow.

‘They forced me to wear it,’ said Bhashir.

Barlow smiled and sat back in his chair. He slowly tapped his pen on the notepad. ‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that, Mr Bhashir?’

‘It’s the truth,’ said Bhashir. ‘Check the vest for yourself. The trigger didn’t work. It could only be detonated by remote control.’

‘By your boss, is that what you’re saying?’

Bhashir shook his head. ‘Not my boss. I don’t know him. He said his name was Shahid. He said if I didn’t do as he said, he’d kill me.’

‘But he didn’t, did he? You’re still alive.’

‘Maybe because I did as he wanted. I don’t know.’ Bhashir slumped in the chair.

‘Why did you let him put the vest on you?’ asked Barlow. ‘Why didn’t you resist?’

‘It happened while I was unconscious,’ said Bhashir.

‘And how did that happen?’ said Barlow, his face suggesting that he was sure Bhashir was lying.

‘I left the mosque last night after the Isha’a prayers. I walked by a van. Someone called my name, I turned around and something was pressed over my face. When I woke up I was tied to a chair and I was wearing the vest.’

‘You were tied to a chair all night?’

‘I don’t know. I think so. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for.’

‘You have to admit, Mr Bhashir, it sounds very unlikely.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ said Bhashir. ‘Your life wasn’t on the line. You didn’t see a man blown to pieces in front of you, like I did.’

Barlow leant forward and lowered his voice, for the first time sounding sympathetic. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘We were all tied to chairs and had the vests on. One man kept arguing and Shahid told him to shut up but he wouldn’t so Shahid used his mobile phone to detonate the man’s vest.’ He shuddered. ‘It blew him to pieces. He said the same would happen to anyone else who disobeyed him. Do you think you would have done any differently?’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, you would have done as you were told. No one wants to die, not like that.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘Shahid put the hoods back on our heads and we were put in a van. Then he dropped us off one by one. When I left the van he removed the hood and told me to read the instructions in my waistpack. That’s what I did.’

‘What I don’t understand is why your wife didn’t report you missing,’ said Barlow. ‘You said you were taken after prayers. That means you didn’t go home last night.’

‘I work nights,’ said Bhashir. ‘I am a cleaner. Sometimes I go straight to work from the mosque.’

‘And the man who was giving you your orders. This Shahid. What can you tell me about him?’

‘He always wore a mask.’

‘But you could tell if he was young or old?’

‘Not young. Not old. Thirty, maybe. Or forty. He looked like he exercised. Like he went to the gym.’

‘And his accent?’

‘He spoke English well. But all accents sound the same to me. Except Scottish. I can never understand Scottish.’

‘But did he sound like he was born here? Or from another country?’

‘Born here, I suppose. Now, please, can I go home? I want to see my wife.’

‘We are arranging transport for you, Mr Bhashir. In the meantime, I’d like to ask you about your daughters. They are in Syria, correct?’

Bhashir nodded but didn’t reply.

‘They both married ISIS soldiers?’

‘They decided that was what they wanted to do. There was nothing I could do to stop them.’

‘Jaleela was only fifteen. Still a child.’

‘Do you have children?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Barlow said. ‘And as a father I would not have allowed them to travel abroad on their own at fifteen.’

‘They left without my knowledge.’

‘Did they?’

Bhashir frowned. ‘You think I sent my children to Syria?’

Barlow ignored the question. ‘What are your feelings about ISIS?’

‘I have no feelings.’

‘Do you agree with their aims?’

‘They fight for their religion,’ said Bhashir. ‘Who cannot agree with that?’

‘And do you agree that people of other religions should be killed?’

Bhashir said nothing.

‘You have called for Jews to be killed, haven’t you?’ said Barlow. ‘There is a video of you saying just that outside the Israeli embassy.’

‘I am a British citizen and I have the right to express an opinion,’ said Bhashir, folding his arms. ‘I have the right of free speech.’

‘Yes, you do, Mr Bhashir.’

‘And I also have the right to a lawyer, don’t I?’

‘You have not been arrested or charged, Mr Bhashir,’ said Gillard. ‘There’s no need for a lawyer.’

‘If I have not been arrested, I would like to go home,’ said Bhashir. ‘I have said all that I have to say.’

Kamran tapped the plastic bag containing the printed instructions that had been taken from Pasha’s waistpack. ‘You were told to handcuff yourself to Mr Metcalfe?’

Pasha nodded. He was wearing a paper forensic suit that rustled each time he moved. Kamran was sitting opposite Pasha while Sergeant Lumley sat next to him, taking notes.

‘Did you know who he was?’ asked Kamran. ‘Did you know that he was an MP, for instance?’

‘I knew only what is on the note,’ said Pasha.

‘You followed the instructions to the letter?’

‘Shahid said that if I didn’t he would kill me.’

‘And how would he do that?’

‘He said he would detonate the vest by remote control.’

‘And you believed him?’

‘I saw what happened to the guy who didn’t do as he was told,’ said Pasha.

‘Tell me about that.’

‘What’s to tell? One of the guys was mouthing off and wouldn’t shut up. Shahid warned him but he wouldn’t let up. Eventually Shahid used his mobile to detonate the vest. Blew the guy to bits.’ Pasha shuddered. ‘Blood and shit everywhere, there was.’

‘You saw it?’

Pasha nodded.

‘You saw it with your own eyes?’

‘I had no choice, I was tied to a bloody chair.’ He shuddered again.

‘The thing is, if it went off, how come you weren’t hurt in the blast?’

‘Because Shahid dragged him behind this metal screen that was hanging from the rafters. But we saw it. Blood and bits of body everywhere and a noise that made my ears ring.’ He grimaced. ‘Horrible way to die.’

‘Would you say that you are a good Muslim, Mr Pasha?’

‘I try. That’s all one can do, try.’

‘You pray five times a day?’

‘I pray when I can.’

‘But you have been in trouble with the police before?’

‘Speeding tickets. That’s all.’

‘Now, that’s not true, is it? You were involved in an underage grooming ring in Tower Hamlets, weren’t you?’

‘The case was dropped,’ said Pasha.

‘So I understand. But having sex with underage girls isn’t the behaviour of a good Muslim, is it?’

‘What part of “the case was dropped” don’t you understand?’

‘Just because the case was dropped doesn’t mean you didn’t do it,’ said Kamran. ‘Cases are dropped for many reasons.’

‘I’m the victim here,’ said Pasha. ‘You’re making it sound like I was the criminal. I was drugged, dragged off the street and forced to be a suicide bomber. Have you any idea what I’ve been through today? I thought I was going to die. Since nine thirty this morning I thought that at any moment I could be blown to bits. Have you any idea what that’s like?’

Kamran shook his head. ‘No, Mr Pasha, I haven’t.’

Zach Ahmed’s hand trembled as he put the plastic cup on the desk and tea slopped over his hand. ‘I can’t stop shaking,’ he said to Chief Superintendent Gillard, who was standing by the door. Lynne Waterman was sitting in on the interviews and was standing next to him, her back against the wall.

‘It’s a natural reaction,’ said Gillard. ‘It’ll pass.’

‘I was sure I was going to die.’ Ahmed shook his head. ‘That was all I could think about, that one minute I’d be here and the next I’d be in a thousand pieces. I kept wondering if it would hurt or if it would be like a light switching off.’ He shuddered. ‘My heart’s still racing.’

‘Do you want to see a doctor?’ asked the chief superintendent.

Ahmed forced a smile. ‘I’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘And I need to thank you for saving me. The police did an amazing job. No one was hurt, right?’

Gillard nodded. ‘Everyone is safe.’

‘Except for the guy they killed at the start,’ said Ahmed. He shuddered again.

‘We need you to tell us what happened,’ said Sergeant Barlow. ‘But this time from the moment you entered the coffee shop, and work backwards.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Ahmed.

‘I need you to go through it again, but this time in reverse. Going backwards in time.’

‘Why?’

‘It helps us check the facts,’ said Gillard. ‘Sometimes thinking about things in reverse brings up details you’d forgotten because the brain has to work harder.’ In fact retelling events in reverse order was the best way of catching someone out in a lie. It was an interrogation technique he’d used on many occasions. When someone was telling a lie it was much harder to remember the details when the time frame was changed.

‘Just take it step by step, from the time you walked into the coffee shop,’ said Barlow.

Ahmed grimaced. ‘I had read my instructions. You have those, right? They were in the waistpack I was wearing.’

‘We have it,’ Barlow said.

‘I was to go into the coffee shop and handcuff myself to someone close to the door. Then I was to reveal my vest and tell everyone to do as they were told, to start tweeting that the ISIS Six had to be released.’

‘And before that?’

‘I was in a van. A white one. I had a hood over my head. Shahid took off the hood and told me to walk away from the van and not look back. I did and he drove off. I was in Edgware Road, near Marble Arch, about fifty yards from the coffee shop.’