The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher. Hilary Mantel
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Название: The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher
Автор: Hilary Mantel
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780007580989
isbn:
Fourth Estate
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street,
London SE1 9GF, UK
First published in Great Britain by Fourth Estate 2014
Copyright © Tertius Enterprises 2014, 2015
Hilary Mantel asserts her moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is
available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007580972
Ebook Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9780007580989
Version: 2016-01-29
To Bill Hamilton, the man in William IV Street: thirty years on, with gratitude
Contents
The Heart Fails Without Warning
The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher: August 6th 1983
In those days, the doorbell didn’t ring often, and if it did I would draw back into the body of the house. Only at a persistent ring would I creep over the carpets, and make my way to the front door with its spy-hole. We were big on bolts and shutters, deadlocks and mortises, safety-chains and windows that were high and barred. Through the spy-hole I saw a distraught man in a crumpled, silver-grey suit: thirties, Asian. He had dropped back from the door, and was looking about him, at the closed and locked door opposite, and up the dusty marble stairs. He patted his pockets, took out a balled-up handkerchief, and rubbed it across his face. He looked so fraught that his sweat could have been tears. I opened the door.
At once he raised his hands as if to show he was unarmed, his handkerchief dropping like a white flag. ‘Madam!’ Ghastly pale I must have looked, under the light that dappled the tiled walls with swinging shadows. But then he took a breath, tugged at his creased jacket, ran a hand through his hair and conjured up his business card. ‘Muhammad Ijaz. Import-Export. I am so sorry to disturb your afternoon. I am totally lost. Would you permit use of your telephone?’
I stood aside to let him in. No doubt I smiled. Given what would ensue, I must suppose I did. ‘Of course. If it’s working today.’
I walked ahead and he followed, talking; an important deal, he had almost closed it, visit to client in person necessary, time – he worked up his sleeve and consulted a fake Rolex – time running out; he had the address – again he patted his pockets – but the office is not where it should be. He spoke into the telephone in rapid Arabic, fluent, aggressive, his eyebrows shooting up, finally shaking his head; he put down the receiver, looked at it in regret; then up at me, with a sour smile. Weak mouth, I thought. Almost a handsome man, but not: slim, sallow, easily thrown. ‘I am in your debt, madam,’ he said. ‘Now I must dash.’
I wanted to offer him a what – bathroom break? Comfort stop? I had no idea how to phrase it. The absurd words ‘wash and brush-up’ came into my mind. But he was already heading for the door – though from the way the call had concluded I thought they might not be so keen to see him, at his destination, as he was to see them. ‘This crazy city,’ he said. ‘They are always digging up the streets and moving them. I am so sorry to break in on your privacy.’ In the hall, he darted another СКАЧАТЬ