The Maltese Manuscript (LSD, #6)

6. School's Out

School's Out

Malta is like a country village: everyone knows each other, and spoken news goes a lot faster than the Internet. When I enter the room where breakfast is served, Malik is already there, reading something on a sheet of A5 paper.

"Good morning. Have you had breakfast yet?", I say.

Malik hands me the paper and asks: "Did you read this?"

"I put it there before I went for a shower. I found it in a newspaper stand while I was jogging this morning. Did you sleep well?"

When you wake up after a good night's sleep, you feel relaxed, positive, looking forward to attacking breakfast and conquering the world. Malik is tense, paranoid and not interested in the tremendous breakfast buffet: "Actually, no, I didn't sleep well. You're probably perfectly happy to spend a night in a freezer the size of a broom closet, but I'm not a broom."

"Your hair looks like you've wiped the floor with it. Haven't you taken a shower yet?"

"The water was cold, there was no soap or shampoo, there was no mirror for shaving myself, and I don't like it when the entire island can see me when I'm naked."

I put my hand on Malik's arm and give him a reassuring smile: "You talk like the princess that slept on top of a pile of mattresses and complained about a pea. At 06:00 AM, there's nobody around to watch your naked butt under the shower. In the situation we're in, it's safety first. We'll have to give up a little bit of luxury if we want to stay alive. We survived another night, didn't we?"

"Nocturnally, spending the night in a shed, used to store beach chairs, and taking a shower in the open on the beach because there's no decent bathroom, that's not what I call «giving up a little bit of luxury». Prehistorically, that's «returning to the Stone Age»."

"That's what happens when criminals like Khalid El Bullít rule the world. We're in the middle of a war, Malik. When we need to fight to stay alive, we can't build bridges towards a better future. You better get used to it. At least, this breakfast is better than we've had in ages."

The sheds we slept in belong to a little restaurant on the beach. Last night, after finding out that nightclub Sandman is closed on Thursday, we found this when we were looking for a place to stay. I made a deal with the owner: in return for storing all the long chairs last night and putting them back on the beach early this morning, we could sleep in the sheds and enjoy a free breakfast.

I take the flyer out of Malik's hand and repeat my question: "Have you had breakfast yet?"

The flyer shows the cover of another book: «Mary Poppins Returns», by Katie. It's not the lovely Mary Poppins from the supercalifragilisticexpialidocious 1964-film in which Julie Andrews flies around with an umbrella and a big brown bag. It's a sexy Mary Poppins with blood-red lipstick, two hand grenades hanging from her ears, dressed to kill in a combat dress with a cleavage that's deeper than the Grand Canyon, wearing so many automatic weapons that it makes every eight-year-old running to the store to follow hor role model.

The cover text on the back of the flyer says: «Mafia boss Toni Peroni wins the trial against his ex-wife and gets custody over his 8-year-old daughter Dorsa. But The Law doesn't make exceptions for children's education: Dorsa has to follow classes at Valletta Primary School, regardless of the unhealthy risks of kidnapping, Columbine and low-quality lunches. As a hard-working father, Toni can't protect his only child day and night. He finds a perfect solution: hiring the best teacher available. After seeing an ad in Time4Crime Magazine, mercenary Mary Poppins returns from her suicide mission in the Middle East to take the job. Dorsa likes Mary, and Mary likes Dorsa too. She likes Dorsa so much that she wants to keep her for herself. Now, Toni's perfect solution turns herself against him...»