（外文电子版资料）Christopher Fowler - Fast Awake.pdfVIP

Fast Awake Christopher Fowler He couldn’t believe he had missed the alarm call. Alex Dutton had asked the telephonist to ring him at seven, and now it was ten to eight, which meant that Max would have a head start. His first meeting was due to start in ten minutes, before which he had to shave, shower and dress. At least he could dispense with breakfast; the multi-course supper in the old town had not concluded until two that morning. On business trips he was used to making do with four hours’ sleep. Clients expected elaborate meals, good wines, thick sauces, and the service in the crowded fish restaurant had been perversely slow, requiring a consolatory drinking session in the hotel bar afterwards. He dry-shaved while booting up his laptop, downloaded the day’s emails while donning his trousers and slipped into the Negresco’s main conference room as soon as the break in the opening address allowed. Outside, through the opaque curtains, he could see girls roller-skating in sunlight along the Boulevard Des Anglaises as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Where have you been? whispered Naimn, his assistant, you missed the Hong Kong delegate. Overslept. So I can see. She pulled his collar straight at the back. He wondered how she always managed to appear so immaculate. She looked as though she spent the night in bubble-wrap, a treasured doll preserved by an obsessive collector. Some people handled corporate life so fluidly that they seemed to have no other existence. Max was here fifteen minutes early. He always is. Maybe he sabotaged your alarm call. He wouldn’t do something like that, he’s a straight arrow. Everyone needed a business rival to keep them on their toes, but no-one needed a rival like Max. Always on time, always one step ahead, always completely honest with his customers, always—damn it - five and a half years younger. Wherever Alex went, Max was there first, wide and bright, b