The Fool Read Free Page A

minutes,
which she spent examining the photos with a magnifying glass.
Atkins had spoken over her deliberations several times, to offer
more information and impressions, but nothing he said was
important. Of more import was the way Father Scott looked away from
the rear view mirror as Atkins had spoken.
    Atkins was furious that he’d been dismissed.
As she exited the car, he had tried both to accompany her and to
suggest that Father Scott stay as a driver to assist her when she
left. Maryam assured them that she’d see them later, at Peckham, or
perhaps tomorrow if she was very late. She knew Atkins would remain
at Peckham until she arrived, no matter how long it took her.
    She went in and was invited to sit. She
waited out being left to moulder into nervousness by the desk
sergeant. His job was to make sure everyone was left to stew until
they were admitted into the presence of those too overworked to
care that much and who would often hide their tiredness in cynicism
and anger. The ones who wished they were still desk sergeants and
regretted their thirst for promotion. She doubted that dynamic
would be presented to her today and settled into people watching
and enjoying her wait.
    It had been a few years since Maryam had
been in the offices, and she noted the changes with some sense of
the sadness that was beaten into the walls here. Security was now
an awesome enterprise and she noticed that all the officers in view
wore Kevlar vests, some even had firearms. She found the sight of a
British Bobby with a semi-automatic gun in his hands unnerving;
jarring, as if she’d taken a step and turned a corner into another
world. Which is what had happened to them all, wasn’t it? She
reminded herself of the world that most people grew up in, where
they knew what guns looked like better than they knew a full plate
of food. She shook the nostalgia of the Cosy Old London out of her
thoughts and attended to the one in front of her.
     
    Inspector Jennifer Barham was more than
happy to meet and talk privately with Maryam after the observation
that Maryam had texted her. Maryam could see that the woman was not
at all certain about the involvement of the Congregation, but had
agreed to it on some personal level. Otherwise the meeting would
not be taking place as it was, late at night with no records being
taken. When they settled down at an interview desk, with cups of
tea between them, Maryam opened up straight away.
    ‘I wanted to thank you for letting me speak
to you and for allowing the Office of the Arcane access to this.’
She indicated the folder that Atkins had given her.
    Barham said nothing.
    ‘As you know, I wanted to talk about the
papers under the body. Most importantly, I want to talk about why
the reports allowed to be seen by the Congregation did not mention
them.’
    ‘We accepted your involvement in this case
as you have been helpful before. My supervisors advised me of how
good you were, how relations with the Church could be maintained by
allowing you in.’
    ‘But you felt you had to test me?’
    Barham stared at her, then took the same
route to honesty that Maryam had; Maryam’s respect for her
increased.
    ‘No, not a test.’ She sighed. ‘It was just
so... contentious, I didn’t want it in the record you had, yet...
at least not until I’d met you. I was impressed you spotted the
papers, never mind worked out what they were.’
    Maryam picked up one of the new photos that
Barham had brought in with her. The naked body of the boy after it
had been processed and washed. The writing cut into his body was
much clearer. She took a few moments to compare it to her earlier
translation.
    ‘I am very much afraid, Inspector, that
there is some fundamental religious aspect to this and you have
good reason to be worried. What is written on his body could be
read in many ways, but I’m afraid that the sheets of the Qur’an
under his body, cut and slashed with the knife that killed him,
further defiled by his