The Lost Sailors by Jean-Claude Izzo

Author:Jean-Claude Izzo [Izzo, Jean-Claude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Noir
ISBN: 9781933372358
Google: -lE_HokECm4C
Amazon: 1933372354
Barnesnoble: 1933372354
Goodreads: 1272789
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 1997-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Diamantis was walking fast. After leaving Le Mas, he had stopped at the Samaritaine, in a corner of the Vieux-Port, for a last drink before getting back to the Aldebaran.

He had turned onto Rue de la République. At the end of it, on Place de la Joliette, there was a taxi stand. From there, it cost about fifty francs to get to Gate 3A. It all depended. Sometimes, a driver just finishing his shift would take him for free. All the regulars knew about the Aldebaran.

His head was buzzing. He wondered if the guy who had beaten him up twenty years ago was the same one Giovanni had gone to talk to. Just out of curiosity. He’d long gotten over the fear and humiliation, and didn’t have any desire for revenge. That was another life. He was another man. And that was why he’d started thinking about Amina. He could now see her face clearly, her smile, her body. Just a memory, without desire. A beautiful memory, that was all.

Finishing his beer at the bar of the Samaritaine, he had decided not to go to Mariette’s. Something was stopping him. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet to sleep with a real woman. A woman who expected something from a man, from him. Something other than a quick fuck. Mariette was bursting with love. He couldn’t take without giving something in return. That was what love was. An exchange between two people.

He had no idea yet what he could offer her. Her or anyone else. All he had was wounds, memories, his loneliness, and the sea that had his undivided attention. Mariette deserved a lot better than him. A lot more. She would find it.

He stopped at the intersection of Boulevard des Dames, to let a metallic blue Safrane pass. It didn’t strike him that this car had already passed him once at the corner of the previous street. The Safrane turned onto Rue de la République, as if heading for Place de la Joliette. It stopped a few yards farther on, with the hazard-warning lights on.

As Diamantis came level with it, two men got out and walked up to him. Diamantis realized too late. But when he received the first blow, from a club, he realized it was starting over again. Just like twenty years ago. Because of Amina, he was sure.

The first blow to his temple knocked him to the ground. He immediately rolled himself into a ball, to protect his head and stomach. They hit him hard, seemingly at random, on his arms, his back, his legs. He was breathing as slowly as he could, in order to control his nerves, in order not to panic. “If they wanted to kill you,” he thought in a sudden flash, “they’d already have done it. Hold out.”

He held out until the kick in the face. The pain made him let go. Another kick hit him in the mouth. He barely had time to taste the blood on his lips before he was kicked in the stomach, twice.

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