The Mayan Codex

4

Adam Sabir’s ‘Berkshire Cottage’ style home was set well back from the Stockbridge Main Street, in grounds totalling a little more than an acre and a half – or roughly the size of a baseball field.

The ultra-discreet street lights cut a fragile arc across the front lawn, but they fell just short of the main part of the house, which was consequently shrouded in darkness. The back garden, in which Sabir’s summer-house-cum-writing-hut was situated, stretched for a further fifty feet towards a thick stand of trees, which marked the extreme boundary between Sabir’s property and next-door’s smallholding. The rear of his demesne was bounded by a small white picket fence, whilst the front of the house lay directly open onto the street, as if its original nineteenth-century occupants had not wished to mar the vista of its rolling lawns with anything as common as an enclosure.

At a little after two o’clock in the morning, Abi and Vau emerged from their car, checked up and down the street, and then moved swiftly across the floodlit lawn until they were swallowed up by the darkness surrounding the main house.

Once at the rear of the house, Abi made his way cautiously up the veranda steps and tested the back door. It was open. He grinned at his brother. ‘Jesus Christ, Vau-Vau. This idiot doesn’t even lock his door at night. Do you think he knew we were coming?’

‘I don’t like this, Abi. No one in the United States leaves their house door open at night.’

‘Well Mr Sabir does. And I, for one, am most grateful to him for the courtesy.’

The twins edged their way through the door. They stood in the back hall, staring up at the main stairs.

Abi covered his mouth with his hand. ‘You saw him earlier, didn’t you? You’re sure of that?’

Vau echoed the movement. ‘Clear as a bell. His bedroom is the last room on the right, below the gable window.’

‘And no one else here?’

‘No. He was alone. And behaving like a lone man. You know. Pottering around. Tinkering with stuff.’

Abi shrugged. ‘Crazy. Crazy to leave your door open. What is the man thinking of?’

The brothers made their way to the base of the stairs. Halfway up the staircase they stopped and listened once again, but the house was silent as the grave.

‘The bastard doesn’t even snore.’

‘Perhaps he’s not asleep?’

‘At 2.30 in the morning? So why are his lights off?’

‘Okay. Okay.’ Vau stopped outside Sabir’s bedroom door, one hand on the handle.

Abi stood a little away from him. Without a sound, he unhitched the telescopic fighting baton from his sleeve. Then he nodded.

Vau threw open the door.

Abi sprinted towards the bed, landing with his legs splayed, the full weight of his body concentrated on where he expected the sleeping man to be. ‘Christ, Vau. There’s nobody in here.’

‘You’re kidding?’

Abi disentangled himself from the bed covers and cracked on his torch. ‘This bed’s been slept in, though. It’s still fucking warm. Go and check the bathroom. Then we’ll do the rest of the house.’ Already, without knowing why, Abi was getting the sense that the house was deserted.

‘He’s not in the bathroom either.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t see a car leave while I was sleeping? Are you sure he didn’t see us?’

‘Hell, Abi. Of course he didn’t. I would have told you. His car is still in the garage.’

‘Maybe he went for a walk? Maybe he creeps across the boundary fence every night and porks the next-door-neighbour’s wife?’

Vau shook his head. ‘No. I watched him prepare for bed. I even used the binoculars to make sure it was him. The curtains were wide open all the time. The man doesn’t seem to give a damn that anyone who wants to can look in on him.’

‘Let’s check downstairs, then. Perhaps he’s got a study? Or maybe a dressing room with a spare bed in it?’

Vau made a face. ‘Dressing rooms like that are for men who want a break from their wives. Like Monsieur, our father, remember? Sabir hasn’t got a wife. He lives alone.’

Ten minutes of frenetic searching convinced the brothers that Sabir wasn’t anywhere in the house.

Abi threw his head back and exhaled through his cheeks. ‘Right. Let’s do something constructive. Let’s find if he’s written anything down. At least that way we won’t leave empty-handed.’

‘What are we going to do then?’

‘Burn the place down. That’ll bring him running.’