By Philip Kerr
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She sighed and, clasping her hands tightly, pushed them between her knees. ' She shrugged. ' I knew she had one. ' She opened her handbag and took out a pair of glasses and a book and started to read. After a while I managed to sneak a look at the title. She was reading How the Steel Was Tempered by Nikolai Ostrovsky. I tried not to smile but it was no good. ' I nodded at the book on her lap. ' 'In my book the party of not much beats the party of brotherly love every time. The people and the proletariat don't need anyone's help.
No one is safe in Cuba,' she said. ' 'I was safe,' I said, ignoring her. 'Until I tried to play the hero. Only I forgot. I'm not the stuff of which heroes are made. Never was. Besides, the world doesn't want heroes. They're out of fashion, like last year's hemlines. What is now required are freedom fighters and informers. ' 'Then you're doing the right thing,' said Melba. ' 'You almost make it sound like I'm doing something noble. ' 'I don't want to be the coin in anyone's pocket. I had enough of that during the war.
That's where I'm from. And I won't be getting any visitors. ' 'Family? ' 'Then it's lucky for you we gave you a view of the city. ' I went to the window and looked across the bay. Behind me the door banged loudly shut like a cannon going off. I let out a sigh. New York was huge, so huge it made me feel small; so small it would have required a large microscope just to see me. CHAPTER FOUR: NEW YORK, 1954 Castle William was a military barracks until 1865, when it became a detention facility for Confederate POWs, which, to me, made it seem like a home from home.