top of it, and a mass of solar panels.
‘If you wait here, I will go and fetch Hassan,’ said Javeed.
‘Well,’ said González. ‘What do you think?’
‘Not much here,’ replied León, ‘pretty sparse.’
‘Of course it is. They’d have hidden everything. I smell a bunch of Muslim terrorists.’ said González.
The thought had crossed Max’s mind, but he wasn’t going to admit that to González. ‘No evidence of that. If it were a bunch of American Boy Scouts we’d have thought it was okay.’
‘Sure. But what’s a bunch of Muslim blokes doing living here except they’re up to no good? Speaking of which, he’s been gone a long time. He could have warned Hassan to do a runner.’
Javeed and Hassan entered the room. Hassan looked pale and worried. He introduced himself to the policemen. González glared threateningly at him.
Max asked him if he knew Leila. Hassan confirmed that he did, and muttered how shocked he was at what had happened. He volunteered he had been with her for most of Thursday afternoon, walking from Pampa to Diva.
‘Just walking?’ interrupted González.
‘Just walking and talking. There’s not much else to do between P—Pampa and Diva.’
Hassan’s story tallied with everything they knew.
‘Did you meet her on Friday?’ asked González.
‘Yes. We met after Friday p—prayers.’
‘Oh. So you were in Diva on Friday. And on Saturday?’
‘Yes. I went in with Javeed . . . to the supermarket. We drove back up about seven in the evening. But I didn’t see Leila.’
‘How did you know something had happened to her?’
‘Javeed told me. Zaida from the mosque phoned him. I still can’t take it in.’
‘Do you know what happened to her?’
‘How would I know? Zaida just said she was dead.’
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refrained from crying.
‘When did you find out?’ continued González.
‘Sunday. Before the funeral. I wanted to go. But Javeed said I was too ill.’
‘Why?’
Javeed butted in. ‘He was very upset, and had a bad migraine. The others went, but I stayed with Hassan.’
Max turned to Hassan. ‘Why were you upset?’
‘We were close friends. I was very fond of her. Her death and . . . well, we had a row after p—prayers, a silly one . . . gave me migraine.’
‘A quarrel? Over what?’
‘Nothing really.’
Javeed came in again. ‘I told Hassan he had to concentrate on his work and the course, and it was better not to get involved with Leila.’
‘That’s enough for me,’ interrupted González. ‘We’d like to take Hassan in for questioning. We can hold him for seventy-two hours if the judge consents, you know.’
Max was inclined to agree. He felt they would get a lot more out of young Hassan when Javeed wasn’t present.
Javeed replied, ‘Are you arresting him? If so I’d have to check with my lawyer first.’
‘At this stage we are not formally arresting him. Just want to ask him some questions. But do check with your lawyer,’ said González.
‘Before you phone, could you tell us about the centre?’ asked Max.
‘Sure. The Ibn Rush’d Centre is named after the great Andalusian Islamic philosopher – Averroes, he’s called in the West. It is an adventure training centre, set up less than a year ago, for young European Muslim entrepreneurs.’
‘Muslim entrepreneurs?’ interrupted González.
‘Sure. What’s odd about that? I’m a business consultant, specializing in training courses for businessmen. In Britain there’s John Baltimore’s place in Scotland, in France, Pierre Boulez has a centre in the Alps, and in Spain Javier Solaga has one in the Picos de Europa. We realized there wasn’t a training place for up-and-coming young Muslims, and decided to make it a European centre. We got money from the EU. But most of our other funds come from Muslim businessmen, based in Europe. Would you like a brochure?’
‘Yes. And any other information you have,’ said González.
Javeed left the room,
‘If you wait here, I will go and fetch Hassan,’ said Javeed.
‘Well,’ said González. ‘What do you think?’
‘Not much here,’ replied León, ‘pretty sparse.’
‘Of course it is. They’d have hidden everything. I smell a bunch of Muslim terrorists.’ said González.
The thought had crossed Max’s mind, but he wasn’t going to admit that to González. ‘No evidence of that. If it were a bunch of American Boy Scouts we’d have thought it was okay.’
‘Sure. But what’s a bunch of Muslim blokes doing living here except they’re up to no good? Speaking of which, he’s been gone a long time. He could have warned Hassan to do a runner.’
Javeed and Hassan entered the room. Hassan looked pale and worried. He introduced himself to the policemen. González glared threateningly at him.
Max asked him if he knew Leila. Hassan confirmed that he did, and muttered how shocked he was at what had happened. He volunteered he had been with her for most of Thursday afternoon, walking from Pampa to Diva.
‘Just walking?’ interrupted González.
‘Just walking and talking. There’s not much else to do between P—Pampa and Diva.’
Hassan’s story tallied with everything they knew.
‘Did you meet her on Friday?’ asked González.
‘Yes. We met after Friday p—prayers.’
‘Oh. So you were in Diva on Friday. And on Saturday?’
‘Yes. I went in with Javeed . . . to the supermarket. We drove back up about seven in the evening. But I didn’t see Leila.’
‘How did you know something had happened to her?’
‘Javeed told me. Zaida from the mosque phoned him. I still can’t take it in.’
‘Do you know what happened to her?’
‘How would I know? Zaida just said she was dead.’
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refrained from crying.
‘When did you find out?’ continued González.
‘Sunday. Before the funeral. I wanted to go. But Javeed said I was too ill.’
‘Why?’
Javeed butted in. ‘He was very upset, and had a bad migraine. The others went, but I stayed with Hassan.’
Max turned to Hassan. ‘Why were you upset?’
‘We were close friends. I was very fond of her. Her death and . . . well, we had a row after p—prayers, a silly one . . . gave me migraine.’
‘A quarrel? Over what?’
‘Nothing really.’
Javeed came in again. ‘I told Hassan he had to concentrate on his work and the course, and it was better not to get involved with Leila.’
‘That’s enough for me,’ interrupted González. ‘We’d like to take Hassan in for questioning. We can hold him for seventy-two hours if the judge consents, you know.’
Max was inclined to agree. He felt they would get a lot more out of young Hassan when Javeed wasn’t present.
Javeed replied, ‘Are you arresting him? If so I’d have to check with my lawyer first.’
‘At this stage we are not formally arresting him. Just want to ask him some questions. But do check with your lawyer,’ said González.
‘Before you phone, could you tell us about the centre?’ asked Max.
‘Sure. The Ibn Rush’d Centre is named after the great Andalusian Islamic philosopher – Averroes, he’s called in the West. It is an adventure training centre, set up less than a year ago, for young European Muslim entrepreneurs.’
‘Muslim entrepreneurs?’ interrupted González.
‘Sure. What’s odd about that? I’m a business consultant, specializing in training courses for businessmen. In Britain there’s John Baltimore’s place in Scotland, in France, Pierre Boulez has a centre in the Alps, and in Spain Javier Solaga has one in the Picos de Europa. We realized there wasn’t a training place for up-and-coming young Muslims, and decided to make it a European centre. We got money from the EU. But most of our other funds come from Muslim businessmen, based in Europe. Would you like a brochure?’
‘Yes. And any other information you have,’ said González.
Javeed left the room,
Similar Books
