Page 371 of The Hallmarked Man
He’d just remembered why the username ‘Austin H’ had put the word ‘Fuzz’ into his mind, back in the Goring Bar with Robin. He’d seen it on Truth About Freemasons:
Pretty sure Austin ‘Fuzz’ Hussey (also SAS, Battle of Mirbat) was a mason.
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‘And many and long must the trials be
Thou shalt victoriously endure,
If that brow is true and those eyes are sure;
Like a jewel-finder’s fierce assay
Of the prize he dug from its mountain-tomb—
Let once the vindicating ray
Leap out amid the anxious gloom,
And steel and fire have done their part
And the prize falls on its finder’s heart…’
Robert Browning
The Flight of the Duchess
Robin was at home, alone. Night had fallen, her curtains were closed, her door double-locked, her alarm on, and the dining room chair was still propped beneath the handle of the front door. The television news was muted and she’d turned on subtitles to find out more about the Westminster Bridge attack. The dead terrorist hadn’t been named, but his physical description suggested he might be a Muslim. She knew it wasn’t doing her anxiety much good, staring at pictures of the carnage, but she didn’t seem able to look away.
Her phone rang, making her jump.
‘Hi,’ said Midge, who sounded triumphant. ‘Got what you wanted off Hussein Mohamed. Poor bastard came home from work early. “It’s a bad day to be a Muslim driving a car in London.” I’m going to send you the audio file now, so you can hear it for yourself.’
‘The weights?’ said Robin, with a surge of anticipation. ‘Did he mention—?’
‘Just listen to it,’ said Midge, sounding very pleased with herself. ‘You won’t be disappointed. Start seven minutes in.’
So Robin hung up and did as she was told, opening the audio file and turning the volume on her phone up to maximum.
‘… don’t recognise any of these photos?’
‘The hall was so dark, you see,’ said a male voice with a Syrian accent. ‘We never saw him very clearly, and with the beard and the glasses…’
‘But you spoke to him?’
‘Me personally, only a couple of times. The first time, he’d offered to help us with Hafsa’s wheelchair. It was difficult, living on the top floor. We said we’d manage – anything to get out of the detention centre. We invited him inside for coffee, but he said he had things to do… he definitely wasn’t the thief?’
‘No,’ said Midge. ‘Why?’
‘Because it seemed to make sense of some things, if he was a thief. He didn’t ever want us to see inside his room. He would wait till we’d gone past, to open the door, even.’
‘He told you his girlfriend was expecting a baby, didn’t he?’
‘Not me, he told my wife one day, when I was out and he was helping her with Hafsa again. He said he hoped for a little girl. She said to him, “most men want a son”. He told her men cause most of the trouble in the world, and he didn’t want to add another one… My wife asked why his girlfriend wasn’t with him, if she was expecting his baby, and he said she’d be arriving soon. He said her family disapproved of him, so it was difficult. We thought, after he was killed, maybe the girlfriend’s family had something to do with it – but maybe that was all a lie, what he told her.’
‘Did you ever speak to him again?’
‘One time only.’
