Moth Smoke by Mohsin Hamid Read Free Book Online

why? Why don’t you just write the articles under your own name?’
    ‘That’s a little complicated. Anyway, life is much easier if I’m not working as a journalist and Zulfikar Manto is.’
    Mumtaz assumes a mock-serious expression as we pass a mobile police unit near Charing Cross, and I feel like a character in an espionage film.
    ‘That’s incredible,’ I say.
    She nods.
    ‘Are you glad you’ve told me this?’ I ask.
    She’s silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she says finally. ‘It felt good to tell you, but I’m a little uncertain about how I feel just now.’
    I’m concerned. ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘It means we’ll have to see what happens.’ She shrugs. ‘But no more questions. This is where I need your help. We’re getting close to the old city, and I don’t know my way from here.’
    We pass the High Court. ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Heera Mandi.’
    I start to laugh. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
    ‘I’m dead serious. I have to interview the madam of a brothel, and I can’t be late.’
    This is turning into a very strange night, but I’m enjoying myself. I like the way Mumtaz drives, with a sort of controlled aggression. Actually, she drives the way I like to think I drive. I direct her, glad she never asks how I know where Heera Mandi is, and point out the sights along our way like a tour guide: ‘That’s Town Hall. Take a right here, on Lower Mall Road. That’s Government College to your right. Take a left. That’s Data Darbar. You should check it out sometime. This is Circular Road. See Badshahi Mosque? Minar-i-Pakistan’s behind it. Okay, slow down. Take a right. This used to be a gate. Now we’re in the old city.’
    ‘Who are all those people on the left?’
    ‘Heroin junkies. We’re almost there. You do realize that there won’t be many young women dressed the way you are?’
    ‘I hope not. It’s been a long time since anyone accused me of dressing like a prostitute.’
    ‘What I mean is, we might attract the attention of the cops.’
    ‘I can handle cops. Besides, I’ve brought a lot of cash.’
    Soon enough we’re there, and even though it’s a little late for Heera Mandi, the place is still crowded. Mumtaz says we’ll wait in the car, for what I’m not sure. People stare at us, making me nervous. Then a man almost as big as Murad Badshah knocks on our window, his eyes bloodshot and the ends of his mustache curled into points.
    ‘Let’s go,’ I say.
    ‘Wait,’ she says. ‘Open it.’
    He leans in, ignoring me. ‘Are you here to see Dilaram?’ he asks Mumtaz.
    ‘Yes,’ she answers.
    ‘Come quickly.’
    We open our doors and get out, but he stops me with one hand. ‘Not you,’ he says.
    I lock eyes with him and remove his hand from my chest.
    ‘It’s okay, Daru,’ Mumtaz says. ‘Wait here. I’ll be back soon.’
    I continue to glare at the pimp, my heart pounding. I wonder if Mumtaz would be impressed if I beat the hell out of him.
    ‘Please, Daru,’ she says. ‘You don’t know how hard it was to arrange this interview.’
    ‘It isn’t safe for you to be here alone,’ I tell her.
    ‘I’ll be fine,’ she says, tossing me the car keys.
    ‘Why can’t I come?’
    She tilts her head to one side, smiling like she wants to rumple my hair. ‘You look so disappointed. Let me ask her. If she agrees, I’ll come back for you.’
    Before I know it, Mumtaz is running off with a giant pimp into some back alley in Heera Mandi and I’m sitting alone in her car. I am such an idiot for doing this. What will I tell Ozi if anything happens to her?
    She isn’t gone for long, but I’m already imagining an elaborate rescue scenario when she reappears. ‘You can come,’ she says. ‘But only if you promise not to do anything macho.’
    ‘I promise.’
    I have to walk quickly to keep pace with Mumtaz and the pimp. We pass a few men in the alley: satisfied customers, judging by their vacant smiles. Definitely stoned. Maybe even a little