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.
他用铅笔敲桌子，“尽管你答应了，我想我也许会后悔一辈子，不过，也许那样也好。反正我很该死。但如果能帮到索拉博什么……我会告诉你，因为我相信你。看起来你像个负责任的人。”他沉默了好久。“有个塔利班官员，”他低声说，“他每隔一两个月就来一次，带着钱，虽然不多，但总比什么也没有好。”他滑溜溜的眼睛看着我，又转开，“通常他会带走一个女孩，但不总是这样。”
“你居然同意？”法里德在我身后说。他冲向桌子，接近察曼。“我能有什么选择呢？”察曼回嘴说，他推着桌子站起来。“你是这里的负责人。”法里德说，“你的工作是照料这些孩子。”“我根本没有能力阻止它发生。”“你卖掉孩子！”法里德大怒。
“法里德，坐下！让他说！”但已经太迟了，因为突然间法里德跳上桌子。他纵身而下，将察曼的椅子踢飞，把他按倒在地。察曼在法里德身下挥舞着手，发出声声闷叫。他的脚踢掉一个抽屉，纸片散落在地面。我跑到桌子那边，这才发现察曼的叫声为何闷住：法里德扼住他的脖子。我双手抓住法里德的肩膀，使劲拉。他挣脱我。“够了！”我大喊。但法里德的脸涨得通红，张口狂叫：“我要杀了他！你不能阻止我！我要杀了他！“他冷笑。“放开他！”“我要杀了他！”他的叫声让我明白，如果我不尽快采取行动，就只好目睹有生以来见到的第一场谋杀了。“孩子们在看着，法里德。他们在看着。”我说。他肩膀的肌肉在我手中缩紧，那当头，我以为他不管怎样都会扼着察曼的脖子不放。然而他回头，看到了孩子们。他们默默站在门外，手拉手，有的还哭起来。我觉得法里德的肌肉松弛了，他放手站起来，低头看着察曼，在他脸上吐了一口口水。然后他走到门边，把门关上。
察曼挣扎着站起身，用袖子去擦血淋淋的嘴唇，擦掉脸上的口水。他咳嗽，喘息，戴好便帽和眼镜，看到两块镜片都破了，又把眼镜摘下。他双手掩脸。好长一段时间，我们谁也没说话。
“一个月前，他带走了索拉博。”终于，察曼哽咽着说。手仍掩着脸。