drawers yesterday. He claims that he informed you of this when you were in his room. And when the detective constable asked for those papers this afternoon, he went to fetch them from the drawer, only to find they were missing."
Emily was on her feet for the interrogation this time, in the airless cupboard that went for one of the station's two interview rooms. The tape recorder was running on the table, and after switching it on, she had planted herself by the door.
From this location, she was able to look down upon Fahd Kumhar, which was useful in establishing for the man who had possession of the power and who hadn't.
Taymullah Azhar sat at the end of the table that served as one of the room's four pieces of furniture, with Kumhar at his right on the table's far side. So far, he had at least appeared to be relaying to his fellow Pakistani only what Emily allowed him to relate.
They had begun the interview with another round of babbling on the part of Kumhar.
He'd been on the floor of the room when they'd entered, crouched into one of its corners like a mouse who knows that the final swipe of the cat's paw is imminent. He'd looked beyond Emily and Azhar, as if seeking another member of their party. When it became apparent to him that they constituted the whole of his inquisitors, he began the gibberish.
Emily had demanded to know what he was saying.
Azhar had listened closely without comment for some thirty seconds before replying.
"He's paraphrasing parts of the Qur'aan. He's saying that among the people of Al-Madinah there are hypocrites whom Muhammad doesn't know.
He's saying that they'll be chastised and doomed."
"Tell him to stow it," Emily said.
Azhar said something gently to the man, but Kumhar continued in much the same vein.
"Others have acknowledged their faults. Even though they mixed a righteous action with another that was bad, Allah might still relent towards them. Because Allah - "
"We went this route yesterday," Emily interrupted.
"We're not playing the prayer game today.
Tell Mr. Kumhar that I want to know what he's doing in this country without proper documents.
And did Querashi know that he's here illegally?"
Which is when Kumhar told her - through Azhar - that his papers had been stolen sometime between yesterday afternoon when he'd been taken from Clacton and this day when he'd been returned.
"That's complete rubbish," Emily said. "DC
Honigman informed me not five minutes ago that the other boarders in Mrs. Kersey's house are English nationals who have no need of his papers and even less interest in them. The front door of the house is always kept locked, day and night, and there's a twelve-foot drop from Mr. Kumar's window to the back garden with no means of access to that window. Bearing all this in mind, does he want to explain how someone nicked his papers, let alone why?"
"He has no explanation for how it occurred,"
Azhar said after listening to a lengthy commentary from the other man. "But he says that documents are valuable items, to be sold on the black market to desperate souls wishing to avail themselves of the greater opportunities for employment and advancement that are found in this country."
"Right," Emily drawled, narrowing her eyes speculatively as she examined the Pakistani man from across the room. His hands, she saw, left visible streaks of damp on the table when he moved them. "Tell him," she said pointedly,
"that he's not to worry a bit about his papers.
London will be happy to supply him with duplicates.
This would have been a tough order years ago, naturally, but with the advent of computer technology, the government will be able to determine that he entered the country in possession of the appropriate visa in the first place. It would help if he supplied us with his port of entry, though. What was it? Heathrow? Gatwick?"
Kumhar licked his lips. He swallowed. As Azhar translated Emily's words, he gave a little mewl.
Emily persisted in this line, saying reasonably,
"Of course, we'll need to know exactly what sort of visa was stolen from Mr. Kumhar's room.
Otherwise, we won't be able to get him a duplicate, will we? So do ask him under what understanding was he given entry clearance into the country. Is he someone's relative? A working holidaymaker? Perhaps he's come to be a domestic?
Or is he a doctor? Or a minister of some sort? Of course, he could be a student or someone's spouse, couldn't he? Except that