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. Ahmed, do you know who you are? The bigger of his two gun-toting bodyguards turned his head, while the driverand Hakim kept staring straight on: watching the Corniche unravel through thecar s ancient windscreen. Do I what, Boss? You know who you are? Ahmed nodded. You ever think you might be somebody else.? Raf saw the answer written in the other man s puzzled frown. Doesn t matter, he said flatly. Just forget it. There was silence in the Bentley after that as the driver concentrated on theroad and Hakim and Ahmed eyeballed the sidewalk and beach respectively, theirfingers never leaving the triggers of their H&K5s. Your Excellency. It was the driver. Five and counting. Koenig Pasha was the one who d originally demanded five minutes advancewarning of when he was due to arrive.And there was a hierarchy of addresstoo.Apparently Ahmed and Hakim got to call him Boss, while the driver wasrequired to be more formal.It was a city of rules, from opaque totransparent.Every city was.Opening his eyes, Raf sat up and watched the coast become familiar.That café,a swimming hut on stilts, then the beach where.a galaxy of stars hadskimmed across bare shoulders to be swallowed into darkness between perfectbreasts.The hunger brought on by the memory corroded what was left of hispride.He was no use to Zara as he was, that much Raf understood.No use to anyone;not even himself.Certainly not to the city or to Hani, which was what hemostly cared about these days.And that meant it was time to change. We re here, Boss. They were too, passing through heavy wrought-iron gates that had been yankedopen and pushed back.Lawns that had been immaculate the last time Raf sawthem were crude scars of dark earth, trampled to mud by the same journalistswho now rushed the huge Bentley.Already photographers were scuffling for thebest shot as a copter overhead suddenly dropped height, its specially adaptedgun pod swinging a long lens in Raf s direction. Take it down, Raf ordered.Ahmed looked doubtful but wound down his side window and started to unslinghis machine gun all at the same time.Instantly the camera crews moved closer,unleashing a firestorm of flashguns and shouted questions. Not like that, Raf said as he slapped down the gun. Get on the wire andPage 117 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlground that piece of shit. Sure thing, said Ahmed, tapping his throat mike. What do I tell them,Boss? Tell them that, as of now, airspace over El Iskandryia is a no-fly zone.Nooverflights, nothing.Tell the pilot if he s not landed in one minute we llblast him out of the sky.Final warning. No overflights.What about the airport? Close it. The flash and arc lights didn t bother Raf, he just recalibrated his visionand kept walking towards the blank-eyed cameras.Reptiles was what the General called Ishies, that and other things.Watchingthem watch him reminded Raf of his mother s early films; not the cuddly shitshe shot for money, the tooth-and-claw stuff that made her name.He couldn tremember their titles now, but all those films had blood in them.Red blood on white snow.Zhivago shots, she called them, she was big on those. Governor. A thin woman thrust a microphone in his direction and a dozenshouted questions cancelled each other out, leaving only babble.Raf waited.And when one photographer came in too close, Raf just stared untilthe man took a step backward. Ashraf Bey. Excellency. The shouts kept coming until everyone finally realized that Raf still hadn tsaid a word.And then came silence.It stretched out, distorted by the crowd sexpectation and broken only by the rhythmic thud of a grounded Sikorskychopping to a halt on the Corniche behind him.He milked the silence, becausethat was exactly what the General would have done: and at the point theirexpectation was about to curdle into anger, Raf pointed at random to threepeople near the front, snapping out the order. One, two, three.Okay, your name, your station, then the question. As it turned out, number one was a good choice.She was American, on staff,not a freelancer, and represented C3N, biggest of the news channels.Or so Rafgathered from the gabble with which Helen Giles introduced herself. Excellence.Will you agree to hand over Hamad Quitrimala? She managedto trip over both Raf s honorific and Hamzah s name. So that he can be tried in America and jailed? She nodded. Why would I do that? Raf asked, his voice clear but cool. But PaxForce. Are you saying we don t have courts in El Iskandryia? That got another babble of questions, which ended the moment Raf chopped atthe air for silence.He was beginning to enjoy this, Raf realized withsomething approaching shock. Well? The woman s worry lines deepened. If Hamzah is to be tried, said Raf, he ll be tried here in Iskandryia.Andif the evidence goes against him, he will be found guilty.and shot [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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. Ahmed, do you know who you are? The bigger of his two gun-toting bodyguards turned his head, while the driverand Hakim kept staring straight on: watching the Corniche unravel through thecar s ancient windscreen. Do I what, Boss? You know who you are? Ahmed nodded. You ever think you might be somebody else.? Raf saw the answer written in the other man s puzzled frown. Doesn t matter, he said flatly. Just forget it. There was silence in the Bentley after that as the driver concentrated on theroad and Hakim and Ahmed eyeballed the sidewalk and beach respectively, theirfingers never leaving the triggers of their H&K5s. Your Excellency. It was the driver. Five and counting. Koenig Pasha was the one who d originally demanded five minutes advancewarning of when he was due to arrive.And there was a hierarchy of addresstoo.Apparently Ahmed and Hakim got to call him Boss, while the driver wasrequired to be more formal.It was a city of rules, from opaque totransparent.Every city was.Opening his eyes, Raf sat up and watched the coast become familiar.That café,a swimming hut on stilts, then the beach where.a galaxy of stars hadskimmed across bare shoulders to be swallowed into darkness between perfectbreasts.The hunger brought on by the memory corroded what was left of hispride.He was no use to Zara as he was, that much Raf understood.No use to anyone;not even himself.Certainly not to the city or to Hani, which was what hemostly cared about these days.And that meant it was time to change. We re here, Boss. They were too, passing through heavy wrought-iron gates that had been yankedopen and pushed back.Lawns that had been immaculate the last time Raf sawthem were crude scars of dark earth, trampled to mud by the same journalistswho now rushed the huge Bentley.Already photographers were scuffling for thebest shot as a copter overhead suddenly dropped height, its specially adaptedgun pod swinging a long lens in Raf s direction. Take it down, Raf ordered.Ahmed looked doubtful but wound down his side window and started to unslinghis machine gun all at the same time.Instantly the camera crews moved closer,unleashing a firestorm of flashguns and shouted questions. Not like that, Raf said as he slapped down the gun. Get on the wire andPage 117 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlground that piece of shit. Sure thing, said Ahmed, tapping his throat mike. What do I tell them,Boss? Tell them that, as of now, airspace over El Iskandryia is a no-fly zone.Nooverflights, nothing.Tell the pilot if he s not landed in one minute we llblast him out of the sky.Final warning. No overflights.What about the airport? Close it. The flash and arc lights didn t bother Raf, he just recalibrated his visionand kept walking towards the blank-eyed cameras.Reptiles was what the General called Ishies, that and other things.Watchingthem watch him reminded Raf of his mother s early films; not the cuddly shitshe shot for money, the tooth-and-claw stuff that made her name.He couldn tremember their titles now, but all those films had blood in them.Red blood on white snow.Zhivago shots, she called them, she was big on those. Governor. A thin woman thrust a microphone in his direction and a dozenshouted questions cancelled each other out, leaving only babble.Raf waited.And when one photographer came in too close, Raf just stared untilthe man took a step backward. Ashraf Bey. Excellency. The shouts kept coming until everyone finally realized that Raf still hadn tsaid a word.And then came silence.It stretched out, distorted by the crowd sexpectation and broken only by the rhythmic thud of a grounded Sikorskychopping to a halt on the Corniche behind him.He milked the silence, becausethat was exactly what the General would have done: and at the point theirexpectation was about to curdle into anger, Raf pointed at random to threepeople near the front, snapping out the order. One, two, three.Okay, your name, your station, then the question. As it turned out, number one was a good choice.She was American, on staff,not a freelancer, and represented C3N, biggest of the news channels.Or so Rafgathered from the gabble with which Helen Giles introduced herself. Excellence.Will you agree to hand over Hamad Quitrimala? She managedto trip over both Raf s honorific and Hamzah s name. So that he can be tried in America and jailed? She nodded. Why would I do that? Raf asked, his voice clear but cool. But PaxForce. Are you saying we don t have courts in El Iskandryia? That got another babble of questions, which ended the moment Raf chopped atthe air for silence.He was beginning to enjoy this, Raf realized withsomething approaching shock. Well? The woman s worry lines deepened. If Hamzah is to be tried, said Raf, he ll be tried here in Iskandryia.Andif the evidence goes against him, he will be found guilty.and shot [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]