“Okay.”

“That’s all.”

Cameron stood up. “Thanks.” He went to the door. “Could we discuss this some more, Florence?” he said. “Maybe over dinner?”

“No,” she said firmly. Then, just in case he had not got the message, she added: “Definitely not.”

He went out and closed the door. Warsaw! On balance, he was pleased. It was a foreign posting. He felt optimistic. He was disappointed she had turned down his invitation to dinner, but he knew what to do about that.

He picked up his coat and went outside to his car, a silver Mercury Capri. He drove into Washington and threaded through the traffic to the Adams Morgan district. There he parked a block away from a storefront massage parlor called Silken Hands.

The woman at the reception desk said: “Hi, Christopher, how are you today?”

“Fine, thanks. Is Suzy free?”

“You’re in luck, she is. Room Three.”

“Great.” Cam handed over a bill and went farther inside.

He pushed aside a curtain and entered a booth containing a narrow bed. Beside the bed, sitting on a plastic chair, was a heavyset woman in her twenties reading a magazine. She wore a bikini. “Hello, Chris,” she said, putting down the magazine and standing up. “Would you like a hand job, as usual?”

Cam never had full intercourse with prostitutes. “Yes, please, Suzy.” He gave her a bill and started taking off his clothes.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” she said, tucking the money away. She helped him undress, then said: “You just lie down and relax, baby.”

Cam lay on the bed and closed his eyes while Suzy went to work. He pictured Florence Geary in her office. In his mind, she pulled the green sweater over her head and unzipped her plaid skirt. “Oh, Cam, I just can’t resist you,” she said in Cam’s imagination. Wearing only her underwear, she came around her desk and embraced him. “Do anything you like to me, Cam,” she said. “But please, do it hard.”

In the massage parlor booth, Cam said aloud: “Yeah, baby.”

• • •

Tanya looked in the mirror. She was holding a small container of blue eye shadow and a brush. Makeup was more easily available in Warsaw than in Moscow. Tanya did not have much experience with eye shadow, and she had noticed that some women applied it badly. On her dressing table was a magazine open at a photograph of Bianca Jagger. Glancing frequently at the picture, Tanya began to color her eyelids.

The effect was pretty good, she thought.

Stanislaw Pawlak sat on her bed in his uniform, with his boots on a newspaper to keep the covers clean, smoking and watching her. He was tall and handsome and intelligent, and she was crazy about him.

She had met him soon after arriving in Poland, on a tour of army headquarters. He was part of a group called the Gold Fund, able young officers selected by the defense minister, General Jaruzelski, for rapid advancement. They were frequently rotated to new assignments, to give them the breadth of experience necessary for the high command to which they were destined.