The Invisible Code(48)
KASAVIAN: They use them in the dining room so I suppose it’s rather blunt, but it clearly served its purpose.
BRYANT: That will be all for now. Thank you.
‘Are you aware of just how much Oskar Kasavian has to lose?’ May asked after Bryant had rung off. ‘It’s not just his wife, although that would be enough. His government career, his entire future is at stake, and you’re asking him for details of how his wife cut her wrists.’
‘The details are important,’ said Bryant. ‘I fear she won’t survive much longer. There may be nothing we can do about that, but we may be able to save others.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about. There is no one else to save.’
‘You’re wrong. I want Lucy Mansfield watched night and day. Get Fraternity on it, he’s a smart lad. And get in touch with the Turkish authorities, see if you can find a way of reaching her playmate, Tom Penry.’
‘You still don’t believe Sabira Kasavian is mad, do you?’
‘Oh, I always thought there might be madness involved, but let’s just say there’s method in it.’
‘We’re supposed to be a team, Arthur. There aren’t meant to be any secrets between us, and yet here you are holding cards to your chest.’
‘I know I can be a little proprietorial about evidence,’ Bryant admitted, ‘but this time I have good reason.’
‘Well, I’d love to hear it.’
‘What I may be about to confirm about this case could place me at risk. I’m not speaking metaphorically or talking about risk to the unit, I mean it could physically harm me. And if I share that knowledge with you, it would place you in the same position.’
‘So what am I supposed to do, let you go your own way until something happens to you?’
Bryant thought for a moment. ‘There may come a time when I have no choice but to confide in you. Right now, though, it’s better that you form your own theory.’
‘I’m sure you have a good idea about what that might be.’
‘Yes, as it happens. I need you to reach the conclusion that Sabira Kasavian has undergone a mental collapse due to the exorbitant pressures of her social life. Write it up in a report this weekend and submit it to the Home Office on Monday, ahead of the psychiatric report. Send copies to four people: Oskar Kasavian, Edgar Lang, Stuart Almon and Charles Hereward.’
‘To do that, I’ll need something more than anecdotal evidence,’ said May.
‘That’s why you need to talk to Edona Lescowitz. Someone at Hard News had her surname on file.’
‘The Albanian girlfriend? I thought she’d returned home.’
‘So did I, until Jack Renfield ran a passport check and found that she never left the country. While you’re at it, check out the records of Kasavian and the others’ company, Pegasus. Give me something on the directors’ background. I have to go to the British Library.’
May recognized the furtive look on his partner’s wrinkled face. He looked like a Shar Pei tricking its owner out of dinner. ‘And of course you can’t possibly tell me what you’re up to.’
‘I’m conducting some research. It’s rather esoteric, but I think it will turn out to have a bearing on the case. I have some books on the subject, of course, but they don’t cover the particular time period I want.’
‘Which is when?’
‘The early thirteenth century. I won’t bore you with the details.’
May was mystified. What could his partner possibly have found that would be relevant to a murder case over seven centuries later?
‘Fine,’ said May. ‘We’ll conduct all the interviews while you go and poke about in a cobwebby old library.’
‘It’s not cobwebby,’ said Bryant, nettled. ‘It’s a new building. Although I’ll also be in the old archival annexe in Clerkenwell, which is not only cobwebby but partially flooded.’
20
A FATAL FLAW
WALTHAMSTOW IS A north-eastern district of London that has lately become home to a large Polish community, spilling over from neighbouring Leytonstone. Bombing raids and development projects have replaced many of the terraced Edwardian houses with grey concrete blocks of flats. On a warm summer evening the local lads hang out in the scruffy high street beneath a riot of plastic signs offering cheap booze and easy ways to send money abroad. In this sense it is like any other working-class London borough.
John May found the flat easily enough, but was surprised to find Sabira’s friend living in such straitened circumstances. Edona Lescowitz lived above an Indian shop that sold tinned vegetables, mobile-phone covers and alcohol from distilleries with unpronounceable names. May figured that calling first would only alarm her and decided to take his chances, but there was no answer from the door buzzer.