Read Online The Invisible Code by Christopher Fowler - Free Book Online Page B

call them devils. I don’t know what you call them.’
    ‘You mean spirits?’
    ‘They can be in many forms. They can be the ghosts of the dead, or people who are not what they say they are.’
    ‘Who are these people?’
    ‘They take different shapes,’ Sabira warned. ‘Some of them are Oskar’s friends. Some of them can walk through the walls.’
    ‘Walk through walls?’
    ‘Yes, in places where they should not be.’
    May felt a growing sense of frustration. Each time he thought they were getting somewhere, Sabira’s answers became abstract.
    ‘Let’s see if we can cut through some of the mystery,’ said Bryant impatiently. ‘You covered the mirrors because you didn’t want to see these spirits? Or you didn’t want them to see you?’
    ‘That spirit waits for me in the dark. He glares over my shoulder. He will kill me if he can.’
    Bryant clambered to his feet and walked over to themirror. With a flourish, he whipped away the bolt of black cloth. Sabira gasped and turned her face aside. To May, it seemed like a piece of terrible overacting.
    Bryant stepped back and examined the mirror’s surface. ‘See? There’s nothing.’
    ‘He’s not there now.’
    ‘Your husband says you talk to strangers in churches.’
    ‘Certainly. Why not? I feel safe there. When I was a little girl, if I ever felt sad or frightened I would go to the mosque and the feeling would go away.’
    ‘So why do you go to churches?’
    ‘What, you think because I was once a practising Muslim I cannot enter a church? It is a sanctuary to me, nothing more. A mosque is where my thoughts can be heard, but a church will do almost as well.’ She laughed. ‘I’m glad my parents can’t hear me say that.’
    ‘But your husband also says you believe there is some kind of … satanic club—’
    ‘You have met Oskar’s colleagues. They all belong to clubs, Boodle’s, the Devonshire, White’s, but sometimes there are clubs inside of clubs and this – this’ – she stamped her palms together – ‘is where they plan their evil.’
    ‘But you don’t honestly mean they’re
satanic
?’
    ‘Well – perhaps this is the wrong word.’
    ‘Do you have many friends of your own age?’ asked May, changing tack. ‘Anyone in whom you can confide, have a good honest conversation?’
    ‘Only in Albania. No English. My husband does not approve of my Albanian friends because they are low class.’
    ‘You’re not wearing any jewellery,’ said Bryant, cutting in. ‘Do you normally?’
    The question took Sabira by surprise. ‘Sometimes, for formal occasions only. But not like the other women. You hang baubles from a straggly tree to distract from the meanness of its branches.’
    Bryant laughed but May could see they were not going to get any further. ‘I think that’s all we have to ask you today,’ he said, rising. ‘I hope we’ll meet again.’
    ‘I hope so too,’ said Sabira, smiling warmly. ‘My head is feeling much better now.’
    ‘Well, I thought she was delightful,’ said May as they headed back across the square. The sky had clouded over and a strand of grey shadow was massing above the church. ‘But highly strung. All the paranoid stuff, it’s just in her mind. She feels cut off from her friends, she hates the circles she’s forced to mix in, and when she picks a fight I imagine her husband refuses to take her side.’
    ‘I think it’s something more than that,’ murmured Bryant. ‘Come over here. Children don’t use this square. Hardly anyone cuts across it because the back gate is kept locked, and they certainly don’t deviate from the path if they do. Take a good look at the grass.’
    He wandered over to a patch of green within the boundary of the church and poked at it with his walking stick. Then he looked back at the Kasavians’ second-floor apartment.
    ‘This is the area of the street she sees reflected in the mirror. That’s why she keeps it covered. Look.’ He directed his stick at a lamp-post