he has a wife and children in Pakistan, so I suppose that isn't likely. What about having come to this country for private medical treatment? Except that he doesn't look like he has the funds for that sort of thing, does he?"
Kumhar writhed in his chair as he heard Azhar's translations. He didn't respond directly.
" 'Allah promises hellfire to hypocrites and disbelievers,'
" Azhar translated. " 'Allah curses them and sends them to lasting torment.' "
More bloody praying, Emily thought. If the little bastard actually thought that prayers were going to do a single thing to save him in his current situation, he was more of a fool than he looked. She said, "Mr. Azhar, tell this man that - "
"May I try something with him?" Azhar interrupted.
He'd been examining Kumhar in his quiet way when Emily spoke. Now he looked at her, his gaze even and guileless.
Emily snapped suspiciously, "What?"
"My own . . . prayer, as you call it."
"If I know the translation."
"Of course." He turned back to Kumhar. He spoke and then offered the English translation.
" 'Triumphant are those who turn repentant to Allah, those who serve Him, those who praise Him . . . those who enjoin the right and who forbid the wrong.' "
But Azhar said, "If I might tell him one thing more: That there is little point to hiding within a maze of lies, since one can so easily lose one's way."
"Tell him," she said, "but add this as well: The game is up. He can tell the truth or be on the first plane back to Karachi. It's his decision."
Azhar relayed this information. Tears sprang into Kumhar's eyes. His lower teeth gnawed at his upper lip. And a torrent of words poured out of him.
"What's he saying?" Emily demanded when Azhar did not translate at once.
Azhar seemed to turn from the other man with difficulty. But he finally did so, slowly.
"He's saying that he doesn't want to lose his life. He's asking for protection. Roughly, he's saying what he said yesterday afternoon. 'I am no one. I am nothing. Protect me please. I am friendless in this land. And I have no wish to die like the other.' "
Finally, Emily felt the sweet rush of triumph.
"Then he does know something about Querashi's death."
"That appears to be the case," Azhar said.
Barbara decided that a nice little round of Divide and Rule might be what was needed.
Mrs.
Malik either didn't know where her son was, or she was unwilling to hand him over to the police.
Muhannad's wife, on the other hand, seemed to be so intent upon illustrating that she and her husband thought each other's thoughts and wore each other's knickers that she was likely to impart one or more valuable titbits of information, all in the name of proving her own importance to the man she'd married. But to get her to do this, Barbara knew that she had to separate the younger from the older woman. This proved easier than she'd anticipated. Muhannad's wife made the suggestion that they conduct their interview alone.
"There are things between husbands and wives," she said smugly to Barbara, "that are not for the hearing of mothers-in-law. And as I am the wife of Muhannad and the mother of his sons - "
"Yeah. Right." The last thing Barbara wanted was another rendition of the song and dance she'd had from this woman on her first day in Balford.
She had the impression that whatever her religion, Yumn could get positively biblical when it came to the begetting and begatting game.
"Where can we talk?"
They would talk upstairs, Yumn told her. She had to bathe the sons of Muhannad prior to their tea, and the sergeant could speak to her as she did so. The sergeant would want to see this activity anyway. The naked sons of Muhannad were a sight to give the heart its greatest joy.
Right, Barbara thought. She could hardly wait.
Mrs. Malik said, "But, Yumn, you don't wish Sahlah to bathe them today?" She spoke in so quiet a fashion that the fact that her question was far more pointed than Yumn's previous comments had been was something that could be easily overlooked by anyone unused to subtleties.
Barbara was unsurprised when Yumn's reply indicated that only an axe driven between her eyes would get her attention. A scalpel between the ribs went largely unfelt. She said,
"She may read to them in the evening, Sus-jahn. If, of course, they are