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2.4. Акциоцентрический эмотивный микротекст
139
So I get up, still sweating, and edging slowly to the door,
when this fellow and two men ask me to go with them to his
office, in the same building.
I cannot say no, but I am sure that there is a problem. I am
fighting back tears, but there is nowhere to go. I cannot run.
So they escort me to this oak panelled office. He sits,
pours a couple of vodkas, hands one to me. I am shaking.
I want to vomit. I want to cry and my legs are like lead. The
two men are standing (!) near the doorway. He asks a few
questions. I had never heard of his country, but played along
that I did. And he offers me $25,000 for me and my
cameraman to take a one week trip to his country, to make
reports on “Russian brutality”. Armed escort, travel in a
private jet, “entertainment” laid on, a meeting with his
“President” and then a firstclass ticket back to London.
All I wanted to do was leave. But I was not being offered
an option. This was his generous offer. He made it clear that
this was a contract. Half of the money would be paid into an
account of my choice before we left.
I am having trouble breathing. There were no options.
I am in a corner. I can hardly get the glass to my lips because
I am trembling too hard. He saw my hesitancy and offered me
my one way out. He mentioned Christmas. I jumped and told
him about my wife and three children. I should go home for
Christmas. After some persuading, he agreed that I should go
back to Britain and then return to Moscow in January.
I still had one week in Moscow before I could leave. I knew
that if I changed my ticket he would know. He visited me in
the hotel nearly every day to discuss the trip. I got the
feeling at other times that I was being watched.
After a terrible, nerverending week I got to my plane and
left. But that was one of the worst experiences of my life.
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