excerpt
VOLGA RIVER, JULY 17, 1974
“She’s madder than a hornet, and she’s calling for your blood,” teased Marty. He ducked out of Hank’s way. It was lunch time on the morning after Hank had found Lona’s mysterious black book. “I guess she tortured your waitress friend until she confessed.”
“I’ll go find her,” Hank muttered. “I don’t want Chopyk or Jennifer to find out. Don’t say anything, okay?”
He didn’t have far to look. They smacked into one another at the door to the dining room.
“You…creep,” Lona growled at Hank, her usual Cheshire cat smile missing. “Now, give me back my book!”
He couldn’t resist one last stand. “Uh…whatcha talking about?” She was about to raise her voice again, when he hustled her down the hall, one hand firmly on her back, until they were out of earshot of the passengers.
“Okay, so I took it. It was a stupid thing to do, but I wanted to know why you’re on this trip—and don’t give me that line about being a student.”
Lona drew herself up to her full height and bristled like an alley cat prepared to do battle. She thrust out her hand imperiously. “It’s none of your business, you thief. I want my book back right now!”
Hank knew when he was licked. “I just …heck, I’d still like to know. I’ll get it for you.” He walked her to his cabin, and she waited at the door, tapping her toe, until he placed the worn black book in her hand. “Come on, Lona. I just wanted to get to know you. Maybe we could still be friends.”
In fact, the book had been a big disappointment—besides a list of Russian names and addresses there were only a few other notes on icons
Manolis Aligizakis 