These people stuck together like flies over cow dung no matter what the offence.
But he couldn't leave the nick until he knew for certain what the real word was. And by that time they'd have Muhannad under lock and key.
When Azhar had finished the translation, Fahd Kumhar began to weep. It was true, he said.
Upon arrival in England, he'd been taken to a warehouse. There, he and his fellow travellers were met by a German and two of their own countrymen.
"Muhannad Malik was one?" Emily asked.
"Who was the other?"
He didn't know. He'd never known. But this other wore gold - watches and rings. He dressed well. And he spoke Urdu fluently. He did not come often to the warehouse, but when he did, the two others deferred to him.
"Rakin Khan," Emily breathed. The description couldn't have fit anyone else.
Kumhar hadn't known either man's name at first. He learned Mr. Malik's identity only because they themselves - and here he indicated Emily and Azhar - had given it yesterday during the interview they'd already had together. Prior to that, he'd known Malik only as the Master.
"Wonderful sobriquet," Emily muttered.
"Doubtless he came up with it himself."
Kumhar continued. They were told that arrangements had been made for them to work until such a time as they had sufficient funds to pay for the proper documents.
"What sort of work?"
Some went to farms, others to factories, others to mills. Wherever they were needed, they went.
A lorry would come for them in the middle of the night. They would be taken to the location for work. They would be returned when the labour was completed, sometimes in the night of that same day, sometimes days later. Mr.
Malik and the other two men took their wages.
From these, they extracted a payment for the documents. When the documents were paid off, the immigrant would be given them and allowed to leave.
Except, in the three months that Fahd Kumhar had been working off his debt, no one had left.
At least not with the proper papers. Not a single person. More immigrants came, but no one managed to earn enough to buy his freedom. The work increased as more fruit needed picking and more vegetables needed harvesting, but no amount of work appeared to be enough to pay off their debts to the people who had arranged their entry into the country.
It was a gangmaster program, Emily realised.
The illegals were being hired by farmers, mill owners, and factory foremen. These people paid lower wages than they would have to pay legal workers, and they paid them not to the illegals themselves, but to the person who transported them. That person skimmed off as much money as he wanted and doled out to the workers what he felt like giving them.
The illegals thought the scheme was to assist them with their immigration dilemmas. But the law had another word for it: slavery.
They were trapped, Kumhar said. They had only two options: to continue to work and hope that they would be given their papers eventually, or to make their escape and find their way into London, where they might hope to fade into the Asian community and avoid detection.
Emily had heard enough. She saw how they were all involved: the entire Malik clan and Haytham Querashi as well. It was a case of greed. Querashi uncovered the scheme that night at the Castle Hotel. He'd wanted a piece of the action as a portion of the Malik girl's dowry. He'd been refused: permanently. Doubtless he'd used Kumhar as a means of blackmailing the family to do his bidding. Slice him a piece of the financial pie or he'd bring down the entire operation by having Kumhar sing to the police or to the papers. It was a clever idea.
He'd been counting on the family's greed overcoming whatever inclination they may have had to call his bluff. And his request for compensation for his knowledge wasn't so illogical. He was to be a member of the family, after all.
He deserved his fair share of what everyone else was enjoying. Especially Muhannad.
Well, now, Muhannad could kiss goodbye his classic car, his Rolex watch, his snakeskin boots, "^fi his fancy diamond signet ring, and his gold chains. He wouldn't be needing them where he was going.
And this would cook Akram Malik's position in the community as well. Doubtless it would cook the entire Asian population too. Most of them worked for him anyway. And when the factory closed as a result of the investigation