Leaving the stunned nurse behind her, Elinor headed for the nurses’ station and a web-enabled PC. It didn’t take long for her to dismiss the differentials. The treatment was straightforward too. The administration of Fab fragments was the standard antidote to cardiac glycoside poisoning. She printed out the treatment sheet and headed back to the cubicle where she’d left Tom Cross.
He was, she thought, getting worse. His expression was bemused, his pulse more thready. ‘I’ve phoned down to the pharmacy. They’ve got thirty vials of Fab fragments in stock. I’m going down myself to pick them up and sign for them. It’ll take too long if we send a porter. Get the ECG under way ASAP, and if he goes into cardiac distress, go with the lidocaine.’
The nurse nodded. ‘Leave it with me.’ He shook his head. ‘Hardly seems real, does it? You get a bomb, you get some guy acting like a hero and the next thing, he’s lying here poisoned. You couldn’t make it up, could you?’
‘Let’s see if we can give him a happy ending, at least,’ Elinor said, already on her way. Somehow, she didn’t think this was the week for happy endings.
As soon as they turned out of Wilberforce Street, Paula slapped the magnetic blue light on top of the car. ‘Go for it, McQueen,’ she said.
‘How long do you think we’ve got?’ Kevin asked.
‘Depends how traumatized Imran’s mum and dad are by the Imperial Storm Troopers. I tell you, they scare the living shit out of me. But you can bet your bottom dollar there’s another busload of them waiting for another address to invade. So let’s work on the basis that we have no time to waste. Shouldn’t you be taking Downton Road?’ she said, snatching at the passenger grab handle as Kevin threw the car round a corner and into another grid of back streets.
‘It’ll be choked this time on a Saturday. All the shopping traffic from the Quadrant Centre. We’ll make better time this way.’
When it came to traffic, Paula knew to trust Kevin. Once, he’d been a Detective Inspector but he’d blotted his copybook so dramatically he’d almost been kicked out of the force. His path to redemption had included a six-month stint in traffic, a job for which he had been so spectacularly over-qualified they’d been glad to see the back of him. But it had left him with a useful working knowledge of the city’s traffic patterns and the sort of short cuts that only taxi drivers appreciate. So she shut up and held tight.
They made it to Vale Avenue in record time. Kevin gave a satisfied sigh when he pulled up outside cousin Yousef’s address. ‘I enjoyed that,’ he said. ‘Got those bastards out of my system.’
Paula pried her fingers from the grab handle. ‘I’m glad it was good for you. So, what’s our line here?’
Kevin shrugged. ‘Be straight with them. Was Yousef driving the van? Where is Yousef now? Can we look at Yousef’s room? Be helpful because we are the nice guys and you may need some friends. The next wave won’t ask.’
Paula snorted as she got out of the car. The next lot won’t even wipe their boots.’ She looked up the steep drive at the brick semi perched on the side of the hill. It didn’t exactly say, ‘We’ve made it’, but it was certainly a few rungs further up the ladder than the Beggs’ house. An elderly Toyota Corolla and a four-year-old Nissan Patrol sat on the drive. ‘Somebody’s home,’ she said.
The door was answered by a young man in his mid-twenties dressed in sports trousers and a V-necked cotton sweater. His haircut was razor sharp, his gold chains a hairsbreadth away from bling. He had the faintly insolent cock of the head that Paula had seen on too many men of his age, regardless of ethnicity. ‘Yeah?’ he said.
They held out their ID and Kevin introduced them. ‘And you are?’
‘Sanjar Aziz. What’s all this about? You want to talk to Raj about the bomb or what?’ He seemed surprisingly cool.
‘Raj?’ Paula said.
‘Yeah, my little bro. He was at the game, innit? Gave his name to one of your lot and came home because he knew our mum would be going mental as soon as she heard about it. You wanna come in?’
They stepped into the hallway. Laminate floor, a couple of rugs Paula wouldn’t have minded having in her own house. The air smelled of lilies, the fragrance coming from a large vase of stargazers on the windowsill. ‘Actually, Raj isn’t the reason we’re here,’ Kevin said.
Sanjar stopped in his tracks and swung round. ‘Do what?’ Now there was a hostile edge to his stare. ‘What’s all this about, copper?’
‘We’re here about Yousef.’
Sanjar frowned. ‘Yousef? What do you mean, Yousef?’ He sounded agitated. ‘You must have it wrong. Yousef is Mr Law Abiding. He doesn’t even talk on his phone while he’s driving. Whatever anybody’s said he’s done, they’re way wrong.’
Kevin took a deep breath. Nobody ever thought their family members could do any wrong. At least, not when they were talking to the police. ‘Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk?’ he said.
‘What do you mean, sit down and talk? What is going on here?’ At the sound of Sanjar’s raised voice, a door opened. A teenage face appeared, scared and hollow-eyed. Sanjar caught the movement. ‘Shut the door, Raj. Lie down like Mama told you. She’ll be back from the shop soon, she’ll kill you if you’re wandering about.’ He flapped his hands, shooing the boy back inside. Once the door was closed again, he led them into the kitchen. A small table with barely enough room for four chairs sat against one wall, cream units lining the other three. The room smelled faintly of spices, warm and bitter at one and the same time. Sanjar gestured to the table. ‘Sit down, then.’ He threw himself into the furthest chair with ill grace. ‘So. What’s this about Yousef?’ he demanded.
‘Where’s your mum and dad?’ Paula asked.
Sanjar shrugged impatiently. ‘My mum went down the shops to get some stuff for this soothing drink she wants to make for Raj. And Saturday afternoon, my dad’ll be down the mosque, drinking tea and arguing about the Koran.’ His face showed the perennial pitying contempt of child for parent. ‘He’s the devout one in this house.’
‘OK. When did Yousef go out?’ Paula asked.
‘After dinner. Mam wanted one of us to drop Raj off at the football. I had to go over to Wakefield and Yousef said he was going to meet someone in Brighouse about a new contract.’ He shifted in his seat. Paula wondered if he was hiding something.
