Necessary as Blood

her worry had hardened into resolve. She was not willing to trust Charlotte Malik‘s fate to the bureaucratic machine.
    ‘I think,‘ she said, ‘that I want to have a nice, long talk with Gail Gilles.‘
    Kincaid stepped out of the buzz of the Bethnal Green incident room to take Gemma‘s call. He listened, nodding at passers-by in the corridor whose faces were already becoming familiar.
    ‘No, 1 don‘t want to talk to Gail Gilles yet,‘ he said, when he could get a word in edgeways. ‘And I don‘t want you to talk to her, either. Not until I‘ve interviewed Kevin and Terry Gilles. We‘re having a hard time tracking them down, and the last thing I need is their mum putting the wind up them.‘
    He‘d sent an officer to both brothers‘ purported places of work that morning, one a betting shop on Bethnal Green Road, and the other a minicab business nearby. Neither business seemed to be too sure what the brothers did for them, or to know where they were at the moment. Kincaid had staked plain-clothes constables at both places, as well as a third on Gail Gilles‘s flat.
    if social services have told them to move out of the mother‘s flat, they‘ll have to go somewhere,‘ said Gemma, ‘I‘d try the sister.‘
    ‘Good idea. I‘ll hunt up the address‘ He‘d heard the disappointment in her voice when he‘d said he didn‘t want her talking to Gail. ‘I understand how you feel, Gem. Really. But the caseworker‘s right. You have to let social services do their job. If there‘s anything dodgy, I‘m sure they‘ll find it.‘
    ‘Are you?‘ said Gemma, her tone decidedly distant.
    He was cursing himself for saying the wrong thing when Sergeant Singh came out of the incident room and beckoned. ‘Sir, they‘ve rung from downstairs,‘ she mouthed. ‘Mr Azad is here with his solicitor.‘
    ‘Look, I‘ve got to go,‘ he said to Gemma, i‘ll ring you just as soon as I‘ve run the Gilles brothers to ground.‘

    Ahmed Azad had been as good as his word. Louise Phillips had rung first thing that morning, making an appointment to come in with her client as soon as possible.
    Sergeant Singh showed them into the office that Kincaid had purloined as an interview room, equipped with a table, chairs and a pot of coffee. He meant at least to begin their discussion under the semblance of a friendly chat. Cullen was still at the Yard, and Neal Weller was involved with his own division‘s business. Kincaid was curious to see what Azad would say without Weller‘s interference.
    He wasn‘t quite sure what to make of Weller, who had defended Azad on the one hand and felt obliged to play the bully on the other.
    Sergeant Singh showed Azad and Louise Phillips into the office and, at Kincaid‘s nod, unobtrusively took a chair in the corner. Kincaid poured the coffee himself.
    This morning Ahmed Azad was dressed in a deep-blue suit, perfectly tailored for his slightly plump frame. The fine fabric had the sheen of silk, as did his pink-and-blue-striped tie. He was freshly shaved and smelled strongly of bay rum.
    Louise Phillips, on the other hand, looked haggard and hollow-eyed, as if she hadn‘t slept, and her rumpled black suit was liberally speckled with what looked to Kincaid like dog hair.
    ‘Thank you for coming,‘ he said when they were all settled with their cups. Singh had made the coffee, and it was strong, but good.
    ‘Very considerate of you.‘ Azad sipped his coffee and nodded his approval. ‘One appreciates that, Mr Kincaid. There is no reason why we cannot talk in a civilized manner.‘
    ‘Oh, I agree, Mr Azad. Completely. And I appreciate your taking the time from your busy schedule to clear up some things for us.‘
    Singh‘s eyes had widened. Kincaid flashed her a smile. She was obviously more accustomed to Weller‘s interrogation methods. Not that Kincaid was averse to playing bad cop when it suited him, but he‘d read Azad as the type to respond more willingly to flattery than force.
    ‘And you, Ms Phillips?‘ he asked, turning his attention to her. ‘How are you coping?‘
    ‘I‘m here representing my client, Superintendent.‘ Her voice was sharp, and she sat stiffly in her chair, her coffee untouched. Clearly she was not going to consider this interview a social occasion.
    Kincaid carefully replaced his cup on the low table. ‘Now Mr. Azad. Since you‘ve come in, perhaps you wouldn‘t mind telling us when you last spoke to Naz Malik.‘
    ‘Let me see. That would have been