Shantaram полностью

Rajan led us to a room at the very end of a corridor. The door was open. The room was decorated with large movie posters-Lauren Bacall in a still from To Have And Have Not, Pier Angeli from Somebody Up There Likes Me, and Sean Young from Blade Runner. A young and very beautiful woman sat on the large bed in the centre of the room. Her blonde hair was long and thick, ending in spirals of lush curls. Her sky-blue eyes were large and set unusually wide apart. Her skin was flawless pink, her lips painted a deep red. A suitcase and a cosmetic case were snapped shut and resting on the floor at her golden-slippered feet.

‘About fucking time. You’re late. I’m going outta my mind here.’ It was a deep voice. The accent was Californian.

‘Gilbert had to change his clothes,’ Karla replied, with something of her familiar composure. And the traffic, getting here-you don’t want to know.’

‘Gilbert?’ Her nose wrinkled with distaste.

‘It’s a long story,’ I said, not smiling. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking at Karla.

‘You don’t know?’

‘Hey, fuck you, Jack!’ she exploded, rounding on me with so much fury that I didn’t see the fear behind it. ‘What the hell business is it of yours, anyway?’

There’s a special anger we reserve for people who won’t let us do them a good turn. My teeth began to grind with it.

‘Look, are you coming or not?’

‘Did she say it’s okay?’ Lisa asked Karla. Both women looked to Rajan, and then to the mirror on the wall behind him. Their expressions told me that Madame Zhou was watching us, and listening, as we spoke.

‘It’s fine. She said you can go,’ I told her, hoping she wouldn’t comment on my imperfect American accent.

‘Is this for real? No bullshit?’

‘No bullshit,’ Karla said.

The girl stood up quickly and grabbed at her bags.

‘Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s get the fuck outta here before she changes her goddamn mind.’

Rajan stopped me at the street door, and gave me a large, sealed envelope. He stared that perplexing malice into my eyes once more, and then closed the door. I caught up to Karla and pulled her round to face me.

‘What was that all about?’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, a little smile trying to light her eyes. ‘It worked. We got her out.’

‘I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you and me, and that crazy game Madame Zhou was playing up there. You were crying your eyes out, Karla-what was it all about?’

She glanced at Lisa, who stood close by, impatient and shielding her eyes, even though the late-afternoon light wasn’t bright. She looked at me again, her green eyes puzzled and tired.

‘Do we have to talk about this now, in public?’

‘No, we don’t!’ Lisa answered for me.

‘I’m not talking to you,’ I snarled, not looking at her. My eyes were fixed on Karla’s face.

‘You’re not talking to me, either,’ Karla said firmly. ‘Not here. Not now. Let’s just go.’

‘What is this?’ I demanded.

‘You’re over-reacting, Lin.’

‘I’m over-reacting!’ I said, almost shouting, and proving her right. I was angry that she’d told me so little of the truth, and prepared me so poorly for the interview. I was hurt that she didn’t trust me enough to give me the whole story. ‘That’s funny, that’s really funny.’

‘Who is this fucking jerk?’ Lisa snarled.

‘Shut up, Lisa.’ Karla said, just as Madame Zhou had said it to her, only minutes before. Lisa reacted just as Karla had, with meek, sullen silence.

‘I don’t want to talk about this now, Lin,’ Karla said, turning to me with an expression of hard, reluctant disappointment. There are few things people can do with their eyes that hurt more, and I hated to see it. Passers-by stopped near us on the street, staring and eavesdropping openly.

‘Look, I know there’s a lot more going on here than getting Lisa out of the Palace. What happened up there? How did she… you know, how did she know about us? I’m supposed to be some guy from the embassy, and she starts talking about being in love with you. I don’t get it. And who the hell are Ahmed and Christina? What happened to them? What was she talking about? One minute you’re indestructible, and then the next minute you’re breaking down, while Madame Nutcase is babbling away in German or whatever.’

‘It was Swiss-German, actually,’ she snapped, a flash of spite in the gleam of her clenched teeth.

‘Swiss, Chinese, so what? I just want to know what’s going on. I want to help you. I want to know… well, where I stand.’