It launders money for gentlemen in Soho. Last night they took Mr Begum to dinner. It went on too long, he became suspicious; they tried to get him drunk then they asked him to work through a ludicrous sum. His percentage would keep his family in comfort -- and he didn't know what would happen if he refused them.
It's such a risk. No one will believe that sum for food, tablecloths, or maintenance. He's spent all night trying to work it out and decided: the only way the business would move that much cash was if it were sold. He has to close it. Then that will be it, he promises, he will have no more dealings with them.
On the platform people are dancing and blowing party favours. Radios squawk. At the far end, two policemen interrogate some tourists, then suiddenly look down the tunnel in the direction Malik's wife has gone.
Car 7 map