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southeast, from along the Green Line. There’s a hell of a lot of bricks and mortar between us and the southeast side of the building. Unfortunately, the Riviera Hotel isn’t quite as well shielded as this building, but unless you’re in an eastward-facing room, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”
    Lorraine stood up to inhale the fragrant blossoms of the potted frangipani tree at her side. She didn’t look reassured. “You have a lovely apartment, Conrad. Did you find it yourself?”
    Prosser leaned back in his wicker chair and took another sip of bourbon. “The embassy has it under a long-term lease. My predecessor lived in it, and so did his predecessor, and the fellow before that, most probably. Not ideal from a security standpoint. But you couldn’t find a better view of the Corniche anywhere in West Beirut.”
    “Conrad, please tell me if what I’m about to ask would create a problem for you or embarrass you in any way. But would you mind terribly if I spent the night on your lovely American sofa?”
    Prosser laughed and reached out to take her hand. “Of course not, Lorraine. But why don’t you take my bedroom and I’ll stay on the sofa? I rather like sleeping out here in the salt air from time to time.”
    “I wouldn’t hear of it. But I will accept your offer of the sofa. I simply can’t bear another night in that hotel. There are only three of us on the entire floor, and the other two give me gooseflesh. Thank God Muriel has invited me to stay with her for the next week until Walter arrives.”
    Prosser let the reference to Lukash pass without comment. “I’ll fetch you a towel and washcloth and some fresh bed linens. If you need a toothbrush or anything, help yourself to what you can find in the medicine cabinet.”
     
    * * *
     
    Prosser had not quite passed from twilight consciousness into a deep sleep when he heard the latch on his door click open. Through half-open eyes he saw a silvery glow spread across the wall opposite the partially open door. A slender figure in an oversize white terry robe approached from the moonlit corridor and entered the bedroom.
    “Conrad? Are you awake?”
    “Yes. Is anything wrong?”
    “I couldn’t sleep.”
    “The shelling?”
    “I don’t think so.” She fell silent, as if weighing her words, and sat at the edge of the bed. “Conrad, have I ever asked you whether you’re married?”
    It was his turn to be silent. He rolled over onto his side and faced her. “I can’t recall if you did or not,” he answered at last. “Anyway, I’m not. I was once but not anymore. My divorce decree arrived here shortly after I did.”
    “I’m sorry,” Lorraine replied with the proper note of sympathy. “Do you miss her?”
    “Oh, once in a great while, I suppose. Not as often as I expected.”
    “Are you still in love with her?”
    Prosser looked up at the loose mess of hair spilling over Lorraine’s shoulders and then noticed a spark of anticipation in her eyes. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I ever was. No, I just married her.”
    Lorraine bent over him and placed her palm flat against his cheek. He put his own hand over hers, hodling it there for a long moment before reaching down to tug on the belt that held the terry robe around her waist. It fell open, revealing the glowing whiteness of her thighs and the outlines of her small, conical breasts. She shrugged her shoulders and let the robe slide down her back and onto the floor.
     
    * * *
     
    The sun lit up the borders of the heavy curtains like the corona of an eclipsed sun. When the alarm buzzer sounded, Prosser sat bolt upright and shielded his face from the band of blinding light where the curtains failed to reach the floor. Without opening his eyes, he managed to find the clock and turn off the rasping buzz with a deft tap of his fingers.
    “Good morning,” Lorraine greeted him huskily. She rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her slender hands.
    “Sorry about