Chapter 11 Chapter nine

You guessed the act of treachery before it happened.Ever since the woman came back from the guerrilla zone in Colombia, you've noticed something elusive about her body.During lovemaking, with her eyes open and sometimes trembling, she sought the lingering desire in the scent of geraniums.Her genitals are dry and scrupled: she wants to say something to you, but keeps silent.Sometimes she evades your caresses and asks for a truce: "I'm tired, very tired." You lie on your back in bed, watching the arabesques in the gloom, her naked shadow, and the flickering of branches in the garden.When you observed her movement through the telescope in the room that you rented specially to monitor her on Guangfu Avenue, according to your suspicious instinct that never made a mistake, you also felt that she was not only estranged from you, but also from her. The carelessness of everything around her, the feeling that she was looking for a body that seemed to be somewhere else, her own?Or the body of someone else far away?The woman gave herself to the man, the bitch!The ungrateful thing!bitch!bitch!Your father was right: she is the same mother who left you behind, she may be your mother's reincarnation, your mother's twin sister—come back to curse you.

After the trip to Colombia, the woman only made two business trips: once to Santiago, the capital of Chile;You and her agree to meet in San Diego: you're leaving on Saturday morning, ignoring Deanna's increasingly anxious calls from the hospital saying, "Dad, the hospital doesn't know how to cool her down. You can't imagine her How debilitating, how sad! Papa, why don't you come? Poor Anhela asked if you had come as soon as she woke up." You planned to come back from San Diego at dusk on Sunday, put everything down for the weekend with that woman, but on Friday night, you called her to ask what time she was waiting for you at the airport At that time, she left the hotel and turned off her mobile phone.You went to San Diego anyway; you wasted a lot of time, like a fool, inquiring about her whereabouts in government departments and police stations, and appearing embarrassingly in the "Mercury" and "Third O'Clock" in front of friends from the newspaper, just to find out some clues.All in vain.What an embarrassment she puts you in!Who would have thought that someone like you—who wouldn't dare keep you waiting on the phone for nothing—would lose composure over the silence of a villain like her?

By noon on Tuesday, the woman returned to the paper with a look on her face that you couldn't discern, the result of some unholy happiness secretly shining. And then you begin to understand that some intruding third party has defiled her body, that she has offered it to a stranger who is probably younger and must have been corrupted by venereal diseases and pubic lice and other venereal diseases.You wonder what the hell happened.Ah, how maddened are doubts and hesitations!Camargue, how much rubbish your mother's memory has taken root in that woman's heart!Now the scars of your abandonment have been torn open, and it is haunting you all day long!

You don't want her to find out that you don't trust her.You asked her as if nothing had happened: "Honey, is everything going well?" She answered fluently: "Bitte, everything is fine. They sent me to Temuco (Special Branch, an important city and port in southern Chile.) to interview. I was about to call you from the plane to let you know the situation, My phone battery died. I hung around for three days, completely isolated." Since the dawn of 2000, you have called her my Queenie, which means "my queen", which is a private language you have created to speak privately, from the intersection of several languages: Queenion .'s Aramaic (Aramaic, a language in ancient West Asia.), your English and your Italian, her Portuguese, your Czech.She says Bitte to you, which has many polite meanings in German, although it is actually an allusion to the bitterness in your name Bitter (bitter beer).

So her phone died: an alibi that's hard to verify.So, you think to yourself: "I can track her down." If she had stopped in Temuco, there must have been clues in hotels, airlines, and restaurants.Skadi can decipher these secrets with just a few phone calls.You were ready to give Skadi orders as soon as the woman left; but there was something in the way she spoke to you now—affinity and distance, a dissonance between voice and content—that stopped you from giving orders.She said, "Bittle. Are you free tonight? Just wanted to talk to you." "Look at ten o'clock, will you?"

She suggested: "Let's go earlier! At half past nine, I will finish my work for the day." You invite her to meet at a bar where you've taken some of your "dewy lovers"; there's Brenda lying in bed in the San Isidro house, her mortal image causing you to feel claustrophobic what happened during the illness.The noise in that place is so loud that it gets louder and louder; there are so many "yuppies" dangling whiskey glasses in there that a celebrity like you can pass by without anyone noticing Yes, provided you can find out which of the small rooms in the row across the counter is free.The small room is a world that is isolated from the noise, outside sounds can come in, but it is just like the tide, like indistinguishable chatter.

You've been waiting for her for ten minutes before you see her come in; she's wearing a long black coat and a gray woolen skirt.Since she came back from a business trip to the big forest, she has changed the disheveled habit she developed from her teenage years, as if her age is slower than the speed of time.You see how she moves through the bar crowd; you see how much she has matured in just a few days, how gracefully she rocks her glossy black hair. She says to you, "Bitte, you're so handsome!" Sometimes her words were tainted by the language of Spanish books—“handsome,” “smart,” “angry,” etc., but there was nothing effeminate about her words.Her smooth intonation always surprises you.

At this moment, she was still standing there, taking off her coat while exuding a queen-like self-confidence. You ask her: "Are you used to the new unit?" "Not at all used to it," she tells you, listlessly ordering a double whiskey and a glass of water. "When I come home from get off work at night, the streets are empty. All I saw were beggars begging for money.Before we knew it, things had changed in Buenos Aires.It becomes a butterfly in its larval state. "You should move to San Isidro at once.Nothing has changed there. Only sometimes you can smell the water of the Rio de la Plata. "For the time being I can't go.I was just about to talk to you about it. "

"What's wrong? You want to leave me?" "I don't even think of that. No one can leave you alone. Now I need time to write my book. "Is it about the twin saviors?" " "Nobody knows about it. How do you know?" "I don't know. Everything in your life points to this problem: Robert Mitchum's biography, your argument with the dean in the nun's school, all have something to do with the twin saviors. As Mallame (Marame ( 1842-1898), a famous French poet. Important works include "Window", "Sea Breeze", etc.) said 'everything leads to books'.

Why didn't you tell me this before?Maybe I can help you. "Who knows if you could have helped me before.Not so long ago, I was immature.It's only now that I know I can do it. " You give her your hands and see if she touches you like she used to. She ignores your hands and pretends to pay attention to the whiskey glass. You tentatively asked: "After going to that romantic place in Colombia, what about now?" A tense expression suddenly appeared on her face.As she tosses her hair back, you can see the capillaries in her temples beating.You guessed it very accurately: the word "love" has an effect, and you are implying that she is having an affair.

"You sent someone to spy on me?" Her voice rose. "If you've got some cop following me all the time, I don't see why you're playing this game endlessly?" "Because this is not a game for me. Reina, even if you plan to leave me, I will not abandon you." "I'm a man! Camargue, you can't pick me up and you can't drop me! I don't belong to you!I don't belong to anyone!Only now do I know: at least I belong to myself! , she cleared the way for you herself.So you decide to go a step further: "You belong to yourself because you belong to someone else." "Maybe," she admitted. "You're in too deep and you can't extricate yourself." "I'm not caught in anything and I don't want to get out. I'm where I want to be, clean in soul and body. Can you understand this? " That she dared to look at you like that, to say this so nonchalantly, as if she was out of your grasp, made you indignant.There was something in her slurs that reminded you of childhood.She's the fallen woman, isn't she?Since your father saw it so clearly and so accurately, why didn't you listen to him?Anger has robbed you of your sanity, but your voice is still controlled. Reina hasn't answered all of your questions yet. "It's all clean, no. That's not true. If your soul was clean, you wouldn't have slept with me again. You betrayed me first, and then the one." "I'm cowardly. You don't know how many times I've repeated that. I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid of you as well. I betrayed Herman, but he already knows about my betrayal. Every day I They are all begging for his forgiveness." "His name is Hermann?" at this point you yelled.Your throat is dry, and blood rushes to your head like lava. "Yes, Hermann. I thought you already knew. Didn't you say you knew everything?" Years ago, you learned to live with misfortune.When you can no longer learn, you have become invulnerable to suffering.Now all you have left is anger.Your anger doesn't care that her voice overwhelms the noise of the yuppies and the laughter of the maids. "You fucked me. You fucked him. You fucked anybody. Every time you see a guy coming, you slit your legs, bitch! You sell it to whoever pays more, don't you?" ? Everything I gave you, everything you took from me, isn't that enough?" "Camargue, you didn't give me anything for nothing! The only thing you did was steal from me. I never told you I liked you. I admired you, but that's another matter. I never lied to you." "You want to just throw me away? So easy? You think you can get away from the Camargue as easily as you leave a party? No, honey, you can't!" "I like other people. I can't stay." "Anyone else? No one else! No one can abandon me! I can't be like my father!" She says to you: "Poor Camargue!" Your angry blood has burst.You don't feel the state of your body anymore, and you don't care what your body is like.You feel your invincible rage burning.The woman hastily raised her hands to cover her face.However, you are faster than her.You concentrated all your strength on the back of your hand, and landed a heavy blow on her lips. As a result, her face was blooming, her mouth was ruptured, and blood gushed out.She was stunned, looking at you with a livid face, her eyes revealing the lamentation of a lamb before she was sacrificed.She wants to say something to you, but you don't give her time to talk.You drop a fifty-peso bill on the table and almost trot out of that hell, ignoring the mutterings of the goofy yuppies.you are you!No one can abandon you! You won't remember the bar incident.There are things in your life that don't happen to you, but to someone who has left your memory and outside your physical body: someone who doesn't want to leave the past.For example, when you look at the woman through the binoculars, her cracked lip and bruised jaw make you wonder.Tomorrow she'll have a hematoma, a little bit of disfigurement in her mysterious beauty.You saw her study the wound in front of the mirror; saw her lick away a trace of blood with her tongue.What annoys you is that in spite of all this she seems to be having a good time; she's wiggling her hips and undressing to the beat of the whorehouse music you can't hear.If someone punished her, it was only half the punishment.He should pluck out her eyeballs and burn her tongue with pokers.In particular, her vagina should be sewn up stitch by stitch and she should be compensated for the loss. As soon as you realize that her impudence cannot be subdued, and as soon as you realize that nothing or anyone can deprive her of the happiness that the man injected into her heart, you immediately think of that beggar who sleeps on the street, that Dimir—even though you Don't know his name yet.In this way, in your mind, a blueprint for revenge that is not yet clear is unconsciously formed.You know that woman is cautious.But now that she has fallen into the arms of another man, since she has betrayed your love for her for months, she will throw herself into perverted sex without warning, regardless of the risk of contracting herpes , gonorrhea, malaria, or whatever is endemic to the equator.You temporarily leave the observation post next to the telescope and go to the bathroom to see if your penis is stained by some disease of hers.She must have alarmed you as soon as she came back, because she let the rot get inside her.But she doesn't say a word while you lick her filth.Are you aware of it?She doesn't care if you catch the chancre she picked up on business trips.The only sign you'll see is a slight inflammation on the glans, nothing out of the ordinary, though God knows, God knows!However, what if she really made you suffer from bayberry sores?What kind of criminal law can make her compensate you for your huge loss?Even chance has its own laws, so that as soon as you see Mormir sleeping under the eaves of the laundry and dye shop opposite, you have a premonition that he can be your tool to punish her.Mormir's stench, hopelessly filthy, disgusting hands: this is at least the "delicacy" that the woman should have tasted because of her betrayal. You are listening to Cezar.Frank's Quartet in D Major.While the final allegro pauses in traversing the storm and pulling out trees, the melody stretches out across the flat river.The stormy tune calms you, but the woman with her triumphant gesture seems determined to drive you out of your mind.She stood in front of the mirror and began to sway again.She moved her shamelessly small breasts as if reminiscing about something.Isn't it incredible that her room was brightly lit, and she herself stood in front of the window and exhibited herself?She doesn't care that someone is watching her, like what you are doing now, it makes you so horny and hard to breathe. You open the window, and you are greeted by the unbearable noise of the city, the noise from the TV, the bus horn, the ambulance siren: in short, the savage smell of human shit.The night weighs on you like an old cow dragging the night and crawling, and the darkness bends your body, makes you feverish, makes you aware of an ordeal: God knows what she should have endured, why instead Let you take it on behalf of others! What are you doing?He was still wearing a suit with mandarin duck buttons and a tie!You take off the barriers in a rage; your image in the mirror takes you by surprise.You already know: appearances have no truth!For even the most faithful image does not repeat the past, nor does the fiery image repeat the changes of the soul.The person you see in the mirror is not you!Because the figure in the mirror lacks the woman.She should be crawling at your feet now, begging you for mercy, begging you not to abandon her, Dr. Camargue, please!Please stop torturing her feelings!No, don't let her go! Sooner or later, she will have to return everything she took from you.But you've stopped listening to her, it's too late to listen to her anymore.You are ruthless, lift up your foot and crush her head. The bravery of that woman knows no bounds.After the incident at the bar, she said she was sick and missed work for three days, not fulfilling her duties at the Daily News.If it were any other editor, you'd be sure to send a doctor to visit and get him back to work; but you'd have to be very careful with this woman.Had she been examined by a doctor, she would have charged you with beating, viciously omitting the reasons that prompted you to do so impulsively.She is very cunning; if you don't chase her, she will keep silent.But when she herself decides to recover physically, she devises a plot that will surprise you.Before the editorial meeting, she appeared in the office of Thinking' Maestro; she told Enso that she had an unusual witness for the arms smuggling case: a colonel, who was outraged, Eight thousand army rifles and ten million rounds of ammunition were sold that time because he was not paid his fair share of kickbacks.The colonel was arrested on suspicion of selling drugs after meeting the penitent president's cousin. This is of course an unjust case, but it cannot be overturned, because six kilograms of cocaine were found in a vase at the colonel's house. A verdict after the trial released the colonel from prison; the next day the colonel had left Argentina.In this arms smuggling transaction, the colonel acted as an intermediary in some links; he had a copy of the Serbian businessman's check to the repentant president's wife and son.The Colonel will furnish these copies on condition that the Journal publish his version of the incident.Need to go to Caracas, Venezuela, to find the colonel and his lawyer, who will be waiting for Reina at the airport—only her, or so she told Ensor. Ensor was cunning like Hoover, quick-witted like Kissinger, brazen like Fouché; but in the morning, if he hadn't digested last night's gluttony, he would be like Rudolph.Hess (Rudolf. Mess (1894-1987), one of the organizers of the German Nazi Party, an important assistant to Hitler. Sentenced to life imprisonment after World War II. He committed suicide in prison in 1987.) as honest.Enso made a mistake: agreeing to go far with Reina.But his loyal character prompted him to ask you for instructions before ordering the ticket: Do you approve of Reina's business trip. "The woman is going on a business trip again?" You barely suppressed your anger, and replied Enso: "No! Maestro, thank you for thinking it out! We are wasting time. You have seen it: our exposure has no effect. Judge We will continue to acquit the mafia. You should know that better than anyone. You invented gunpowder, and now you don't recognize fireworks!" "Then you mean we won't publish a word about smuggling? Then let the 20,000 readers who bought our newspaper because of the smuggling problem end up empty-handed? ""Don't go to the other extreme!I'm just telling you: that woman, Reina.Remis, she should be allowed to work here!Now she is obsessed with traveling. " "In that case, let her go; or nobody go." So you say, "Then no one will go!" The next morning, the dazed woman left a note on Enso's desk, telling Enso that she was going to Caracas anyway.She deftly dodged the punishment Skadi might impose on her: she said in the note that she would use the five-day leave that Enso had promised her when she returned from Colombia; she would pay for board and lodging herself; Give the newspaper the evidence found and the investigation report.She proudly said: It is up to you to publish or not to publish. So, you told Skadi: Stop that woman at the airport no matter what you do!However, she did not take the normal flight to Caracas.So, you speculate, she went to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, early in the morning.She can't wait to have a tryst with her lover, you can be sure of that.She went to let the guy defecate again.You can hear her genitals screaming anxiously from here. Her desperation to get rid of you is what leads you to take control of her nudity and decide to covertly film her sleeping position.You're going to show her image, life-size, on the TV in your house in Via San Isidro, and you'll be looking at her naked, caressing her, liking her.There is no eternal substance on the surface of the world, but the will of "I" can recreate the substance, so that the artificial "she" can follow the path of obedience.In possessing her image you also possess her body: this is one of the ancient wisdoms of which man has forgotten. Skadi has given you some keys to her unit; the first time you walk into her room, you're amazed that this woman has so much free time to write articles that have nothing to do with her job at the newspaper.You pay her a large monthly salary in order to keep her absorbed in the work of the newspaper; nevertheless, whenever possible, she is distracted by a short story, a few poems—some of which you vaguely see Express her envy for you and her desire to occupy your position all the time.This stinky shit, this trash, how much effort you have spent to educate her and improve her level!She had fifty pages of notes for a dissertation on the subject of the twin messiahs that fascinated her. You photocopied some pages of the article that the woman had printed out and put on the desk.Some of her discoveries will surprise you.According to her opinion, there are five miracles in the "Summary of the Gospels" that happened twice, exactly the same without any change, that is, five loaves and two fish were distributed to 5,000 people, and everyone was full and there was surplus; Walked on sea water after a storm; cured of three diseases no one can tell how, namely by anointing the eyes of a blind man with saliva and making him see light; healed a centurion without seeing or touching the son or servant of a man; to cast out the devil from the possessed man, and at last the devil hid himself in the pigs, which fell into the sea and died.Jesus performed these miracles in Galilee; his twin brother Simon was in Damascus, probably at the same time.In order for the people who wrote the Gospels to erase Simon's miracles from people's memory, they adjudicated Simon's miracles to Jesus and were not worried about the repetition of miracles.The Son of God could die on the cross an infinite number of times and cast out the devil from the same body an infinite number of times.That nitty-gritty question that appears at the end of those fifty pages asks you again like a mantra: "Did Jesus and Simon both preach the same scripture, with one invoking the name of the Father and the other the name of the Virgin?" You would never have thought of Mormir if it had not been for the cunning way in which the woman betrayed you.Now you see Momir's canine almost breaking away from the black and purple gums and the scabs behind his ears. Although he looks healthy, you believe that he is a symbol of the disease that has entered the woman's body, It symbolizes the corruption she indulges in, and the dirty disease she tries to spread as soon as she sleeps with you. In her first article in the Journal after her return from Caracas, she bound herself hand and foot and surrendered herself to you, thus accomplishing her ruin.Even though Eun-sul shrewdly read all the articles that were supposed to be published, he failed to detect her deceit.The second paragraph seems to be mentioned in passing, but accidentally gave it away: "The colonel was in the first class of the Fleet Airlines plane from Sao Paulo to Maiquetia (where the airport of Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, is located. Sleeping like a happy baby." The unnecessary mention of the flight line immediately arouses your suspicion.You tell Skadi to call the manager of Fleet Airlines and find out if the company has issued a complimentary ticket to Reina.Remis.Your suspicions are confirmed.She not only begged for air tickets from the company, but also promised to mention the giver in the "Daily". Now, Camargue, what's left of her to you?You look into your mind and see only a disgusting prospect, a river of scum that you are gradually drying up.You decide to let the woman loosen those habits during the week; by the way, let her continue to expose herself in the article.As you'd predict, the mention of Fleet Airways reappears in a second dull interview with the Colonel.Meanwhile, Skadi had found out that she had used the newspaper's phone to make long-distance calls to her lover.Betrayal is coupled with deceit.By the time the woman reaches out to Eun-soo and asks him to give her permission to go on another business trip - to Rio de Janeiro, you've had enough of her audacity.You are going to keep her for two days and ask her to write about the cabinet crisis and the sure resignation of the vice president.Her writing will be disastrous, because you're going to have Skadi knock her pride out until her words dry up; you're going to have Skadi adjust the gallows so that her arrogance can be hanged. Before the woman sat down to write the article, the director of personnel was going to reprimand her.The reprimand should happen around nine o'clock in the evening, which is the most tense time, the hour when the store closes.Moments later, that poor "dog", agitated, will run to your office to tell what happened.You'll see Skadi beaming with joy.Two new boils were about to appear on the tip of his nose, as cruelty was often revealed on his nose. Skadi will certainly tape the conversation; he will give you both the tape and the transcript, and his diligence will always pre-empt your worries.His conversation with her would go something like this: "Miss Remis, how long has the newspaper been fighting corruption?" "How do I know?" she said impatiently. "It started before I joined the newspaper." "So what should we do if we find out that an editor is corrupt?" "Skadi, I'm not you. If I were you, first check to see if he is corrupt; then ask him to explain his problems." "What if the guy we're talking about writes anti-corruption articles? So what?" "Ask the police! Don't waste my time. If you're implying that anyone under me is corrupt, you're wrong. I'm responsible for everyone, including Inshat." "But, madam, we have learned something." "Speak directly! I warned you long ago: I don't believe your words. Skadi, who is that man? "He changed his tone of voice, accentuated the impolite address, and said, 'It's you, baby! " The woman immediately responded with a barrage of sharp and deadly invective. You tell Skadi: put all her curse words in the warning letter!Those words could be used to justify the newspaper's firing of her.At this point, you can hand over the reins to Enso for a day or two, and concentrate on the conundrum of how to punish her. You wait helplessly for the night to fade away: time moves slowly, very slowly, moving like the heavy steps of a mother mule.Not even a short nap will help.At this time, you lie down on the single bed in the rented room on Guangfu Street for a while.But you worry that some detail of the outside world is slipping past your nose; so you return to the Bushnell telescope again and again with an uncontrollable uneasiness.Finally, a little before seven-thirty in the morning, the woman went out to the café where the Vice President and his entourage had breakfast. Before that, one of Skadi's men woke Mormir and his female companion so that he and her could be photographed. The men were instructed to follow them closely and make sure the man and woman returned to you when night fell.You turn on your phone to pass the time; while you're spying on the cleaning lady, the sound of the phone startles you.It wasn't Brenda's voice, which was often interrupted by noises, but someone who asked in plain English and indifferently, "Are you M. Camargue?" You have always hated being called "Mr." and liked being called "Dr." "Who are you, sir?" You shot back. "I'm Dr. Clark." The other said. "The doctor who treats Anhela with blood diseases. I want to inform you that we are trying to stop the spread of the infection as much as possible. We are experimenting with a new antibiotic, and the results are not yet known. Now we are going to add another antibiotic to Anhela. MYCIN. Your wife, Brenda..." "My ex-wife!" You respond quickly, correcting the other person. "Your ex-wife says it's hard for you to accept that your daughter is complicated..." "Complicated or not?" "Sir, we may say that she is getting worse." "How many days do you think she will live?" "How many days? I don't want to talk in this way. The important thing now is to see how the infection develops." "What kind of doctor are you?" you demand, furious. "I paid a lot of money to let you cure my daughter; but you still say: we have to wait and see. Are you responsible for her medical treatment? Or will your unit justify? If You haven't done your best yet, so try again! Why don't you give her a bone marrow transplant? Didn't you promise me?" "It's not that simple. Let me explain, sir." "Don't call me sir!" you say. "I am Dr. Camargue. If Anhela died now, I would sue you for ineffective treatment. Don't you know what kind of country I live in? Do you? I head a newspaper. The government here has It's rotten." You hear the other person mumble something; without pausing to figure out what he means, you drop the call.You are furious.When you see Brenda, you have to settle with her!How could she figure it out!You even gave your private phone number to that useless doctor, and your brain needs to sort out the messy context: how to get passports for the two of Momir?How to implement punishment?How to deftly put the phenobarbital in the juice jar again without leaving any trace? To your relief, you saw the female cleaner in the opposite building putting on her coat and turning off all the lights in the unit.It's possible that the woman put the cleaning lady on leave while she was on a business trip to Rio.While you are thinking about this, the woman worker leaves and folds and separates the woman's clothes into piles, which end up next to the suitcase: linen underwear on one side; skirts and blouses on the other.You can also see that there are sandals and bathrobes.It's clearly a romantic trip: if the woman is going to interview government sources, as she told the gullible Enso, then she needs some formal clothes, and there aren't any in the luggage! When it's time for the district staff to eat lunch, you walk out of your room and across Guangfu Street.You have never been seen crossing this road in the past; but this time you must not be seen by anyone.The woman's unit smelled of wax and lemonade.That woman is cunning and sensitive to fragrance; in order not to leave traces, you bathed with mild soap this morning.Anyway, she's going to be delayed for a long time to come back: If Eun-so carries out your instructions, he won't let the woman leave the vice president, even if she suddenly has diarrhea or a fever. There were two cans of orange juice in the refrigerator, one of which was opened; there was another can of apple juice, still intact.You mix phenobarbital with distilled water using a fine-needle syringe and inject three grams of phenobarbital per jar of juice. No matter how careful you are, you will always be unable to avoid the formation of a thin whitish liquid on the surface of the juice.However, with that opened can of juice, the operation is much easier: using previous experience, you carefully inspect the juice inside. At about two o'clock in the afternoon, you see Moremir anxiously pacing the street.Exchange brokers and bank clerks came and went in the streets. The area is full of police officers, but since he and his girlfriend are undocumented, he fears arrest.十五分钟后，斯卡迪的助手之一会在光复大街与科连特斯大街的路口处把护照交给你。 你通过电话已经证实：护照伪造得天衣无缝：图章、水印、照片上的签字、打孔，每个细节都挑不出毛病。你很高兴地看到：随着时间的缓慢推移，莫米尔越发显得焦急起来，这会减少他的傲气。等到你见到他的时候，他已经认输并且恳求你帮助了。 自从你最后一次来过这里之后，那女人在面对她工作的写字台的墙壁上挂了四幅照片：一幅是在巴黎奥萨依博物馆门前，你亲自给她拍照的，时间是一月份的一天中午。 照片上，她身穿一件英国呢绒黑大衣，那是前一天下午你在富博。圣奥诺雷大街给她买的；还穿着一件带虎皮纹围脖的苏格兰套裙，这是她多次去欧洲出差的行装。她容光焕发，头发从正中分开，面带孩童般的微笑——就是这样的微笑让你在科塔萨尔小广场附近的一家法式饭馆与她约会时着了迷。照片下方，她写了一句无法解释的话：“善于作戏”。 另外两幅照片是在哥伦比亚丛林里拍照的。远处的背景是一片墙壁破烂、屋顶铺着棕榈叶的农舍。那女人与同行的旅伴一样都身穿着迷彩服。你很想知道那群旅伴中哪一个是赫尔曼，可是看上去都一样：游击队员、记者、农民都一模一样。会不会是那个盯着镜头的家伙，那双过分幸福的蓝眼睛挑战般地注视着拍照的人。你决定下次来单元房带着照相机，把这些照片再拍照一次，让斯卡迪去识别一下是哪个家伙闯入了哥伦比亚大使馆。你想知道此人的姓名、家史；你想一棒打碎他生活的镜子。第四幅照片，那女人挂在前三张上方，居于正中地位，照片上有个三四岁的女孩，骑在一匹小马上。后面有个女人。肯定是母亲，扶着小马鞍：母亲那时的年龄大约与现在这个女人的年龄相同——三十二岁，母女二人极其相似，其现实效果极具说服力，现在的女儿肯定就是当年的母亲，仿佛过去仍然延续到现在并且在两个时代中间确立了一种钢铁般的同一性。你突然明白了：这种镜子照镜子的游戏不仅发生在时间里，也发生在空间里。那女人是她母亲的复制品，同时也复制出了你的母亲。那位身穿白围裙、手戴橡胶手套、早晨一从医院回来就走近你小床的护士隐秘形象，现在又清晰地出现在眼前，如同当年你把这形象深埋在自己意识的角落一样。从那时起，你不记得那张面孔了；你现在也不敢肯定眼下看到的究竟是不是幻觉，是不是你心中欲望的残酷表现；但是，你父亲依然还认出了你母亲的形象，这让你感到不安。还有，假如那女人的母亲也就是你母亲，那怎么办呢？或者更糟糕的是，那女人随着时间一道移动，设法变成了你的母亲，为的是你在童年时就抛弃你，如同现在又一次抛弃你一样，那可怎么办呢？刹那间，这想法让你感到毛骨悚然。接着，你仔细查看那张照片，发现那位扶着小马鞍的母亲如果还活着的话，不可能超过六十四岁——那女人不止一次告诉你：她母亲还活着；那女人还提起她母亲顽固地打电话询问她的现状，尽管老人家从来不肯看女儿；可是，卡马格，你母亲将近九十岁啦。要不然，就是你又一次算错了年龄？难道你和你母亲是同时出生的吗？你骂道：臭婊子！声音嘶哑，难以冲出喉咙，更多的是对着心里，而不是外部：臭婊子！ 你为什么总是一副婊子模样？为什么要抛弃我？ 向果汁罐里注射苯巴比妥让你用去二十或者二十五分钟：你比预计的时间要长。 通过窗户，你发现了斯卡迪的助手从一家如今已经衰败的英国餐厅门前出去又回来，走到一家古钱币店前停下，科连特斯大街从那里开始就是下坡路了。莫米尔从你的视线内消失了：他应该在这女人居住的楼下门口等着你，此时他已经失望，以为永远也回不了自己的村庄了，回不了蒲兰哈尼附近的故乡了。 现在事情进展得太快，你都想不起来是如何亲身经历的了。当斯卡迪的手下把装有证件的信封交给你的时候，你迅速地看了一眼那些证件，你觉得莫米尔和他的女伴可以很容易地通过移民局的检查。两张机票也在其中，莫米尔和他的女伴第二天就可以飞往智利首都圣地亚哥；从那里再飞往贝尔格莱德，中途在迈阿密、马德里和罗马做短暂停留。在返回单元房的路上，有个顾虑让你踌躇起来：你在什么地方把答应莫米尔的东西交给他呢？最佳的地点毫无疑问是那女人楼里的电梯。几乎没有人用电梯；那里面没有被人看到的危险。莫米尔疑心很重，是垃圾堆上的脏猫；他在跟你走之前犹豫起来：他问：“就是这些？” 你打着手势给他说明：“就是这些。不过还有几点需要加以说明。” 就在电梯从一层到最高一层上升和返回的过程中，你把他女伴的护照和写有维多尔。维特克维奇——这是他现在的名字——的机票交给莫米尔。这个露宿街头的乞丐的浑身臭气简直让人无法忍受：天晓得这股强烈和有毒的气味会在电梯里停留多久？莫米尔的双手布满了老茧，有一层厚厚的污垢。你得习惯这种臭味。今天晚上，你要跟这种臭味共同生活几个小时呢。 奠米尔拿到护照和机票的时候，流露出不安的神色。 护照给女的，而机票给男的，二人谁也走不成。他说，或者你估计他会说，交易不是这样的。你回答说，交易都是这样的：“你完成你应该完成的部分，我把其余的东西交给你。” “我怎么能放心呢？”他用夹生的西班牙语问道。 你对他说：“现在我给了你很多，可是并没有从你那里换回任何东西。你现在手里这些东西价值一万美金。这证明我信任你。现在你至少可以信任我吧。” 任何等待都比实际的时问漫长，而那个下午的等待让你觉得遥遥无期。下午七点，大街上已经空空荡荡；暴雨前的风来了。你不时地打开手机追踪你心目中的那些人物。 恩索向你报告说：副总统已经辞职；这与你的预见一致。雷伊娜。雷米丝在副总统家里，后者在准备最后一篇反对腐败分子的声明。有一种决斗和失败的气氛。 总统像往常一样，面对副手的辞职犹豫不决：起初是不接受；随后是送礼，是让权，请副总统主管情报机关；最后，无可奈何地同意副总统辞职。你吩咐恩索：“要那女人不得在九点前回报社。 我想让她写一篇现场目击的详细报道：你给她的文章在第三版上留出三个专栏的位置。但是，在这之前，她一回到报社，斯卡迪会把她叫去训话，批评她与富莱特航空公司的错误关系，为解雇她做准备。“恩索问你：”咱们等到明天不更好吗？ 这就像国家一样，解雇她是浪费人才。“你对思索说：”恩索，你永远是老样子。 你这一辈子总是在保护腐败分子和叛徒。“虽然对面窗户里面只有黑暗和空房，你还是经常到布什内尔牌望远镜面前看看，调整一下镜头。你又听到了弗兰克的《D 大调四重奏鸣曲》；可是突然之间当这个谐谑曲再次闯入时，你的情绪从惆怅变得悲伤起来了：于是你让贝多芬的《大逃亡》包围着你，它那数学般的变奏你单调地重复过无数次，以至于你无法分清是音乐来自你的喉咙呢，抑或，卡马格，你是在这个一切属于你的夜晚里学会了音乐呢。 甚至连上帝也动摇不了你的决心，你要决定现在你掌握这些人的命运。 跟恩索的最后一次通话提醒你：那女人已经离开了报社，毫无疑问是回她自己的单元。大约十点钟时，她还在修改报道的细节——“卡马格，那是一篇无懈可击的文章。请允许我暂时不解雇雷伊娜。雷米丝；让我再给她一次机会。” 与此同时，她要了一份冷餐。后来，雷伊娜一面等待恩索审稿通过，一面给出租汽车服务台打电话；她说她要回光复大街。那是她住的地方，对吗？ 很快你就要看到她回家了：漫长而紧张的一天已经弄得她筋疲力尽了；但是，她仍然急不可耐地要与情人相会。 她一定会想：还差七十二个小时。七十二个小时：足以让她的欲望破灭；足以打断她的双腿，挖出她的眼睛。 莫米尔和他的女伴早已在洗染店拱形门廊下的草垫子上睡下了。他俩是在装睡；但是你不相信他俩是装睡：他俩的命运也在你的掌握之中。如果那男的准备按照你的要求行事。那么明天这个钟点他已经和那个没牙的老太婆飞往贝尔格栗德了。 一切都在按照你的预测进行。现实从来不背叛你；但是现实里有你不应该忽略的紧张因素。如果莫米尔露出某些反抗的苗头，你知道如何解决：在你的西装袖子里，由一根背带系住，缩手可以握住一把质量可靠的折刀。最好他还是不要耍什么花招，否则你会毫不惧怕地杀掉他。谁也不会怀念莫米尔的；陪伴他的那个女乞丐也不敢投诉。至于对面楼上那个女人，你也不会给她留下自卫的余地：她的命运已经铁板钉钉，任何力量也改变不了了。 通过望远镜，你看见她在活动，仿佛是服从你写的脚本一样。她像日本艺妓一样缓慢地脱去衣裳，这样的动作仍然还能点燃你的欲火；她脱掉鞋子，脱下裙子；臭婊子，她站在镜子面前，伸了一个性感的懒腰。她突然一跳，跑去打开电冰箱，拿起那罐已经开启的果汁，长长地喝了一口。你在那里面倒入了几乎三克苯巴比妥。 她大概觉得舌苔上有粗糙感，因为你看到她怀疑地在查看果汁罐上沿的有效日期，然后就丢进垃圾袋里了。由于药物进入了血液，干渴的感觉反而强烈了。她打开那罐苹果汁，倒满一玻璃杯，对着光亮，观察果汁是否透亮；最后觉得满意，于是贪婪地喝起来。 这一次，苯巴比妥比上次的效果来得快。那女人摇晃起来，慢慢向床铺走去，衬衣没有脱去，就扑倒在床上了。尽管头晕，她还在晃动。她企图起来打开距离她仅有几步之遥的电脑，或许因为她在等待情人的信息，可是她浑身的肌肉进入了休眠状态，没有力气。现在，她要睡了，睡上一两天，无法控制自己的神经和括约肌。 等到一切都结束的时候，你在离开她房间之前，一定要强迫她喝一杯水，免得脱水。 如果她把水吐出来，那可不能怪你。 你还没有穿过街道，从你所在楼里的门厅处，你看见莫米尔那个女伴露出细长的门牙在窥视着你。她用命令的口气说，Njegov passapoito ！她要看她朋友的护照。但是，你是不会给她看的。她的指甲又长又锋利。她敢从你手里抢护照。你回答说：Kasnije ，意思是：过一会儿。你让她明白：“我说话算数。假如你朋友说话不算数，我可绝对不客气。 我会叫来警察。你告诉他：我能让你们两个烂死在监狱里。“最后，老太婆点头道：u redu，意思是：”同意。“她傲慢地转过身去，小心翼翼地叫醒了奠米尔。 你和莫米尔走进那女人房间时，你还没有弄明白莫米尔是神志清醒的呢，还是有什么药物作用的影响。在电梯里，奠米尔笨拙地晃动着，还在梦境里挣扎呢。随后，经过那短短的过道，房间里的灯光刺得他睁不开眼睛；当他举起双手蒙住眼睛时，你看到他的瞳人扩大了许多。你再三叮嘱他：手脚利索一些，动作注意一些，好好完成今晚的任务！ 你事先吩咐过他不要喝酒，收容站的破饭烂菜，别吃得太饱！你事先对他说过：“莫米尔，事情办完以后，你可以干任何你想要做的事情。你可以喝个烂醉，可以吸食古柯因。 你可以随便支配自己的身体。但是，只有今天晚上，仅仅就这么一次，我需要你的身体有智慧，有力量，健康强壮。“你要求他的仅仅是让他那已经受损的体质发出闪光：你要求他稍稍猥亵一下，从他已经开始浪费的生命中放肆一把。 交换条件就是：你为他提供回故乡的方便。这是不能用机票和护照衡量的事情，而是非常微妙的事情：是失落在生存里的感情，过去曾经十分清晰地出现过，如同孩子们用蘸吐沫的手指弄湿练习本的边缘而出现的图画一样。你现在要求莫米尔的效力，换了别人也是要支付报酬的；一想到这里，那女乞丐要求报酬时的敌意态度就让你恼火。她说：“给涅阔夫机票和护照！”她好大胆啊！要不是因为这对男女实际上可以消失，你一定会把老太婆打倒在地的。你看到了莫米尔不大服从你的命令：他沉重地晃来晃去，感觉是麻木的。像他这种人应该从地球上消灭掉：先当奴隶，然后消灭。这时，你回忆起路易斯。塞尔努达（路易斯。塞尔努达（1902——1963），西班牙诗人。著有诗集《现实和愿望》。）一首诗的最后几句，可能这几旬诗所产生的愤怒情绪与你的情绪是孪生兄弟：“有时，有人希望／人类只有一颗脑袋，为的是可以砍掉它。／或许他有些夸张：如果人类是个蟑螂，那就踩死它。” 如果能把莫米尔消灭掉，那该有多好哇！可是，不行，现在你还需要他。尽管你不厌其烦地给他说明他应该做的事情，可你还是又打手势重复你的话；与此同时，你在脱光那女人的全部衣裳，把她整个展现在他眼前，请他上阵。 你没有费什么力气就剥去了她的衬衣和长袜，过分仔细地把这些衣物挂在一把椅子上。乳罩用两个按扣系住，轻而易举地被解开了。你又看到了这对小小的乳房，并不结实，不再像从前那样让你心里快活。自从别的男人用手玷污了它们，它们已经变得有毒和邪恶了；已经不具有从前的意义了。奇怪的是：你喜爱的东西怎么会完全变质呢！ 怎么会颠倒了你希望赋予的意义呢！在脱掉她短裤时，你发现那女人这一天刮光了阴毛：腹股沟上依然可见淡淡的紫色，那是刮去阴毛的结果。她是如何做到的呢？你事先给她安排了一大堆紧锣密鼓的工作，为的是让工作占据她这一天里的每一分钟；但是，你看到了：她还是成功地溜走了。你得训斥恩索的这个疏忽。她现在如此细致地料理自己的外貌，是因为那情人让她神魂颠倒。谁知道她竟然如此精心地取悦她的情人！谁知道她是多么狂热地献身给他，而拒绝把这份热情献给你！ 面对这个多次让你激动得喘不过气来的裸体，莫米尔竟然纹丝不动。他仍然站在原地，下巴低垂，眼睛不看任何地方。你愤怒了。啊，看看：怎么一切都会让你生气呢！你想象着那女人躺在那个白痴情人的怀里，让那男人在森林里。在加拉加斯，在特木科，尽情享受：亲她，咬她，随心所欲地进入她的身体。既然这个女人已经通过她的性器官背叛了你，如今这性器官就在你眼前，毫无抵抗力地望着你；你绝对不允许她身上有任何地方不被污染，不被伤害，甚至连血液都要染上病毒。 难道她在毒害你的心灵时可对你有半点同情？那你还等什么？你拉起莫米尔的双手伸向那女人的乳房：你命令他揉搓那对乳房。你对莫米尔说：“这样！ so!Take it easy!摸乳房！ “对这些没用的迂回动作你厌倦了，于是打手势要莫米尔脱光衣裳。 莫米尔非常冷淡地脱去了那身褴褛衣衫，你没有想到他会如此冷漠。臭气向房间里弥散开来。毫无疑问，这女人并没有让他激动。他努力要说些什么，冒出来的只是一声悲伤而含糊的话，没有粗野的特性：Meni je tegko ，ali znarm da ietebi teie.你问他：“你现在要反悔？”他用粗俗的西班牙语回答说：“不反悔。 这对我很困难。但是，我知道这对您来说更困难。 " 你真想一切早已经结束。你不打算再听他说什么；不想打消这男人的任何顾虑。 你原来以为你可以步步监视莫米尔所做的一切；但是，甚至连好奇心都从你心里消失了；或者说心里已经摆脱了好奇。你躲进了那女人的衣柜里；卡马格，你跌坐在她温馨的亚麻布衣服上，跌坐在刺鼻的马靴上；你闻着她鞋子的气味、她吊带长袜的气味、下午散发出的床单气味；既然她向你关闭了身体之门，那么你要占有她体表留下的一切痕迹。现在还有身体吗？那女人曾经有过身体吗？你听见莫米尔在喊叫，你无法忍受这样的叫喊声。你听见了他那受伤而绝望的野兽般的咆哮声，甚至连突然而至的寂静也不能让你平静下来。卡马格，你改变了许多人的命运，但是，你的命运是惟一仍然巍然屹立的。 现在，来到大街上，那个没牙的老太婆在查看护照；表示满意。莫米尔已经在垫子上躺下了，脸色憔悴，好像一只没有羽毛的鸟儿。他的衬衣领子上有好几块血迹；老女人用专横的口气——几乎是谩骂的口气——提出一堆问题；其中你仅仅明白几个单词。她似乎在说：“为什么你不加小心呢？你没事先告诉他：你在生病吗？” 对此，奠米尔回答说：“Gospodin cr0要我这样。他才不在乎病不病呢！”没牙的老太婆举起拳头；霎时间，你担心老太婆会揍她的伴侣。 她着魔了，也许是吃醋。由于她把机票和钱扔在垫子上了，你打手势提醒她：要加小心，别让大风吹跑了！一阵寒风刮过来了，天空转向灰色，又转向红色：云层很厚，随时会落下雨来。没牙的老太婆吼叫着：“你会感染的！要打抗菌素！” 突然，你明白了一件事：让老太婆感到不安的不是她的伴侣，而是几层楼上面他们刚刚扔在床上的那个女人——躺在痛苦的深渊里，床单上布满了下疳溃疡淌出的污血。 几个星期以来，莫米尔一直叫你Gospodin Cro，意思是——这你几乎可以肯定——“格罗博士”，因为你的特征就是如此，与癞蛤蟆的单音节一模一样。但是，那个没牙的老太婆，过去总是用顽固的怀疑神情躲避着你，此时望着你的样子，好像丝毫不了解你，好像你让她感到恐惧，好像拒绝听到你的名字。她狂怒地问你：“Tko ste vi？”这问题的每个字母仿佛一条条扑向你喉咙的狂犬：“天啊，您是谁？”