House of Spies (Gabriel Allon #17)(88)

“Is that bad?”

“Very. By day the jinns live among us in inanimate objects, leading lives quite like ours, but they come out after dark in any form they desire.”

“They’re shape-shifters,” said Gabriel dubiously.

“And wicked,” said Yaakov, nodding gravely. “Nothing gives them more pleasure than harming humans. Belief in the jinns is particularly strong here in Morocco. It’s probably a holdover from the pre-Islamic beliefs of the traditional Berber religion.”

“Just because Moroccans believe it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“It’s in the Koran,” said Yaakov defensively.

“That doesn’t make it true, either.”

There was another exchange of nervous glances between the three veteran Office agents.

Gabriel frowned. “You don’t actually believe this drivel, do you?”

“We heard a lot of strange noises in the house last night,” said Dina.

“It’s probably infested with rats.”

“Or jinns,” said Yaakov. “The jinns sometimes come in the form of rats.”

“I thought we only had one jinn.”

“Aisha is their leader. Apparently, there are many others.”

“Says who?”

“Hamid. He’s an expert.”

“Really? And what does Hamid suggest we do about it?”

“An exorcism. The ceremony takes a couple of days and involves the slaughter of a goat.”

“It could interfere with the operation,” said Gabriel after giving the idea due consideration.

“It could,” agreed Yaakov.

“Aren’t there countermeasures we can deploy short of a full-blown exorcism?”

“All we can do is try not to make her angry.”

“Aisha?”

“Who else?”

“What makes her angry?”

“We can’t open the windows, sing, or laugh. We’re also not allowed to raise our voices.”

“Is that all?”

“Hamid sprinkled salt, blood, and milk in the corners of all the rooms.”

“That’s a relief.”

“He also told us not to shower at night or use the toilet.”

“Why not?”

“The jinns live just beneath the surface of water. If we disturb them . . .”

“What?”

“Hamid says we will suffer a great tragedy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Gabriel looked around the beautiful courtyard. “Does this place have a name?”

“Not that anyone can remember,” said Dina.

“So what shall we call it?”

“The Dar al-Jinns,” said Lavon gloomily.

“That might upset Aisha,” said Gabriel. “Something else.”

“How about the Dar al-Jawasis?” asked Yaakov.

Yes, that was better, thought Gabriel. The Dar al-Jawasis.

The House of Spies.



They arranged for the wives and eldest daughters of Tarek and Hamid to come to the house and prepare a traditional Moroccan meal. They arrived in short order, two plump veiled women and four beautiful young girls, laden with straw baskets overflowing with meat and vegetables from the markets of the old medina. They spent the entire afternoon cooking in the huge kitchen, chattering softly in Darija to avoid disturbing the jinns. Soon the entire house smelled of cumin and ginger and coriander and cayenne.

Gabriel poked his head through the kitchen door around seven o’clock and saw endless platters of Moroccan salads and appetizers, and huge clay pots of couscous and tagine. There was enough to feed a village, so at Gabriel’s insistence the women invited the rest of their relatives from the Bidonville to partake of the feast. They ate together in the largest of the courtyards—the destitute Moroccans and the four strangers whom they assumed to be Europeans—beneath a canopy of diamond-white stars. To conceal their facility with Arabic, Gabriel and the others spoke only in French. They talked of the jinns, of the broken promises of the Arab Spring, and of the murderous band of killers who called themselves the Islamic State. Tarek said that several young men from his Bidonville, including the son of a distant cousin, had gone to the caliphate. The DST staged raids in the Bidonville from time to time and carted off the Salafis to the Temara interrogation center to be tortured.

“They have stopped many attacks,” he said, “but one day soon there’s going to be another big attack like the one in 2003. It’s only a matter of time.”

It was on that note that the meal concluded. The women and their relatives returned to the Bidonville, taking all the leftover food with them, while Tarek and Hamid went into the garden to keep watch for the jinns. Gabriel, Yaakov, Dina, and Eli Lavon bade one another good night and retired to their separate rooms. Gabriel’s overlooked the sea. One of the guardians had etched a circle around the bed in coal to protect it from the demons, and in the four corners were salted droplets of blood and milk. Exhausted, Gabriel fell instantly into a deep sleep, but shortly before dawn he awoke with a desperate urge to relieve himself. He lay in bed for a long time debating what to do before finally checking the time on his mobile. It was a few minutes after five o’clock. Sunrise was at 6:49. He closed his eyes. Better not to tempt fate, he thought. Better to leave Aisha and her friends undisturbed.