10
In the “dark of noon” as the Turkmen put it, when the terrible heat saps everyone and draws them back home or into the shadows, a police car stopped next to Araz’s home. Two men emerged from it and slowly, almost painfully, knocked on the door.
“This is Captain Nurjanov from the police. Is Araz Atayev here?”
“How may I help you?” answered Araz dryly.
“There are some things we have to discuss.”
“What, exactly?”
“Life in general! What do you think it’s about? You’re awfully curious. Get dressed and come out, we’ll wait for you in the car. You’ll come to the city with us and talk to the colonel.”
Finally admitting that the scene, rather than an unsettling dream, was an unsettling reality, he replied curtly: “Yes please do wait. I’ll put on some nicer clothes, I couldn’t go out like
