按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
a bomb by simply removing the fuze。 bombs would have to be neutralized with the fuze intact。 somehow； earlier on； surrounded by arc lights； and in his fury； he had withdrawn the sheared second fuze out of the booby trap。 in the sulphureous darkness under the bombing raid he witnessed the white…green flash the size of his hand。 one hour late。 he had survived only with luck。 he walked back to the officer and said； “i need another fuze to make sure。” they lit the flares around him again。 once more light poured into his circle of darkness。 he kept testing the new fuzes for two more hours that night。 the sixty…minute delay proved to be consistent。
he was in erith most of that night。 in the morning he woke up to find himself back in london。 he could not remember being driven back。 he woke up； went to a table and began to sketch the profile of the bomb； the gaines； the detonators； the whole zus… problem； from the fuze up to the locking rings。 then he covered the basic drawing with all the possible lines of attack to defuse it。 every arrow drawn exactly； the text written out clear the way he had been taught。
what he had discovered the night before held true。 he had survived only through luck。 there was no possible way to defuse such a bomb in situ without just blowing it up。 he drew and wrote out everything he knew on the large blueprint sheet。 at the bottom he wrote： drawn by desire of lord suffolk； by his student lieutenant kirpal singh； may
he worked flat…out； crazily； after suffolk’s death。 bombs were altering fast； with new techniques and devices。 he was barracked in regent’s park with lieutenant blackler and three other specialists； working on solutions； blueprinting each new bomb as it came in。
in twelve days； working at the directorate of scientific research； they came up with the answer。 ignore the fuze entirely。
ignore the first principle； which until then was “defuse the bomb。” it was brilliant。 they were all laughing and applauding and hugging each other in the officers’ mess。 they didn’t have a clue what the alternative was； but they knew in the abstract they were right。 the problem would not be solved by embracing it。 that was lieutenant blackler’s line。 “if you are in a room with a problem don’t talk to it。” an offhand remark。 singh came towards him and held the statement from another angle。 “then we don’t touch the fuze at all。” once they came up with that； someone worked out the solution in a week。 a steam sterilizer。 one could cut a hole into the main case of a bomb； and then the main explosive could be emulsified by an injection of steam and drained away。 that solved that for the time being。 but by then he was on a ship to italy。
“there is always yellow chalk scribbled on the side of bombs。 have you noticed that？ just as there was yellow chalk scrib…bled onto our bodies when we lined up in the lahore courtyard。
“there was a line of us shuffling forward slowly from the street into the medical building and out into the courtyard as we enlisted。 we were signing up。 a doctor cleared or rejected our bodies with his instruments； explored our necks with his hands。
the tongs slid out of dettol and picked up parts of our skin。
“those accepted filled up the courtyard。 the coded results written onto our skin with yellow chalk。 later； in the lineup； after a brief interview； an indian officer chalked more yellow onto the slates tied around our necks。 our weight； age； district； standard of education； dental condition and what unit we were best suited for。
“i did not feel insulted by this。 i am sure my brother would have been； would have walked in fury over to the well； hauled up the bucket； and washed the chalk markings away。 i was not like him。 though i loved him。 admired him。 i had this side to my nature which saw reason in all things。 i was the one who had an earnest and serious air at school； which he would imitate and mock。 you understand； of course； i was far less serious than he was； it was just that i hated confrontation。 it didn’t stop me doing whatever i wished or doing things the way i wanted to。 quite early on i had discovered the overlooked space open to those of us with a silent life。 i didn’t argue with the policeman who said i couldn’t cycle over a certain bridge or through a specific gate in the fort—i just stood there； still； until i was invisible； and then i went through。 like a cricket。 like a hidden cup of water。 you understand？ that is what my brother’s public battles taught me。
“but to me my brother was always the hero in the family。 i was in the slipstream of his status as firebrand。 i witnessed his exhaustion that came after each protest； his body gearing up to respond to this insult or that law。 he broke the tradition of our family and refused； in spite of being the oldest brother； to join the army。 he refused to agree to any situation where the english had power。 so they dragged him into their jails。
in the lahore central prison。 later the jatnagar jail。 lying back on his cot at night； his arm raised within plaster； broken by his friends to protect him； to stop him trying to escape。 in jail he became serene and devious。 more like me。 he was not insulted when he heard i had signed up to replace him in the enlistment； no longer to be a doctor； he just laughed and sent a message through our father for me to be careful。 he would never go to war against me or what i did。 he was confident that i had the trick of survival； of being able to hide in silent places。” he is sitting on the counter in the kitchen talking with hana。 caravaggio breezes through it on his way out； heavy ropes swathed over his shoulders； which are his own personal business； as he says when anyone asks him。 he drags them behind him and as he goes out the door says； “the english patient wants to see you； boyo。” “okay； boyo。” the sapper hops off the counter； his indian accent slipping over into the false welsh of caravaggio。
“my father had a bird； a small swift i think； that he kept beside him； as essential to his fort as a pair of spectacles or a glass of water during a meal。 in the house； even if he just was entering his bedroom he carried it with him。 when