City Of Spies. Nina Berry
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Mama. It was Mama’s death that triggered Pagan’s alcoholic spiral, and it was Pagan’s decision to keep drinking for years after that which led to the accident that killed her father and sister.
Mama hadn’t left a note; she’d shown no sign of distress or depression. Pagan still had no idea why she’d taken her own life, why she’d left her two daughters without their fierce, controlling, adoring mother. A mother with her own dark secrets.
Thinking about it made it hard to breathe. But more than anything else, Pagan wanted the answer to that question. All the other terrible events had been her own damned fault. She couldn’t help feeling responsible for Mama leaving, as well. But maybe, if she found an explanation, one corner of the smothering blanket of guilt and self-recrimination would lift.
“By taking the job,” Devin said, “you’ll help persuade the CIA to let you see that file they have on your mother. It may be the thing that does the trick.”
“‘Help persuade’?” she quoted, voice arching with skepticism. “It ‘may’ do the trick? You’re the one who told me to be cautious if they asked me to help them again.”
“Glad to see my warning sunk in,” he said. “And I stand by it. But I know how badly you want to know more. And I’ll be going with you, so I can be a buffer.”
She lifted her head to stare up at him, her heart leaping into her throat. “You...”
“I will act as your liaison to the agency while you’re in Buenos Aires,” he said.
So that was why... “And there’ll be no fraternizing because you’ll technically be my supervisor,” she said.
“It’s not technical,” he said. “I will be your boss while we’re down there, and it’s important that nothing get in the way of that. Your life might depend upon it.”
“You’re such a rule-follower,” she said. “What if the rules are wrong?”
“You’re such a rule-breaker,” he retorted. “What if you’re too blind to see why the rules exist?”
“That’s what rule-makers always say,” she said. “Rules are made to be broken.”
“Rules are made for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men,” he said in an exasperated tone that secretly delighted her. “Guess which one you are?”
She paused. “Was that Shakespeare?”
“Douglas Bader, fighter pilot,” he said abruptly. “Those are the terms of the deal. If you say yes, a script for the movie will be sent to you tomorrow. All you have to do is call your agent and tell him you want the part. The movie starts shooting after New Year’s. When you get to Buenos Aires, I’ll contact you.”
“Hmm.” Two could play at being distant. And it might help keep her sane while she was working with him.
With her heels still dangling from one hand, she stepped carefully around him in her stocking feet, making it clear she was keeping at least an arm’s length between them as she headed back toward the mansion. “I can’t make decisions when my toes are wet and cold,” she said. “Send me the script.”
She paused, turning to look over her shoulder at him. “Maybe I’ll say yes.”
“Very well.” He nodded curtly. The English accent was back, and a veil of formality fell between them. “Say hello to Thomas for me. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“There you are!” a voice called through the moist night air.
Pagan whirled to see Thomas’s golden blond head bright under the low lights of the poolside arcade, moving toward her. “I’ve been wondering where you went,” he said, striding over the grass now. “Are you all right?”
“Remember this old friend?” Pagan gestured toward Devin.
But Devin Black was gone.
Again.
* * *
“Typical Devin,” said Thomas as they sat in the back of their limousine on the way back into town. “How did he look?”
“Amazing.” Pagan shot Thomas a knowing glance. He’d developed a crush on Devin back when Devin was recruiting him to be an agent for the West in Berlin, a crush Devin hadn’t discouraged until the hook was set. “You know how it is when he’s wearing one of those perfect dark suits...”
“His hair gelled back except for that one lock of black hair that falls just so over his eyebrows. Ugh!” Thomas threw himself back into the deep leather seat. “Good thing I’m seeing Diego or I’d be jealous.”
“You’re seeing him tonight?” Pagan had known about Thomas’s preference for men since Berlin, but few others did. He was a handsome young actor trying to make it in Hollywood as a leading man. Pagan thought he was good-looking and talented enough to get to the big leagues, if no one discovered his secret. It was horrible, him having to live like that. But it was a fact of life. Even Thomas’s mother and sister, with whom he shared a small bungalow in West Hollywood, didn’t know.
Thomas nodded. “I’m going to his place after we drop you off. Mother doesn’t expect me until late because of the party.”
“You are...over Devin after what happened in Berlin, aren’t you?” she asked.
Pagan harbored hopes, which she shouldn’t still be harboring. But she tended to do things she shouldn’t.
“Occasional flare-ups of resentment and memories of lust past,” he said. “Don’t worry. I won’t mind if you fly off to paradise with him. You deserve it.”
“Well, it’s better to date a man who’s actually, you know, around. I probably won’t see Devin again unless I take the job,” Pagan said.
Thomas shook his head. “He is the worst tease. But I bet he still likes you.”
Pagan frowned. “He did look very happy to see me. But he made it very clear there won’t be any of that on this trip.”
“The two of you, working together, facing danger in a beautiful city far from home?” Thomas grinned. “There’s absolutely no chance he’ll change his mind.”
Pagan smiled over at him. “I can be persuasive.”
“And you said he knew all about your movie shoot in London, knew you’d been legally declared an adult, had a birthday... None of those things are connected to this new mission of his. He’s probably following us right now.” Thomas turned to look out the back window of their big-finned limousine, half in jest, and froze. “I was joking, but I think the same white Plymouth Valiant was behind us on our way to the party, as well.”
“Very funny,” Pagan said, frowning out the back window. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the 1960 Valiant behind them did look familiar. “There must be a million cars like that in LA.”
“There’s a million of every kind of car in LA,” Thomas said. He’d frequently remarked on the ridiculous number of vehicles populating the city’s roads, but of course anywhere would appear jammed with cars compared to East Berlin. “But how did he know where you’d be tonight?”
“It wasn’t exactly a state secret,” Pagan said without conviction. Devin had posed as a studio publicity executive when they first met, and he’d exercised some kind of power, probably blackmail, over Pagan’s agent, Jerry. He’d also somehow persuaded the judge who convicted her of manslaughter to let her out of reform school more than a year early. “He is a man with a lot of powerful connections.”
“So it’s probably not him following you personally,” Thomas said, turning back to settle into his seat again. “It’s someone working for him.”
“Or it’s just another car heading home on a Friday night.”