Boys from Brazil Read Online Free PDF Page B

for him if he found out what new films you were planning. I told him you were going to talk with your guests later on—Senhor K. told us you were—and he—”
    â€œAsked you to hide and listen.”
    â€œNo, senhor, he gave me a tape recorder, and I brought it in, and brought it out to him when you were done talking.”
    â€œA…tape recorder?”
    Tsuruko nodded. “He showed me how to work it. Two buttons at once.” With both her forefingers she pressed air before her.
    The man in white closed his eyes and stood motionless except for a slight side-to-side swaying. He opened his eyes and looked at Tsuruko and smiled faintly. “A tape recorder was in operation throughout our conference?” he asked.
    â€œYes, senhor,” she said. “In a rice bowl under the serving table. It worked very well. The man tried it before he paid me, and he was very happy.”
    The man in white took in air through his mouth, licked his upper lip, allowed the air out, and closed his mouth and swallowed. He put a white-gloved hand to his forehead and wiped it slowly.
    â€œTwo hundred cruzeiros altogether,” Tsuruko said.
    The man in white looked at her, moved closer to her, and drew in a deep breath. He smiled down at her; she was half a head shorter than he. “Dear,” he said softly, “I want you to tell me everything you can about the man. He was young—how young? What did he look like?”
    Tsuruko, uneasy in their closeness, said, “He was twenty-two or -three, I think. I couldn’t see him clearly. Very tall. Nice-looking, friendly. He had brown hair in close little curls.”
    â€œThat’s good,” the man in white said, “that’s a good description. He was wearing jeans…”
    â€œYes. And a jacket the same—you know, short blue. And he had a bag from an airline, on a strap.” She gestured at her shoulder. “That’s where he had the recorder.”
    â€œVery good. You’re very observant, Tsuruko. What airline?”
    She looked chagrined. “I didn’t notice. It was blue and white.”
    â€œA blue-and-white airline bag. Good enough. What else?”
    She frowned and shook her head, and remembered happily: “His name is Hunter, senhor!”
    â€œHunter?”
    â€œYes, senhor! Hunter. He said it very plainly.”
    The man in white smiled wryly. “I’m sure he did. Go on. What else?”
    â€œHis Portuguese was bad. He said I was a ‘big helper’ to him; all kinds of mistakes like that. And his pronunciation was wrong.”
    â€œSo he hasn’t been here very long, has he? You’re being a ‘big helper’ to me , Tsuruko. Keep going.”
    She frowned, and gave an impotent shrug. “That’s all, senhor.”
    He said, “Please try to think of something else, Tsuruko. You have no idea how important this is to me.”
    She bit at a knuckle of her fisted hand, and looking at him, shook her head.
    â€œHe didn’t tell you how to get in touch with him in case I should arrange another party?”
    â€œNo, senhor! No! Nothing like that. Nothing. I would tell you.”
    â€œKeep thinking.”
    Her distressed face suddenly brightened. “He’s at a hotel. Does that help you?”
    The brown eyes looked questioningly at her.
    â€œHe said he would eat at his hotel. I asked him if he wanted some food—he got hungry waiting—and that’s what he said, he would eat at his hotel.”
    The man in white looked at Tsuruko and said, “You see? There was something else.” He stepped back, and looking down, opened his billfold. He drew out four hundred-cruzeiro bills and gave them to her.
    â€œThank you, senhor!”
    Kuwayama came closer, smiling.
    The man in white gave him four bills, and one each to Mori and Yoshiko. Putting his billfold inside his jacket, he smiled at Tsuruko and reprimanded her: “You’re a