Volume 1, No. 1

Banquet / Tyrras ... 39 

beside them. It galled Bellamy to observe this group: the police, the victims, and the resident entrepreneur, now with a blade of grass in his mouth, sitting, so impassive, so -- what is the word? So resigned. It was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Vera sat beside him on the steps. With her hands clasped around the shins, her chin resting on the knees, and a Russian crucifix dangling from her neck, she did not look at all what he expected of a KGB agent. He was annoyed at the apparent placidity of these people. Even the cat that had come out earlier, passed by the group and sat down to wait with them. After a while, the cat started licking fervently the same spot on its bib. It's seen this sort of incident before.
"Listen to the nightingales, Bob," Vera said quietly. "Have faith. The Amur Machine Works was not harmed. And be assured that everything that happens is for the best." Bellamy, who had been looking at her in profile,