get the information you needed in Ismailia. It wasn’t there. You thought Hikmet’s mother had it, but Rania beat you to it. Now you say you don’t know where she is, and perhaps I’m wrong, but I just might believe you. Maybe somebody else has her, the same person who set up Meera’s killing without your asking. He made it look spectacular, which was exactly what you don’t need. The case passed from the police to a special counter-terrorist unit and Lieutenant Sharqi, who is going to come knocking at your door one of these days.’
‘And you think you can help us to take care of this person?’ murmured Zayed Zafrani.
‘I think I might be able to.’
‘And what do you get in return for doing us this favour?’
‘Well, there is one matter of great importance to me that I think you can help me with.’
‘Please, speak freely.’
‘I need to know about your business with Mohammed Damazeen.’
Zayed Zafrani was silent. Ayad muttered something to himself and stared at his feet.
‘I was right about you,’ said Zayed Zafrani after a time. ‘You are an interesting man.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
On the way across town, Makana stopped to call the hospital. By some miracle he managed to get through to the right nurse who told him that no, Mrs Barakat was not with her husband. He insisted that he needed to speak to Sami, that it was a matter of life and death. Eventually, after much complaining, a line was connected and somebody presumably held the receiver to Sami’s ear. He was desperate and had heard nothing from Rania. Makana hung up and made more phone calls. He was trying to eliminate possibilities. Eventually, only one would remain, the one he feared the most. He called their apartment where there was no reply, then her office and finally her parents. Nobody had seen her.
The police presence had been reduced to one dark-blue pick-up which slumped under shot suspension parked on the corner of the street. Two uniformed men sitting in the back watched Makana with a mixture of indifference and sullen resentment. The acned face of the young man who stepped up to block his path was unfamiliar. Like the others he wore a shirt emblazoned with the image of the many-winged angel on it: the Seraph. He smelled of hair oil and was carrying a short iron bar. He clearly knew who Makana was.
‘Our hero returns,’ he sneered.
‘Where’s Ishaq?’
‘He’s not here,’ he replied helpfully. The others began to crowd round, breathing in quick, shallow gasps, like fighters gearing themselves up before plunging into the ring. ‘He’s at the gym.’
‘Tell him I need to speak to him,’ Makana said, pushing his way through. There was resistance, but no one seriously tried to stop him going inside. They might not have liked him but they weren’t going to assault him in front of the police. They would have to wait.
As he walked up the stairs into the building he heard a television playing somewhere. A chirpy jingle selling something nauseating and completely lacking in nutritional value. It seemed to sum up the age. The door to the apartment was opened by Meera’s sister, Maysoun, who looked him over with the same mixture of distrust and resentment as the boys on guard duty outside. She lifted a hand to stop him, but Makana pushed her aside.
‘Where is he?’
Maysoun shook her head speechlessly. She wore a plain black dress with a high neck and long sleeves. She examined her nails.
‘He’s not good. He drinks too much and gets depressed. Then he doesn’t sleep. His nerves have never been good.’
‘Is he asleep now?’
‘The doctor gave him a sedative. He needs rest.’ She stared down the hall, gloomy and dark even in daytime. ‘My sister married him. This is still her home. Out of respect for her I cannot abandon him in his hour of need.’
‘It’s an admirable attitude. A lot of people would not go to such lengths.’
Her eyes pinned themselves sharply on him. ‘Did you find out who murdered her?’
‘That’s why I’m here. I need to ask the doctor a few more questions.’
‘I don’t like to disturb him.’
‘It’s too late for that.’
Maysoun again glanced down the hall in the direction of Hilal’s study. She turned back to find Makana watching her and finally decided to step aside. She gestured towards the salon.
‘Please, wait. I will go and tell him you are here.’
The salon was defended by a couple of old aunts. Dressed in black they sat side by side,