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Page 90
''The Zionist,'' Marina murmured.
Camilla regarded the Russian speculatively. The knowledge of a meeting between Morgan and Grau might be more valuable than Camilla had assumed. What should she ask for this time?
"What are you thinking?" Marina asked.
That was a question Camilla had learned at a very early age never to answer directly. She answered with a question of her own. "You want to be kept informed about Colonel Morgan's activities?"
"Yes," Marina said. "For the time being, give me daily reports. More frequent, if you can manage it."
"That will be expensive," Camilla said happily.
"I know. I have learned that in the United States, all good things cost a great deal of money."
"Which is another way of saying I am greedy?"
"Of course you are. It is part of your charm."
"What will you do with the information?"
"To use your own bureaucratic phrase: you have no need to know. Now, tell me everything. I have arrangements to make."
"Tonight?" In spite of herself, Camilla was disappointed, and showed it. "I hoped we might spend an hour or two upstairs."
Marina smiled. "What a fine idea. But I had to spend this afternoon fucking a pig. Tonight, business before pleasure. Or, as your own clever people may have said, 'Geschaft vorher cunnilingus.'"

 
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