Sayeed Khan, smartly dressed in a dark suit and silk tie sat behind his father, who wore a dark jacket over white shalwar kameez, and was puffing heavily on a cheroot which had filled the stuffy room with acrid smoke. Sergeant Kevin Mower, who was sitting across the table from the older Khan, glanced up as the senior officer came in and shrugged almost imperceptibly. The fourth man in the room, DC “Omar” Sharif, was leaning against the wall opposite the door and continued to stare down at his shoes, evidently happier to allow events to proceed without his direct participation. “Mr. Khan asked if he could talk to you personally, sir,” Mower said, not making much effort to disguise his displeasure with this turn of events. “I told him you were extremely busy …” “Not too busy, surely, given the delicate nature of this inquiry, Chief Inspector,” Sayeed Khan said smoothly, directing his remark exclusively to Thackeray. “I don’t think you’ve met my father, Chief Inspector.
