‘Why not?’ asked May, ‘You seem to know your own mind.’
‘I’ll never be accepted by the people closest to my husband, and I really don’t care. The old ones with their inherited furniture, their horses and boat races and seasons at Glyndebourne – boring, boring. Who cares? They talk about breeding, they trace their history back through the centuries but it’s really just about who owns the most. Many of these people are Oskar’s colleagues. It’s as if they all belong to some big private club that no one else is allowed to enter. I smile and keep my mouth shut. I dress nicely and behave well and I outsmile every last one of them.’
‘You didn’t last night.’
‘No, a demon came out of the brandy bottle.’ She laughed again.
‘But something else happened, didn’t it? Tell me what occurred six weeks ago.’
‘Did Oskar tell you that?’ For the first time the pair saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.
‘He says he saw a change in your behaviour from that time.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. Some things are personal.’
‘Then we can’t help you,’ said Bryant, putting down his cup. ‘Ta for the biscuits.’ He made to get up, but couldn’t get out of the armchair.
‘No, wait, please. Ask me something else.’
‘All right. How do you get on with your husband’s colleagues?’
‘Which ones? The people in his department?’
‘Yes, Edgar Lang, Stuart Almon and Charles Hereward,’ said May. He saw Bryant mouthing ‘Who?’ at him. ‘They’re all in Mr Kasavian’s division, and they’re also his business partners. That’s correct, Sabira, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, they own a company together. Oskar is very careful about declaring his interests. He places great value on honesty.’
‘Pegasus Holdings provides intelligence to the scientific community,’ May told his partner. ‘They check for security leaks and make sure data doesn’t get passed to the wrong parties. It’s part-funded by British and American homeland security interests.’
‘There’s no conflict with the ministry?’ Bryant asked.
‘It’s the kind of public–private initiative this government loves. There are guidelines governing the running of such companies. The Home Office isn’t allowed to outsource to Pegasus without holding an open tender.’
‘Stuart Almon fell out with Oskar and is now just doing the books,’ said Sabira. ‘They are colleagues but not friends.’
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ said Bryant. ‘You must meet these people socially. It was Edgar Lang’s wife you threw the drink over, wasn’t it?’
‘I don’t care for Edgar or his wife. I find them insufferable. Charlie seems less pompous. I don’t think he went to Eton. Stuart is simply invisible. I’ve met him dozens of times but can’t even remember what he looks like.’
‘And their wives?’
‘They don’t like me, of course. They spent their lives being groomed to marry powerful men, and along I come and steal their husbands’ boss. I hate them all. But it doesn’t matter what I think. I suppose they are all very clever men, and their wives – well, they do what such wives are trained to do.’
‘Why did you cover up the mirror?’ asked Bryant.
‘There are bad things here.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Devils. In my country we call them devils. I don’t know what you call them.’
‘You mean spirits?’
‘They can be in many forms. They can be the ghosts of the dead, or people who are not what they say they are.’
‘Who are these people?’
‘They take different shapes,’ Sabira warned. ‘Some of them are Oskar’s friends. Some of them can walk through the walls.’
‘Walk through walls?’
‘Yes, in places where they should not be.’
May felt a growing sense of frustration. Each time he thought they were getting somewhere, Sabira’s answers became abstract.
‘Let’s see if we can cut through some of the mystery,’ said Bryant impatiently. ‘You covered the mirrors because you didn’t want to see these spirits? Or you didn’t want them to see you?’
‘That spirit waits for me in the dark. He glares over my shoulder. He will kill me if he can.’
Bryant clambered to his feet and walked over to the mirror. With a flourish, he whipped away the bolt of black cloth. Sabira gasped and turned her face aside. To May, it seemed like a piece of terrible overacting.
Bryant stepped back and examined the mirror’s surface. ‘See? There’s nothing.’