Kingdom of the Golden Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page B

new scar. He had his filthy backpack over his shoulder, and he carried a bottle of milky liquid. Kate Cold, as tanned as her grandson, was dressed in her usual khaki shorts and mud-caked shoes. Her gray hair—which she herself cut without looking in the mirror—gave her the look of a Mohican that had just been rudely awakened. She was tired, but her eyesglittered behind broken glasses held together with tape. Her luggage consisted of a tube about six feet long and an assortment of bundles of uncommon shapes and sizes.
    â€œDo you have anything to declare?” the immigration officer inquired, throwing a disapproving look at Alex’s strange haircut and at his grandmother’s general appearance.
    It was five in the morning, and the man was as tired as the air passengers who had just flown in from Brazil.
    â€œNothing. We’re reporters for International Geographic . All we’re carrying is equipment for our work,” Kate Cold replied.
    â€œFruit? Vegetables? Food?”
    â€œJust this ‘water of health’ to cure my mother,” said Alex, showing the man the bottle he had hand-carried throughout the trip.
    â€œPay no attention to him, officer, this boy has a big imagination,” Kate interrupted.
    â€œWhat is that?” the official asked, pointing to the tube.
    â€œA blowgun.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œThat’s a kind of hollow cane the Indians of the Amazon use to shoot darts poisoned with . . .” Alexander started to explain before his grandmother silenced him with a kick.
    The man was distracted and didn’t ask any further questions, so he never learned about the quiver containing the darts or the gourd holding the deadly curare poison, which were wrapped in other bundles.
    â€œAnything more?”
    Alexander looked in the pockets of his jacket and pulled out three glass balls.
    â€œWhat are those?”
    â€œI believe they’re diamonds,” the boy said and immediately received another sharp kick from his grandmother.
    â€œDiamonds. That’s a good one! What have you been smoking, boy?” the official exclaimed, laughing out loud as he stamped their passports and waved them on.
    When they opened the door of Kate’s apartment in New York City, a blast of fetid air struck Kate and Alexander in the face. The writer clapped a hand to her head. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone on a trip and left the garbage in the kitchen. They stumbled inside, holding their noses. While Kate organized their luggage, her grandson opened the windows and took charge of the garbage, which had already sprouted flora and fauna. When at last they succeeded in finding a place for the blowgun in the tiny apartment, Kate collapsed feet-out on the sofa, and sighed. She was afraid that she was beginning to feel the weight of her sixty-some years.
    Alexander took the round stones from his jacket and put them on the table. His grandmother gave them an indifferent glance. They looked like those glass paperweights tourists buy.
    â€œThey are diamonds, Kate,” the boy informed her.
    â€œRight! And I’m Marilyn Monroe,” the writer answered.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œAwghh,” she groaned, horrified at the generational abyss that separated her from her grandson.
    â€œThat must be someone from your time,” Alexander suggested.
    â€œ This is my time! This is more my time than yours. At least I don’t live on another planet, the way you do,” his grandmother grumbled.
    â€œNo, really, they’re diamonds, Kate,” Alexander insisted.
    â€œFine, Alexander, they’re diamonds.”
    â€œCould you call me Jaguar? That’s my totemic animal. The diamonds don’t belong to us, Kate. They belong to the People of the Mist. I promised Nadia we would use them to protect the Indians.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, paying no attention to her grandson.
    â€œWe can use these to finance the