He had caught his breath, moved past the woman, and was ready to climb the stairs. He wanted to get to his room, lock the door behind him, check the treasure under his arm, and then get out of his wet clothes.

"My name is Tamara," the woman said, stepping toward him and holding out her hand.

Yon quickly tried to dry his palm on his wet trousers and held out his hand.

The woman's hand was warm and soft. She had a nice smile, a clear complexion.

"Yon Mandelstem," he said, brushing away the lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

"Jewish?" she said.

"Yes," he said a bit defensively, taking a quick step up the stairway.

"Not a good time to be Jewish," Tamara said, shaking her head. "Don't look so frightened. I'm not an anti-Semite. I can prove it. I'll be back in two hours.

You can come to my apartment for a drink. Number eleven-six."

"I… I don't think."

"My husband is in Lithuania or someplace that's giving us trouble," she said with a wave of her hand, indicating either that her husband's whereabouts were of no consequence or the location of Lithuania did not matter in the course of human events.

"A soldier?" Mandelstem asked.

"No," she said with a little laugh, advancing on him. "An electrician. So?"

"So," he said, feeling the weight of the load in his aching shoulders.

"So, are you coming to my apartment later?" She was close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. It was warm, a bit sweet.

"Perhaps," he said, turning suddenly and starting up the stairs. "Perhaps another time."

"Won't be another time," she said, shaking her head. "I'm using the apartment of a friend. She's coming back in a few days and I'll have to go. Tonight will be best."

"I'll…"Yon began.

"Think about it," she said, giving him a broad smile and turning her back as she headed for the door.