Rachel nodded shakily. She was on the short side, curvy and soft-looking, with straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The sort of hair that would easily part if you ran your fingers through it. Her eyes were a deep and warm brown, and her mouth, though on the small side, boasted finely shaped lips. Though not beautiful, she was pleasant to look at, even when, as now, her face was tight with tension and fear. She wore a brown dress that covered her from neck to ankle and was too warm for the season. But maybe she felt it afforded her some protection. I could understand why she would want to believe that.

I had first met her a week earlier at Greta's Café. We sat over coffee and she told me of her problem. Three weeks before, a man had appeared one evening at her restaurant. It was near closing time, and he had been the last customer. When he'd finished his beer, he took the empty glass with him and came toward where she stood behind the serving counter, tidying up. The man—he told her his name was Yuri—informed Rachel that instead of him paying for the beer, she would be giving money to him.

"Or bad things will happen," he had warned her, "to your place and to you. Understand?"

"But I didn't understand," Rachel Weiss had told me at Greta's. "I don't know why, but his words didn't register with me. It was like he had just told a very bad joke, and I didn't know how to react to it."

Partly it was his appearance. He was of unimpressive height and build, with a face so bland that, though he kept his eyes constantly narrowed and spoke with a sneer, he simply did not look tough or threatening. There was also the fact that his voice was high-pitched, verging on whiny. Said with that voice, his words inspired not fear but ridicule.

Yuri must have read something in Rachel's face that enraged him, because his expression turned ugly and, without warning, he hurled the empty beer glass at her.

"He didn't hit me," Rachel Weiss said. "The glass flew just past my left ear—" she raised a hand to within two inches of her face, showing me how close it had been "—and shattered on the wall behind me. After that, I no longer found him ridiculous. Now I was terrified of him."

She paid him what he wanted, without hesitation or argument. She could hardly think straight with the fear that had gripped her.