White Bone Read Online Free PDF Page B

both in AP Chemistry.”
    “Please?”
    “You’re saying he’ll let me through?” Grace would handle a kid like this better, he thought. She knew how to say no and mean it.
    The boy reached for Knox, reconsidered and, instead, waved him ahead and to his left. “Think about it. How do I get a tip if I make trouble for you, mister? That’s not good business.”
    Knox laughed and turned some heads. Knox didn’t do many things small. “A tip, is it?”
    The kid signaled to the uniformed meathead. The guard opened the gates for Knox. Knox passed through without incident.
    “Eastland Safari. This is correct?”
    “Excuse me?” Knox grabbed the kid by the arm, spinning him. He’d misjudged the boy’s weight. He turned him hard. Some heads turned. Knox released the boy. “Go away! We’re done here.”
    “Through there. An Eastland driver is waiting, holding a signwith your name.” The boy pointed to a frequent-flyer tag on Knox’s overnighter that identified him by name.
    “What?” Knox said, taking a moment to process that the boy was thinking two steps ahead.
    “You want my help, or you want me to leave?” the boy said.
    Knox laughed quietly. “You can go now. Thank you.”
    “Maybe you need a guide in Nairobi. A driver. A woman.”
    “Maybe you should be in school.”
    “I’m Bishoppe.” He pointed again to the man holding a folded newspaper with Knox’s name written in marker across it.
    Knox scanned the crowd. Eyes came at him from everywhere. He was entering a country where he was a different color and bigger than the average. People noticed. Knox was used to it. He’d learned to distinguish quickly between random curiosity and pointed interest.
    Now he singled out two men in particular who were working hard to ignore him. Fished two U.S. dollars from his pocket. “Sorry, no shillings yet.”
    “Dollars. Euros. Shillings. No problem, mister. You need to change to shillings? I can get you the best rate!”
    Smirking, Knox handed the boy the money, feeling two dollars was too much, yet somehow not enough.
    “Welcome to Kenya, Mr. Knox. Please, enjoy your stay.”
    “Bishoppe,” he caught him by the arm, this time far more gently. “Tell me, is there a car park outside?”
    “Of course.”
    “A taxi stand?”
    “To the right, sir. But you already have a driver.”
    Knox pulled out another five dollars. He didn’t like the looks of the two men keeping tabs on him. Belatedly, he snapped off the frequent-flyer tag. His brother, Tommy, must have strapped it on.Answering a sign with his name on it wasn’t the best course of action, he thought. Maybe Winston had failed to call off British Intelligence; maybe in Kenya guys like this just stood around waiting for guys like him.
    “Tell a taxi to pull around to the far side of the car park. The driver is to wait five minutes. If I don’t show, he can keep the five dollars.” He gave Bishoppe an additional two dollars for his trouble. It disappeared into a pocket. Knox studied the kid, liking him. “Don’t run off with the money. Don’t burn me on this.”
    Knox walked past his driver. He and Bishoppe split as they started out of the building. One of the two men interested in him followed Knox. Another got on the phone, his back turned.
    Outside, drivers for hire, hucksters and families waited on a concrete road divider. They wore Western dress—the men, business informal; the youngsters, jeans; the women, dresses and skirts. A mood of excited anticipation hung in the warm air.
    Knox coughed against the blue exhaust that snorted from tailpipes. The roar of jets taking off covered the sounds of vehicles. The people in conversation were like actors in a silent movie. Cigarette smoke spiraled from pursed lips; the clouds hid eyes bloodshot with fatigue.
    A few lights shone from high atop concrete poles, spreading a canary glow across rows of late-model vehicles crushed together in an overcrowded parking lot. The driver holding his name in his