It was the sound of her phone that woke her, the sky outside the flat still dim and overcast. Nadia groaned and rubbed her eyes until they began to open of their own accord, groping for the phone to still its idiotic melody. Finally she managed to capture the sadistic little plastic monster and position it right way up to press the green button.
‘Nadi?’ came her brother’s tinny voice, ‘Are you there?’ Nadia mumbled something meant to sound reassuring. ‘See here’ Salim continued, ‘if you aren’t feeling up to coming in today, perhaps it’s just as well, because to be honest we’ve had a bit of a flap here this morning.’
That brought her sitting up in the bed, the phone pressed to her ear. It was a bad sign when Salim went all public school and understated, and his next words bore that out.
‘You remember that boy, the one in the basement?’ her brother continued, as she went absolutely cold in spite of the warm duvet. ‘No one knows the full story, but two orderlies went to take him to Carter’s OR . . . it seems the boy put them both in hospital, they’re still in intensive care, mumbling some fantastic story about a dragon, of all things. Now Carter’s put the whole place into lock down, and the police are manning the gates and no one comes in or out except staff. We—’
Nadia managed finally to halt the flow. ‘Salim!’ she all but yelled, and into the stunned silence she said more quietly, ‘I was on the internet last night and I think . . . I think I’ve managed to find his family . . . no, his family, the boy in the basement! They want him back, Salim, they’re coming for him today!’
There was silence on the other end as her brother absorbed this information. When he spoke again his voice was quieter but no less strained. ‘All I can say is, Nadia, if you have contacted his family, you had better get them down here as fast as you can. The police are talking about bringing in sharpshooters.’
Nadia sat staring at the little phone after he had rung off as though it had turned into a snake. Sharpshooters? The next moment she was off the bed trailing duvet and pillows behind her as she stumbled to the bathroom for a quick shower. Standing in front of the mirror towelling her hair into some kind of order there was a moment when her thoughts returned irresistibly to the events of last night, and Mr Green’s final, bizarre instructions. How had he known? But she supposed for someone who could materialise cups of hot tea out of nowhere it was no great trick.
The morning traffic around Primrose Hill was in full swing and there was no point waiting for a bus. Nadia dug down into the bottom of her shoulder bag for the hidden compartment where she always kept a couple of hundred pounds for emergencies, extracted a few notes and hailed a cab. The unmarked mini cab that cut across the traffic to answer her summons was piloted by a lean, dark skinned youth with a buzz cut and more piercings than she had ever seen before on one person. He listened to her directions impatiently for ten seconds then told her brusquely to ‘ ’ang on, Habibi,’ as he yanked the gear stick into drive and screeched off, narrowly missing a white van which bleated in protest.
It was just too perfect, Nadia reflected grimly, clinging to the armrest as the little car dodged and leaped into improbable gaps in the river of early morning commuters. Maybe not a flying carpet, but a cab driven by an East End Arab was a fair substitute.
Within minutes, it felt, the cab was pulling up to the high iron gates of St Andrews. There was a police squad car parked in the street and the air of hushed calm had been replaced by a feeling of tense expectancy, heightened by the ominous clouds that were gathering overhead. The cabby eyed the blinking blue lights mistrustfully as he accepted the crumpled notes Nadia thrust into his hand, and rasped, ‘Allaah ma’aaki,’ regarding her with eyes that looked as though they had spent a lifetime squinting against a desert sun.
‘And with you,’ she replied in Arabic, with a quick half smile. The cabby nodded, wheeled the little car around in a half circle and was gone. She approached the gate, hoping to see Ambrose’s smiling face, and almost recoiled upon encountering, not the West Indian guard but a uniformed policeman, who brusquely asked for her ID. ‘I don’t have one, I’m . . .’
‘Name?’ he interrupted. He was white, mid-twenties, she estimated, with a limp little moustache and watery blue eyes. She gave her name, and he made a big business of checking a list on his clipboard. ‘You can go in,’ he said tonelessly, as if he had been looking forward to sending her away.
‘ What’s going on, where’s the regular guard?’ Nadia asked.
‘Can’t say. I’m on gate duty,’ he said, as if everything paled into insignificance before this fact. Nadia blew out a breath that was half a laugh as she carried on past the gate. She stopped by the deserted cafeteria to buy a chocolate bar from the dispenser.
Reception was deserted. Nadia passed through the inner door and found Salim and Serabi at the main desk, bent over the glowing screen of Serabi’s computer.
‘Please, let’s try again,’ Salim was saying. ‘There must be patient records somewhere on file.’
Nadia approached the desk and said, ‘Salim? Serabi? What’s wrong? Where is everyone?’ A jolt of apprehension went through her. ‘Has he hurt anyone else?’
Her brother turned and exhaled with relief. ‘Nadi, thank God. The staff have all gone home, we couldn’t keep them—I’d bet a fair number were working here illegally, to judge by the lack of personnel records. Doctor Carter is locked in his office and . . .’
‘No he ain’t.’ it was Bertha, arriving silently for all her bulk, the soft soled nurses’ shoes making no noise on the tiled floor.
‘What do you mean?’ Salim’s voice was almost querulous.
‘He’s gone, mon.’ the big nurse said, her voice flat. ‘Cleared out his office and left.’
Serabi pulled Nadia to one side. ‘There have been calls coming in all morning,’ she said softly. ‘Someone has e-mailed the papers that Dr Carter was experimenting on patients without the proper authorisation.’ Nadia looked at her brother’s face and her heart ached for him. He always took it hard when one of his idols toppled.
Salim’s shoulders straightened and he made a visible effort to control himself. ‘About an hour ago,’ he said tonelessly, ‘the police tried to storm the basement. Result: two more rushed to hospital, one with a cracked pelvis. No one has died yet, but the police are taking no more chances. They’ve left him locked in there while they try to get a court order to bring in an armed response team.’
Nadia cried, ‘But you said it yourself, Sali! He’s only lost and confused, and probably terrified by now! You can’t just let them shoot him like some kind of animal!’
‘It’s not up to me!’ her brother snapped back, ‘It’s out of my hands! What about you? You said you’d found his family: where are they?’
Nadia improvised desperately. ‘The constable at the gate wouldn’t let them in! They’ve been looking for him, they’re a circus family, just like you said! If I could reach him I think I could get him to leave peaceably, I know I could! Please, Salim!’
Her brother looked to Serabi and Bertha. Serabi said, ‘I realise it’s a gamble, Salim, but you know what the police are like when one of their own has been injured. At least this way he has a chance.’
Bertha folded her massive arms and sniffed. ‘Think I don’t know what that so-called Doctor been up to? It was self defence, for true!’
Salim’s jaw knotted and he unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and pressed it into Nadia’s hand. ‘Allaah ma’aaki, Ukhti,’ he murmured, ‘Go with God, my sister.’
Outside it was even gloomier, the heavy grey clouds building ominously. The sanatorium grounds were eerie in the half light, the concrete paths standing out like white ribbons drawn across the expanse of dark lawn. Nadia shivered and turned into the deserted cafeteria once more, took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the loo, then took out the candy bar she had purchased and did what Mr Green had said had to be done. Afterwards she reinserted the piece of chocolate into its glassine wrapper and feeling slightly sick p
ut it into her shirt pocket and washed her hands. She met the eyes of her reflection in the mirror for a moment. Get moving before they lock you up too.
A fitful wind had begun, blowing from behind so that it seemed to be urging her on as she climbed the low hill to the men’s wing. She wondered vaguely what all the other patients were doing, locked in their rooms. Fearful? Worried? Or simply passively waiting for someone to come and tell them what to do? Nadia shivered and kept on walking, as the trees overhead creaked and shifted in the wind.
Outside the rear door she hunted for the right key. The low windows of the basement were lit by a faint illumination, perhaps some kind of night light, but inside the corridor was dark. She groped for a switch but clicking it brought no response. Maybe a fuse, she thought, and made her way along the corridor and down the stairs. She could see the door with its reinforced glass but the illumination she had seen from the outside was gone. She selected the other key of the pair and inserted it into the lock, and found she had to concentrate hard to breathe. Then she twisted the key around, pulled the knob down and pushed the heavy door open.
Nadia stood staring straight ahead into the shadows. With the sky overcast outside, the room was dark, and at first she could see nothing but the square of the high window overhead. Where was Monkey? Very faintly, she could hear a continuous muttering like distant thunder, which seemed to have no definite source. As her eyes adjusted, she began to scan the corners of the room, trying to make out shapes. The faint illumination she had seen from outside was back and seemed to be coming from one corner of the room.
He was curled up on the mattress, almost invisible against the tangled blankets. His head came up, slowly, and then the whole of his upper body, and even in the semi-dark, Nadia could tell that the motion was too fluid to be human. There was a momentary gleam from overhead as the sun briefly passed a gap in the clouds, and Monkey’s head snapped up, and then he was crouching on all fours, and she could see him clearly. Her breath caught in her throat as she strangled a scream. The eyes that stared into hers were still golden, only now they appeared to be lit from within, like looking into the peephole of a pottery kiln. His form kept . . . changing. He was long and sleek and looked a little like a golden panther . . . or a dragon . . . or kind of glowing cloud . . . and all the while there was that noise, like distant thunder, rising and falling . . . and the bright glowing eyes never wavered from hers.
Gradually her heartbeat slowed. There was a singing in her ears, and for a moment she was afraid she was going to faint, but the feeling passed. The outlines of the room seemed to dissolve, until there was only herself and the being she still thought of as Monkey. Why was he just crouching there, staring? What was he waiting for? Slowly, ever so slowly, she brought up her right hand and touched her fingertips to her forehead. ‘Salaam Aleichem’ she half whispered past the dryness in her throat. ‘Peace be with you.’
The eyes blinked, slowly, then something that was neither a paw nor a hand appeared, and a voice which seemed to come from the depths of the earth made the response, ‘And to thee, peace,’ in Arabic she could just barely understand.
There was a pause, and then the voice said, ‘Why hast thou come?’
Nadia cleared her throat and took a deep breath. ‘Please,’ she said in imitation of his archaic dialect, ‘I did come to release thee.’ The eyes widened, and the rumble of thunder was suddenly louder, almost like gargantuan laughter. There was a scream of overstressed metal as the heavy metal door folded in the middle, and in a shower of glass particles slammed into the corridor wall with an echoing crash.
‘There was no need,’ said the voice, as the echoes died away, ‘as thou seest.’
‘Oh please, thou must go!’ she cried, ‘Men will come to harm thee!’ Even as she said it, she knew how foolish it sounded. The creature that had been Monkey merely turned its head from side to side in a curiously human gesture of negation. Desperately she tried one more time. ‘The Doctor is gone who would have harmed thee! He himself will be imprisoned!’
The eyes regarded her steadily. ‘Thy doing?’ asked the Jinni.
Nadia squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I—yes,’ she whispered. ‘My doing.’ She thought she could guess the source of that mysterious e-mail.
The thunder lowered to something like a purr. ‘My thanks. For this, I spare thee. Others have imprisoned me. All shall be destroyed.’ There was no emotion in the rumbling voice, only a calm certainty.
Nadia sighed in defeat, fear of what she was about to do rising in her breast like a black tide. She moved toward the ruined doorway, feeling for the wrapper of the chocolate bar in the pocket of her bag. Slowly she drew it out, peeling back the already opened plastic covering, afraid to look at the Jinni.
There was a pause in the continuous rumble, and then—‘Hhalu,’ said the voice. Trying with every ounce of her will to move slowly and deliberately, Nadia half turned and held out the unwrapped treat. She sensed a quick movement and her outstretched hand was suddenly empty, and the sound of the thunder lowered to a faint hum. Then, suddenly, it ceased.
After a moment, she dared to look. Crouching on the mattress was a young man, naked, every muscle on his slight body tensed. Only the eyes were still inhuman, large and golden, staring back at her, now lit with a deathless hatred.
Nadia caught a sob in her throat. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, she wanted to say, but knew it was useless. ‘We must go from here,’ she said instead. ‘Then I can release thee.’ Except that I have no idea how to do that, she thought. The Jinni’s enraged stare did not alter.
‘Thou wilt free me.’ he said, musingly, his voice deep but without the unearthly resonance. ‘It is well. Then I shall destroy thee.’
Nadia stared, unable for a moment to credit it. ‘But—don’t you have to do as I say?’ she blurted in English, momentarily shocked when the Jinni answered with obvious understanding.
‘All that thou commandest I shall perform. To that I am bound,’ he spat, ‘Yet for every command there is a price.’
‘You—speak English?’ said Nadia, trying to grapple with this new concept.
‘I speak all tongues,’ replied Monkey contemptuously. ‘Even that mongrel speech of thine—if thou commandest.’
‘Yes, please . . . I mean, I—command it.’ replied Nadia. The strain of trying to speak and understand the archaic form of Arabic the Jinni used was beginning to tell. ‘We must go to another place,’ she went on. ‘It is called Hampstead Heath.’ She needed to get Monkey somewhere without so many people around, and the Heath was the nearest thing to somewhere ‘neither mountain nor plain’ that she could think of. ‘Can you—um—transport us there?’
‘In the blink of an eye,’ replied the Jinni, with something suspiciously close to eagerness.
‘Wait.’ said Nadia, as something clicked, ‘Tell me the truth,’ she said, after a moment’s thought. ‘How would I arrive if you did that?’
Monkey smiled. ‘The speed would surely strip the flesh from thy bones,’ he replied with obvious relish.
‘Is that what you meant by every command has a price?’ Nadia asked. ‘Every time I ask—command—you to do something you try to find a way to kill me?’
Monkey did not shrug, but his voice was matter of fact when he answered, ‘Even so.’
Nadia frowned, trying to grasp the implications. Abruptly she shook herself. The longer they remained the more likely the police would arrive. ‘Can you—I mean, I command you to cover yourself,’ she said. The Jinni made no sort of magical gesture that she could see, but at once the air around him shimmered and writhed and became a carpet of snakes which twined around him in ceaseless motion. Nadia backed away hurriedly as they began to strike outward in all directions, curved fangs slashing the air, and shouted, ‘Stop! I mean, put some clothes on! Clothes like mine!’ Again the shimmer, as though the Jinni were momentarily under water, and then the air cleared, and Monkey stood before her, in shirt, jeans and trainers that were the exact duplicates of the outfit she
was wearing. Nadia closed her eyes briefly and sighed. There was no way she could win this kind of contest—and time was passing.
‘We have to leave now,’ she said. ‘We are walking out of here, you and me, and we are going to find a taxi to take us to the Heath.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You will walk with me, and you will not do or say anything else unless I tell you to, is that clear?’ The Jinni bowed, the gesture curiously archaic in the clothes he now wore; his expression however showed no softening. Wordlessly he followed after her as she exited the basement, stepping gingerly over the ruined door, their feet crunching on the tiny cubes of shattered safety glass. The stairwell was silent and as dark as before and emerging into the outside Nadia was startled to see a sky full of ragged, wind-swept clouds blocking the sun so completely as to create an early twilight. Monkey’s nostrils flared and he looked around, taking in a horizon free of iron bars or intervening glass. She wondered what kind of thoughts were passing through that alien brain, if perhaps even just the sight of open air and limitless space were enough to turn his attention away from dreams of vengeance. If this were the case, however he gave no sign, but followed silently after as she made her way to an older path that led straight to the gate without passing the main building. Her phone suddenly buzzed and lit up and she stopped and checked the text message display—‘Where are you? Please reply, S.’ She pressed ‘Reply’ and was positioning her thumbs over the illuminated keyboard, when she glanced up and saw the reflections of the display in Monkey’s eyes as he gazed in fascination at the little device. Probably never seen one before, she commented to herself as she swiftly wrote ‘plz dn’t wrry, ll OK CU t’mr,’ added a ‘hugs’ icon and clicked ‘Send’.
The Girl with the Peacock Harp Page 23