UNDERGROUND

Ken Day caught his breath, 'So you are saying that you have now been . . .' he cut himself off . . . 'that you are not here voluntarily?'

Anthrax thought about it. What did 'voluntarily' mean? The police didn't cuff him to a chair and tell him he couldn't leave until he talked. They didn't beat him around the head with a baton. They offered him a choice: talk or inflict the police on his ailing mother. Not a palatable choice, but a choice nonethe- less. He chose to talk to protect his mother.

'I am here voluntarily,' he answered.

'That is not what you have said. What you have just said is that pressure has been placed on you and that you have had to come in here and answer the questions. Otherwise certain actions would take place. That does not mean you are here voluntarily.'

The police must have realised they were on very thin ice and Anthrax felt pressure growing in the room. The cops pushed. His father did not look pleased.

'I was going to come anyway,' Anthrax answered, again almost apologetically. Walk the tightrope, he thought. Don't get them too mad or they will charge my mother. 'You can talk to the people who carried out the warrant. All along, I said to them I would come in for an interview. Whatever my motiva- tions are, I don't think should matter. I am going to tell you the truth.'

'It does matter,' Day responded, 'because at the beginning of the interview it was stated – do you agree – that you have come in here voluntarily?'

'I have. No-one has forced me.'

Anthrax felt exasperated. The room was getting stuffy. He wanted to finish this thing and get out of there. So much pressure.

'And is anyone forcing you to make the answers you have given here today?' Day tried again.

'No individuals are forcing me, no.' There. You have what you want. Now get on with it and let's get out of here.