Camera Obscura Read Online Free PDF

Paris," Tomb Thumb said at last. "Indochina. Siam. Doing business. So what?"
      Making a connection, and she threw him a line: "You selling opium?"
      … and he bit. Tom Thumb shrugged. "A little. Not illegal, is it?"
      "No," she said. "But this isn't a smoking den, so what, you deal bulk?"
      He didn't answer.
      "Got a contact over there? Sends you stuff over?"
      No reply.
      "Coffee, for instance?"
      "It's good coffee," Tom Thumb said. "Good opium, too."
      "What else does he send you?"
      Nothing from Tom, staring out through the window into the night.
      "People, sometimes?"
      Tom, still staring out at the night. Thinking. How much could he tell her? She knew that look.
      "People who need somewhere to hide, for a little while?"
      Tom turned to her. No smile, eyes calm like grey skies. "Is Yong Li dead?"
      And now she had a name. "Yes."
      Tom said, "Damn."
     
    I have a little shipping business (Tom Thumb said). Import/export, with this guy in Indochina on the other end of it. I buy coffee, tobacco, now and then opium for those who like that sort of thing – all legit. So maybe I don't pay customs every time, you know? And maybe sometimes, just sometimes, I ship some stuff East.
       What stuff? You know. Stuff.
       You don't know?
       But you want to.
       It's nothing serious, Cl – Milady. Milady de Winter, huh? Seriously? Think I met Lord de Winter once, back when I was still living across the Channel. Whatever happened to–
       Fine. Yes. Arms. Sometimes. And literature.
       What do you mean what literature? How should I know?
       I'm more of a drop point, now that you press me on it. Don't think I'm the only one working for this guy. So sometimes they drop off little packets for me – mostly paper. I don't know what's in them though.
       Did I look? No.
       Fine, maybe I did a couple of times. Didn't make much sense, though. Technical stuff. Like, you know those Babbage engines? That's what some of it looked like. Technical specifications. Once this mechan ical beggar came into the shop, a proper derelict, could barely move, one of those old people-shaped ones, moving one leg after another, you can hear the motors inside they were so loud, doesn't say a thing but drops off this box – I open it, it's got an arm inside.
       No, a metal arm. Real artwork. Only, I open the box, this arm reaches out, tries to strangle me. After that I didn't look again.
       Yes. I'm getting to that. So, we do business, you know, mostly legit, a little bit of it under the counter – don't you dare make a joke – only sometimes there's people need to get from here to Indochina don't want to be going through the usual channels. I don't ask questions. Usually I know to expect them. Then off they go with the next shipment.
       Got his own ship, ships, I don't know.
       Sometimes he sends people over. No papers, half of them don't speak the language. I mean, any language. Don't know what they want. If they need it I arrange a safe house, somewhere to put them, lie low for a while. If not then poof – they disappear into the city, I never see them again.
       Where the safe house is? You don't think I'm going to tell you, do you?
       How did you know?
       Oh.
       So that's where you found him. Poor bastard.
       He came in about a month ago. Nervous little guy, fat belly, gave him lots of problems, cramps, I don't know. He kept holding it, almost looked pregnant. I put him up for a couple of nights. Nice guy. Taught me this drinking game–
       I don't know where he was from. Don't know what he was doing here. I don't ask questions. A couple of days later L'Espanaye tells me the place is free, I send him over.
       The mother, yes. She's the one I've been dealing with. Wouldn't mind dealing with the daughter though, if you know what I mean.
       Right. Sorry.
       No, never saw him again. Didn't think I'd hear about him again either, until you walked through