Poisoned Ground: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 3) (29 page)

*

Ahmet was moving across the bed towards her. She knew what he wanted. She pulled the covers up to her chin and said, ‘No.’

He said, ‘You’re my wife.’

As if that justified what he was about to do.

‘You can’t. I have my period.’

Ahmet raised his hand and she felt herself flinch. ‘You think I’m going to buy that story? Again?’

Mumtaz felt him pull the bedcovers down. She slammed her legs shut but he pulled them apart and then he was on top of her. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t because he had his hand over her mouth. He pushed down hard; she couldn’t breathe. Was she going to die? If only she could wake up. Mumtaz
forced herself to breathe and then she made her eyes open. Looking out of the mouth of the tunnel she saw that two bodies were now on the ground. A third was standing over them. It wasn’t Lee Arnold.

Thick, black hair curled on the back of the standing man’s neck. He said something, which she couldn’t hear, and then he bent down to help one of the figures on the ground with something. She saw a scarf she recognized as her own float towards the ground.

Why had Golding come back? He’d left Cotton alone for a reason. Why had he changed his mind? It didn’t matter. All that did was that he was freeing Cotton and Lee was no longer in control. Mumtaz used the bricks of the tunnel to pull herself up. Golding was having trouble with the wire around Cotton’s ankles.

Golding heard her approach and he turned his head. But he hadn’t untied Cotton and he moved too late. She kicked him in the head so hard she screamed. Maybe that dream about Ahmet had unleashed excessive violence? Golding collapsed across Cotton’s body and Mumtaz, shaking in every part of her body, put her foot on Cotton’s neck. Lee, lying beside the psychiatrists, appeared dead. Cotton’s syringe, which had been on the ground, had gone. Mumtaz screamed again, ‘Help! Help me!’

The young woman police officer arrived first, followed by a man.

‘I think Lee’s dead,’ Mumtaz said. ‘I fell asleep. I let him down.’

The woman put a hand on Mumtaz’s shoulder. ‘This man?’ She pointed at Lee.

‘Yes.’

She bent down and felt for a pulse in his neck. The other police officer handcuffed Cotton and then Golding, who was now beginning to come round.

‘He’s got a pulse,’ the woman said. ‘But it’s weak. Do you know what happened to him?’

‘No. I was asleep. But Dr Cotton had a syringe …’

And then she saw it in one of Golding’s hands.

‘There!’

The male officer shook Golding. ‘What was in the syringe?’ he barked.

But Golding’s eyes just rolled and then his head flopped forwards again. The officer turned to Cotton, ‘What was in the syringe?’

Cotton said nothing.

The female officer requested an ambulance and then called Tony Bracci. The male officer levelled a kick at Cotton’s head.

The tunnel brought Mumtaz up into an old building which, she was told, had once been a pub. Outside were flats that were modern, brightly lit and which completely surrounded the old place. People had gathered round the building trying to see what was going on.

Tony Bracci took her arm. She’d watched Lee being loaded into an ambulance down by the dock and was still traumatized. The paramedics had given him oxygen.

People stared at her. One man’s face was familiar but she didn’t know why. He stood next to another man who coughed so hard he crossed his legs. Little things attracted her attention. Mouldings of classical figures under the eaves of the old building, children’s toys on balconies of flats. She felt dazed and alienated and although she knew she was in the docklands, she couldn’t recognize anything.

Tony opened the door to a police car and helped her get in. ‘I’m having you taken to the General,’ he said. ‘Just so they can check you out. Shazia’s fine, she’s at your mum and dad’s now, so you don’t have to worry about her. OK?’

‘And Lee?’

‘Love, we don’t know,’ Tony said. ‘But they will sort him out at the General.’

‘Why wouldn’t Mr Cotton say what was in that syringe?’ she said.

‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. He began to close the door.

‘You must drag the dock,’ Mumtaz said. ‘For Dr el Masri’s body. And my handbag, too. There’s evidence in there. You will do that, DS Bracci, won’t you?’

‘Not personally but we will drag the dock, yes,’ he said. ‘Now you’re going to A&E. All right?’

And then the car moved away, through a tangle of buildings she didn’t know. She only got her bearings when the car came to Gallions Reach roundabout. Then she put her head back and closed her eyes briefly. But Lee’s white, motionless face wouldn’t leave her. She wondered what the doctors at the General were doing for him and then she wondered whether she’d ever be able to trust a doctor again.

*

The two men were in separate side rooms, each with a police guard. Tony Bracci peered in at Cotton, who seemingly slept the sleep of the just, and then looked at Golding. Mumtaz Hakim admitted she’d kicked him in the head, but she must’ve given it some wellie. Golding had a fractured skull. Cotton had an egg-sized bruise on his head and Tony wondered whether she’d had a pop at him too.

He went down to the intensive therapy unit and asked for the man in charge, Dr Banergee. He just caught sight of Lee Arnold as he passed the entrance to the unit.

‘Come into my office,’ Banergee said. A young, smart Asian, he spoke with an Oxbridge accent.

He took Tony to a small, cupboard-like room. They both sat.

‘The syringe Mr Arnold was injected with contained traces of Largactil,’ Banergee said.

Tony felt a ripple of fear. ‘Like the kid the other day?’

‘That was tablets, this was intravenous, but the same substance.’

Paul ‘Puffy’ Hall, the reason Tony and the team had been on a stakeout at Gallions, was still in a coma induced by the antipsychotic drug Largactil.

‘It’s a major tranquillizer and so it lowers the blood pressure and can produce cardiac arrhythmia,’ the doctor said.

‘And coma.’

He shrugged. ‘Your colleague is stable at the moment. All we can do is monitor his cardiac function, blood pressure and breathing.’

‘And what about the kid?’

Banergee looked at the floor. ‘I’m afraid he has deteriorated,’ he said. ‘But from what his friend told us it would seem that he took a massive dose. Boys together like that, they show off.’

‘What about Lee Arnold?’

‘It’s difficult to say how much he’s had, but he does go in and out of consciousness, which would suggest to me that he hasn’t had as much as the boy. You know, some trade in psychiatric drugs has always gone on but I’ve never seen anything like this. Ordinary tranquillizers like diazepam are one thing, but major antipsychotics can be deadly. I do hope this isn’t a new trend.’

‘I hope not as well,’ Tony said. ‘Hopefully the men we’ve got up on the second floor’ll be able to tell us something about that tomorrow.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

Tony went outside for a fag. It was too cold and too dark to drag the dock for el Masri’s body immediately, but he had no doubt that Mumtaz had been telling the truth. He was in the
water somewhere. Had el Masri, Cotton and Golding fallen out over drugs or money or both? El Masri had been the bloke that had had some issue with that Egyptian nurse who’d turned out to be a terrorist up at Ilford. Did that have any bearing on what had happened that evening? Bracci’s phone rang.

‘Guv?’

It was DS Rose. She and Rock had got the building caretaker to let them into el Masri’s flat.

‘Hello.’

‘El Masri’s flat?’

‘Yeah?’

‘As Mrs Hakim said, he wasn’t in it. But someone else was.’

Tony looked up. ‘Who?’ If someone else had been in the flat why hadn’t they opened the door?

‘Young, male, IC6.’

‘Name?’

‘Butrus el Masri,’ she said. ‘The doctor’s nephew.’

Tony dragged on his cigarette. ‘And what did he have to say for himself?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ Rose replied. ‘He’s dead.’

*

It was just after four in the morning when Salwa el Shamy turned up at the Joshis’ house in Aldersbrook. She had Gamal and Asim in tow. Both boys looked exhausted. Ignoring the bell she banged on the front door. ‘Give me back my children!’ she yelled. ‘Kidnappers!’

Mercifully, Zizi remained asleep. But Rashida flew out of bed, put on a dressing gown MJ’s mother had given her and made for the stairs. How could her mother make such an exhibition of
herself? When she stepped out onto the landing and looked down, she saw that MJ’s mum and her brother were already at the door.

‘I will call the police!’ Salwa shouted.

‘Mrs el Shamy, why don’t you come in and have tea and we can talk?’ Mrs Joshi said. ‘It’s such a cold night. Why don’t I make some hot chocolate for your little boys?’

‘No! I want my daughters! Give me my children!’

Rashida couldn’t see her mother but she could feel her passion and she wept for her. She loved her in spite of everything.

‘Even if your daughters wanted to go back to you, I would have to report what Rashida has told me to the authorities,’ Krishna said.

There was silence.

‘I am a barrister, Mrs el Shamy,’ Krishna said. ‘Your daughter Rashida knows this, and in that knowledge she has told me that you wish to take her back to Egypt to marry a relative against her will. Furthermore, you also wish to take your youngest daughter to Egypt to have a circumcision procedure carried out on her. Forced marriage and female genital mutilation are both illegal in the United Kingdom.’

‘She isn’t forced to be married. Rashida, she wants to do this. It is what her father wills.’

‘That is not what Rashida has told me.’

‘She is lying.’

Rashida wanted to shout down, No, I’m not! But she knew that would only make the situation worse.

‘Any attempt to take a young person out of the country to marry against their will is a criminal offence,’ Krishna said. ‘Mrs el Shamy, nobody wants to take your children away from you. But at the same time they must be protected according to the
laws of this country. Female genital mutilation is not legal here and it hasn’t been legal in Egypt since 2008.’

‘But it is our tradition. All people do it.’

‘Then they’re breaking the law,’ Krishna said. ‘Mrs el Shamy, I have already informed the police that your daughters have taken refuge here as a place of safety. In the morning they will be interviewed by Social Services. They will not be returned to you until this matter is resolved.’

Either Rashida’s crying or the stand-off on the doorstep woke MJ. Crazy-haired and fuzzy-eyed, she came out onto the landing and put her arm around her friend.

‘I do love my mum,’ Rashida said. ‘I don’t want to hurt her.’

MJ kissed her cheek. ‘Honey, I know you love your mum, but you can’t marry your cousin. He’s an arsehole and he’ll hurt you. And what about Zizi?’

‘I know. I know. But I hate it.’ Rashida nuzzled into MJ’s hair. ‘But what will Social Services do with us, eh? Will they put us into care?’

Rashida knew kids who’d been in care and so did MJ.

MJ squeezed her tight. ‘That won’t happen, girl,’ she said. ‘Krish’ll make it right. I promise.’

*

Who the man was that she’d seen in the crowd at Gallions had come to her as soon as she’d woken up. Still high on adrenaline, Mumtaz had only had two hours sleep since she’d got back from the hospital. Fighting her way through the boxes in her bedroom, Mumtaz had a quick shower and then left for the office. She was due at Forest Gate police station at nine but she had to do this first.

When she arrived, the office was cold and the light on the
answerphone was flashing. But she ignored it. Instead she went to the filing cabinets and pulled out a cardboard folder. When she opened it she saw a photograph of the man she’d seen the previous night and she smiled. She knew she’d been right. She put the folder in her handbag, locked the office and then ran to the police station.

*

The nausea was only topped by the muscle spasms, which were excruciating. That he felt as if he’d just been doused in ice was almost irrelevant. But Lee was awake and weirdly he wasn’t crouching down over some bloke on the edge of the Albert Dock. But he did have a mask on. It wasn’t his only encumbrance.

When he tried to sit up, he couldn’t. His arms were covered in stuff. Wires and needles, cuffs and clamps. What the hell was happening? A woman in a nurse’s uniform came over. She looked into his eyes before she spoke to him.

‘You with us, Mr Arnold?’

He couldn’t speak because of the mask. He nodded his head.

‘Do you feel sick?’

He nodded his head again.

‘I’ll ask the doctor if he can give you something for that,’ she said. ‘You feel as if you could drop off again?’

This time he shook his head.

‘Good.’

A terrible pain gripped his left arm and Lee knew he was having a heart attack.

But the nurse smiled. ‘Just the blood pressure cuff,’ she said. ‘It’ll go off every fifteen minutes. Sorry, but we have to monitor that really carefully. How’s your pain?’

He waited for the blood pressure cuff to deflate and then he shrugged.

‘You getting muscle cramps?’

He nodded.

‘How bad? Can you hold up your fingers?’

Lee raised both hands through a tangle of tubes.

‘If one’s no pain and ten’s unbearable, hold up the number of fingers you think best describes what you’re feeling.’

It was hard. Pain was something he had become used to and then he’d stopped having any pain again. The need for codeine or something even stronger was intense and he felt ashamed. He was in pain and it was bad but how much of it was in his drug-addicted head? Eventually he raised five fingers.

‘Oh, that’s not bad at all,’ the nurse said. ‘That’s good. But I’ll still get doctor to write you up for something extra. All right?’

She left. It wasn’t all right. Somehow, again, he was in hospital. He had been on the ground beside the Albert Dock and Mumtaz had been there. She’d been tied up and there had been a man who he had restrained on the ground. The man had tried to kill Mumtaz. Where was he now? And more importantly, where was Mumtaz?

When the panic hit him it was like running into a brick wall. Around him monitors began to make noises like sirens and the nurse who had just left came back at a run.