another reason you lied to me about the letters. You told Meera there was nothing to worry about. You didn’t want anything to deflect her from her task. This was your chance to be vindicated, to expose the people who destroyed you as charlatans prepared to subvert the law to make some money. You would have a chance to make your case again. You might even be reinstated.’
‘You are simply making this up. You have no evidence for any of this.’
‘I don’t need evidence, because all I’m doing is telling a story.’ Makana tossed onto the table the business card he had found underneath Mrs Hikmet’s sink. Hilal reached over to pick it up.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘I found it in Hikmet’s flat. It’s identical to the one you gave me, remember? It has your name on it and your private line.’ Makana pointed at the telephone sitting on the desk. ‘Despite your assurances, the letters still managed to scare her. Meera knew that the information she had would blow the roof off the Eastern Star Bank and take a number of prominent people with it. But she also knew she was dealing with dangerous people. Army officers, State Security officials. Going after them would be like kicking over a basket full of snakes. She decided it was too dangerous to proceed.’ Makana got to his feet and moved over to the window. ‘That’s when you decided to take matters into your own hands. The chance of getting your name back was too strong. You called Hikmet and arranged to meet. You gave him the information he was looking for. Your pride and vanity was more important than your wife’s safety.’
Ridwan Hilal groaned and bowed his head.
‘You asked me who killed Meera,’ said Makana. ‘Whoever killed Hikmet found evidence of where the information had come from. They put two and two together and came up with her name.’
Ridwan Hilal pressed his balled fists into his eyes and let out a sob. ‘I didn’t want to hurt her. I just wanted my life back. I wanted to be let out of this prison. Is that such a crime? To show the world that I was right and they were wrong?’ And then, almost as fast as it had started, his fury ebbed away. ‘Oh, God,’ he sobbed and dropped his face into his hands.
As he made his way out, Makana paused by the open door to the salon and looked in. The two crows stared back impassively. They didn’t even blink. Maysoun was waiting by the front door, one hand clutched to her throat. In her other she held a handkerchief; the neck of white cloth twisted like a strangled bird as her fist tightened around it. Neither of them said anything. The sound of Ridwan Hilal’s sobs echoed down the lonely hall.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was only one person whose name kept surfacing in Makana’s thoughts. One man who was always there in the background, just out of focus. Someone who fitted all the requirements. A man who was everywhere and nowhere. Yousef had been running the passport scam if not for the Zafranis then with their blessing. As an ex-Military Police officer he still had contacts inside the security services. He was placed inside the Blue Ibis by the same officials who had turned the Eastern Star Bank to their own purposes. Yousef was everybody’s friend and nobody’s. He took care of business for himself, first and foremost.
Father Macarius was waiting for him in the big gloomy hall that served as a dormitory and dining room. He was sitting at the far end of the long table, his head resting against the wall. On the table in front of him lay a string of rosary beads and a wooden cross. He looked asleep and it wasn’t until Makana was standing over him that he opened his eyes.
‘Ah, there you are. I was wondering why we hadn’t seen you.’
‘I have been away.’
Makana slid onto the bench opposite the priest. Father Macarius’ face looked gaunt, painted in bands of shadow and light coming through the narrow windows high above.
‘That must have been nice for you.’
‘I went to visit Wadi Nikeiba.’
Father Macarius stared at him.
‘Father, I think you tried to tell me about what happened all those years ago.’
‘I tried, but I couldn’t.’ Father Macarius closed his eyes for a second. ‘It was too painful. Wadi Nikeiba was a dream for us. It wasn’t just about rebuilding the old monastery. We wanted to go