Mais oui, okay. Okay.
And it began. Moving through the plowed land, the factories. I was amazed at what still went on in that disgusting, lovely, and absolutely childishly brutal Bohemia of mine. It was just like Rudolf said: Nobody would talk to em.
Every now and then I’d have to lash into some manager in a pretty raised voice — so he’d pick himself up from his chair and drag out the list of workers. Sometimes, just for kicks, I’d pass myself off as some bigwig government type. All you had to do was say: Our reason for being here today has nothing to do with Precious Gems or Cellulose, but Mr. Jindřich, I repeat, Mr. Jindřich … from the district office! has an eminent interest in foreign workers … we’re setting up a new department … you mean you’ve never heard of Comrade, eh-hem, pardon me, Mrs. Maturková from the Ministry … No? Well, I’m sure the director will clear that up, where is your phone?
At that time in this country, see, nobody knew who called the shots. Most of those who had spent their whole lives following bosses’ orders couldn’t keep up with the accelerated movement after everything had done nothing but rot for so long. And nearly all of them had notched up points for loafing, stealing, informing, whatever. And the only thing that worked on them was fear for their dumbass job.
In short: there wasn’t ever anyone anywhere who knew who was who.
I dragged my outfits outta my wardrobe again. Jackets through gates, jumpsuits over wires, I rarely made a mistake. Occasionally we’d latch onto a feeler at the bazaars where the Chinese or Vietnamese or Laotians or whoever hawked their goods, but Smoothy didn’t have a chance, they didn’t know him. I at least could pass myself off as a wheeler-dealer that owed some cash to Pu or Minh or Lan. And when I whipped out the bills, sometimes it helped. But usually they gave me the runaround. Those guys didn’t trust anyone. And I didn’t even try to talk to the girls, they’d just vanish and then suddenly, in a wink, instead of their charming bodies I’d be starin at some golem ready to bump heads or make a run for it. Or both, always with a smile.
To get into the factories and dorms, I used various press IDs. At first it helped, but I soon discovered people were used to scumbag reporters turnin up once in a while … and bein called names in the press didn’t get anyone bent outta shape anymore. We drove from dorm to dorm. Lookin for “relatives,” as Smoothy put it.
I only saw Hunter once. In a flat on the outskirts. We got in somewhere near the Angel subway station, this time Smoothy drove. He darted in and out of the buildings, jabbering away in earnest as darkness descended all around, and it was obvious he was driving in circles to wipe out the map I had in my head. Then one of the guys in back blindfolded me, thanks, Godfather, I joked. He didn’t reply.
We drank tea, spared words. It was all too obvious. I didn’t know if Smoothy … who else he was working for, but I couldn’t imagine Hunter not knowing. He wasn’t a bit surprised to see me turn to stone as he walked into the room in a suit. I remembered the way he’d drifted into Kučera’s flat that time … and I shuddered. He knew I knew. I was hoping he hadn’t forgotten that souvenir on the shoulder he’d given me. The tattoo’d been erased from his face. He laid some cash on the table, plenty. I jabbed my index finger into my T-shirt, he nodded. Contract, byznys, payoff, nothing personal. I wrapped it up. Smoothy smirked in the background.
But I folded. Afterwards … in the car, when Smoothy got all chatty and started tellin those horror stories … the fella we were bringin back from Slovakia, bout fifty I’d say, laughed raspily as Smoothy prattled on in that way a theirs they got. In the pub where we ate, he showed it to me. It covered his whole chest, plus his arms. Even the back of his neck. Some came from the camp, some from the sharks that almost got him when he climbed in a dinghy and pushed off from the shore of his cruel homeland.
This gentleman here ate his children before he’d crossed the ocean, Smoothy informed me with a sugary smile. A piece of the ocean, that is. And not having any fingernails hampered him at first in his work in the chemical industry.
They didn’t try to make me finish my fried cheese. What he’d eaten in order to cross the ocean … had been for the sake of his mission, there was no need for Smoothy to stress that. I figured Smoothy … was a sicko, but probly the reason he kept feedin me his people’s sagas of suffering was because they ate at his brain.
I get paid to drive an talk, leave the rest out of it.
History spins in circles, Mr. Potok, note that the gentleman whom we are going to see, and whom we hope to find today, was an officer. A very able paratrooper, we have his dossier. Our superior, whom we may refer to as General Vang, truly values him. Just imagine, this man executed an entire village of traitors with his own two hands … in the Mekong Delta … and truly, he took his lumps as well … when they captured him, you see, they took bamboo chips …
Enough! I roared at Smoothy, pulling the car over. He was laughing. Aright then, I started the wheels back up.
My working hours were unlimited. And something happened to my time. I might’ve been out racin around with Smoothy all day, but when I got back … Černá was there.
The first night I came home from the Laotians’ and collapsed next to her sleeping body. I awoke to something touching my face … her fingers … and the way they touched me, every second my skin lived a life of its own …
Sorry, you’re snorin like crazy …
What, like a dog?
Like a pig.
I was a little insulted. But … she’d come back. All those touches brought me back to me, so I could fly out into normal life and come back to her at the end of the day.
We didn’t bother with whether our touches were sensual, sensuous, or total nonsense those first few nights, because that was the only time we had to see each other, I didn’t even know if she stayed in the flat the rest of the time … and I didn’t ask … I discovered that being with her in reality was actually all there was.
Černá, hey … this is gettin … freaky.
But it wasn’t, not with her, with her it just … was, I swept my head clean of all the rags, splinters, and bandages a person wraps around his brain over the years, out of self-defense … to better survive in a world full of mystery.
But even though I was nearing bliss … even though I was with her, I still had dreams. Sometimes they just come out of your head. I used to have to dance because of them, wear myself out in the day so I wouldn’t live at night, but now: even despite my work with Smoothy and his horror stories, despite all the everyday, chaotic, waking stuff, only she was in my dreams. Daytime, nighttime, she was my love, my buttress against the world, she herself became my world, but in my dreams … many times I saw her face and reached out, body straining, but the face would turn into a grimace, a sneer … that time in the cellar, She-Dog had turned into an old lady … Černá, on the other hand, turned into something … monstrous, I wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound, then woke up, relieved, her above me again, naked, smiling, I laid my hands on her chest and the face began to fade into a grimace, an unfeminine mask, the shining paths of fangs traveling up through her skin, I screamed and woke again, Černá, I blurted … What is it? You want more? I snuggled up to her … and her smile rippled and the lips disappeared, exposing the flesh and the empty darkness beyond it … I would travel like that from dream to dream, and sometimes, sometimes I couldn’t take it and would ricochet out of the dream, plunging down and down, until at the last second, using all my brainpower, I would stop myself and reascend … rebounding off the bottom … and there was my love and it wasn’t a dream, I could feel her touch, her lips … and she opened her eyes, leaning over me, speaking soothingly … her hair on my shoulders, and I opened my eyes and the Monster was back again.