"George Alec Effinger - Marid 3 - The Exile Kiss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

of his needle gun under my nose. I subsided a little.
"Whom were we supposed to have killed?" asked Papa.
"Just a moment, I have it here somewhere," said the qadi. "Yes, a police officer named Khalid Maxwell. The crime
was discovered by an associate of Shaykh Reda Abu Adil."
"I knew Abu Adil's name would come into this," I growled.
"Khalid Maxwell," said Papa. "I've never had any con-tact at all with anyone by that name."
 "I haven't either," I said. "I've never even heard of the g y"
u-
"One of my most trusted subordinates," said Hajjar. "The city and the force have suffered a great loss."
"We didn't do it, Hajjar!" I shouted. "And you know it!"
The qadi looked at me sternly. "It's much too late for denials," he said. His dark face didn't seem sturdy enough to
support either his bulbous nose or the bushy growth attached to it. "I've already reached my verdict."
Papa began to look a trifle upset. "You've already made your decision, without letting us present our side of the
story?"
The qadi slapped his handful of paper. "All the facts are here. There are eyewitness accounts and reports from
Lieutenant Hajjar's investigation. There's too much docu-mented evidence to allow for even the slightest doubt. What
is your side of the story? That you deny committing this foul crime? Of course, that's what you'd have said to me. I
didn't need to waste my time listening to it. I have all this!" Again he slapped the papers.
"Then you've reached a verdict," said Papa, "and you've found us guilty."
"Precisely," said the qadi. "Guilty as charged. Guilty in the eyes of Allah and your fellow man. However, the death
penalty will be set aside because of an earnest peti-tion from one of the city's most respected citizens."
"Shaykh Reda?" I said. My stomach was starting to bother me again.
"Yes," said the qadi. "Shaykh Reda appealed to me on your behalf. Out of respect for him, you will not be
be-headed in the courtyard of the Shimaal Mosque as you deserve. Rather, your sentence is banishment. You're
for-bidden ever to return to the city, under pain of arrest and summary execution."
"Well," I said sourly, "that's a relief. Where are you taking us?"
"This shuttle's destination is the kingdom of Asir," said the qadi.
I looked across at Friedlander Bey. He was doing his serene old wise man routine again. I felt a little better, too. I
didn't know anything about Asir other than it bor-dered the Red Sea south of Mecca. Asir was better than some places
they could have shipped us, and from there we could begin drawing on our resources to prepare our return to the city.
It would take time and a lot of money passed under a lot of tables, but we'd come home eventu-ally. I was already
looking forward to my reunion with Hajjar.
The qadi glanced from me to Papa, then nodded and retired again to the rear cabin. Hajjar waited for him to leave,
then let loose a loud guffaw. "Hey!" he cried. "What you think of that?"
I grabbed his throat before he could duck out of the way. The goon rose out of his seat and threatened me with
the needle gun. "Don't shoot!" I said with feigned terror, all the while squeezing Hajjar's larynx tighter. "Please, don't
shoot me!"
Hajjar tried to say something, but I had his windpipe shut off. His face was turning the color of the wine of
Paradise.
"Release him, my nephew," said Friedlander Bey af-ter a moment.
"Now, O Shaykh?" I asked. I still hadn't let go.
"Now."
I flung Hajjar away from me, and the back of his head bpunced off the bulkhead behind him. He gasped and
choked as he tried to force air into his lungs. The goon lowered his needle gun and sat down again. I got the
impression that he was no longer personally concerned with how Hajjar was feeling. I took that to mean that he didn't
have a much higher opinion of the lieutenant than I did, and as long as I didn't kill Hajjar outright, I could pretty much
do whatever I wanted to him without the goon interfering.
Hajjar glared at me hatefully. "You're gonna be sorry you did that," he said in a hoarse voice.
"I don't think so, Hajjar," I said. "I think the memory of your red, pop-eyed face will sustain me through all the
difficulties to come."