This article accompanies the fable
From Russia with Love
Kings Cross station
She was a woman on fire, spotted at King’s Cross station – her halo up-piled black and beehived above her head. The pale-faced man with the video camera and the bad teeth – everyone there had bad teeth – followed her across the platform. A killer.
When he got back to the office and looked at his footage he was startled to see that she was glowing, a luminescent halo created by the sun behind her. But she was inside the station. What had Woland not told him?
He wondered if he had a migraine but she saw it too. "It must be something wrong with the camera – we can’t sell this," he shrugged. She felt differently. "Like in the Bible. You know, the burning bush. Phosphorus dust or something like that… She must have sprayed it in her hair? She's stupid enough to do that." "Can drugs have that effect?" he asked. "I don’t know," she said, "but let’s show it to Kirlian and see if he can sell it now that she's out of rehab again. It’s still her after all."
