Marks jabbed at the photo. “Well? Do you?”
Hassan smirked. “Yes. Is Abeedah Zainab.”
“Spell that.”
As Hassan spelt it out, the two detectives exchanged a glance and they leaned in closer. “How do you know her?”
“She help me Friday. She jihadi also. Like me. We will be Martyrs.”
Marks pulled the photo back. “How did she help you?”
“She tell me where to drive van. Where many Kafirs drink.”
“Okay. Did she plan this with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hassan shrugged. “She is good Muslim, no? She know waajib.”
“What’s waajib?”
“Waajib is the duty of every Muslim.”
Marks frowned. “Killing innocents is not part of that.”
Hassan shrugged. “Kafirs?” He tried to raise his hand, but the chain prevented him. Instead, he made a slicing motion across his chest, turned to one side and spat on the floor.
Marks stared at him with cold eyes and wondered what he would have done had Hassan spat at him. With all the cameras in the room, probably nothing. It occurred to him Hassan may well know that too, and perhaps it was the fear of being dragged to a place with no cameras that kept him in check. But anyone prepared to kill five innocent people and injure many others for no reason other than a twisted ideology would be capable of anything. The thought of the citizens who subdued him giving him a good hiding made Marks smile. His smile widened when he thought of the treatment Hassan would receive from fellow inmates in prison, although these days, they would segregate Hassan for his own safety. That thought made his smile fade.
Marks pointed at the photograph. “Where did you meet?”
“Work. She work TV. We speak Danish together. She understand.”
Marks nodded. “Does the name Alice Madsen mean anything to you?”
*
Half an hour later, Marks signed the key back in and ushered Gilmore into the stairwell. “What did you make of that?”
Gilmore shook his head. “I think he’s shitting us.”
Marks adjusted his tie and sighed. “Yeah. But we’ll have to bring her in.”
“An arrest?”
Marks nodded. “We do it under the provisions of the ‘06 act. Get the paper together.”
“14 days?”
Marks clicked his tongue. “You know Barry, sometimes I love the law.”
“You sure about this, Inspector? I got the impression she brushed off his amorous advances and hurt his sense of masculinity or pride.”
“She said she couldn't remember doing that.”
“Didn’t want to admit being a cold bitch?”
“Let’s find out then, shall we?”
“What about the boyfriend?”
“Don't see that at all. But we’ll check him out anyway. An informal interview after we pick up his girlfriend.” He paused and scratched his jaw. “Unless she implicates him.”
Gilmore leaned against the wall and rubbed his leg. “Somebody is fucking with us.”
“Christ, man,” Marks looked down at Gilmore. “Everybody is fucking with us. We’re police.”
19
When they arrived at the restaurant for a late lunch, Kristin was last to the table. She grunted to herself when she saw Olivia slide onto the couch beside Ian, but she didn’t try to change the seating arrangement, and she took the chair next to Alice.
“Let’s order drinks,” Olivia said. “And let’s get yesterday’s bad stuff out of the way first, so Alice can give us the low down on her new show. Then we get our postponed celebration going. I hope they have decent champagne.” She flipped through the menu and gestured at a waitress.
Olivia taking over already, Kristin thought. Maybe I should say something? But she blinked away the notion and told herself to be reasonable. No point in ruining Alice’s celebration.
“Aw, damn,” Olivia said. “They don’t have Laurent-Perrier. I suppose Moet will do.” She looked at Ian and then Alice. “Well, you know what I mean.”
Kristin ran her eyes around the other three and for a moment felt as if she wasn't there. “Is it cool to celebrate?” she asked. “You know, with what happened yesterday and all the crap on Twitter?”
Olivia put the menu down. “Oh come on, Kris. Look around.” She waved her arm around in the air. “Are these people crying into their food and drinks? Well?”
Kristin shook her head. “No. But I...”
Olivia pulled a long face. “Don't be horsey about it, okay?”
“Whatever.” Kristin smiled, but her smile was weak, and Olivia’s look suggested she saw through it. It also suggested Olivia didn't care. The waitress took the drinks order, and when she left, Olivia reached across the table and put her hand on Alice’s. “So, tell us what happened with the police.”
Alice rubbed her eyebrow. “They were cold. Uncaring. Didn't give a lort you know?”
Ian leaned closer to Olivia and said, “It means shit in Danish.”
Olivia smiled at him. “I know.”
“They reminded me of the police before. In Copenhagen.” Alice looked down at the floor. “But this is different. They asked me lots of questions. And I told them the same thing I told all of you.”
Olivia butted in. “You tell them about the way he came on to you last year?”
Alice pursed her lips. “How do you know that?” Then she looked at Kristin with a pained expression. “Really, Kris?”
Kristin scowled at Olivia. “Sorry. I told no one else.”
Olivia raised her hands in apologetic fashion. “My bad. I didn't know it was a secret. Kris never said it was.”
Kristin turned to Alice. “You never said it was a secret either. And I only said he came on to you, and that you brushed him off. I didn't go into any detail. You didn't give me any and I never asked.”
“Guys,” Ian said. “It’s okay. No big deal. Right Alice?”
“You’re right. It’s not a big deal. And I’m the one who should apologise.” Alice put her arm around Kristin. “I guess I never told the full
