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"I don't understand, Yosip." |
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"Lawyer. Attorney. I don't know the word in Russian." |
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Ryerson sighed. "Something like that." |
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"I saw his picture. He is a Jew, I think." |
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Sometimes Marina's anti-Semitism made Joe Ryerson uneasy. Some people thought that he was Jewish, and he wasn't, definitely not. Perhaps he should mention that some time. Make it clear. |
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"His name is Grau," Marina said. "He works for the Canadians who do not like nuclear power." Then with one of the sudden switches of approach Ryerson found so disconcerting, she asked abruptly: ''Why must you go to San Francisco?" |
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He brightened. Did she really want him to stay with her? "It's my job." |
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"I do not like you to go away." She turned her back. |
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Pouting? Bloody woman. She had more faces than a deck of cards, Ryerson thought. "It's what I do," he said, coaxing her to understand. |
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"Then go," she said. "What do I care?" |
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He touched her shoulder, but she pulled away from him. "Go. Go to San Francisco." |
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She would not be placated. Damn her, he thought. He got up and dressed with a sinking feeling in his belly. |
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When he was ready to leave, Marina relented. "Come here," she said. "You may kiss my breasts." After he had done as he was told, she turned her back on him again and said, "Now, good-bye.'' |
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Marina heard the front door close, and shortly thereafter Ryerson's Volkswagen started up. She rose from the bed and walked naked into the living room. From a drawer in an antique desk she withdrew a small notebook. It contained the day codes in effect on Mount Alto. She dialed the number and waited for three rings before hanging up. In two minutes ex- |
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