People sleeping under the bridge tried to protect themselves from the sprays of rain blown in by the wind, screening themselves with worn-out mats and praying that the rain would not turn into a downpour. And the people who slept in the big water pipe that was waiting to be laid underground moved deeper inside, away from the opening where the rain was dripping in.
From time to time the heavy rolling of thunder rumbled above them, and it looked as if the rain was growing heavier. Inside a car, Raden Kaslan sat with his hands folded on his belly, looking out through the windscreen. The wipers swished back and forth, sweeping away the rainwater. At his side, Husin Limbara sat in silence, engrossed in his own thoughts. Husin Limbara’s elegant Cadillac turned into the driveway of the Hotel des
