The Thief Who Couldn't Sleep Read Online Free
Author: Lawrence Block
it the middle of next month?"
"Yes."
"You'll have it. Call me in three weeks, and I'll let you know how it's coming along."
"Three weeks."
"Don't call before then. And I'll want half the money now, if it's all the same to you."
"I don't have it on me. Can I bring it this afternoon?"
"You do that," I said.
He was back at two that afternoon with $375 in cash. He was just a little reluctant to part with it—I don't think because he would miss the money so much but because this made the deal firm, committed him to a plan that he knew very well was morally reprehensible.
He was purchasing his master's degree. It would be a big status thing for him, that master's, and he'd have gotten it unfairly, and it would always bother him a little, and he knew as much already. But he handed me the money, and I took it, and we both sealed our pact with the devil.
"I suppose you've done lots of theses," he said.
"Quite a number."
"Many in history?"
"Yes. And a good number in English, and a few in sociology and economics. And some other things."
"What did you do your own on?"
"My own?"
"Your master's and doctorate."
"I don't even have a bachelor's," I told him truthfully. "I joined the Army the day I left high school. Korea. I never did go to college."
He found this extraordinary. He talked about how easy it would be for me to go through college and walk off with highest honors. "It would be a snap for you. Why, you could write your thesis with no sweat. The exams, the whole routine. It would be nothing for you."
"Exactly," I said.
Cudahy's thesis was a very simple matter. I already knew quite a good deal about the Terrible Turk and the Starving Armenians. My library contained all the basic texts on the subject and more than a few lesser-known works, including several in Armenian. I speak Armenian, but reading it is a chore. The alphabet is unfamiliar and the construction tedious. I also had an almost complete file of the publications in English of the League for the Restoration of Cilician Armenia. Biased though they were, the League's pamphlets could not fail to impress in a bibliography.
It was pleasant work. Research is a joy, especially when one is not burdened with an excessive reverence for the truth. By inventing an occasional source and injecting an occasional spurious footnote, one softens the harsh curves in the royal road of scholarship. I studied, I ate, I worked out at the 110th Street Gym, I read, I kept up my correspondence, and I developed Cudahy's thesis with little difficulty.
I narrowed his topic somewhat, focusing on the Armenian Nationalist movements that had in large part provoked the Turkish massacres. Hunchak and Daschnak, organized in 1885 and 1890 respectively, had worked to develop a national consciousness and pressed for liberation from the Ottoman Empire. The minor Kurdish massacre of 1894 led to an absorbing parade of Big Power manipulations and was followed a year later by Abdu-l-Hamid's mammoth slaughter of eighty thousand Armenians.
But it was during World War I, when Turkey fought on the Axis side and feared her Armenian subjects as a potential fifth column, that the Armenian massacres reached their height and the phrase "Starving Armenians" found its way into our language. In mid-1915 the Turks went berserk. In one community after another the Armenian population was uprooted, men and women and children were massacred indiscriminately, and those who were not put to the sword either fled the country or quietly starved.
After the war the Soviets took Armenia proper, establishing an Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. The areas that remained Turkish had largely lost their Armenian population. The last large concentration of Armenians to suffer en masse were those in the city of Smyrna, now Izmir. The Greeks seized the town in the Greco-Turkish War that followed close upon the signing of the armistice. When Ataturk recaptured Smyrna, the city was burned, and the Greeks and Armenians were
"Yes."
"You'll have it. Call me in three weeks, and I'll let you know how it's coming along."
"Three weeks."
"Don't call before then. And I'll want half the money now, if it's all the same to you."
"I don't have it on me. Can I bring it this afternoon?"
"You do that," I said.
He was back at two that afternoon with $375 in cash. He was just a little reluctant to part with it—I don't think because he would miss the money so much but because this made the deal firm, committed him to a plan that he knew very well was morally reprehensible.
He was purchasing his master's degree. It would be a big status thing for him, that master's, and he'd have gotten it unfairly, and it would always bother him a little, and he knew as much already. But he handed me the money, and I took it, and we both sealed our pact with the devil.
"I suppose you've done lots of theses," he said.
"Quite a number."
"Many in history?"
"Yes. And a good number in English, and a few in sociology and economics. And some other things."
"What did you do your own on?"
"My own?"
"Your master's and doctorate."
"I don't even have a bachelor's," I told him truthfully. "I joined the Army the day I left high school. Korea. I never did go to college."
He found this extraordinary. He talked about how easy it would be for me to go through college and walk off with highest honors. "It would be a snap for you. Why, you could write your thesis with no sweat. The exams, the whole routine. It would be nothing for you."
"Exactly," I said.
Cudahy's thesis was a very simple matter. I already knew quite a good deal about the Terrible Turk and the Starving Armenians. My library contained all the basic texts on the subject and more than a few lesser-known works, including several in Armenian. I speak Armenian, but reading it is a chore. The alphabet is unfamiliar and the construction tedious. I also had an almost complete file of the publications in English of the League for the Restoration of Cilician Armenia. Biased though they were, the League's pamphlets could not fail to impress in a bibliography.
It was pleasant work. Research is a joy, especially when one is not burdened with an excessive reverence for the truth. By inventing an occasional source and injecting an occasional spurious footnote, one softens the harsh curves in the royal road of scholarship. I studied, I ate, I worked out at the 110th Street Gym, I read, I kept up my correspondence, and I developed Cudahy's thesis with little difficulty.
I narrowed his topic somewhat, focusing on the Armenian Nationalist movements that had in large part provoked the Turkish massacres. Hunchak and Daschnak, organized in 1885 and 1890 respectively, had worked to develop a national consciousness and pressed for liberation from the Ottoman Empire. The minor Kurdish massacre of 1894 led to an absorbing parade of Big Power manipulations and was followed a year later by Abdu-l-Hamid's mammoth slaughter of eighty thousand Armenians.
But it was during World War I, when Turkey fought on the Axis side and feared her Armenian subjects as a potential fifth column, that the Armenian massacres reached their height and the phrase "Starving Armenians" found its way into our language. In mid-1915 the Turks went berserk. In one community after another the Armenian population was uprooted, men and women and children were massacred indiscriminately, and those who were not put to the sword either fled the country or quietly starved.
After the war the Soviets took Armenia proper, establishing an Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. The areas that remained Turkish had largely lost their Armenian population. The last large concentration of Armenians to suffer en masse were those in the city of Smyrna, now Izmir. The Greeks seized the town in the Greco-Turkish War that followed close upon the signing of the armistice. When Ataturk recaptured Smyrna, the city was burned, and the Greeks and Armenians were
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