Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur - Страница 27
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How many wives have you got, Gomo? he asked. Four?
Five? How many? He slit through the waistband and Gomo's trousers slid down around his ankles. I think your wives want you to tell me about the ivory, Gomo. They want you to tell me about Johnny Nzou and how he died.
Daniel pulled the elasticised top of Gomo's underpants down around his knees. Let's have a look at what you've got. He smiled coldly. I think your wives are going to be very unhappy, Gomo. Daniel took the front tails of Gomo's tunic and ripped them apart so violently that the buttons popped off and flew away into the darkness beyond the headlights. He pulled the separate flaps of the tunic back over Gomo's shoulders, so that he was naked from the throat to the knees. gomo's body hair covered his chest and paunch with tight black balls of wool.
His genitals were massively bunched at the base of his belly, nestled in their own flocculent pelt. Sing me a little song about the ivory and Mr.
Ning, Daniel invited, and used the flat of the blade to separate gomo's dangling penis from the bunch.
Gomo gasped and tried to shrink away from the cold metallic touch, but the radiator grill pressed against his back and he could not move.
Talk, gomo, even if it is only to say goodbye to your own matondo. You are mad, gomo gasped. I don't know what you want.
What I want, said Daniel, is to cut this off at the root.
The thick tube of flesh was draped over the flat of the blade.
It looked like the trunk of a new-born elephant, long and dark, knotted with veins and with a wrinkled and hooded tip. I want to cut this off and force you to kiss it goodbye, Gama. I didn't kill Johnny Nzou.
Gomo's voice broke. It wasn't me. What about his wife and daughters, Gomo? Did you use this big ugly rod of yours on them? No, no! You are mad. I didn't. .
Come on, Gomo. All I have to do is turn the knife a little, like this.
Daniel rolled his wrist slowly, bringing the razor edge uppermost.
gomo's organ was dangling over it, and then the thin skin split. It was just a scratch, but Gomo screamed. Stop! he bleated. I will tell you. Yes, all right, I will tell you everything I know. Stop, please stop! That's good. Daniel encouraged him. Tell me about Chetti Singh. . . He introduced the name with assurance. It was a flier, but Gomo accepted. Yes, I tell you about him, if you don't cut me. Please don't cut me. Armstrong. Another voice startled Daniel. He had not heard the Landcruiser come up. It must have arrived while he was searching the cold compartment of the truck, but now Jock stood in the peripheral shadows of the headlights.
Leave him, Armstrong. Jock's voice was rough with determination.
Get away from that man, he ordered. You keep out of this, Daniel snapped at him, but Jock stepped closer and with a start Daniel saw that he carried the AK rifle. He handled it with surprising competence and authority.
Leave him alone, Jock ordered. You've gone too far much too far.
The man is a murderer and a criminal, Daniel protested, but he was forced to step back before the menace of the AK 47.
Jock was pointing it at his belly.
You haven't any proof. There is no ivory, Jock told him. You don't have anything. He was confessing, Daniel told him angrily. If you just keep out of it-'You were torturing him, Jock answered as angrily.
You had a knife to his balls. of course, he was confessing. He has rights; you can't abuse those rights. Unchain him now; let him go!
You are a bleeding heart, Daniel turned. This is an animal-'He is a human being, Jock contradicted. And I have to stop you abusing him, or else I'm as guilty as you are. I don't want to spend the next ten years in prison.
Turn him loose. He will confess first, or I'll cut his balls out.
Daniel seized a handful of gomo's genitals and pulled. The loose skin and flesh stretched like shiny black rubber and Daniel held the knifeblade threateningly over it.
Gama screamed, and Jock lifted the AK 47 and fired. He aimed a foot over Daniel's head. The muzzle blast whipped through Daniel's thick sweatsoaked curls and sent him reeling backwards clutching his ears. I warned you, Daniel. Jock's expression was grim. Give me the keys of the handcuffs. Daniel was dazed by the blast, and Jock fired again.
The bullet ploughed into the gravel between Daniel's boots. I mean it, Danny. I swear it. I'll kill you before I let you suck me any further into this business. You saw Johnny. . . Daniel shook his head and held his ears, but the muzzle blast had temporarily stunned him. I also saw you threaten to emasculate this man. That's enough. Give me the keys or the next shot is through one of your knee-caps. Daniel saw that he meant it and reluctantly tossed him the keys. All right, now stand well back, Jock ordered. He kept the rifle pointed at Daniel's belly as he unlocked one of the cuffs from Gomo's wrist, and handed him the key.
You bloody idiot, Daniel swore with frustration. Another minute, and I would have had him. I would have found out who killed Johnny and what happened to the ivory. gomo unlocked his other wrist and swiftly pulled up his trousers and closed his tunic. Now that he was unchained and dressed, gomo recovered his bravado. He is talking shit! His voice was loud and defiant. I didn't say nothing. I don't know about Nzou. He was alive when we left Chiwewe. -'All right. You can tell all that to the police, Jock stopped Gomo. I'm taking you to Harare in the truck.
Fetch my camera and bag from the Landcruiser. They are on the front seat.
Gama hurried back to where the Landcruiser was parked. Listen, Jock.
just give me another five minutes, Daniel pleaded, but Jock waved the rifle at him. You and I are finished, Danny. First thing I'm going to do when I reach Harare is make a full report to the police. I'm going to give them chapter and verse. Gomo came back, lugging the Sony video recorder and Jock's canvas duffel bag. Yes, you tell the police you saw this mad white shit-eater cut my cock, Gomo shouted. You tell them no ivory. . Get in the truck, Jock ordered him. And start up.
When Gama obeyed he turned back to Daniel. I'm sorry, Danny.
You're on your own. You get no more help from me. I'll give evidence against you if they ask me to. I've got to cover my own arse, man. You can't help being a yellow belly, Daniel nodded But weren't you the one always sounding off about justice, what about Johnny and Mavis? What you were doing didn't have anything to do with justice, Jock raised his voice above the rumble of the truck's diesel engine.
You were playing the sheriff and the posse and the hangman, Danny.
That wasn't justice; it was vengeance. I want no part of it. You know my address. You can send the money you owe me there. So long, Danny.
Sorry it had to end this way. He climbed up to the passenger side of the cab. Don't try to stop us again. He brandished the AK 47. I know how to use this. Jock slammed the door and Gomo swung the truck back on to the highway.
Daniel was left standing in the darkness, staring after the bright red gemstones of the tail-lights until a bend in the road hid them.
His ears were still singing from the concussion of the rifle blast. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He staggered slightly as he walked back to where Jock had left the Landcruiser parked, and slumped into the driver's seat.
For a little longer his anger sustained him, anger at Cheng and his accomplices, at gomo, and most of all at Jock and his interference.
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