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‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
Hannah let out a little laugh. ‘You’re a man of some experience, I should think. Can’t you tell?’
.....
Only now it was getting dark and she had no money, no passport, no options. She could call a friend, as the woman had advised, but Hannah resisted that option. She’d have to reverse the charges of the telephone call, and then explain her awful predicament, and then whomever she called—and no names sprang readily to mind—would have to drive fifty miles to Albany to wire the money, and that money would have to be hundreds of dollars at the very least. Passport fees, hotel stays, food, perhaps even another plane ticket. It could be thousands of dollars.
She didn’t have friends with that kind of money, and she didn’t have that kind of money either. She’d used the last of her own savings to fund this trip, knowing it was foolish, impulsive, everything she never was. Except maybe she was foolish, and stupid even, as that man in Red Square had so obviously thought, because if she had any sense at all she wouldn’t be standing on the steps of the American Embassy, people and traffic streaming indifferently, impatiently all around her, with no place to go, no idea what she could do. Nothing.
.....
