‘Sure,’ James said. ‘Mid-thirties. His older brother owns the taxi firm, and another one south of the city. He’s had a couple of minor traffic violations, and he was arrested in London at a Stop-the-War march back in 2003.’

‘Right, right,’ Aisha said. ‘I’ll ask the local beat commander if he knows anything that’s not in official police records.’

‘What about the possibility of a protection racket?’

‘We know it exists,’ the officer said. ‘There are hundreds of small, mostly Asian-owned businesses in north Birmingham and there’s plenty of evidence that criminal gangs extort protection payments from landlords and business owners in return for their safety.’

‘What evidence?’ James asked.

‘People turning up at casualty with broken thumbs but refusing to say how it happened, smashed windows, arson attacks on shops and industrial units. But people are reluctant to speak to the police. There’s a long history of distrust between police and the Asian community, and people who speak out fear for their family and friends. We can protect an individual and their immediate family, but it’s impossible to protect an extended family of parents, cousins, aunties, uncles and so forth.’

‘Who’s behind the extortion gangs?’ James asked. ‘Is it a large organisation, or lots of different gangs fighting over territory?’

‘Police funding has been cut by a quarter over the past ten years,’ Aisha explained. ‘We know there’s a problem, but we don’t have the resources to investigate properly.’

James nodded. ‘I hear that a lot.’

‘But I certainly have colleagues who’d be very interested to share any information you unearth on Mr Al-Zeid,’ Aisha said. ‘And I’ll get back to you if the local officers come up with anything useful.’

Leon pushed Rhea gently against the door of his room, put his hand on the back of her neck and gently nibbled her lower lip. Tongues connected as he moved the hand down her back and she slid one socked foot up the back of his leg as he grabbed her bum.

‘Hey,’ Daniel yelled, thumping on the door from outside.

‘Ignore him,’ Rhea whispered, gripping Leon’s waist as he backed away.

Leon looked around as Rhea started pushing him towards the bed.

‘Ten to nine, dude,’ Daniel shouted as he rattled the doorknob. ‘Get your butt out here.’

‘Don’t,’ Rhea warned, then looked sore as Leon backed away, wishing that he didn’t have to. ‘What’s so bloody important?’

‘Gotta beat nine o’clock curfew,’ Leon said, then to the door, ‘Come in.’

Rhea scowled as Oli and Daniel strode in, both in shoes and jackets. Leon sat on his bed, grabbing his phone and sliding feet into a pair of Adidas.

‘She on board?’ Oli asked.

Rhea shook her head and held out her hand. ‘Tenner.’

‘We said five,’ Leon noted.

‘Unilateral renegotiation,’ Rhea said, waggling her fingers. ‘Seven minutes to curfew.’