We quickly get to the hotel but I don’t see Ibrahim anywhere. Bálint turns up immediately and starts asking questions. He is fiddling with his gelled brown hair and shifts his weight from one foot to another. His suit is a bit too big, and it looks rather unflattering. I feel slight antipathy towards him but then I realize it was Csilla who infuriated me, so I can’t blame this nice guy.
Well, I even remember his name now.
“Was everything all right, Mr. Sudairi?”
Amir walks past me, presumably to find Ibrahim. He is excited by my request, and of course he hasn’t forgotten the gift I promised.
“Yes,” I reply curtly. I don’t understand why he is such a busybody.
“Were you satisfied with the interpreter I recommended?”
My heart misses a beat. What do I say now? Should I tell him I don’t
