She could choose any one of them: the small round table in the front window, with its padded bench seat and two curly stools. The armchair in the back corner, under a commercial calendar turned to a lurid advertisement for shirt collars. The straight-backed chair by the radio would afford her a good chance to listen to any news bulletins, if they came on. Even knowing she would hear nothing good, she still followed along obsessively. The hill up from habits, as Porachins said, was slippery.

There were many seats she could choose that were not next to Makricosta. But like Grafton’s, he was a relic. A piece of the world the rest of them had lost or been torn from. And their last conversation had been rudely interrupted by a bombing. So she sat down beside him and ordered an aquavit with vermouth.

“Aristide,” she said. “Trying to insinuate yourself into international politics again?”

He jumped when she spoke, but recovered quickly. “Good afternoon, Lillian.” The words bled into one another, and she realized he was drunker than he appeared at first glance.

“Really,” she said. “What are you doing drinking at Grafton’s?”

“It’s close to my hotel,” he said, and finished what was left in his glass. “I didn’t know it was your spot. I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“It isn’t,” she said. “My spot, I mean. Just near my house.” She hadn’t realized he was in the neighborhood. But then, had she ever asked where he was staying? She had been juggling so much, perhaps that particular piece of courtesy had fallen by the wayside.

“I’m surprised you’re speaking to me.” He winced, and pushed his empty glass away.

“If I weren’t speaking to you, how would I express my disappointment?” She sipped her cocktail without dropping her gaze. “I’ve just been to see Cyril.”

He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “I deserve your twisting that knife.”

“You’re lucky I don’t stick a real one in you,” she said, and heard that she was dangerously close to losing her control. She must be tired, if she hadn’t caught herself before speaking. “Cyril’s lawyer says I ought to be ready for a warrant. They’re looking for that passport. The one you said was—”

“And are they going to find it?”

She arranged her expression into a flawless mask and delivered the scripted line. “I never saw the thing. They’re welcome to search the house. Both houses. For all I know, he burned it.”