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

answered. No one spoke. тАЬIтАЩm going to call the cops,тАЭ he said.
The crowd stared back at him, mouths open, eyes wide, as
though fascinated. тАЬAnd when I do IтАЩm going to ask them if
you have a permit to stand here all day like this. Do you
understand?тАЭ He turned and left, hoping he had salvaged
something from the situation, fearing he had made a fool of
himself. He resisted the impulse to look back at the people he
felt massed behind him, watching him.
Back inside he walked slowly through the living room and
the empty echoing bedrooms, making sure they were
untouched. The cluttered front room seemed the same as heтАЩd
left it, but how would he know if anything was missing?
Damn, now heтАЩd have to write to Dr. Tamir on top of
everything else. Then he went to his own bedroom, picked
everything up off the floor, rehung his suits, checked to see if
anything had been taken. His travelerтАЩs checks were still
there, and so was the watch Claire had given him for their
anniversary. He had taken his passport with him when heтАЩd
left.
The floorboards creaked under his feet as he went back to
the living room to use the phone. On his first try he heard
nothing but static. He hung up, jiggled the button and listened
to the gabble of another conversation. Finally he connected
with the operator and asked for the police. When a man came
on the line he asked for someone who could speak English. The
English speaker told him they would be right over. He sat in
the darkened living room, the dim lights unable to penetrate
the dark of the groined ceiling overhead, trying to concentrate
on his fourteenth-century Lurqazi dictionary. By eleven it
became clear that the police were not coming. He remembered
heтАЩd had nothing to eat since the afternoon at the university.
He sighed, put down the book and went off to his bedroom.
Sometime in the night he awoke, hungry and dazed, sure
that heтАЩd heard a noise. He rose, careful to make no sound,
walked down the corridor to the living room, and turned on
the dim lights. Everything was just as heтАЩd left it. He opened
the door, letting in the light of a million stars. Across the
street, darker black against the black of the night, looking as
if they hadnтАЩt moved for hours, stood the group of people in
turbans.


By morning everything was clear. His house had been
ransacked for the manuscript. Funny how he hadnтАЩt thought of
that last night. But who had known about the manuscript?
Only Dr. Jara, and anyone Jara might have told. So it had to
be someone at the university. Mitchell wasnтАЩt even surprised.
HeтАЩd heard of similar things happening at his own university
in the States, though never so violent. As he went toward the
phone to try the police again he decided that he wouldnтАЩt