Zivon traced the time back—and realization struck. That would have been near the time of the first intrusion. Quite possibly the gaggle of women swarming the place had held her off for a bit, but with the return of quiet, she had no doubt seized her chance. “What did she look like?”

“Pretty. Young—perhaps twenty or twenty-one. Blond hair, curly, but wide-set dark eyes. Very Russian-looking, they both agreed. You know what I mean. She spoke no English, so far as anyone recalled, though the reporter said she knew French.”

They paused at the corner near his flat, and Zivon let his gaze wander as the words settled. He hadn’t met such a woman here, he was certain. The lack of English would guarantee that he remembered her, if nothing else did.

He glanced along the row of shops across from him. Mrs. Hamilton’s bookshop, which he had gone in several times. A grocer, by far the busiest of the stores. A yarn shop, outside of which young women regularly sat, knitting stockings and scarves for soldiers.

A blonde had been among them several times. A blonde with curly hair and dark eyes. She’d struck him because she’d not looked quite Western, but he’d told himself it was just his imagination, overrun as he’d been by the matushkas and babushkas at the time.

Apparently, he should have trusted his instincts.

A strong hand landed on Zivon’s shoulder and squeezed. “You are not in this alone, my son.”

Zivon shook his head. “I’m afraid I am, Father. You should all cease any questioning on my behalf at once. The last thing anyone needs is to be dragged into the inquiry against me.”

The hand didn’t move. “We do not fear this woman—or whoever she serves. The Lord will plead your cause, Zivon. Trust in Him. Be still and know that He has this, even this, in His hand.”

Zivon kept his gaze straight ahead. “I feel the need to confess, Father—I do not. I do not know this. I have been reciting it day after day for months, but the truth is . . . I cannot trust. Because He lets His children taste defeat all the time. He let Israel be carried away into captivity time and again. He let them be dispersed all around the world, reviled and scorned. He let a party gain power in Russia that has stated outright its goals of eliminating the need for Him.”

The priest just chuckled. “And there, my friend, is their foolishness. We can never eliminate the need for Him.”

“But you yourself said He may not seek His vengeance for such arrogance in our lifetime.”