He felt her pull away. She said, “I used to think that the day I left you was the worst day of my life. This is worse, though. You’ve come back and outdone yourself. I’ve wasted my life on these two days.”

“You—”

“Five minutes ago I was yours. I ran down here. What do I see? Investigator Renko.”

“They killed a money dealer in Moscow.”

“What do I care about Soviet laws?”

“They murdered my partner.”

“Why should I care about Soviet police?”

“They killed Tommy.”

“People around you get killed. Max wouldn’t hurt me. He loves me.”

“I love you.”

She hit him. First with the flat of her hand as hard as she could, then with her fists. He stood like a man leaning into the wind and let the pistol hang. He let it slide down his leg to the floor.

“I want to see your face,” Irina said.

She found the switch and turned it on. At once he could see something was wrong from the shock in her eyes. He put his hand up and felt a tender swelling from his temple to his brow. It had ballooned since he had left the bathhouse.

She looked at Ali’s shirt on the floor. The back was soaked through, red as a flag. She unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. He pulled it off and she turned him around to look. He heard her breath stop. “You’re cut.”

“It’s not deep.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

They turned on the bathroom light. In the cabinet mirror Arkady saw that Ali had slashed him from the right shoulder blade down to his belt. Irina tried to swab the blood from his back, but a washcloth was inadequate. Arkady set the pistol in the basin of the sink, undressed and stepped into the shower. She set the water on cool and cleaned him around the long red slice.

His muscles bunched and shook from the temperature of the water, then eased at the touch of her hand on his back. Her fingers found a scar on his rib, and as if tactilely remembering, went to a puckered mark on his leg and then up to a slick ridge in the middle of his stomach, as if he were a map with four limbs.

Arkady turned off the water. He emerged from the shower while she pulled off her skirt and slipped in two steps from her pants. He lifted her up. She held on to his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist and arched herself so he could enter.

She opened herself even as she held him tight. Her mouth was hot. Her eyes were wide, as if afraid to close. Outside they were locked. Inside he traveled to the heart of her. They rocked, his back against the wall.