The last time Sarah had seen the fat Turk was at the dinner party for the trustees, which seemed like an age ago. She looked up from the computer screen into his unshaven face. He was standing so close that she could smell his aftershave and his bodily odour. Casswell looked up too, his expression impassive. ‘Very well, thank you,’ he said, setting aside the magnifying glass he was holding. The curator smiled, and Sarah sensed that something else was playing on the man’s mind. Mustafa moved a little closer, his tone conspiratorial. ‘You know, doctor, I have heard – no – I know, that there are other works. I know there are other books that were brought by the monks to the area. They are quite close by.’ He grinned, and it was obvious the existence of these other books was something that excited him. He leaned a little closer and spoke shiftily. ‘Maybe with my help you might be able uncover the mother lode?’ Sarah glanced across at Casswell, and saw instantly that Mustafa had his full attention.
What do You think about Dr Casswell's Plaything (2010)?
