Читать книгу Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor онлайн

A few years ago, Aman-Jalil found Dilber sitting on the stairs, crying with an open book.

– "Did someone hit you?" asked Aman-Jalil, who himself was struck three or four times a day.

– "No, no one ever hits me!" sobbed Dilber.

– "Then why cry, dummy?" Aman-Jalil was disappointed.

– "I feel sorry for the little monkey," complained Dilber, pointing at the book.

Aman-Jalil took the open book and slowly read aloud how little Philip burned a monkey on a homemade bonfire in the palace. – "Royal pleasure," sighed Aman-Jalil to himself, and ever since, he experienced and satisfied it daily, burning flies…

Wazir stepped onto the veranda from his room, heading to the bathroom. In the hot midday sun, his consciousness nearly shut down, granting him a brief respite: the dusty, straight, sun-drenched road, the pole to which he was tied, and his young wife Anush, whose torn body Wazir carried through life like a heavy cross.

– "Boy, what grade are you in?" asked Wazir, as if seeing Aman-Jalil for the first time.

– "Sixth," Aman-Jalil replied dismissively, expecting another insult.

– "Want me to take you to a concert at the philharmonic? Have you ever been to a concert?"

– "Don't want to!"

– "You'll meet Mozart, Beethoven…"

– "Don't need your friends…"

From the kitchen, Aman-Jalil's grandmother shouted:

– "Stop bothering the boy again, shameless, I'll report you to the police for your Turkish tricks, wretched Sunni…"

The grandmother peered out from the kitchen, casting an experienced gaze at Aman-Jalil, and yelled at him:

– "Ruining needles again? I see why needles are spoiling—this son of a whore is amusing himself, instead of setting an example like his heroic father…"

Aman-Jalil's father, a small shopkeeper and secret addict, was shot by the rotten Renka regime for harboring insurgents, led by Iosif Besarionis, without his knowledge, hiding in his shop all night from pursuing gendarmes. Aman-Jalil's mother worked as an assistant to a prominent management figure, Ismail-pasha, who in gratitude for her help came to her house twice a week, ostensibly to assist with household chores, locking themselves in a separate room…