Thirteen
She left her hand there while we drove two or three blocks. I glanced at her. Her face was very pale, but she didn’t seem to be coming apart at the seams. I had an idea that she was going to be all right.
“Now,” I said, “forget about it for the moment. We’ll just do our work and forget everything else until it’s time.”
She nodded. “All right, Peter.”
We spent the rest of the day in factories, finishing the list before we returned to the office. I turned over the film I had exposed to Shipshev, and then Irina and I drove back to the hotel, followed by Masinov.
“Irina,” I said, “when we reach the hotel, we’ll have a couple of drinks in my room. Then I’m going to tell you that I want to take a nap before we go out for dinner, and send you back to your room. I’m going to slip out
