"Lisa Goldstein - Tourists" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldstein Lisa)

itself, an elephant raised its trunk.
Mitchell smiled to himself. Casey would love this place. And
AngieтАФwould she even notice that she was in a different
country? As always when he thought of Angie he felt uneasy.
He began to walk faster.
The animal market had to be TamirтАЩs empty field. Mitchell
turned left, turned right at the old railroad tracks sinking
slowly into the asphalt of the street, walked past what seemed
to be miles of stores displaying nothing but bathroom fixtures.
тАЬMoney?тАЭ a beggar asked. He held a bowl firmly between two
bare feet, and Mitchell, looking at him quickly and then
looking away, thought he might be missing an arm, or two.
тАЬMoney?тАЭ the beggar said again. тАЬHungry?тАЭ Mitchell hurried
past him. On his left, on a vacant storefront, someone had
scrawled something in unreadable jagged graffiti, and over
that, nearly covering it, another hand had drawn stylized,
almost circular letters.
Down a street to his right was the marble building that had
to be the university, endowed by the silver barons at the turn
of the century and since then fallen on hard times. The short
street even had a signpost with a name on it in Lurqazi and
English: University Avenue. He hurried up to the university
and found the anthropology buildingтАФlow and made of wood,
as they all were, once past the impressive auditorium and
administration building. The directory gave him the number of
Dr. JaraтАЩs office and he went down the hall and knocked on
the door.
тАЬCome in,тАЭ a voiceтАФa familiar voiceтАФsaid.
Mitchell opened the door. Behind the desk, in a tan coat and
a brown silk tie, sat the young man who had met him at the
airport yesterday.
It was the coat and tie that saved Mitchell; otherwise he
would have taken the man for a secretary, and that would
have been unforgivable. He walked into the room and
stretched out his hand.
тАЬGood morning, Dr. Jara, тАЭ he said. Should he mention the
airport? No, better to pretend the whole thing never happened.
Maybe Jara would assume jet lag. Damn, why did he have to
be so goddamned preoccupied all the time?
тАЬAh, Dr. Parmenter,тАЭ Jara said, standing to take his hand.
тАЬHave you brought the manuscript?тАЭ He had the same accent
as Tamir, Mitchell noticed now, as all the intellectual class of
Amaz, slightly British, with a tendency to use a longer word if
one was available. Casey had gone through a stage like that,
Mitchell thought, smiling as he nearly always did when
thinking of his daughter. Thank God she was over it.
But Jara was looking at him. Preoccupied again, Mitchell
thought. тАЬYes, yes I have,тАЭ he said. He set the briefcase on the
desk, thumbed the combination and opened it.
Jara lifted the transparent plastic bag containing the