Kingdom of the Golden Dragon

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Book: Kingdom of the Golden Dragon by Isabel Allende Read Free Book Online
Authors: Isabel Allende
Tags: Fiction, General
slim. Kate had her own system for long flights: she took two sleeping pills with several swallows of vodka. The effect was like being clubbed.
    “Even if there’s a terrorist on board with a bomb, don’t wake me,” she instructed them before covering herself to her forehead with a blanket and curling up like a shrimp in her seat.
    Three rows behind Nadia and Alexander sat a man with long hair combed into dozens of small braids that were in turn tied back with a leather thong. He had a bead necklace around his neck, and a suede pouch tied with a black cord rested on his chest. He was wearing stained jeans, worn cowboy boots, and a Stetson that sat low on his forehead; they learned later that it was never removed, not even when he slept. Alexander and Nadia thought that he was a little old to be dressed like that.
    “He must be a rock star,” Alexander noted.
    Nadia didn’t know what a rock star was, and Alexander decided that it would be very difficult toexplain. He promised that the first chance he had he would outline the basics of movies and popular music to his friend, something any self-respecting teenager should know.
    Judging by the wrinkles around the strange hippie’s eyes and mouth, and the deep furrows in his tanned face, they calculated that he had to be over forty. What they could see of the hair tied back in the ponytail was steely gray. In any case, whatever his age, the man seemed to be in good physical shape. They had first seen him in the New York airport, carrying two pieces of luggage: a canvas tote and, slung over one shoulder, a sleeping bag cinched with a belt. After that they had glimpsed him dozing, cowboy hat tipped over his face, in the London airport as he waited for a flight, and now they were on the same plane bound for India. They waved to him from their seats.
    As soon as the pilot turned off the FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign, this odd man took a few steps down the aisle, stretching his muscles. He walked up to Nadia and Alexander and smiled. For the first time they could see that there was no expression in his startlingly blue eyes; it was as if he were hypnotized. His smile rearranged the wrinkles on his face, but went no farther than his lips. His eyes looked dead. The stranger asked Nadia what she was carrying in the case on her lap, and she showed him Borobá. The man’s smile turned into a laugh when he saw a monkey wearing diapers.
    “They call me Tex Armadillo, because of the boots, you know?” he introduced himself. “They’re armadillo hide.”
    “Nadia Santos, from Brazil,” the girl said.
    “Alexander Cold, from California.”
    “I noticed that you guys were carrying a guide book about the Forbidden Kingdom. I saw you reading it in the airport.”
    “That’s where we’re going,” Alexander informed him.
    “Not many tourists visit that country. I understand they let only a hundred or so foreigners in every year,” said Tex Armadillo.
    “We’re with a group from International Geographic .”
    “That right? You seem pretty young to be working for a magazine,” he commented.
    “That’s right,” confirmed Alexander, who had decided not to be too forthcoming.
    “That’s my plan, too, but I don’t know whether I’ll get a visa once I get to India. They don’t have much sympathy in the Kingdom of the Golden Dragon for hippies like me. They think we come to get drugs.”
    “Are there a lot?” Alexander asked.
    “Marijuana and opium grow wild everywhere, it’s just a matter of going out and harvesting it. It would be a snap.”
    “So drugs must be a serious problem,” Alexander commented, surprised that his grandmother hadn’t mentioned that.
    “There’s no problem. The only thing they use ’em for is medicine. They don’t know the treasure they’re sitting on. Can you imagine the money they could make exporting them?” said Tex Armadillo.
    “I can imagine,” Alexander answered. He didn’t like the direction the conversation was going, and he didn’t

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