City of Spies (22 page)

“Thank you, beautiful Julieta,” Devin said, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She did not move her head to kiss him on the lips, but accepted it as if it were her due. “I will not be seeing you again, I think,” she said.

Devin half smiled. “One of your visions again? Did you see my death?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not yet. But I have seen, I think, a vision of your future.” And she looked right at Pagan.

Pagan's eyes became perfectly round as Devin turned to stare at her, too. He looked a little pale.

“As long as his future involves taking me straight back to my hotel room and then going away forever so I can finally get some sleep, that's a vision I can get behind,” she said.

“She is good,” Julieta said, and turned her velvety gaze to Devin. “Better than you.”

He nodded and smoothly kissed her hand. “Thank you.”

“It is we who thank you,” she said. “Forever. Good night.”

And her gleaming brown legs trod lightly up the stairs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tunnels beneath Buenos Aires,
Argentina
January 11, 1962

ATRÁS

To dance backward.

“So your girlfriend has visions of your death?” Pagan said.

She'd kept the flashlight and was leading the way down the tunnel. Devin had made no objection, following close behind. But they weren't holding hands anymore. “That must put a damper on things.”

“You know quite well she is not my girlfriend,” he said. “But Julieta is known to see things that haven't happened yet. As far as I know, she's always right.”

“Fate's a crock,” Pagan said. “Which means prophecies are, too.”

“You make your own fate,” he said. “I know.”

“And you make yours,” she said. “By flirting outrageously with every girl or guy who might be useful.”

“I do my job,” he said, an edge in his voice.

“Kissing is your job?” She couldn't help the jealous arch in her voice. “Did you kiss Thomas when you were persuading him to spy for you? Is that why...?”

She broke off, unable to ask if that's why he'd kissed her back in Berlin. To keep her on his string.

A horrible thought struck her, a thought she hated herself for having the moment it came to her. But maybe Devin had thought she was perfect for the job in Berlin partly because she'd gone all the way with Nicky. Perhaps he thought that meant she could be easily swayed by a handsome face, that she'd be willing to give herself to other men if it helped the mission. Didn't spies often sleep around to get information? That hadn't happened yet, but they'd asked her to flirt with Dieter. Devin himself kissed and manipulated her using his charisma and wiles. Had he slept with people to get what he wanted from them? Had he assumed that now she was no longer a virgin, Pagan would be fine treating herself like a piece of meat?

No, Devin wasn't like that. He'd shown time and again that he valued her for herself.

But maybe at the beginning he'd seen her that way. Tony Perry had said men would only want her for one thing now. Tony was a jerk and a half, but he wasn't the only one to think that way.

Their footsteps echoed against the brick ceiling for a moment as he didn't speak. “Sometimes flirting and kissing are part of the job,” he finally said.

“Flirting, kissing and sometimes more?” she said.

He kept walking but threw her a look. “That's not something a minor would be asked to do.”

She let that sit. So he'd never expected her to sleep with anyone. Or so he said. “You're not a minor,” she said.

He put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled her around to face him. His blue eyes were stormier than usual in the dim yellow light. “Does it bother you—about Thomas?” he asked. “I never kissed him, but I did give him the wrong idea.”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, it's not right to mislead people, but he's fine now and you did it for a good reason. I tried to do the same thing with Dieter and nearly kissed Emma tonight. So it's not like I can judge you.”

“So why does it bother you that I did it with Julieta?” he said. “Yes, she's an old friend, but you know I only wanted her to keep Alaric Vogel at bay while you and I got away safely.”

The words should've made her happy, but she couldn't quite believe them. “You looked like you were enjoying it,” she said.

“I've had worse,” he said with a half smile. “But I'm not a bad actor myself, you know.”

“Oh, I know it all too well,” she said.

His brows rose in realization. “So that's it. You think...” He broke off as some unnamed emotion nearly erupted out of him. She'd never seen him quite so disturbed before. “It's not as if I planned to get close to you, Pagan.”

“Yet somehow you ended up sharing my suite,” she said in her worst snide tone. “You practically killed me when you found me in your bathroom, and later you fell asleep in my bed.”

“Only because you're a stubborn pain in the ass who won't do as she's told!” he erupted, and then checked himself. She could see him mentally counting to ten, and it was gratifying to know that she'd gotten under his skin. But he wasn't the type of man you could provoke into saying he loved you back. He wasn't the type you could normally provoke at all.

He went on. “In fact, my boss was hoping you'd fall for Thomas so we could be sure you'd accept his invitation to Ulbricht's little garden party.”

“You wanted me to fall for a man who likes men,” she said flatly, and quickened her pace down the tunnel away from him.

He followed. “No, that's what the higher-ups were hoping...” He broke off and swore something too Scottish for her to understand under his breath. “I'm not going to be drawn into a pointless argument with you.”

“Yes, my feelings are pointless to you. I understand that,” she said.

She heard his footsteps stop behind her. “This isn't the time or place to discuss it.”

She slowed and turned the flashlight beam toward his feet. His shadow stretched back behind him like a dark ghost. “Did you pick me because I'd been with Nicky?”

His face lay in darkness, but she could distinguish a thunderous frown. “We picked you because the daughter of the leader of East Germany loved your movies, and we knew you'd want to find out more about your mother's past. That's all there is to it.”

He stalked toward her, tweaked the flashlight from her hand and stomped on down the tunnel.

“You never want to talk about anything important,” she said, following him. “It's never the right time or place.”

“And it never occurs to you that there might be something more imperative than your emotions,” he said.

“Yes, it does,” she contradicted. “What about
your
emotions?”

He paced ahead of her, his boot heels echoing on the cold wet brick. “You may bend the world to your will, Pagan Jones,” he said. “But you will not bend me.”

For once she had no reply.

A few moments later, he said, “Here it is.”

The flashlight's ray found a crumbling brick staircase along one wall, going up. As they clacked up it, the reality of all that had happened overshadowed her once more. They were in a secret tunnel beneath Buenos Aires, and she'd identified a Nazi war criminal with radioactive material and clandestine plans to use it in a couple of weeks.

“Promise me one thing.” The words had a hard time leaving her lips, but it was too important to leave unsaid.

“Mercedes told me not to make promises I can't keep,” he said without looking back at her.

“You have to save the animals in that basement,” she said. “Please.”

He exhaled and turned to look down on her, his face unreadable. “I'll do everything I can.”

* * *

Three knocks and a “Romeo,” and Pagan and Devin were walking out of a small café in Recoleta, unsmiling, hands stuffed into their pockets or under their arms against the cold.

Devin left her without another word in the lobby of the Alvear. Once back in her suite, Pagan nearly panicked when she found Mercedes gone, until she remembered that her friend would likely be at the observatory very late.

She went to wash her face only to stare at her sweaty, brick-dust-covered face in the living room mirror. Devin had said it never occurred to her that something might be more important than her emotions. What he didn't understand was that a constant monitoring of her thoughts and feelings had to be her first priority. One slip, and she'd be buying everyone in the Hotel Alvear's bar a drink, including herself.

It did occur to her that he had a lot of things other than Pagan Jones on his mind—the fate of his mission and now a possible nuclear attack for starters. He'd always made it clear that as long as he was her supervisor, nothing truly intimate would happen between them. He was scrupulous that way, and she loved and hated him for it.

Oh, God, she loved him.

Stupid Scotsman.

She walked straight to the suite's bar and drank a large glass of water instead of the martini she craved.

Showered and pajamaed, she was still too wired to sleep. So she practiced her tango steps around the suite's living room, flinging her imaginary partner more violently around the room than the choreography called for.

Mercedes came in after 2:00 a.m.

“You're up late, too. A successful evening?” she asked. She looked tired but happy.

“I guess you could call it that. I saw him. It's Dr. Someone.” She gave Mercedes a quick version of all of the events of the night. Mercedes changed into her own pin-striped flannel pajamas as she listened, and they ended up both under the covers in Mercedes's giant bed, talking.

“Well, I'm glad you're done with this thing,” Mercedes said. “I know you enjoy it at some level, but that Von Albrecht guy is a nutcase. You and I and everyone else on earth are better off far away from him.”

“I've seen what he does with my own eyes and still can't believe it,” Pagan said. “He did that to
people
.”

“Cruelty doesn't need a reason,” Mercedes said.

“It needs to be stopped.” Pagan hugged herself. “Oh, God, I wanted to take that poor dog home with me. But Devin said he'd ask his friends to make sure the animals don't suffer much longer. I just wish...” She turned her head on the pillow to look at her friend. “He said you told him not to make promises he can't keep. Maybe that's why he won't talk about anything with me.”

Mercedes nodded once, lips pursed in thought. “Maybe. Even if he did feel something for you—what could happen? Where could it go?”

“I don't know.” Pagan half sat up, propping pillows behind her against the headboard. She hadn't thought that far in advance. Even if Devin returned her feelings, the long-term prospects were not promising. “There have to be traitors and crazy plots going on in LA,” she said, knowing it sounded weak.

“Maybe he could investigate how the Dodgers screwed over the home owners in Chavez Ravine when they bought up land for the new stadium,” Mercedes said. Her eyelids were starting to close.

“And you had fun at the observatory,” Pagan said. They'd discussed Mercedes adventure there, as well. “I'm so glad the fog didn't affect you.”

“They built it up high for a reason,” Mercedes said, and turned on her side, her back to Pagan. “And I got to see the Southern Cross, a double star system and an arm of the Milky Way. Your Devin guy got me there, so don't be too hard on him,
hereje
.”

Pagan threw her pillow on the floor and closed her eyes to sleep. “I'll be nice,” she said. “Right up until the moment I kill him.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Recoleta, Buenos
Aires
January 12, 1962

BIEN PARADO

Literally, well stood. Standing straight up.

Mercedes picked up the phone when Emma Von Albrecht called for Pagan the next morning. Pagan was already running late for the day's shooting, and took the phone impatiently. “Hey, Emma, sorry, but I can't talk long. How are you?”

Emma's voice came through filtered and tinny. “Oh! I'm so sorry! You can call me back later if you need to. I know you're busy...”

“It's okay. So sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“Are you feeling better?”

Oh, right, the imaginary migraine. “Yes, much,” Pagan said. “But I'm not looking forward to shooting a scene with evil Tony Perry today. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck! And I might have something for you to look forward to afterward, if you're available after dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” Pagan's heart sank. She never wanted to enter that house of horrors again. But Dieter had said something big was going to happen, a lead box of nuclear something-or-other was down in his basement, and for the moment, Pagan was the only outsider able to easily get inside. “I've got some things up in the air for tonight. Why? What do you have going on?”

“Something really fun.” Emma did sound gleeful. “I know you'll enjoy it, but I can't say more unless you promise to come. It's a secret.”

That could either be intriguing or incredibly lame. “Well, I don't think I could stay long...” Pagan said, hoping for more information.

“You can leave any time you like,” Emma said. “But you won't want to, I promise.”

She could always cancel on them later. And the vision of that poor tortured dog kept flashing in Pagan's brain. “I should be done by six or so. What time should I arrive?”

“Just before sunset, seven thirty,” Emma said. “I'm so excited to see you!”

“Me, too,” Pagan said, shrugging at Mercedes's puzzled look. “See you then.”

She set the receiver down. “I didn't think Emma Von Albrecht could keep a secret from me, but I guess she can if she thinks it'll make a nice surprise for me. I wonder what it could be.”

“A cake?” Mercedes said.

Pagan shook her head and put her trench coat on over her dancing togs.

The phone rang again and Mercedes picked it up again. Pagan knew who it would be.

“Hi, Devin,” Mercedes said, eyeing Pagan questioningly.

Pagan shook her head, mouthing, “I'm gone.”

“She left for rehearsal,” Mercedes said. She listened and frowned. “I can't help it if the car's still downstairs. She's not here.”

Dang. He knew she was here, avoiding him. Pagan walked over and Mercedes handed over the phone.

“What?” she said.

“How are you this morning?” Devin asked, as if nothing had happened.

“I had a dream about you,” she said. “Something involving a boa constrictor.”

“How sweet,” he said. “I can't talk much right now...”

His tone changed into almost a warning, and she remembered that they'd found listening devices in the room. Did that mean the phone wasn't safe?

“But I'll pick you up after the shoot,” he finished.

Should she tell him about Emma's invitation now? If someone had tapped the phone, they'd have heard that conversation so...

“I have to go,” he said with a sudden urgency. She heard voices in the background.

“Bis bald,”
he said, and hung up.

She put the receiver down on its cradle slowly.
Bis bald
was German for
See you soon
, and he'd said it to her one night back in Germany. That was the night she'd danced with Thomas, and Devin had told Nicky to stay away from her. The night Pagan had taken a drink for the first time since the accident and gotten fired off her comeback film. That was the night she'd first really thought about being with Devin, about walking up to him and kissing him and pushing him onto the bed and...

Stop it!
Or as that cute girl in the Jewish gang had said,
Para! Para!
Pagan had a full day of dancing with Tony Perry to soldier through before she wrestled, not literally unfortunately, with Devin again.

Pagan arrived only two minutes late to the set at the Colegio, allowed Rada to envelope her in her white dress again for the big embassy ball and found Tony and Victor Anderson whispering with their heads together while the extras practiced.

“Sorry I'm late,” Pagan said, although two minutes really didn't count and she wasn't sorry at all.

“Miss Jones,” Victor said in an acid tone that made Tony grin. “So glad you could make it.”

“Stopped to take a little hair of the dog before she got here, I suspect,” Tony said.

It didn't take Pagan by surprise, but Jared the choreographer gasped. Victor Anderson, however, only frowned and leaned in toward Pagan, as if trying to sniff her. So he was already suspicious, no doubt thanks to Tony Perry.

“How are you, Mr. Anderson?” she asked, breathing out the
H
as much as possible so he could smell the Pepsodent, and favored both him and Tony with her own blinding smile, which only experts could detect as fake. “Tony's such a joker. Too bad he can't stop stepping on my toes.”

It got worse from there. Victor ran them through a rehearsal with the music running and the extras standing around watching. Tony behaved himself the first two times they did it. After that, when Victor began making changes, Tony began to sabotage Pagan.

First he pushed her in the wrong direction in a move they'd done a thousand times, throwing her off beat. Then he shoved too hard on a turn and sent her too far, so she missed grabbing his hand and messed up the whole move. It made her look clumsy, off-kilter.

Drunk.

He was making her nightmare come true—being branded a hopeless, unreliable alcoholic all over again. She thought carefully about kicking him between the legs again, then shoved the thought down into her rage-barrel and rehearsed again. Acting out physically now would be unprofessional. She could get through this. Even Tony wouldn't want to ruin every single take.

Jared walked them through it again in half-time, and Tony was perfect then, of course. But when they had to do it on the beat he let her hand slip through his at the wrong moment on a hold, and she took an awkward extra step.

“Goddamn it!” she yelled, and then held her breath. She'd just screamed on set. She was becoming the raving bitch Tony wanted her to be.

Victor shook his head. “Once more, Miss Jones, and get it right. You're keeping everyone waiting.”

Again in half-time. Perfect. Again to the beat—and perfect.

“Let's roll it,” Victor said. “Before Miss Jones forgets the steps.”

“If she does, she can just lift that skirt and spread her legs,” Tony said.

Pagan's cheeks blazed as Victor laughed. He actually laughed! Two of the grips chuckled, too.

“That's something girls always know how to do, right?” Victor said.

Pagan had heard men joke like this about women before on the set, but it had never been aimed at her. Mama had made sure of that. How did women deal with this without becoming homicidal?

And she was putting up with it to shoot the biggest pile of garbage to ever stink up Hollywood. A movie that, if it made it to the theaters, would only poison the reputations of everyone involved. Pagan was the only halfway big name actor in the ridiculous thing. Her agent had begged her not to do it. He'd even offered to get her out of it.

It was a movie that would die unmourned by anyone but Victor and Tony if for some reason it never got made. The thought made her smile. There was power in doing precisely...nothing.

“Now, Pagan.” Victor got up from his chair as if he hadn't just been joking in the most disgusting way ever and clunked over to her in his riding boots. “Stop fighting Tony on every move. You must learn to surrender.”

“Surrender?” she asked with a savage little laugh. “That's all girls ever do! And it's old, it's square, it's uncool. You're falling behind, daddy-o, so I'll clue you in. It's 1962. The tango is tired. If you want the kids now to dig this picture, we need to modern this puppy up and go from tango to the Twist. This sad little script and your pet boy Tony are Nowheresville.”

Victor looked more confused than angry, as if he was still translating her hepcat lingo into English. “What the hell do you know, little girl?” he said. “Let the adults do the thinking.”

“Adults?” She rolled her eyes. “You're a walking farce, a cliché in terrible pants. I've worked with real directors, people with actual talent. And you are
not
one of them.”

“How dare you!” Victor drew himself up to his considerable height to glare down at Pagan. Too bad he hadn't brought his riding crop, or he could have smacked it threateningly against his riding boot at her. “I'm in charge of this film, Pagan Jones. Not some silly, drunken flibbertigibbit!”

Pagan laughed. She couldn't help herself. Compared to the head of the East German Stasi and Von Albrecht the notorious Nazi war criminal, Victor Anderson was a joke.

“You know what?” she said, still smiling. “I don't feel so good.”

Victor's eyes narrowed. “You wouldn't.”

Pagan put the back of one hand to her own forehead. “I may be coming down with something serious. I hope it isn't the movie set flu.”

Victor's face slowly reddened. “If you do this to me, you'll never work in this town again.”

She patted his arm. “You're cute.”

The extras and the assorted grips and assistants were all watching, transfixed. She raised her voice so they could all hear clearly. “You all can go home for the day. And tomorrow, too.”

She gave Victor one last blinding grin and walked away, big skirt swinging.

“She can't do that, can she?” Tony asked Victor, a desperate edge to his voice. “This is my first movie!”

“You come back here, you little bitch!” Victor shouted after her. “I won't allow it!”

“Fire me, then,” she said, and turned on one foot to look back at them gaping at her in the most marvelous way. “But I'm the only star you've got.”

And she walked out.

* * *

Devin was waiting for her outside the Colegio, leaning against a long black car in his perfect summer suit and his Italian race-car-driver sunglasses.

“Don't you look like the cat that got the cream,” he said, pushing away from the car.

She let her grin take over her face, and did a little tap dance on the sidewalk. “I told Victor Anderson he could get bent and played the sick card,” she said. “I hope he fires me.”

“I heard,” he said, and held the door open as she got inside. “Should I arrange his mysterious disappearance?”

“Tempting.” She settled back into the leather seats of the cooled car. “But he'll disappear not-so-mysteriously from Hollywood soon enough.”

“I have a report to make in half an hour,” he said. “I may get clearance after that to send you home, at which point you could quit the movie and never look back.”

“Send me home?” Her good mood faded around the edges. She still harbored anger and resentment at Devin for keeping her at arm's length, but she didn't want to see the last of him just yet. “But there's a lot more I could do.”

“No,” he said flatly. “You've done what we needed. It's time to let the professionals take over.”

That rankled her. They might not be paying her, but she'd done okay so far. Better than okay. “But Emma called me and invited me over for something secret she says will be really fun. I think I should go.”

“That's not a good idea,” Devin said. “We have no idea what Von Albrecht's keeping in that basement, or who else he's collaborating with.”

“But that's exactly why I should go back,” Pagan said. “They still trust me, so I'm the only one who can get inside without blowing the whole thing. I might even be able to get into Von Albrecht's main office on the ground floor.”

Devin shook his head. “You've endangered your own life enough. Don't you want to be done?”

“No, because it's not done! If you're making a report today, that means they probably won't do anything until tomorrow at the soonest, and who knows what I could find out in the meantime?”

“It's not safe,” he said. “Every time you go there, you risk Von Albrecht getting suspicious. I know you told him that you sought him out because of your mother, but he and Dieter are in the middle of plotting something dangerous. They might get paranoid about you.”

The more he protested, the more she realized she had to go. That poor dog was still down there, and all the other animals.

“It wasn't safe yesterday, either,” she said. She hadn't told Devin about the near-fight she'd witnessed between Dieter's gang and the Jewish kids because she'd nearly ruined the whole mission by overhearing it. But Dieter's ominous words about “tomorrow night” kept repeating in her ears. That tomorrow night was now tonight. “And the clock is ticking. January 30 and whatever Von Albrecht has planned isn't far away. The sooner we know what he's doing, the sooner I can be done.”

“What if I asked you, as a personal favor to me, not to go tonight?”

He was serious. He really didn't want her to go. For some reason that was upsetting.

“You wouldn't,” she said. “Because you know better.”

“I don't want anything to happen to you,” he said in the same flat voice that gave nothing away. But she wanted to think that his words were telling. “You've done more than your share already. I told Mercedes I'd do what I could to keep you safe.”

“No one is ever safe,” she said. “And you can't make me safe by squashing me down, telling me what to do.”