“No comment.”

“They are all girls between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, and we have information that you used them for sex and for purposes of prostitution. Do you have anything to say to that?”

“No comment.”

“Is this going to be a no-comment interview?” Annie asked.

“No comment.”

Haroon Malik had a brief word in his client’s ear.

“Did Mimosa Moffat leave your flat on the night of Tuesday, the twenty-first of July with three men, cousins of yours from Dewsbury, in a white van?” Banks asked.

“No.”

Banks cupped his hand to his ear. “Sorry. Was that ‘no,’ or the beginning of another ‘no comment’?”

“The answer’s no. I don’t know no Mimosa what’s her name, and she didn’t leave my flat in a van.”

“I think you’re lying,” said Annie. “What were Mimosa’s drawings doing on your wall?”

“I bought them down the market. I don’t know who drew them, did I?”

“Do you know a young man named Tariq Jinnah?”

“No.”

“We think he and some of his mates attacked one of our female officers near the corner of Leinster and Mill Street last night. She’s suffering from a cracked collarbone.”

“Tough for her,” said Sunny. “I don’t know him.”

“Again,” said Annie. “We think you do. We think you’d told him and his mates to keep an eye out for both her and me after we visited your takeaway. She’s ‘Ginger.’ Rattled you, did it, that comment about the DNA? Stop lying, Sunny. It won’t do you any good in the long run.”

“No comment.”

Banks shuffled his papers. “We have statements from three of the girls already who claim that you seduced them first with presents—cigarettes, drink and drugs, mobile phones and top-ups, food and free taxi rides specifically—had sex with them, then threatened them with violence and used them for the purposes of prostitution, telling them it was payback time, actually using violence against them if they dared to refuse. What do you say to that?”

“No comment.”

“There’ll be evidence of their presence in your flat, you know. It’s being thoroughly searched right now. It’ll be a lot worse for you if it turns out you’ve been lying to us about knowing them.”

Sunny half rose from his chair and grabbed the edges of the table. “What’s that you say? They’re in my flat? Now? But I gave no permission.”

“You don’t have to, Sunny. We have a judge’s warrant. It’s perfectly legal. Your solicitor will tell you.”