He tapped the table with the pencil. “Despite your promise, I think I’ll live to regret this, but perhaps it’s just as well. I’m damned anyway. But if something can be done for Sohrab... I’ll tell you because I believe you. You have the look of a desperate man.” He was quiet for a long time. “There is a Talib official,” he muttered. “He visits once every month or two. He brings cash with him, not a lot, but better than nothing at all.” His shifty eyes fell on me, rolled away. “Usually he’ll take a girl. But not always.” “And you allow this?” Farid said behind me. He was going around the table, closing in on Zaman. “What choice do I have?” Zaman shot back. He pushed himself away from the desk. “You’re the director here,” Farid said. “Your job is watch over these children.”“There’s nothing I can do to stop it.”“You’re selling children!” Farid barked. “Farid, sit down! Let it go!” I said. But I was too late. Because suddenly Farid was leaping over the table. Zaman’s chair went flying as Farid fell on him and pinned him to the floor. The director thrashed beneath Farid and made muffled screaming sounds. His legs kicked a desk drawer free and sheets of paper spilled to the floor.I ran around the desk and saw why Zaman’s screaming was muffled: Farid was strangling him. I grasped Farid’s shoulders with both hands and pulled hard. He snatched away from me. “That’s enough!” I barked. But Farid’s face had flushed red, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “I’m killing him! You can’t stop me! I’m killing him,” he sneered.“Get off him!”“I’m killing him!” Something in his voice told me that if I didn’t do something quickly I’d witness my first murder.“The children are watching, Farid. They’re watching,” I said. His shoulder muscles tightened under my grip and, for a moment, I thought he’d keep squeezing Zaman’s neck anyway. Then he turned around, saw the children. They were standing silently by the door, holding hands, some of them crying. I felt Farid’s muscles slacken. He dropped his hands, rose to his feet. He looked down on Zaman and dropped a mouthful of spit on his face. Then he walked to the door and closed it. Zaman struggled to his feet, blotted his bloody lips with his sleeve, wiped the spit off his cheek. Coughing and wheezing, he put on his skullcap, his glasses, saw both lenses had cracked, and took them off. He buried his face in his hands. None of us said anything for a long time. “He took Sohrab a month ago,” Zaman finally croaked, hands still shielding his face. 他用鉛筆敲桌子，“儘管你答應了，我想我也許會後悔一輩子，不過，也許那樣也好。反正我很該死。但如果能幫到索拉博什麼……我會告訴你，因爲我相信你。看起來你像個負責任的人。”他沉默了好久。“有個塔利班官員，”他低聲說，“他每隔一兩個月就來一次，帶着錢，雖然不多，但總比什麼也沒有好。”他滑溜溜的眼睛看着我，又轉開，“通常他會帶走一個女孩，但不總是這樣。” “你居然同意？”法裏德在我身後說。他衝向桌子，接近察曼。“我能有什麼選擇呢？”察曼回嘴說，他推着桌子站起來。“你是這裏的負責人。”法裏德說，“你的工作是照料這些孩子。”“我根本沒有能力阻止它發生。”“你賣掉孩子！”法裏德大怒。 “法裏德，坐下！讓他說！”但已經太遲了，因爲突然間法裏德跳上桌子。他縱身而下，將察曼的椅子踢飛，把他按倒在地。察曼在法裏德身下揮舞着手，發出聲聲悶叫。他的腳踢掉一個抽屜，紙片散落在地面。我跑到桌子那邊，這才發現察曼的叫聲爲何悶住：法裏德扼住他的脖子。我雙手抓住法裏德的肩膀，使勁拉。他掙脫我。“夠了！”我大喊。但法裏德的臉漲得通紅，張口狂叫：“我要殺了他！你不能阻止我！我要殺了他！“他冷笑。“放開他！”“我要殺了他！”他的叫聲讓我明白，如果我不盡快採取行動，就只好目睹有生以來見到的第一場謀殺了。“孩子們在看着，法裏德。他們在看着。”我說。他肩膀的肌肉在我手中縮緊，那當頭，我以爲他不管怎樣都會扼着察曼的脖子不放。然而他回頭，看到了孩子們。他們默默站在門外，手拉手，有的還哭起來。我覺得法裏德的肌肉鬆弛了，他放手站起來，低頭看着察曼，在他臉上吐了一口口水。然後他走到門邊，把門關上。 察曼掙扎着站起身，用袖子去擦血淋淋的嘴脣，擦掉臉上的口水。他咳嗽，喘息，戴好便帽和眼鏡，看到兩塊鏡片都破了，又把眼鏡摘下。他雙手掩臉。好長一段時間，我們誰也沒說話。 “一個月前，他帶走了索拉博。”終於，察曼哽咽着說。手仍掩着臉。
