"Something very new in Europe," Raf said. "It's Azerbaijani hash."

"Ex-Soviet hash isn't really very good," sniffed Aino. "They don't know how todo it right... . I don't like to sell hash. But if you sell people drugs, thenthey respect you. They won't talk about you when cops come. I hate cops. Copsare fascist torturers. They should all be shot. Do you need the car, Raf?"

"Take the car," Raf said.

Aino fetched her purse and left the safehouse.

"Interesting girl," commented Starlitz, in the sudden empty silence. "Neverheard of any Finn terror groups before. Germans, French, Irish, Basques, Croats,Italians. Never Finns, though."

"They're a bit behind the times in this corner of Europe. She's one of the newbreed. Very brave. Very determined. It's a hard life for terrorist women." Rafcarefully sugared his coffee. "Women never get proper credit. Women kidnapministers, women blow up trains -- women do very well at the work. But no onecalls them 'armed revolutionaries.' They're always -- what does the press say?-- 'maladjusted female neurotics.' Or ugly hardened lesbians with afather-figure complex. Or cute little innocents, seduced and brain-washed by thewrong sort of man." He snorted.

"Why do you say that?" Starlitz said.

"I'm a man of my generation, you know." Raf sipped his coffee. "Once, I wasn'tadvanced in my feminist thinking. It was being close to Ulrike that raised myconsciousness. Ulrike Meinhoff. A wonderful girl. Gifted journalist. Smart.Eloquent. Very ruthless. Quite good-looking. But Baader and that other one --what was her name? They treated her so badly. Always yelling at her in thesafehouse--calling her a gutless intellectual, spoilt child of the bourgeoisieand so forth. My God, aren't we all spoilt children of the bourgeoisie? If thebourgeoisie hadn't made a botch of us, we wouldn't need to kill them."