"Van Lustbader, Eric - Linnear 01 - The Ninja" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Lustbader Eric)'And Royston and Eng. What were they like?'
'Oh, Royston was okay, I suppose. Rather stuffy in the beginning but-he thawed a bit later on. But Eng' - he shook his head - 'Eng was a bastard all right. He had made up his mind about me before we had-even been introduced. The three of us happened to he in the lounge one afternoon. "So you were born in Singapore," he said. Just like that. Standing over me, peering down at me through his round wire-rimmed spectacles. That's what they must have been; they were far too old-fashioned to be called glasses. He had a curious manner of speech, his words emerging clipped, almost frozen, so that you could imagine them hanging in mid-air like icicles. "A disgusting city, if you will pardon my saying so. Built by the British, who had no more regard for the Chinese than they did for the Indians."' 'What did you say?' 'Frankly, I was too stunned to say much of anything,' he said gloomily. 'The bastard had hardly said two words to me all semester. He took me quite by surprise.' 'You had no snappy rejoinder.' 'Only that he was wrong. I was conceived there.' He put down his glass. 'I asked Dean Whoolson about it subsequently but he merely brushed it off. "Eng's a -genius," was how he put it. "And you know how that sort is sometimes. I must tell you, we are damn lucky to have him here. He almost went to Harvard but we snared him at the last moment. Convinced him of the superiority of our research facilities." He patted me on the back as if I were the department mascot. "Who ever knows with Eng?" he said. "Perhaps he thought you were Malay. We all must make allowances, Mr Linnear."' 'No, but if Eng thought I was, he might have reason to dislike me. The Chinese and the Malays were constantly at each other's throats in the Singapore area. No love lost there.' 'What are you?' She seemed abruptly quite close to him, her eyes enormous and very luminous. 'There's an Asian hint in your face, I think. In your eyes perhaps, or in the height of your cheekbones.' 'My father was English,' he said. 'A Jew who was forced to change his name so that he could get ahead in business and then, during the war, in the Army. He was a colonel.' 'What was his name? Before he changed it, I mean.' 'I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. "Nicholas," he said to me one day, "what's in a name? The man who tells you that there is some significance in his name is a bare-faced liar." ' 'But weren't you ever curious about it?' 'Oh yes. For a time. But after a while I gave up looking.' 'And your mother?' 'Ah. That would depend on whom you spoke to. She always maintained that she was pureblood. Chinese.' 'But,' Justine prompted. 'But in all likelihood she was only half Chinese. The other half was probably Japanese.' He shrugged. 'Not that I was ever certain. It's just that she seemed always to think like a Japanese.' He smiled. 'Anyway, I am a romantic and it's far more exciting to think of her as a mixture. An unusual mixture given the mutual animosity historically between the two peoples. More mysterious.' |
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