“This was after the fracas?”
“Much later. When the anti-gangster laws were passed.”
‘They were called gangsters here too?”
“What else would you call them? Not brigands, certainly. ‘A group of brigands, armed with flame throwers and gas bombs, have laid siege to the municipal buildings,’ ” he pronounced expressively. “It doesn’t sound right, you can feel that. A brigand is an ax, a bludgeon, a mustache up to the ears, a cleaver —”
“A lead pipe,” I offered.
Ahmad gurgled.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
“Going for a walk.”
“You have friends here?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well… then it’s different.”
“How come?”
“Well, I was going to suggest something to you, but since you have friends…”
“By the way, ” I said, “who is your mayor?”
“Mayor? The devil knows, I don’t remember. Somebody was elected.”
“Not Peck Xenai, by any chance?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded regretful. “I wouldn’t want to mislead you.”
“Would you know the man anyway?”
“Xenai… Peck Xenai… No, I don’t knew him; haven’t heard of him. What is he to you — a friend?”
“Yes, an old friend. I have some others here, but they are all visitors.”
“Well,” said Ahmad, “if you should get bored and all kinds of thoughts begin to enter your head, come on over for a visit. Every single day from seven o’clock on I am at the Chez Gourmet. Do you like good eating?”
“Quite,” said I.
“Stomach in good shape?”
“Like an ostrich’s.”
“Well, then, why don’t you come by? We’ll have a fine time, and it won’t be necessary to think about a thing.”
Ahmad braked and turned cautiously into a driveway with an iron gate, which silently swung open before us. The car rolled into the yard.
“We have arrived,” announced Ahmad. “Here is your home.”
The house was two-storied, white with blue trim. The windows were draped on the inside. A clean, deserted patio with multicolored flagstones was surrounded by a fruit-tree garden, with apple branches touching the walls.
“And where is the widow?” I said.
“Let’s go inside,” said Ahmad.
He went up the steps, leafing through his notebook I was following him while looking around. I liked the mini-orchard. Ahmad found the right page and set up the combination on the small disc by the doorbell. The door opened. Cool, fresh air flowed out of the house. It was dark inside, but as soon as we stepped into the hall, it lit up with concealed illumination. Putting away his notebook, Ahmad said, “To the right is the landlord’s half, to the left is yours. Please come in. Here is the living room, and there is the bar. In a minute we’ll have a drink. And now here is your study. Do you have a phonor?”
“No.”
“It’s just as well. You have everything you need right here. Come on over here. This is the bedroom. There is the control board for acoustic defense. You know how to use it?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Good. The defense is triple, you can have it quiet as a tomb or turn the place into a bordello, whatever you like… Here’s the air-conditioning control, which, incidentally, is not too convenient, as you can only operate it from the bedroom.”
“I’ll manage,” I said.
“What? Well, okay. Here is the bathroom and powder room.”
“I am interested in the widow,” I said, “and the daughter.”
“All in good time. Shall I open the drapes?”
“What for?”
“Right you are, for no reason. Let’s go have a drink.”
We returned to the living room and Ahmad disappeared up to his waist in the bar.
“You want it on the strong side?” he asked.
“You have it backwards.”
“Would you like an omelette? Sandwiches?”
“How about nothing?”
“No,” said Ahmad, “an omelette it shall be — with tomatoes.” He rummaged in the bar. “I don’t know what does it, but this autocooker makes an altogether astonishingly good omelette with tomatoes. While we are at it, I will also have a bite.”
He extracted a tray from the bar and placed it on a low table by a semicircular couch. We sat down.
“Now about the widow,” I reminded him. “I would like to . present myself.”
“You like the rooms?”
“They’ll do.”
“Well, the widow is quite all right, too. And the daughter is not bad either.”
He extracted a flat case from an inside pocket. Like a cartridge clip it was stacked with a row of ampoules filled with colored liquids. Ahmad ran his index finger over them, smelled the omelette, hesitated, and finally selected one with a green fluid, broke it carefully, and dripped a few drops on the tomatoes. An aroma pervaded the room. The smell was not unpleasant, but, to my taste, bore no particular relation to the food.
“Right now,” continued Ahmad, “they are still asleep.” His gaze turned abstracted. “They sleep and see dreams.”
I looked at my watch.
“Well, well!”
Ahmad was enjoying his food.
“Ten-thirty!” I said.
Ahmad was enjoying his food. His cap was pushed back on his head, and the green visor stuck up vertically like the crest of an aroused mimicrodon. His eyes were half-closed. I regarded him with interest.
Having swallowed the last bit of tomato, he broke off a piece of the crust of white bread and carefully wiped the pan with it. His gaze cleared.
“What were you saying?” he asked. “Ten-thirty? Tomorrow you too will get up at ten-thirty or maybe even at twelve. I, for one, will get up at twelve.”
He got up and stretched luxuriously, cracking his joints.
“Well,” he said, “it’s time to go home, finally. Here’s my card, Ivan. Put it in your desk, and don’t throw it out until your very last day here.” He went over to the flat box and inserted another card into its slot. There was a loud click.
“Now this one,” he said, examining the card against the light. “Please pass on to the widow with my very best compliments.”
“And then what will happen?” said I.
“Money will happen. I trust you are not a devotee of haggling, Ivan? The widow will name a figure, Ivan, and you shouldn’t haggle over it. It’s not done.”
“I will try not to haggle,” I said, “although it would be amusing to try it.”
Ahmad raised his eyebrows.
“Well, if you really want to so much, then why not try it? Always do what you want to do. Then you will have excellent digestion. I will get your suitcase now.”
“I need prospects,” I said. “I need guidebooks. I am a writer, Ahmad. I will require brochures on the economic situation of the masses, statistical references. Where can I get all that? And when?”
“I will give you a guidebook,” said Ahmad. “It has statistics, addresses, telephone numbers, and so on. As far as the masses are concerned, I don’t think we publish any such nonsense. Of course, you can send an inquiry to UNESCO, but what would you want with it? You’ll see everything for yourself. Just hold on a minute. I’ll get the suitcase and the guidebook.”
He went out and quickly returned with my suitcase in one hand and a fat bluish-looking little tome in the other.
I stood up.
“Judging by the look on your face,” he announced, smiling, “you are debating whether it’s proper to tip me or not.”
“I confess,” I said.
“Well then, would you like to do it or not?”
“No, I must admit.”
“You have a healthy, strong character,” Ahmad approved. “Don’t do it. Don’t tip anybody. You could collect one in the face, especially from the girls. But, on the other hand, don’t haggle either. You could walk into one that way too. Anyway, that’s all a lot of rot. For all I know you may like to have your face slapped, like that Jonathan Kreis. Farewell, Ivan, have fun, and come to Chez Gourmet. Any evening at seven. But most important of all, don’t think about a thing.”
He waved his hand and left. I picked up the mixture in the dewy glass and sat down with the guidebook.
Chapter TWO
The guidebook was printed on bond paper with a gilt edge. Interspersed with gorgeous photographs, it contained some curious information. In the city there were fifty thousand people, fifteen hundred cats, twenty thousand pigeons, and two thousand dogs (including seven hundred winners of medals). The city had fifteen thousand passenger cars, five thousand helis, a thousand taxis (with and without chauffeurs), nine hundred automatic garbage collectors, four hundred permanent bars, cafes, and snack bars, eleven restaurants, and four first-class hotels, and was a tourist establishment which served over one hundred thousand visitors every year. The city had sixty thousand TV sets, fifty movie theaters, eight amusement parks, two Happy Mood salons, sixteen beauty parlors, forty libraries, and one hundred and eighty automated barber shops. Eighty percent of the population were engaged in services, and the rest worked in two syntho-bakeries and one government shipyard. There were six schools and one university housed in an old castle once the home of crusader Ulrich da Casa. In the city there were also eight active civilian societies, among them the Society of Diligent Tasters, the Society of Connoisseurs and Appraisers, and the Society for the Good Old Country Against Evil Influences. In addition, fifteen hundred citizens were members of seven hundred and one groups where they sang, learned to act, to arrange furniture, to breast-feed, and to medicate cats. As to per-capita consumption of alcoholic beverages, natural meat, and liquid oxygen, the city was sixth, twelfth, and thirteenth highest in Europe respectively. The city had seven men’s clubs and five women’s clubs, as well as sport clubs named the Bulls and Rhinos. By a majority of forty-six votes, someone by the name of Flim Gao had been elected mayor. Peck was not among the municipal officials.