Kate returned clutching a pair of dark blue tracksuit trousers, some white jogging shorts, a pair of white socks and a Harlequins rugby shirt with the number 14 on the back.
‘Best I could find but at least they’re clean. I hope that they fit.’ In her other hand was a large white towel and a bottle of shampoo. ‘Unfortunately, I couldn’t lay my hands on a razor,’ she added.
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Rafi, ‘my wrist isn’t up to shaving.’
‘Follow me,’ said Kate.
Rafi was taken off to a utilitarian washroom with an adjoining shower cubicle. ‘I’ll come back and get you in fifteen minutes,’ said Kate.
Rafi beckoned her to stay. ‘Actually could I possibly have some help, please? I’m having problems getting my shirt off!’
‘That’s one of the worst chat-up lines I’ve ever heard,’ Kate said with a smile.
Rafi hesitantly finished unbuttoning his shirt with his left hand and she helped him slide it off.
There was silence. She stood there, looking at his back. ‘I’m sorry… I didn’t realise. How the hell did you cope in the boot of the car? The bottom of your back looks as if it stopped a runaway train… The bruises on your shoulder and arm look awful.’
‘You should see my legs.’
‘Don’t tempt me!’ Kate turned to leave. ‘Please lock the door when I’ve gone.’
Rafi stepped slowly into the shower and stood under the flowing water, still holding the cold water bottle in his left hand. The warmth of the shower and the ice cold of the drinking water were pure bliss.
He had no idea how long he’d been there when there was a knock at the door. It was Kate. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes. Give me a moment.’ At the third attempt he managed to wrap the towel around his waist with his left hand. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Kate in; she was clutching a first aid box.
‘I thought this might come in handy. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for your bruises. She started to work on the grubby, wet Elastoplast dressing on his wrist. There was gauze underneath the sticky plaster bandage, which made removing it a fairly straightforward task. She cleaned his arm.
Kate considered the swelling; his wrist was at least twice its normal size. The angry colours of the bruise spread up his arm towards his elbow and down to his fingertips. They matched the bruises on his shoulder, lower back and calf. She glanced at his wet hirsute chest. His physique, for a lightly built man, was surprisingly good, but – my God – he had taken a battering.
‘Do you have any water left?’
He nodded.
‘You might like to take a couple of these. They’ll ease the pain.’ Kate carefully re-strapped his wrist. There was no gauze in the first aid kit. She hoped she wouldn’t be the one to take the sticky plaster off. ‘Would you like a sling?’
Rafi shook his head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks; I may have some writing to do.’
Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Forgive me for asking, but how precisely do you propose to hold a pen?’
‘With difficulty,’ came Rafi’s modest reply. ‘Could I ask you a favour, please?’
Kate noticed he’d started to blush.
‘I’m not very good at bending at the moment and my right hand doesn’t like gripping things. If I move over to a dry bit of the floor could you help me pull my shorts and tracksuit trousers up to my knees?’
Kate pointed to a dry area of floor.
Trousers and shorts in hand, Rafi walked slowly to the spot and dropped the two items of clothing on to the floor. It was a close-run thing between his towel unknotting and slipping down, and the shorts and trousers being pulled up.
Kate had to smile to herself. She liked what she saw, despite the bruises all over his body.
Minutes later Rafi was fully dressed, hair combed and looking and smelling like a normal human being. He ached all over, but despite his tiredness, he felt equipped to meet the world again.
Back in Kate and Emma’s office he was shown to a desk. ‘This part of the fourth floor is your home for the foreseeable future,’ explained Kate. The Gents across the corridor is for now off bounds to the rest of the force here. That’s as far as you can go, understood? If you need to go elsewhere else, please ask.’
‘Will do,’ said Rafi.
He was given a desk opposite Kate’s. Across the room, to his left, was Emma and to his right there was a large whiteboard and a pair of empty desks positioned back-to-back. Scattered around the room were a number of filing cabinets and there was a networked printer next to Emma’s desk. The room had a lived-in feel. Paperwork was everywhere.
Kate looked across at Emma. ‘I think we need to tidy up. Any empty filing cabinet drawers?’
Emma nodded. ‘OK, let’s collect all the paperwork that does not relate to this case and for the time being put it in the empty drawers.’
Fifteen minutes later the room had taken on a minimalist look.
‘Nice work,’ said Rafi to them both.
‘Thank you… Now we can make a start and have a proper look at your USB memory stick. But first let me tell you more about the team you’ll be working with. Emma, who you have already met, has a first in something or other highly numerical from University College London and is great at finding things out. Point her in the right direction and wait to see what she uncovers. She’s our little Exocet missile. Before she joined us, she qualified as an accountant, so knows her way around things financial. We will shortly be joined by Jeremy Welby, who is being seconded here from MI5 to keep an eye on you and, no doubt, us, and to help where he can, but otherwise I know very little about his previous experience.’
‘It depends what you mean by experience,’ said a masculine voice from the doorway. ‘Mine is OK but I have recently spent far too much time undercover. My section commander Neil Gunton thought I might like a change of scene.’ He paused, then continued, ‘It seems that your commissioner pulled an impressive flanker on us to get our friend here sprung from Paddington Green.’Jeremy grinned and went on, ‘A good move, no doubt. My instructions are simple: “Help them get whoever is behind the Bishopsgate bombing. Find out what the terrorists are up to next and please make certain that Mr Khan doesn’t go missing.” Neil has offered us whatever support we require because, in his words, “This is a joint venture”. Basically, I’m here to help you get to the bottom of what’s going on.’
Kate looked at Jeremy. He was in his early thirties and in great shape; his handsome tanned face and his boyish good looks were emphasised by a strong jawline. She introduced Emma and herself. ‘We’re part of a specialist team that looks into major corporate and financial fraud. We tend to do the research side of things and from time to time are allowed out! We report to Detective Chief Superintendent David Pryke who’s on his way back from MI5 headquarters, having given the press and anyone else interested in Mr Khan the runaround.’
‘I had hoped to get here sooner,’Jeremy hesitated as he decided on how much to tell his new colleagues. ‘I’d a couple of matters to deal with after this morning’s Joint Counter-Terrorism meeting. They think that you are part of an ITS, and are at Paddington Green.’
‘What do you mean by ITS?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Islamic Terrorist Syndicate – it’s our catch-all phrase for Islamic groups hell-bent on terrorist activities in the pursuance of their fundamentalist ideals.’
Rafi nodded, ‘Thank you.’
‘As I was saying,’ continued Jeremy, ‘My boss Neil and I have been told by the head of MI5 to run with Mr Khan’s line of thinking. The head of Five reckons there are inconsistencies which need investigating – quietly – off other people’s radar screens. Neil’s section and I have stuck our necks out on this one, so Mr Khan I look forward to you proving your doubters wrong!’
Jeremy stopped talking and looked around the room. ‘How many people know that Mr Khan is here?’
‘The three of us plus David, our boss, and Commissioner Giles Meynell,’ replied Kate.