Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(158)

When Kumhar whimpered, Azhar reached out and put his hand on one of the man's arms, which he still held up defensively against his chest. “I've told him I've come from London to help him,” Azhar said. He went on quietly in his native tongue, repeating in English both his questions and Kumhar's answers. “Have they hurt you?” he asked. “Have the police treated you roughly, Mr. Kumhar?”

Emily interposed at once. “These weren't our parameters, and you know it, Mr. Azhar.”

Muhannad shot her a contemptuous look. “We can't tell him his rights till we know how many of them have already been violated,” he said. “Look at him, Azhar. He's like melting jelly. Can you see any bruises? Check his wrists and his neck.”

The DC who'd been in the room upon their arrival stirred at this. He said, “He was quiet enough till you lot got in here.”

“Consider what constitutes the lot of us, Constable” was Muhannad's riposte. “We didn't exactly walk in here without DCI Barlow, did we?”

At these remarks, Kumhar made an involuntary mewling. He said something rapidly, but it didn't appear to be directed at any of them.

“What's that?” Emily demanded.

Azhar coaxed one of the man's arms from his chest. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white cotton shirt and examined each wrist in turn, saying, “He said, ‘Protect me. I have no wish to die.’ “

“Tell him that I will see to it,” Muhannad said. “Tell him—”

“Hang on,” Barbara broke in angrily. “We had an agreement, Mr. Malik.”

Simultaneously, DCI Barlow snapped, “And that just bloody cuts it. Out of here. Both of you. Now.”

“Cousin,” Azhar said in a beleaguered fashion. He spoke to Kumhar, explaining to Emily and Barbara that he was reassuring the man that he had nothing to fear from the police, that the Asian community would see to his safety.

“That's gracious of you,” Emily said acidly. “But you've already blown your wad. I want you out of here. Constable, if you can give us some assistance …?”

By the door, the constable rose. He was enormous. Seeing him, Barbara wondered if half Kumhar's fear had to do with being enclosed with a man the size and shape of a mountain gorilla.

“Inspector,” Azhar said, “I apologise. Both for myself and for my cousin. But you can see that Mr. Kumhar's quite panic-stricken, and I suggest it's to everyone's advantage that we make his rights under the law quite clear to him. Even if he gives you a statement, I fear that in his present condition it's going to be disallowed as a statement made under extreme duress.”

“I'll take my chances,” Emily said, and let him know by her tone how little she believed in his expression of concern.

But Azhar had a point. Barbara sought a way out of the impasse that served the police interests of peace in the community at the same time as it allowed everyone to save face. She thought the best approach would be to squash the fly in the ointment by tossing Muhannad out on his ear. But she knew that suggestion would only enflame Malik further.

She said, “Inspector? If I could have a word …?” When Emily joined her by the door—keeping a sharp eye on the Pakistanis—Barbara murmured, “We won't get any sense out of that bloke in the state he's in anyway. We either send for Professor Siddiqi to settle him down and tell him how things stand for him legally, or we let Azhar—Mr. Azhar—do it, with the proviso that Muhannad keeps his gob plugged. If we go for the first alternative, we end up cooling our heels till the professor gets here, which'U take at least two hours or more. In the meantime, Muhannad shoots his mouth off to his people about Mr. Kumhar's state of mind. If we go for the second alternative, we mollify the Muslim community at the same time as we advance our own cause.”

Frowning, Emily crossed her arms. “God, how I hate to give in to this bastard,” she said through her teeth.

“We're serving our own interests,” Barbara said. “It only looks like we're giving in.”

Barbara knew she was right. But she also knew that the DCFs antipathy for the Pakistani—in conjunction with everything Muhannad Malik did to encourage that antipathy—might prompt her to see otherwise. Emily was in a tenuous position. She couldn't afford to seem weak at the same time as she couldn't afford to risk igniting an already flammable situation.

The DCI finally drew a breath, and when she spoke, she sounded disgusted with the entire procedure. “If you can guarantee your cousin's silence for the rest of this meeting, Mr. Azhar, you may inform Mr. Kumhar of his rights.”

Azhar nodded. He said to Muhannad, “Cousin?”

Muhannad jerked his head in agreement. But he placed himself with a full view of the quivering Asian man, standing with his denim-clad legs apart and his arms crossed, solid, like a guard.

For his part, Fahd Kumhar clearly had followed none of the heated exchange between the police and his brother Asians. He remained in his rabbit-like position, and he didn't seem to know where to look. So his eyes flicked from person to person with a speed suggesting that—soothing words from Azhar or not—he trusted absolutely no one.

With Muhannad adhering to his part of the bargain, despite the lack of grace with which he did the adhering, Azhar was able to communicate the essential information to Fahd Kumhar.