Unformatted text preview: s than twenty minutes the airline would call his plane. He looked at the ticket. He did not know what he was thinking or feeling. His eyes roved the long concourse, the motley drift of passersby. Luggage, children, round-shouldered staff in uniform. Newspapers in a darkened plastic box. Airports of the world. He could not have told from this place whether he was in Washington, D.C., or Rome. No sparrows. That meant it couldn't be Cairo. But it could have been Frankfurt or L.A. Hindus, Arabs, Japanese passed him. And the countless unclassifi- able individuals who might have been Canadian, American, British, Australian, German, French, how could one know? "Are you there, Yuri? Please go to the St. Regis. Erich wants to talk to you, wants to bring you up to date on the investigation himself. Anton is very concerned." 199 Ah, that is what it was-the conciliatory tone, the pretense that he had not disobeyed an order, not walked out of the house. The strange intimacy and politeness of one h...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10