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shore. She wanted to get back at him for derailing her life and turning her into a monster. She wanted to turn her life around and leave behind the madness of the State Research Bureau. All I need is a good plan and a way to Bat’s heart, she said to herself.
    Victoria was awake to see the day breaking for the first time in many months. She saw the lake and the trees and felt a sense of beauty and a wish to prolong the experience. The lake evoked tender feelings in her and gave her the urge to burst into song. She wanted to share her feelings with Bat but checked herself; it was too early in the game to rhapsodize about the lake or anything else. She watched him going to the bathroom, towel round his waist, his slippers slapping muffledly, and wondered what he was thinking. Does he know who I am? He reminds me of many men who walk unwittingly to their death, to torture, to imprisonment. Instead of the cold detachment I usually feel after completing a job, I feel unhinged, doubtful.
    On the way to the city they talked sporadically. He let her know that he had enjoyed himself.
    â€œIt can be lonely in such a big house,” she observed, looking out the window at the roadside scenery of market stalls, houses, cyclists and pedestrians going to work.
    â€œI don’t mind,” he said almost absentmindedly.
    â€œMost of your colleagues are married,” she heard herself remark.
    â€œIt is a job they do better than me. I don’t have the time to put in the extra hours in addition to my work.”
    â€œMaybe you have not yet met the right woman,” she suggested, wondering if she was pushing things too fast. He said nothing, and she felt a sharp stab of pain in her breast. Was this outright rejection? She had the giddy feeling of being cast back into the sleaze she was trying to escape. She waited for him to say something about the weather, the road, work, or the statues of Amin, in vain. He kept chasing cars, overtaking them and grinning. In the city, he dropped her off at the Ministry of Works headquarters, and as she watched the car disappear, she was gripped by panic. What had felt like the beginning of redemption the night before had now turned into despair. The blades of violence flashed and beckoned maliciously. She felt herself sinking back into the decay she had just emerged from. How am I going to get hold of him again? How long would this have to go on?
    Victoria came from a well-to-do family of textile importers. Her mother and father used to work together. They had been good parents, ever generous and attentive to her needs. Sunday used to be the highlight of the week. Everybody in the family would dress smartly and head for church, where her parents had special seats at the front, since they were pillars in the local Protestant community. Her father’s family was well read: there was a doctor and a judge. Her aunts had married powerful men. At school she had suffered from a lack of motivation; it seemed as if there was little to struggle for. Her looks proved to be another distraction, as she believed that she was better than everybody else. She found it hard to apply herself to the duty at hand when her looks fetched her so much attention. Discipline became a problem and it was easy to cheat. Her father urged her to work harder, and she lived with the fear that he would find out that she cheated. In between, she dreamed of wealth, a house in the hills, and holidays abroad.
    Then an incident to do with her parents’ business turned her life upside down. Customs officials found a box of rifles in a container of imported fabric. Her parents knew nothing about the guns. Her father was arrested, interrogated, and imprisoned. Expensive lawyers failed to secure his release and the business suffered. Letters of credit were withdrawn. Her mother was threatened and she finally closed the business, with the belief that they would reopen as soon as her husband was freed, since he knew no