That afternoon Christina Radaluć sat in the office of her cousin Alex in Vilna.
“He's gone then?” asked Alex.
“On the morning flight,” she replied. “He has an acceptable story for his editor and he was only too ready to believe our version of events after I'd planted the thought in his mind while he slept. I shall miss Mr. Alan Dexter though, Alex, I really will.”
“I'll never understand you cousin,” said Alex.
“In what way, Alex? What is it that you don't understand about me?”
“You wanted him Christina, I know you did. Why didn't you take him for yourself, keep him here with us, and make him one of us?”
“He was nice to me Alex, too nice in many ways. He gave me something no man has given me in a long time. Respect. He was like a nervous teenager around me, and I loved him for that. A
