Birth of a Bridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

goodbye to the driver and he’ll look her in the eye and nod, good luck miss, and then, following the directions given to her by the company and learned by heart, she’ll enter the code at the entrance to the building, a lobby, a hallway, an elevator, she’ll reach the second floor, and when she’s at the door will take out a little golden key, click , she’ll unlock the door, push it open, holding her breath – will feel around in the darkness, walk to the window, a curtain, it will be six o’clock in the morning. She’ll concentrate to remember what she has to do in the next few hours – first of all, plug in the laptop and wash her hair – then will take a quick inventory of the room where she’ll be living from now on; there will be a bed, an empty set of shelves, an ordinary table and two chairs, a television, a telephone, an armchair, a sink, a hotplate, a refrigerator, a square of carpet, and in a bathroom with pale-green tiles, a bathtub, a sink, a cabinet. She won’t stop to look at the papers tacked to the door – safety regulations, instruction manuals for the appliances, evacuation plan in case of fire – will open the window instead, a balcony, the street, and will see the building across the way, a young pregnant woman will be hanging laundry carefully and their eyes will meet, the young woman will smile over the line and Summer will give a brief wave without really knowing why, will go inside and sit on the edge of the bed, look at her watch, look around her, she should unpack, open the cupboards, fold her clothes, have a shower, and finally pull her laptop out of its case. She’ll leap up, string her movements together rapidly, as though each pause, each silence, would be something come to weaken her.
    AN HOUR later, she’ll pass through the gates to the site, back straight, breathing shallow, and heart beating madly, hard hat in hand. The esplanade will be silent, parked vehicles, not a living soul, she’ll continue on her course, her step growing more and more sure, her silhouette cut sharply against the immense open space. At the end of her path, a building, and in front of the open door a few men who turn towards her and hold out a hand, welcome, Diamantis, we were waiting only for you, Diamantis, did you have a good trip, Diamantis? Diderot will suddenly appear and greet her in a similar fashion and Summer will immediately be wary of the guy, would have preferred a more clean-cut character, a whiz at equations, gold-plated communicant’s pen hooked in his breast pocket, brush cut, and a direct gaze – instead there’s this guy, Diderot, the legend, who resembles a colossal and outdated Steve McQueen and looks her up and down like she’s just a kid but also like she’s a woman – she’ll be disappointed. Sanche Cameron, for his part, will step back to get a better look at her while she introduces herself to the others, will scrutinize her without managing to form an opinion, will find her strange, a good-looking girl, but a heavy one who walks like a gorilla, short hands and square shoulders, wide hips, beautiful olive skin, thick blonde hair, but with a protruding chin, a nose like a dog, yes, that’s it, and she will be hyperconscious of being the strange animal – she’ll want to make a good impression and won’t crack a smile, a girl in charge of concrete is not common currency.

ORCHESTRATING THE TRIAL AND ERROR

JOHN JOHNSON, A.K.A. THE BOA, IS A MAN OF medium height, hairless body, weightlifter’s torso and Asian complexion, strong neck, thick eyebrows above little slitted eyes, no lips, pointy teeth, grey tongue. He takes over Coca’s city hall in January 2005. He’s been elected; now he invests in his image. Puts away the black satiny shirts and fedoras, acquires a tailor on Savile Row, orders a dozen custom suits in anthracite grey. Goes on a diet, gets hair transplants, pays for a beautiful smile, takes up golfing. Far from seeing his new position as retirement with