دانلود رمان انگلیسی “مرد ناشناس” – زندگی در میان جاسوسان

The road goes through mountains, a maze of switchbacks and talus that has vexed invaders since the time of Alexander. Today it rolls along crowded with donkey carts and brightly colored buses, scooters weaving among jingle trucks as camels dodge over-stacked lorries. The air is thick with diesel smoke and the smell of overworked clutches. Kids chase moms in rose-blue burkas; old men stand with their hands behind their backs for no apparent reason. The ground is scorched silty, a barren landscape punctuated by old fortresses and the skeletons of cars. There are no shrubs or trees, no grass. It has not rained in years. “Taliban.” I’m sitting in the back of a Daewoo sedan with a bottle of Johnny Walker from the station in Islamabad and a photographer from GQ magazine. Let’s call him Joe. We’re racing west against the sun, because it is Ramadan, and the driver is hungry, and this place is dangerous enough when you can see the enemy. At night he is everywhere.