“I have an eyewitness to the attack with me,” Laura said. “Lewis Cole, can you tell us what happened?”
“Me and my brother Daz... We’re twins, see? Anyway, we were sitting having a beer. I nip inside to get another. I heard this crash followed by loud bangs. Screams and shouts. I ran out again. Then I seen, er, saw the van smashed into the tables. People were lying on the ground. Like, bodies. You know? This guy jumps from the van. An Arab. He’s swinging knives and shouting Allahu Akbar.”
“What made you think he was Arabian?”
“Er, he looked like one? The Allahu Akbar stuff?”
“I see. Let’s call him a terrorist until we’re sure. Now, were you afraid for your life?”
Alice watched the guy scratch his ear, then pull on his nose. His voice had contained a faint tremor, and now, as he cleared his throat, the microphone pulled out of shot, only to pop back in as he spoke again. “No. Not me. See, the, er, terrorist done Daz with the van.”
“Will your brother be okay?”
“Yeah. The terrorist hurt Daz bad, but they told me he’s gonna be okay.”
“That’s great news. Now, Lewis, tell us what the terrorist did next.”
“He tried to cut off a girl’s head, but he couldn’t do it.”
“Oh my God. That’s terrible. I apologise to our viewers for the graphic description of the terror attack. But this is live, on the scene, exclusive reporting from Xtra News.” Laura almost sounded breathless.
“That’s right. Yeah. He tried to saw her head off with the knife. Blood everywhere. Then he dropped her and looked around. You know, for more people. There was this other girl. She wore a red dress. I remember that. He walked to her, casual like, and stabbed her. Then he went to stab her again. Raised his arm up, like this, see? So, I ran up to him and hit him with a steel rod. I had to save the girl.”
“That’s incredible. You’re a real hero.”
Alice shook her head at Laura’s interview style. Who did she think she was?
Lewis Cole puffed his chest out on the screen. “I reckon most guys would save her.”
“I don't know about that. Anything else on the terrorist?”
“Yeah. A Muslim. All that Allahu Akbar stuff. Others jumped in to help me, and we got him. Then the police arrested him.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yeah. Just him.”
“You told me you saw him earlier? Driving around?”
Alice frowned as she listened to the TV.
Cole nodded. “I saw him when we were around the corner.” He pointed behind him. “On Thurloe Place. He drove by. Like I told the police, he spoke to a girl in foreign. Could have been Arabic and all. A blonde girl drinking champagne. Short black dress. White jacket draped on a chair. Didn't look like a Muslim. But I reckon they knew each other. There was something about her, you know what I mean? Maybe a look-out for him...?”
The sound on the TV faded into noise. Her legs trembled, and she plonked down on a stool. Minutes passed as she tried to make sense of everything. Her confusion persisted until the doorbell rang.
Kristin leapt into her arms at the door and they embraced. When Alice broke off, she dragged Kristin into the kitchen where she poured an extra glass of wine.
“Are you okay? You look pale. Gosh, you’re shaking.” Kristin stared wide eyed at Alice.
Alice pointed at the TV. “They think I helped the attack.”
“Oh my gosh. Why? How? Did they name you?”
“No. Just a description.”
“Are you sure they were talking about you?”
“Yes. They interviewed the guy who hassled me outside the Provence. He said I spoke to the terrorist.”
“Did you?”
Alice drank from her glass. She nodded. “Yes. I think I know the guy who did it.”
“Oh my God. Alice. Who?”
“Samir Hassan. He was a contract driver on the last job I did. He told me his family got asylum in Denmark when he was a baby. So he spoke Danish. He did deliveries and moved gear around for us. You know, a gofer. A nobody. A kid. He took a fancy to me.” She put the glass down and ran her hands through her hair. “Perhaps I played him a little. But to kill those people? Like that?”
“How does that involve you, in like...” Kristin waved her hand around in the air. “...all of this?”
“We sort of spoke outside the Provence while I was waiting for you. His van stopped in traffic. I felt him staring at me. You know, the way men do?”
“Forget about that, what do you mean sort of spoke?”
“I thought I recognised him, and I kinda said hello. That sort of thing. Then he said something odd. He said, ‘stop living this life’. In Danish, like he only wanted me to understand. I asked him what he meant, but he drove off.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re involved.”
Alice stared at the ground. “He was flustered. You know? The van cut out and people laughed at him.”
“You’re not a terrorist.” Kristin shook her head and frowned. “Call the police.”
“No. They’ll be too busy. Anyway, they got the guy, right? So what difference would it make?”
Kristin took Alice’s hand. “I think you should talk to the police. If the TV says you’re involved, they’ll come looking for you.”
Alice glanced down at Kristin’s hand. “I wanted to enjoy the buzz. A new show’s a big thing for me. Worth celebrating. I mean, like, I earned it.”
Kristin took her hand from Alice’s and lifted her glass. “I hope the Twitter people don’t connect that terrorist with you. They’ll go mental. #champagneterrorist is already trending.”
Alice topped up her wine. “Thanks Kristin. That’s good to hear.”
“Sorry. I don't
