Читаем The Mountain Shadow полностью

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.

‘I –’

‘Don’t tell me.’

‘But, you just asked –’

‘Get in the car.’

‘Who are you, again?’

‘Get in the car.’

I got in the car.

‘You’re compromised,’ she said, a pinched frown of contempt looking me up and down.

‘Salaam aleikum,’ I said.

‘You’re compromised,’ she repeated.

‘Salaam aleikum,’ I said.

‘Wa aleikum salaam,’ she replied, squinting at me angrily. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

She drove off but in a few seconds we saw Horst, still standing beside the kid’s head, still trying to get that perfect shot. She wanted to drive on but I stopped her, some ten metres past the journalist.

‘He’ll ask questions, if I disappear from the road. Let me handle this.’

I got out of the car, and jogged back to Horst.

‘What’s going on? Who’s that with you?’

‘I’ve just heard,’ I said breathlessly. ‘Fighting has started again. I’m getting the hell out of here. You want a ride back to the hotel?’

His eyes narrowed, as he looked north on the deserted road.

‘No, see, I think I’ll hang around. You go. It’s okay.’

‘I don’t like to leave you like this, when it’s getting dangerous.’

‘No, no, I’m fine. I’ll go see what’s happening at the checkpoint. You go on.’

He fumbled with the camera, and offered his hand. I shook it.

‘Good luck,’ I said.

‘Same to you. And do me a favour? Since you’re going, keep this to yourself for as long as you can, okay?’

‘Not a problem. Bye, Horst.’

He was already walking away, preparing his camera.

Click-clack.

When I got back in the car, I saw that Blue Hijab had a pistol in her hand. She was pointing it at me.

‘All good,’ I said.

She drove off at speed, one handed. She was changing gears with the hand that held the pistol, and making me nervous enough to flinch as she nudged the lever violently with the heel of her hand.

‘What are you two, sweethearts?’ she demanded. ‘Blah, blah, blah. What did you tell him?’

‘What he wanted to hear. Are you going to shoot me?’

She seemed to consider it.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘What did you tell that man? Whose side are you on?’

‘Your side, I hope. And if you shoot me, you’ll put a hole in one of the passports.’

She swung the car into a clearing that became a parking bay amid the trees. She turned off the engine, and put both hands on the gun.

‘You think this is funny? I’m dragged from a cover that I’ve worked on for two years, to pick you up at the hotel, collect the stuff, and drive you to the airport.’

‘A cover? What are you, a spy?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Aaah . . . okay, who are you again?’

‘I find you on the road, alone,’ she said, staring enigmas at me. ‘Then you stop to talk to a stranger. Convince me this isn’t a mistake, or by Allah I’ll put a bullet in your head, and strip the gold off your body.’

‘If you know your Holy Koran,’ I said, ‘it should be enough for me to give you the number of a verse.’

‘What the hell?’

‘Two, two hundred and twenty-four,’ I said.

‘The Cow,’ she sneered, giving the name of the verse from the Koran. ‘Are you trying to make a point about me? Are you saying I’m fat?’

‘Of course, not. You’re . . . curvy.’

‘Cut it out.’

‘You started it.’

‘Back to the verse, smart guy.’

‘If you’re not a Muslim, and you’re gonna learn a few verses from the Koran, verse two, two hundred and twenty-four, is a nice place to start. And make not Allah’s name an excuse in your oaths against doing good and acting piously –’

‘– and making peace among mankind,’ she finished for me, smiling for the first time.

‘Shall we do this?’ I asked, beginning to wrestle out of my jacket.

She put the gun in a pocket of her skirt, opened the back door of the car, and began to pull the back seat upright.

There was a hiding place underneath, behind a false cover. When I handed her the vest, she did a thorough check of every pocket and each passport.

Satisfied, she put the vest into the hiding place, and concealed it with the snap-fit cover. The seat clicked back into place, and we got back in the car.

‘We’ll stop at the hotel,’ she said, driving off. ‘You have to check out. We need you to be a ghost from here.’

‘A ghost?’

‘Shut up. We’re here. Go inside, get your stuff and check out. I’ll put petrol in the car, and meet you here in fifteen minutes. Not a second more.’

‘Do you –’

‘Get out!’

I got out. I ran the steps, entered the reception area and heard my name.

‘Mr Davis!’

It was Ankit, the night-and-day porter, standing in a bay window. He had a tray in his hand.

‘I saw Blue Hijab,’ he said, as I approached him, ‘and thought you might be needing this.’

I took a long sip of the long drink.

‘They don’t call you The Complete for nothing, Ankit.’

‘One strives to please, sir. Your things are with me at the desk. You need only sign the register, when you’re ready.’

‘Let’s do it now.’

‘You’ve got a six-hour drive ahead. I’m here, if you want to take a minute to freshen up.’