They took up their respective seats, Tom on one side of the table, the two inquisitors on the other. He tucked the flight bag he was still carrying out of sight, under his chair. Inspector Gervaux checked his watch and said, in a louder than normal voice, that the time was eighteen thirty-three. It took Tom a second to realise that the recording device must be voice-activated.
The palms of his hands were damp. He hadn’t felt nervous on the way to the station, but now he was in this formal environment it was clear that he was there for more than just a friendly chat. And, despite having done nothing wrong, he felt the onus was on him to prove his innocence.
Sergeant Lavelle read him his rights.
‘Am I being arrested?’ Tom’s voice cracked.
‘Not at the moment. We have brought you in for questioning,’ the inspector informed him.
‘Could you please tell us your name and date of birth for the record?’ the sergeant said in a monotone voice, clearly bored with having to ask the menial questions. Tom could sense that he was desperate to be lead interrogator, but that duty went to Inspector Gervaux.
‘Do you recognise this man?’ the inspector showed Tom a picture of Ajay that had obviously been taken a few years earlier. It took him a moment to identify what was different about him, before he realised he was moustache-less.
‘Yes, that’s Ajay.’
‘Do you mean Anjit Bose?’
‘Yes, that’s his name, but I call him Ajay.’ Tom tried not to sound pedantic. He didn’t want to antagonise these two so early on in the interview.
‘And how do you know Anjit?’
‘I met him for the first time when he picked me up at the airport when I arrived here.’
The inspector searched through his papers and retrieved a slightly blurred photograph of an Asian talking to Tom; the MIT administration building could clearly be seen in the background. He slid it across the desk.
‘And who are you with in this picture?’
It could have been one of a number of his undergraduates. MIT had strong links with several South Asian countries. The first Indian student had entered MIT just fifteen years after the Institute opened its doors at the end of America's Civil War. Tom usually had two or three students from that region in each academic year. The only similarities between the individual in the photo and Ajay were the dark skin, black hair and slight build.
‘I couldn’t tell you, off hand,’ replied Tom. ‘It’s probably one of my undergraduates.’
‘Is it Anjit Bose?’ Sergeant Lavelle piped in, desperate to get in on the action.
‘No. I told you, the first time I met Ajay was when I got here. I taught a number of South Asian students during my time at MIT. It could be any one of them.’
Inspector Gervaux put the photo back, then tried a different tack. ‘How well do you know Anjit?’
‘I wouldn’t say I know him that well at all,’ replied Tom, ‘as I told you when you asked me the same question in my office.’
‘Can you tell us what you did, on the first day you arrived at CERN?’
Tom couldn’t work out where this was leading. He thought back — it had only been two days ago, but it felt like months.
‘I arrived and was met at the airport by Ajay. He took me to the complex, where I met Herr Volker, who introduced me to the team. I was feeling a little jetlagged in the afternoon, so I had a nap before going out to dinner with Herr Volker in the evening.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘I went back to my apartment.’
‘Did you go straight to sleep?’
Tom suddenly realised where the line of questions were leading. ‘No… I… er… I went to Ajay’s room.’
‘And why did you go there?’ the inspector asked evenly.
‘To look at his scrapbook,’ Tom replied meekly. He knew it would sound implausible, even before he’d said it. Why hadn’t he made something up? Why hadn’t he just told them they were discussing the merits of nuclear thermodynamics in developing countries or something? They wouldn’t have known the difference. But then again, if they had managed to arrest Ajay and he was being interviewed in one of the adjacent rooms, their stories wouldn’t have matched, which would make it look more suspicious than it was. No, as ridiculous as it sounded, he had to stick with the truth.
‘Pardon?’
‘I went to look at his scrapbook. He is the grandson of Satyendra Bose, who I’m a great admirer of.’ Tom tried desperately to make it sound credible.
‘Scrapbook? What is scrapbook?’ the sergeant asked Inspector Gervaux. There was a brief exchange in French between the two detectives, followed by a peel of laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ Tom asked irritably.
‘I explained to Sergeant Lavelle what a scrapbook was, and he said that his four-year-old niece has one which she sticks pictures of princesses in.’ The inspector’s smile faded as he asked his next question. ‘Professor Halligan, are you attracted to Anjit?’
The insinuation took Tom completely by surprise and knocked his composure. He raised his voice. ‘I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but my sexuality has got nothing to do with you. But, just for the record, no, I’m not gay.’
The gloves were off. It was Sergeant Lavelle’s opportunity to impress his boss. He slammed his palms down on the tabletop.
‘What do you take us for?’ he shouted. ‘Do you think we are bumbling fools, like your Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies? Do you honestly expect us to believe that, after travelling all the way from America, working a full day in the office and then going out for dinner in the evening, you still had the capacity to visit a young man’s room? A man whom you say you didn’t know very well, in the early hours of the morning, just to look at his childish hobby?’
Putting it that way, Tom could see it from their perspective and it didn’t look good for him. ‘I agree, it may sound far-fetched,’ he replied, ‘but it’s the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. You must believe me.’
‘Why did Anjit visit your room last night?’ asked Inspector Gervaux. ‘I understand that you were in the company of…’ He took out the notebook from his breast pocket and thumbed through the pages. ‘A Miss Mayer.’
‘What are you suggesting now? A ménage a trios?’ Despite his predicament, Tom couldn’t help the gibe.
‘Professor, we are not suggesting anything. We are only trying to establish the facts,’ the inspector replied calmly.
‘Okay,’ said Tom, letting out a heavy sigh. ‘Ajay came to tell us about the earthquake in Istanbul. It’s a hobby of his.’
‘Like the scrapbook?’ the sergeant quipped, snidely.
Tom ignored the comment. ‘He thought we should know about it.’ He considered his words carefully. He didn’t want to alert them to the fact that he thought the Collider was responsible, at least not yet.
‘And why would you be so interested in the earthquake?’ Inspector Gervaux probed.
‘Because it’s such a monumental natural disaster,’ replied Tom earnestly. ‘I should think everybody who’s seen the images has been moved by the tragedy.’
‘Oui, c’est terrible,’ the inspector agreed. He rifled through a few more pages in his notebook until he found the relevant entry. ‘Moving on to the break-in you had. You said that you had no idea who was responsible, or what they could be looking for. Now that you’ve had a chance to think about it, do you still maintain that to be the case?’