Spring Betrayal
Page 25
There were no words, only a short video clip.
A young boy, maybe eight years old, stood in front of the Sher-Dor Madrasah in Samarkand, dwarfed by the towering minarets and the ornate tiger mosaics. Otabek stared into the camera, his hair still cut in that odd lopsided fashion, clothes slightly too big, those of an older boy, but he looked healthy, well-fed. He clutched a woman’s hand, as if for protection, or reassurance. The woman was visible only from the waist down, slim long legs in black jeans tucked into shin-high lace-up combat boots.
He wasn’t smiling, looked guarded, but I could sense some of the fear had left his eyes, that he was no longer consumed by a terror that could pounce at any moment. He raised his free hand to give a tentative wave to the camera, then the screen went dark.
I watched the clip, over and over, until the café attendant tapped my shoulder and told me I’d run out of time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As with my previous Akyl Borubaev novel, A Killing Winter, I owe a great deal to many people, whose continued help and encouragement is already acknowledged there.
To that list must be added:
In Germany: Sebastian Fitzek.
In Kyrgyzstan: Oksana Itikeeva and Umai Sultanova.
In the UAE: Isobel Abulhoul, Annabelle Corton, Baron Elliot, Michael Judd, Yvette Judge, Maryann Miranda, Meerim Morrison, Nyugen Ngoc, and Martin Tyler.
In the UK: Stefanie Bierwerth and her team at Quercus, especially Kathryn Taussig and Matthew Cowdery; Jakob Tanner at Waterstones; Marcus Wilson-Smith, whose Kyrgyz photos are the redeeming feature of my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/tomcallaghanwriter).
As before, I owe huge thanks to Tanja Howarth, friend and agent extraordinaire, and my old pal Simon Peters, for criticism, encouragement, and a killing eye for typos.
My biggest debt, of course, is to everyone who read A Killing Winter, and who I hope will enjoy A Spring Betrayal as well.
All the characters and events in this book are entirely fictitious, and any errors, misinterpretations, or distortions of actual events are mine. Kyrgyzstan is a beautiful country with friendly people, and I hope no one will be put off visiting it by reading what is, after all, a crime novel.