Mortal Fear [antikvár]

Dear Father, We landed in New Orleans yesterday evening. A humid city. Fiat, iow, dispersed. A singie grouping of tall buildings in the distance. The taxi driver was a Cajun, surprisingly. A thin brown wrinkied man. Rather like getting a Chinese cabbie in Chinatown. I expected an Eastern European. as ! see every where else. He kept glancing into the rearview mirror as we passed through a town he called "Metry"-a place where the whites once fled to escape "da niggas." Now they flee across Laké Pontchartrain. I worked at the computer in my lap but kept an ear open to his words. Night descended over a rising moon as we swept onto an elevated section of freeway and passed the Superdome. Kali must have been a black shadow to him, beside me in the backseat. a shadow with bright black eyes. 5he wanted to kill the driver. i could feel it. In her handbag, the scarf-sacred weapon. I see an image in her mind: he stops at a traffic light as we descend the ramp to the lower world of surface streets. 5he slips the noose around his throat and silently steals his life. ... I lay a hand lightly on her wrist and feel a twitch that verifies my sense. She is ready.