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I don't take orders from you； the man responded in a huff。 You ought to thank your lucky stars we let you stay here in the bar。
We？ Who do you mean by we？
Us； said the man； holding up his glass for another vodka。 I won't have any more insults out of you； is that clear？ Oh； and by the way； he added； pointing to Tereza's neck； which was wound round with a strand of cheap pearls； where did you get those from？ You can't tell me your husband gave them to you。 A window washer！ He can't afford gifts like that。 It's your customers； isn't it？ I wonder what you give them in exchange？
You shut your mouth this instant！ she hissed。
Just remember that prostitution is a criminal offense； he went on； trying to grab hold of the necklace。
Suddenly Karenin jumped up； leaned his front paws on the bar； and began to snarl。
24
The ambassador said： He's with the secret police。
Then why is he so open about it？ What good is a secret police that can't keep its secrets？
The ambassador positioned himself on the cot by folding his legs under his body； as he had learned to do in yoga class。 Kennedy； beaming down on him from the frame on the wall； gave his words a special consecration。
The secret police have several functions； my dear； he began in an avuncular tone。 The first is the classical one。 They keep an ear out for what people are saying and report it to their superiors。
The second function is intimidatory。 They want to make it seem as if they have us in their power； they want us to be afraid。 That is what your bald…headed friend was after。
The third function consists of staging situations that will compromise us。 Gone are the days when they tried to accuse us of plotting the downfall of the state。 That would only increase our popularity。 Now they slip hashish in our pockets or claim we've raped a twelve…year…old girl。 They can always dig up some girl to back them。
The engineer immediately popped back into Tereza's mind。 Why had he never come？
They need to trap people； the ambassador went on； to force them to collaborate and set other traps for other people； so that gradually they can turn the whole nation into a single organization of informers。
Tereza could think of nothing but the possibility that the engineer had been sent by the police。 And who was that strange boy who drank himself silly and told her he loved her？ It was because of him that the bald police spy had launched into her and the engineer stood up for her。 So all three had been playing parts in a prearranged scenario meant to soften her up for the seduction！
How could she have missed it？ The flat was so odd； and he didn't belong there at all！ Why would an elegantly dressed engineer live in a miserable place like that？ Was he an engineer？ And if so； how could he leave work at two in the afternoon？ Besides； how many engineers read Sophocles？ No； that was no engineer's library！ The whole place had more the flavor of a flat confiscated from a poor imprisoned intellectual。 Her father was put in prison when she was ten； and the state had confiscated their flat and all her father's books。 Who knows to what use the flat had then been put？
Now she saw clearly why the engineer had never returned： he had accomplished his mission。 What mission？ The drunken undercover agent had inadvertently given it away when he said； Just remember that prostitution is a criminal offense。 Now that self…styled engineer would testify that she had slept with him and demanded to be paid！ They would threaten to blow it up into a scandal unless she agreed to report on the people who got drunk in her bar。
Don't worry； the ambassador comforted her。 Your story doesn't sound the least bit dangerous。
I suppose it doesn't； she said in a tight voice； as she walked out into the Prague night with Karenin。
25
People usually escape from their troubles into the future； they draw an imaginary line across the path of time； a line beyond which their current troubles will cease to exist。 But Tereza saw no such line in her future。 Only looking back could bring her consolation。 It was Sunday again。 They got into the car and drove far beyond the limits of Prague。
Tomas was at the wheel； Tereza next to him； and Karenin in the back； occasionally leaning over to lick their ears。 After two hours； they came to a small town known for its spa where they had been for several days six years earlier。 They wanted to spend the night there。
They pulled into the square and got out of the car。 Nothing had changed。 They stood facing the hotel they had stayed at。 The same old linden trees rose up before it。 Off to the left ran an old wooden colonnade culminating in a stream spouting its medicinal water into a marble bowl。 People were bending over it； the same small glasses in hand。
When Tomas looked back at the hotel； he noticed that something had in fact changed。 What had once been the Grand now bore the name Baikal。 He looked at the street sign on the corner of the building： Moscow Square。 Then they took a walk （Karenin tagged along on his own； without a leash） through all the streets they had known； and examined all their names： Stalingrad Street； Leningrad Street； Rostov Street； Novosibirsk Street； Kiev Street； Odessa Street。 There was a Tchaikovsky Sanatorium； a Tolstoy Sanatorium； a Rimsky…Korsakov Sanatorium； there was a Hotel Suvorov； a Gorky Cinema； and a Cafe Pushkin。 All the names were taken from Russian geography； from Russian history。
Tereza suddenly recalled the first days of the invasion。 People in every city and town had pulled down the street signs； sign posts had disappeared。 Overnight； the country had become nameless。 For seven days； Russian troops wandered the countryside； not knowing where they were。 The officers searched for newspaper offices； for television and radio stations to occupy； but could not find them。 Whenever they asked； they would get either a shrug of the shoulders or false names and directions。
Hindsight now made that anonymity seem quite dangerous to the country。 The streets and buildings could no longer return to their original names。 As a result； a Czech spa had suddenly metamorphosed into a miniature imaginary Russia； and the past that Tereza had gone there to find had turned out to be confiscated。 It would be impossible for them to spend the night。
26
They started back to the car in silence。 She was thinking about how all things and people seemed to go about in disguise。 An old Czech town was covered with Russian names。 Czechs taking pictures of the invasion had unconsciously worked for the secret police。 The man who sent her to die had worn a mask of Tomas's face over his own。 The spy played the part of an engineer； and the engineer tried to play the part of the man from Petrin。 The emblem of the book in his flat proved a sham designed to lead her astray。
Recalling the book she had held in her hand there； she had a sudden flash of insight that made her cheeks burn red。 What had been the sequence of events？ The engineer announced he would bring in some coffee。 She walked over to the bookshelves and took down Sophocles' Oedipus。 Then the engineer came back。 But without the coffee！
Again and again she returned to that situation： How long was he away when he went for the coffee？