Barry Maitland - Babel

‘Hang on,’ the Special Branch man broke in. ‘Suppose he wasn’t speaking in English? I’m thinking, could it be “Allah” instead of “Allan”, like “Allah-u-Akbar” maybe? “God is most great”. It’s the traditional call to prayer, and it’s also the battle cry of the shaheed, the religious martyrs. Saddam Hussein had it stitched onto the Iraqi flag during the Gulf War.’

‘That sounds more like it. And that would mean that we’re looking for someone who speaks Arabic.’

‘Interesting,’ Wayne said. ‘Very interesting. I guess you want what I can give you on London activists, then, Brock?’

‘I believe we do, Wayne. And let’s keep this to ourselves for the moment. If we’re right, this is going to be explosive.’

That afternoon Brock returned to the university campus to check on the progress of the more rigorous search of Springer’s room which was going on, in parallel with a similar search of the philosopher’s home, a modest semi in the Essex suburbs. While he was talking to the searchers, warning them to inform him immediately they came across anything with an Islamic connotation, there was a discreet cough at his back and he turned to see the University President’s Executive Officer standing in the corridor, regarding them with a quiet smile. Brock wondered how long the young man had been there.

‘Pardon me, but Professor Young heard that you were on campus, Chief Inspector, and wondered if he might have a word, when you’re free.’

‘I’m busy here at the moment.’

‘Of course. Shall I say an hour?’

‘All right.’ Brock turned back to a pile of papers he had been studying. They were handwritten notes, in Springer’s almost indecipherable scrawl, for lectures or essays.

An hour later he was shown into the President’s office. Young sat in shirtsleeves in front of the broad window, the view even more distracting in daylight, studying a single document on his otherwise paperless desk. The impression given was that a vast support apparatus of filing systems and office drones must exist in order to sustain this emptiness and space, leaving the great man uncluttered, free to take decisive action. Brock thought of the contrast with Springer’s tip, or, come to that, his own untidy office. Against the bright panorama it was difficult to make out Young’s expression as he raised his eyes, a significant few seconds after Brock had entered the room.

‘Take a seat, Chief Inspector. Thanks for coming up. I thought I’d better take the opportunity to be briefed on current progress. I’m told that you’re pursuing an interesting line of inquiry.’

‘Are you?’

‘You’re looking for Islamic connections, I understand.’

Brock didn’t try to hide his annoyance. ‘That’s just one of a number of things we’re checking on.’

‘But what on earth leads you in that direction, may I ask?’ he said smoothly, unfazed by Brock’s obvious reluctance.

Brock began to frame a suitable phrase to mind his own damn business, then thought better of it. The man might, after all, be aware of something relevant. ‘If I could have your assurance that this won’t go beyond this room for the moment, Professor Young. The inquiry is speculative at this stage.’

Young waved a hand dismissively, as if the demand were insulting. ‘Of course.’

‘It seems that Professor Springer may have received a threatening message of some kind during the past month, possibly from someone of extreme Islamic views. And in the lecture he was about to give when he was killed, he apparently intended to attack religious fundamentalists in uncompromising terms.’

‘Oh, dear. Max was prone to that sort of thing, I have to say. His lecture, eh? Yes, I’ve been told about that. That is very unfortunate. He didn’t inform us beforehand about it.’

Brock was surprised. ‘Do the professors have to get clearance for their lectures?’

Young smiled. ‘Not clearance. But it was a public lecture, I understand, and they are expected to inform the administration about any public utterances they intend to make. It’s a matter of the university speaking with one voice, and protecting its reputation. Max gave an interview on local radio a few months back, and some of his remarks then were intemperate. The feedback we got from the local ethnic communities was not positive.’

‘Really? What form did the feedback take? Were there specific complaints?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Only our media people keep their ears open, and that was the impression they got. We have to be sensitive to our neighbours beyond the DLR, you see. I mean, we’re the newest immigrants around here.’ He chuckled. ‘But there’s never been any question of our staff being threatened. That does concern me.’

‘We don’t know where the threat, if it really existed, came from. Do you have many Muslim students at the university?’

‘Ah, the deranged student theory again, eh? Well, yes, we have quite a number, certainly-Malaysians, Indonesians, Pakistanis, Egyptians… We depend considerably on our fee-paying international students for our funding base. But no militancy, that I’m aware of. Do you want me to inquire?’

Brock thought about that. He would have preferred to do his own investigation, but a direct police approach to student representatives might set off alarm bells around the campus. ‘You must have some staff who work with student organisations, do you?’

‘Several. The student ombudsman, the inter-faith chaplain, the international student counsellors. Shall I put out feelers? See if we’ve got any firebrands I don’t know about?’

‘Please. But very discreetly. Perhaps it could be done without making any connection with the Springer case.’

‘Good idea. Though I’m almost sure it’s a waste of time, to be frank. The more I think about it, if there is some young hothead out there, affronted by some of Max’s remarks, wanting to make a name for himself and taking the law into his own hands, he’s much more likely to be outside the university entirely… And of course, Max was a Jew. Ironic though. Max, a Jew by birth, was actually very sympathetic to the Arab cause.’

‘Was he?’

‘Oh, yes. He travelled there, and I’m told he’s written quite passionately about their predicament. I tried to get him involved in our marketing effort in the Arab countries on the strength of it, but he wasn’t interested. Well now…’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Good hunting, Chief Inspector. Do keep in touch, won’t you?’ His attention returned to the document on his desk, as if Brock had already left.

As Brock got to his feet he decided that he hadn’t been unfair in his first assessment of the man. He thought he knew the type, the little boy who discovered a craving for dominance in the primary school playground, and had changed only in developing more subtle and effective techniques than fists. He had met versions of Young among businessmen, lawyers in the courtroom, and in the police force, but never, until now, in a university. But then, it had been a very long time since he had been in a university, and why should it be any different from the rest of the world?

On his return to the lower concourse he thought he should get a better picture of the whole place, and began to walk along the waterfront towards the part of the campus that lay beyond the administration tower. Buildings that he hadn’t seen before appeared, like gigantic versions of the simple primary coloured blocks their designer might have played with at nursery school-a red cube, two yellow cylinders, a green pyramid and, most spectacular of all, a circular tiered ziggurat, stepping skyward in blue mirrored glass. He followed a cluster of students towards doors in the stone wall that formed a giant podium for some of these toy shapes, and stepped into a huge cafeteria. He bought a cup of tea and a Chelsea bun at the counter and sat at one of the hundreds of tables, eyeing the other customers, and was surprised by their variety, young people of every shade of skin and hair colour and dress. Listening carefully he was able to pick up many languages too, Swedish from a group of enormous blonde youths at one table, Spanish from a passing cluster of beautiful black-haired girls. Two wiry black women were clearing and wiping the adjoining tables and were talking in some dialect that sounded even more exotic, until he realised that it was broad Scouse, from Liverpool.