Violette and Eddie’s visit to Buckland had worse repercussions than Bish imagined. The CCTV footage was forwarded to Elliot by the hospital security company, and also to the Dover police. From there it was leaked, and the image of Violette and Eddie was all over the media. For a minute, Eddie’s identity was kept safe because of the code of practice that stopped the media from naming a minor. Until someone from his village outside Tonbridge tweeted that “the kid with Violette LeBrac goes to my school,” which was followed by “yeah, that looks like Eddie Conlon.” That led to “Eddie Conlon & Violette LeBrac are the Calais bombers.”
“How did this happen?” Bish asked Elliot when he rang.
“It goes viral, and no one’s accountable. The press still don’t have permission to release his name, but that means nothing when over a million people have already seen an image of Eddie and know his full name.”
Bish heard shouting in the background. “Where are you?” he asked.
“In the office. Grazier isn’t taking it well. He’s paying a visit to the Dover police and then heading out to Tonbridge to have a word with a few of the locals.”
“There’s not much he can do about them,” Bish said.
“Oh but he’ll try. He wants you to visit LeBrac again. Violette used to speak to her mother every day, so who better to know her whereabouts, or at least her plans?”
“Pick that woman’s brain,” Grazier shouted, replacing Elliot on the line. “I want those kids brought in. I want them in a safe house. What part of that don’t these people understand?”
“The part where they don’t feel particularly comfortable being reassured by the police or the government,” Bish said.
“You’re beginning to piss me off, Ortley.”
“It took you this long?”
Bish’s reading that night was the rest of the file Grazier had given him a few days ago. He started again from the beginning, looking for anything in the Sarraf and LeBrac family histories that could shed light on how best to persuade Noor to open up. Most of the media articles were based solely on opinion. There was nothing on Jamal Sarraf post his arrest, but a great deal prior to it, when Man United signed him up. Young Sarraf spoke obsessively about his old coach from the Brackenham council estate, and his mates there who’d watched his back, no matter what. His favorite topic was his girlfriend, Layla, but it was the reverence he showed for his mother and sister that was most profound.
“Before my sister and me, no one in our family had any sense of a home country,” he was quoted as saying in one interview. He went on to relate that his mother had been born in Beirut and at fifteen had made her way to Alexandria, on her own, to work for a wealthy relative. His father was born in Alexandria to a French mother and Egyptian father. When his mother was pregnant, they left Egypt to head for the UK but ended up having Noor en route, in Le Havre. “Fifteen years later,” said Jimmy, “my mum wanted me born in the same place as my sister. It’s sort of cool because it’s also where my brother-in-law was born before his family migrated to Australia, which was a bit of a coincidence. So obviously my niece Violette had to be born in Le Havre. We like it that there’s a family tradition when it comes to passports and stuff like that. But Noor and I have never been confused about who we are. If there were two things we were sure of growing up, it was belonging to England and speaking Arabic. We didn’t let religion rule. It’s what me and my girl, Layla, have in common. Her mother’s Christian, my mother’s Muslim. Her father’s Muslim, my father’s Christian. We say it all the time: our kids are going to have the best of both worlds.”
Bish tried very hard not to be fascinated with this family. Two siblings, one with a PhD in molecular biology, the other with a lucrative football contract. Up until the Brackenham bombing they were an immigrant success story.
A guard stood outside the now familiar interview room on Sunday morning. Noor LeBrac was already seated, her suspicious eyes following him from the door to the chair before her. One thing was for certain: Violette’s disappearance was clearly affecting her. There were dark circles around her eyes, sinking deep. She swallowed constantly, as if trying to keep down the bile in her throat.
“I’m presuming you know that Violette’s in the UK,” Bish said, sitting down opposite her.
“Whether they’re here or in France makes no difference.”
She looked away and he felt the sting of her disdain.
“We’ve got a better chance of finding them now,” he said.
“‘We’?” she demanded. “‘We’ who, Ortley? The people whose fault this was in the first place?”
She shifted in her seat.
“You thought I’d be grateful, didn’t you?” she said. “Do you honestly believe everything’s fine just because Violette and Eddie are in England? The only safe place for my daughter is with her grandparents in Australia. Because Etienne’s father will put a bullet through anyone who’s a threat to Violette.”
“Then help me find her, Noor,” he said patiently. “When was the last time you heard from her, apart from the postcard?”
She made a sound of disbelief. “Are we really doing this again?”
“We’re doing this until something you say triggers a clue to where they are. I’m not accusing you of holding back information. I’m just saying I may be able to see something you can’t.”
She thought about that for a while, then sat forward in her seat. Bish took up his notebook.