Fragments (10 page)

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 blood, cannot be ignored.
Someone wishes conflict between this Church, and the Muslim
communities. They want it very badly. It is not good.’

Barham paled
under her make-up. ‘Not what I wanted to hear, not at all.’

‘No, I expect
not. And that’s before we get to the accusation that it’s a demon
that killed him.’

‘I thought it
was that the boy was a demon, I mean, had held a Jinn?’

‘No, it’s very
clear that the writing states he has been sacrificed by a Jinn, not
to one, or because he was one.’ She pointed to the autopsy photos.
‘All Arabic has three root letters and the letters aside them can
change the meaning significantly. The confusion is easy to see, but
so is the meaning. I’ll write up a thorough translation for you
when I have the time. Tell me, I’m presuming there were no cuts on
his back?’

‘No.’

‘The blood on
the sheets of the Qur’an, it’s solely from the wounds?’

‘We think so.
Analysis is still ongoing.’ Barham opened up the folder she’d taken
the autopsy photos from and handed over several photos of the body
on the altar, it being removed, the revealing of the leaves of
paper underneath. Then the photos of each sheet being lifted and
sealed in an evidence bag. The sequence showed that the body had
lain on a cross constructed of torn and slashed leaves of the Holy
Book of Islam. The young man’s body had been positioned as if
crucified upon it. It was sacrilege to destroy the word of Allah.
What had occurred was blasphemy; a deliberate desecration of both
the Church and the Qur’an.’

‘And you have
yet to inform any of the local Imams about this? Have not made any
attempt to involve them?’

‘We wanted to
be sure.’

‘You were
hoping, no doubt, that this has nothing to do with religion at
all?’

Barham nodded.
‘The deceased, Jason Briggs, is a gang leader, a violent and
aggressive person who has been involved in criminal activity since
he was nine years old. There is no evidence of either sexual
assault, or robbery. He was neither Muslim nor Catholic, nothing to
link him in any way to anything other than his gang activity.
Peckham gangs don’t split neatly into religious or racial groups.
They run according to the ethnic breakdown of the individual
housing estates. Most are black British, such as Jason, but it’s
not exclusive. This Church is in his area, but he’s not a member of
the congregation, although he had been thrown out of the youth
group a few months ago, along with other gang members who were
trying to recruit from there.’

‘You believe
that is what was behind the graffiti and the other
desecrations?’

‘Yes. The gang
members we prosecuted were from Brigg’s gang, the RRs, the Rye
Runners. They targeted the local church group to recruit youngsters
and were booted out. So they vandalised the cemetery and the
building. None of that had any religious significance at all.’

Barham looked
to Maryam to confirm this. Maryam nodded her head whilst filing
away what Barham’s choice of words had revealed about her
background. Barham continued.

‘It is only the
pages of the book that suggests this has anything to do with Islam
and actual religious faith. That’s not a very strong connection,
given whoever did this is certainly not rational. Anyone could
think of pulling the pages out of a book to muddy the waters. There
is no strong evidence to treat this as anything other than a...
secular... manner.’

The word was
awkward in her mouth, the concept new to her brain.

‘I can tell you
that the words written on this young man are neither random nor
without meaning. They are intense and scholarly. No one was copying
out of a book. The formations of the marks are sure and precise.
Intellect has been used here, intellect, discipline, and knowledge;
unlike the graveyard desecrations.’

‘Completely
different?’

‘Utterly.’

Barham wasn’t
happy with the news: so much easier to work this as a gang
crime.

‘I take it he
was drugged?’

Barham nodded.
‘We believe so, what leads you to ask that?’

‘He lay there
and bled to death. There is no significant arterial spray pattern
evident in the surrounding area. The wounds are shallow and the
blood flowed out slowly and evenly, from what I can tell. He would
not have lain there and bled to death, I imagine, unless he wasn’t
able to rise. I can see no evidence of restraints or serious injury
that incapacitated him.’

Barham paid
Maryam the best compliment; she carried on talking about the
details of the case without missing a beat. ‘We don’t know what,
the toxicology results aren’t back. There was some spray on his
chest; it could only be discerned by using light filters. It
suggests the first cut was on his throat from someone standing
behind him.’

‘So there
wouldn’t be much spurt on the murderer?’

‘Nope.’

‘Curious.’

‘What?’

‘If the first
cut was at the throat, it was symbolic. It was a shallow slash, one
presumes...’ She picked up the autopsy photos and looked in more
detail. ‘Yes, otherwise he’d have bled out much more quickly.’

‘Agreed. All
the cuts were shallow. He only bled out as there were so many of
them.’

‘Body couldn’t
clot the blood fast enough.’ Maryam took a magnifier out of her
shoulder bag and studied the cuts.

‘Is there any
suggestion the writing was done by a different blade, from the
slices that ensured the bleed out occurred?’

‘None. However,
as I said, the autopsy and reports are not yet completed.’

‘And Father
Jones remains relatively safe until then?’

Barham tensed.
Maryam listened.

‘We have no
reason to suspect it’s anything but a deliberate ploy to make us
look at Father Jones. We have... I have... no expectation that
he’ll be implicated.’

Again, gentle
words spoken with care. Maryam had a sense of the huge wheels
moving around them, grinding slow, grinding small, as the competing
politics of the various authorities sought to ensure the dance did
not end on their patch; that the axe would not fall upon their
head.

‘Have you
informed the multi-faith agencies working with the Met and used
Bishop Atkins’ contacts in the various London communities? You have
informed the hierarchies, if not the local mosques?’

Barham shook
her head.

‘I see. That’s
what bought my ticket, was it? Everyone agreed to keep all this
quiet until after I arrived? An outsider to help keep balance; to
blame, if all else failed...’ Maryam hoped Barham would understand
the trust she’d accorded her by ending that last sentence out
loud.

Barham took it
on the chin and kept going. ‘Yes, I suppose that would be one way
of looking at it. Your knowledge could have told us firmly this was
not religious in nature, just freakish, like the desecration in the
graveyard.’

Maryam nodded.
‘But what do you have hope of here, in this case...? What outcome
are you looking for from the Congregation? Any religious analyst
could have confirmed that context. Why allow us in, in particular?
The Congregation is rather... unique in its brief.’

Jenny Barham
went quiet, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Maryam studied
her. She was young to be an operational Detective Inspector, barely
in her mid-forties. She was aging well in the job. She wore a
wedding ring and her dress and figure suggested there was another
person somewhere, whom she loved, who wore the match of it. Maryam
doubted this woman believed in any God, in any religion, and she
was a little lost as to how to respond.

‘We are hoping
that we have something ... concrete, to go on, before we approach
the leaders in the various Islamic communities in the area. That we
could rule out certain things before informing them of the...
sacrilege.’

‘Rule out real
occult influence? Present it as vandalism or madness but all of
human agency?’

Barham laughed.
‘No! Not quite that. I mean, not really.’

‘You don’t
believe in the occult, Inspector, in the supernatural?’

Barham looked
confused by Maryam’s poise in asking the question.

‘Of course I
don’t. I thought that was the point of your Congregation, to prove
that such things do not exist and to explain occult events by
revealing the human component?’

That she
thought such revealed much to Maryam about how Atkins had presented
their involvement. He did love to polish his words to reflect his
own image.

‘We do
investigate all reported occult activity that affects the Church,
Inspector, to seek out the human agency in it. We do reveal the
tricksters and the fakes, the psychotic and obsessed. That is true,
but we do so in order to ascertain when actual occult activity has
occurred, as opposed to human.’

‘You can’t tell
me you believe in such things! Ghosts and ghoulies, demons and
magic?’ Barham’s voice had risen several registers. Her tone had
moved from surprise, almost to mockery.

‘What I believe
is not of note, Inspector. The Church of Rome, whom I represent in
this matter, does believe in spiritual forces beyond human
knowledge or understanding.’

The warning was
clear. Barham backed down. This was another example of how the
world had changed and it was a good change. Government officials
were no longer free to mock faith. Sometimes.

‘The issue,
Inspector, is not what you or I believe or do not believe. The
issue is the beliefs of those whom this case will affect. The issue
is how communities will respond and how they may interact. The
issue is how we mediate that response through our work.’

Barham blushed
this time, but again took the blow on the chin.

‘Can you rule
out that this crime has anything to do with the Islamic
community?’

‘No. Not at
this time. Neither can I confirm it has. Although it is likely the
work of an individual, not any organised group. My advice would be
that the Islamic authorities that work with the Metropolitan police
are informed as a matter of urgency.’

Barham nodded.
‘Can you rule out... spiritual forces?’

Maryam smiled.
‘I appreciate your choice of words, and candour, Inspector.
Spiritual forces move people to act in a way that cannot be
defined. However, if you mean, can I rule out supernatural forces
in this affair and assign it wholly to human action... I cannot do
so until I have examined the Church and spoken to those concerned.
But I can tell you it is extremely unlikely and highly
improbable.’

‘Impossible?’

‘It’s
impossible that this man was killed by anything other than a human
being. The odds on it being only human agency involved on all
levels are extremely high. The odds that supernatural forces are
involved, miniscule. But I cannot rule such out until I have
examined the Church and then spoken to all concerned.’

‘I appreciate
you putting it like that. Yes, I have set up a car to take you over
there, although I’ll presume you’ll want to examine the church in
the morning, after you’ve had some sleep?’