He agreed to wait a bit and told me to call him tomorrow afternoon. I hung up, paid Mrs. Levinson for the call, and left. Ten minutes later, I was seated at my table at Greta's, with my chessboard before me.

Just as I'd finished setting the pieces, Greta came over to my table, bearing a glass of orange juice in her hand.

"Here. Freshly squeezed, but not cold, I'm afraid. I can stick it in the refrigerator for ten minutes if you like."

"No. It's fine." And it was, pulpy and tangy and luxuriant as it went down my throat.

Greta sat down. "Guess who I saw this morning?"

"Rachel Weiss."

She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. But it was only a matter of time before she talked to you. What did she say?"

"She told me what you did to her attacker's hand. She got quite emotional."

"I can imagine."

"Not the most pleasant conversation of my life. She accused me of connecting her to a violent madman. Did you have to break his fingers?"

"Yes," I said flatly, and was surprised to note that I felt no anger toward Rachel Weiss. A person such as her could never understand me or what I knew had to be done to Yuri. She did not have the necessary life experience. She was not like Mira Roth.

Greta nodded. "That's what I told her. 'If Adam did it, then it had to be done.' I understand she blew off at you. I'm sorry about that. I wish I never gave her your name."

"Don't. I'm glad you did."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Rachel Weiss was in real trouble, and she might have been seriously hurt if I hadn't been there that night. She may not like how I went about it, but I saved her. That's the important thing. That, and the fact that she paid me."

I smiled and Greta smiled back.

"Besides, helping her taught me an important lesson on not being arrogant."

"What do you mean?"

I told Greta about that night. I kept nothing back, apart from the glimmerings of passion I had felt. Apparently, Rachel Weiss had not told her I'd faced two men that night, because Greta's eyes grew wide when I said this. She shook her head a few times while I spoke, and gasped when I related how close I'd come to being bested by Max. She flinched when I got to the part about breaking Yuri's fingers, but told me I did the right thing. That meant something.

We sat for a while, chatting about the way the rationing regimen was turning thousands of law-abiding citizens into criminals; the thousands of Jews pouring into Israel and the many still stranded in European ports or camps, waiting to make aliyah; the heat and humidity of Tel Aviv; and how business at the café was slowly picking up now that the war was over.