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| − | '''Yesterday, Weber Ave, Trenton, NJ, USA'''
| + | Tourists from Moscow |
| | | | |
| − | Janice York opened the door and smiled. "Hello Leonard, how are you today?" While slightly shorter than the gentleman she greeted, their eyes were level as he moved a step back and down on her brownstone back entry. "Please ignore the apron! I'm trying to clean this stove since the landlord's goons can't seem to find the address." Brushing her straight blond hair back before realizing she still had oven cleaner on it, Janice added. "How can I help you?"
| + | Firenze, Italy |
| | + | January, 1962 |
| | | | |
| − | Leonard's smile seemed to help Janice relax; her arms lost a little tension and she wasn't holding her self quite so posed, he thought. "I'm doing well today Mrs. York. Very well thank you." He looked at her eyes, blue as a clear sky and bright as he remembered them. He had seen them puffy from tears and bruised once when something happened she never talked about. But he remembered them as bright blue, honest and inviting. Smiling, again, he cleared his head and said "I wonder if I might have a word with you about the next few months? Since Billy's not home this seemed like the perfect time to talk with you about a...special matter."
| + | “You have got to be kidding!” Kathy said, looking at the small bed. Carl had put their bags in one corner and had just opened the large wooden shutters. |
| | | | |
| − | Janice paused for a moment before opening the door wider. "Whoa girl!" She thought to herself. "He's an accountant. Not quite the adventurous type. Has he finally noticed you?" Unconsciously straightening her apron and then finally remembering the door was still only partially open, she nervously jerked it all the way back. "Of course, any time...Leonard..."
| + | “Madame does not like the accommodations?” He smiled. |
| | | | |
| − | Nodding and smiling, Leonard stepped into her small kitchen. Loosening his tie just a little, he said "You mentioned something about an oven? Perhaps I can give it a look?" Without waiting for an answer, he unbuttoned his jacket and carefully draped it over the back of the tallest of the pair of chairs. Kneeling, peering into the dark recesses of boiled over casserole and unsteady Christmas turkey from a couple years ago, Leonard made a few "tsk...tsk..." comments before looking back at Janice.
| + | Kathy looked at the bed, with it’s clean sheets pulled down and several heavy down blankets at the foot. “Madame wonders where Monsier will be sleeping.” |
| | | | |
| − | Somehow, though he had know she was right there, it still made his heart move a little faster. Like him, she was in her early 30s and like him, trim. Her straight blond hair contrasted with his short black crew cut. Not the raven black of the Hapsburgs, he occasionally reminded himself, just the ordinary black of an ordinary guy. She was his maid occasionally, when she wasn't pressing suits at the Upper Ferry road laundromat or cleaning offices down in the Freight yard district.
| + | Carl lit a cigarette and blew smoke out into the cool evening air. “You are I are newlyweds, Kathy, how are we going to convince our hosts that our marriage is well on it’s way to making lots of bambini if I sleep on the couch?”He smirked as she made a wry face at him. |
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| − | "Um...excuse me..." Moving around to the other side of the open oven door, Leonard smiled...a little... "In my right jacket pocket is a catalog, Mrs. York, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Let me take care of this for you, it will only take a little bit. Look through the catalog and then we can talk about what I have in mind."
| + | “You’re sick, you know that!” Hitting him with a pillow, she grinned. “You want deformed kids or what?” |
| | | | |
| − | With an industry born of wanting to keep himself focused, Leonard did the two hour oven job in about 45 minutes. His sleeves were dirty, if his shirt wasn't totally ruined from the grease and cleaner. Janice had looked at him oddly a few times and skimmed through the catalog as he asked.
| + | “Hey!” Carl said. “Watch the smoke! If we burn the place down it’ll come out of our pay.” |
| | | | |
| − | When Leonard pronounced the work "Done!" and started to clean himself up, Janice perked up. "Here, let me clean that for you!" She said, and started to unbutton his shirt.
| + | “Yeah, you’re right.” Kathy said. “I’m not sure our new boss would like it much if our first work for him involved a torched Italian Bed and Breakfast.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Mom, I'm home!" Billy yelled as he barreled in through the back door. He skidded right into Janice and Leonard before he could stop, his eyes wide open. "Uh..." he gulped. At thirteen Billy had already learned some things from the other boys in school. Things they had learned from their dads or older brothers. Seeing his mom undressing Mr. Leonard still looked...weird...
| + | “Yeah, especially if we don’t get bed or breakfast! Lucia cooks some great food, Kathy. You better watch yourself or you’ll gain more on one vacation than you did in four years of college.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Uh..." Billy continued.
| + | Kathy joined him at the window. Looking out at the city; she was taken by the warm light and snow covered roof tops. “It is beautiful, Carl. I can see why you came here.” |
| | | | |
| − | Gently moving her hands away from him, Leonard smiled at Billy and said. "Good to see you sport! How's baseball practice coming?"
| + | “This very room, Kathy. That very bed.” He grinned. “Probably those very same sheets, but with a bit more starch.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Baseball's over, sir. Our team came in last." Watching the older man button up his shirt, Billy turned red.
| + | “That’s still sick.” Kathy grimaced. “How come we can’t find a better legend than newlyweds?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Alright, Billy, your mom and I were going to talk first before you got home, but I think you're man enough to take this discussion." Picking up the catalog, he continued "Here, take a look at this. What do you think?"
| + | Carl went over to the old record player and put on a waltz. “Dance with me, Missus Luxford?” |
| | | | |
| − | Flipping through the catalog, Billy lit up. "Wow, Burpees! I haven't seen one of their real catalogs! We always get them after the season is done."
| + | “Can you dance? I don’t remember that in your file.” |
| | | | |
| − | Nodding, Leonard took a serious tone. "Billy you're right. That's the seed catalog for next season. You've spent the last three years tending my garden to my specifications." Putting his hand on the boy, he continued. "As one man to another, I'm proud of how you have worked for me and I think it's time you step up to the goal."
| + | Taking her gently, Carl led around the record player. “Not as well as you, I am sure. Didn’t you have dance lessons as a kid? I know you took ballet, but wasn’t there something on you about a debutant ball and a certain lovely teenager being the center of attention?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Goal? You mean plate, right?"
| + | Kathy blushed. “You read too much, Carl.” Her head rested lightly on his shoulders and her tone lowered. “My brother Mike made a special trip to come back there for me. He was way too old to be there. Of course,he was way too good looking and too good a dancer for the other girls not to be insanely jealous! Probably one of the most delicious moments of my teen years.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Billy!" Janice exclaimed. Having regained her composure while Leonard spoke to Billy, she was still a little lost about what was going on.
| + | “I...I’m sorry I never got to meet him.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Plate...right! Step up to the plate." Looking Billy in the eyes was tough, Leonard had seen those eyes cry a few times too. Five times, in fact. Five times in the three and a half years they had been neighbors. Billy didn't talk much about those times either, but Leonard wasn't sure Billy was ready to talk about those things yet. At least not man to man.
| + | “You would have liked him.” Kathy said quietly. “I think he was my ideal man growing up. Dad was good, don’t get me wrong. But I never really understood dad as much as I did Mike. We talked about everything and everyone was so proud of him all the time.” |
| | | | |
| − | "Billy, I want you to take my vegetable garden and come up with something. If I'm here I'll eat my fill, you and your mother can have whatever grows otherwise. Last year's corn was delicious, so I might request a little of that. Otherwise, you're on your own. You pick the seeds, I'll leave money with your mother to order them, and you work the land." Patting the boy's shoulder, he finished. "What do you say, Billy, are you up to it?"
| + | “Hard to live up to as a sibling?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Wow mom, can I? Please?"
| + | “Some, but not a lot. I mean, he was awesome and all but I never knew enough details to measure against.” |
| | | | |
| − | Looking at Leonard with a bit of an arched eyebrow, Janice replied. "Mr. Leonard and I will talk about it. You need to go to your room and do your homework. No!" She exclaimed "The catalog stays with me until your homework is done. Now off!"
| + | They danced around the room quietly for a while before Kathy spoke. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about dad. I’ve read his file but there’s a lot I’m not cleared for. Anything you can tell me?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Yipee!" echoed down the short hallway as Billy unfolded the couch that was his "room".
| + | Carl stopped. “Let me change the record. There was an old copy of La Traviata here, I think. We can sit and chat; my dancing legs are out of practice.” |
| | | | |
| − | "He won't get any homework done, you know." Leonard said quietly.
| + | “Oh...thanks...” Kathy grimaced. “Nice title. Are you saying something to our hosts?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Look, Leonard, I know you mean well and we appreciate the help." Biting her lip Janice pressed the point a little. "You pay me to clean your house and everything is just the same as it was when I cleaned it the week before." Looking up at him now, her eyes glistened moistly. "I don't understand. I know your clients in the City make you work all hours for weeks on end and you seldom come home. I have my pride, Leonard, at least a little. You don't need me to clean your house and you don't need Billy to work your garden. Why not spend the money on yourself?"
| + | “No, it’s Lucia’s favorite. I think they get a little, excited whenever it’s played. They may assume we have the same intent.” |
| | | | |
| − | Leonard's breath rasped a bit as he put his suit jacket back on. He looked at each button as he slowly put it through the proper hole and straightened it just so. He was not going to tarnish her reputation leaving her house dressed any differently than when he entered.
| + | “I still say you’re sick.” Kathy sighed. “You flirt with half the women in Moscow while parading around as a carriage driver and then make rude comments to me! I would have thought mom taught you better!” |
| | | | |
| − | His eyes were moist, too. Lightly pressing his thumb to her chin, he felt the shock of the touch. "Because...because...just because, Janice. Isn't that enough? It makes me very happy. Can we just accept that?"
| + | “She did.” Leo smiled. “Consider it a character defect. I’m sure there are some tangled knots in your genes I could find out about.” |
| | | | |
| − | Janice didn't say what she was thinking, he could tell. Retreating to the doorway, straightening his tie, Leonard said "Thank you Mrs. York. I hope the oven works better for you now." Tight lipped and with longing eyes, Leonard stepped out and away.
| + | “No dodging the question!” Kathy held up a finger. “I read about the attack on him in Paris a few years ago. I thought he was such an anti-communist that going to France was insane, but he went anyway.” |
| | | | |
| | + | “Yeah, that was kind of funny. Back home he’s crucified for being a communist and in Europe he’s attacked for being anti-communist. You wish McCarthy could talk to his buds in the Kremlin so they could get their stories straight.” |
| | | | |
| − | * * *
| + | “So what happened in Paris?” |
| | | | |
| − | Leonard gingerly brushed his hair and then once more checked the toilet bowl to ensure there was no residue. That morning's telegram, burned, crushed, and flushed, told him enough to know he'd be out of town for a few weeks, at least.
| + | “Well, the official story is that some Polish thugs wanted to kidnap the wife of an American diplomat for money. The operation, of course, cost a lot more than the story let on. The fact that at least a few of the men spoke very good English didn’t make the papers.” |
| | | | |
| − | His small valise packed and with a new shirt and jacket on, he stepped out onto the dark street and smiled when he saw the neighbor's living room light was dim but on. Walking the few blocks to a diner, he called for a cab and enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee while waiting.
| + | “I didn’t see that in the file. Who told you?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Rosa, this is excellent! Why do you save the best for late in the day?"
| + | Leo lit another cigarette. “Remember the tourist that picked up a gun from one of the guards and shot the kidnappers?” |
| | | | |
| − | "For you, Mr. Leonard, I will always make fresh coffee! Tu sei il mio cliente preferito!" Rosa said in her thick Tuscan accent.
| + | Kathy nodded, and then her eyes went wide. “I thought he died?” |
| | | | |
| − | Smiling, knowing he could not reply here, he said "I'm sorry? Did I say something wrong?"
| + | “Officially, yes. School teacher in Brighton.” Carl stretched unconsciously. “Unofficially it was a lot closer than most people want to come.” |
| | | | |
| − | Rosa just shook her head and tsk'd him. "You should get out, Leonard! See the world! When the American's came to Lucca, I was there! They were so grand then, my friend! And so handsome!" Winking, she added, "You are handsome too, Leonard. Why are you and Janice not seeing more of each other? If I were a few years younger perhaps you and I would be talking much longer, eh?"
| + | “So who do you think it was?” |
| | | | |
| − | Thankfully draining his cup as the cab arrived. Leonard tipped his usual extra bit. "Again, thank you for the coffee, Rosa, and thank you for letting Mrs. York and remain just friends. I'm sure you can keep a gentleman's honor sacred, can you not?" Smiling, he added. "And besides, business never lets me see much of anyone. Thank you Rosa!"
| + | “Sadly, American business interests. We’re still digging up the whys and what fors, but dad has a reputation for doing the right thing and not necessarily the most profitable thing for American businesses.” |
| | | | |
| − | * * *
| + | Kathy digested that for a few minutes. “How does that play for you?” |
| | | | |
| − | "Carl Lunsford, the 22:30 flight, miss?" Smiling, straightening his jacket after several cab, bus, and train changes, he waited patiently for the very attractive young lady to find his tickets. "Yes sir, right here. You have half an hour before your flight, is there anything you would be interested in?"
| + | Carl shrugged. “On the record, my Rubicon is the national border. Upstairs has always had me work outside our borders and for the most part that makes my cover easier.” He went to the small grate fireplace and started to assemble tinder and kindling. |
| | | | |
| − | Her eyes were looking him over and seemed to appreciate what she saw. "The Captain's lounge is empty this time of night, sir. Your ticket does offer you special privileges..."
| + | She waited, until he had a fire started and had moved back away from the fireplace. Kathy said quietly. “And off the record?” |
| | | | |
| − | Reaching out, putting his thumb gently on her chin, he said quietly, "You deserve more than half an hour...Susan...Perhaps when I return we can ...talk."
| + | Carl looked at her. “I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.” |
| | | | |
| | + | Kathy nodded. “I...my career means a lot to me, Carl. But I want you to know...” |
| | | | |
| | + | “Shh...I know.” He gave her an evil grin. “You’re an old woman compared to this young guy and yet you are willing to throw away such a stellar career?” |
| | | | |
| − | * * *
| + | She hit him with another pillow. “Careful, kiddo, or you’ll be sleeping out on the roof.” |
| | | | |
| − | '''Spring, 1953, via del Pilastri, Firenze, Italy'''
| + | === NYC Airport === |
| | | | |
| − | The letter lay half open where it had quietly fallen. The small room, with a mattress propped up on one wall and an easel perched near the open window, seemed poundingly silent as the young man tried to regain his world.
| + | La Guardia Airport |
| | + | Feb 1962 (Did La Gaurdia exist then?) Were there palces to get coffee? |
| | | | |
| − | "''Son, with a mother's well meaning love I wanted to shield you from this. However, things will be said in the news, soon. I wanted you to hear it from me first. When you were little I told you your daddy was a soldier and you looked so good in the little uniform I made for you that I could not bear to tell you the truth. Later, I told you your daddy was killed by the Germans and thus one part of my life seemed easier.
| + | Carl escorted Kathy to her connecting flight. Amid the bustle and noise of the people traffic he felt oddly happy. Work in Moscow had gone well and he knew the new bosses would be impressed with the team they had formed. There would be some changes, he was sure. THe team members were good in their own skills but for what seemed to be happening there needed to be more jell. |
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| − | I have worked hard to give you the best home I could. Between the hard work here and jobs I've had to find to earn money for us, I know you will wonder how we had the money to send you to study art in your favorite city.
| + | He and Kathy had jelled quite nicely. Flying out together from La Guardia he had reverted to his usual quiet observant self. It was a good mode for gathering information but lousy for sharing legend details and learning about someone you should have known all your life. He hand't quite figured out why the stress caused so much hesitation. At least not at first. He and Kathy had talked about it in Firenze; some over wine and come over capucci. |
| | | | |
| − | How I wish I was there with you! I know you've dreamed about this day forever and you've worked hard to make it come true. I am so proud of you.
| + | Kathy had enjoyed Firenze and he had enjoyed sharing it with her. There wasn't much he held back from her, now. WHich might be a mistake at some point in time but for the here and now Carl really didn't care. he was happy. |
| | | | |
| − | Back here in Ann Arbor, it's hard to get a good paying job and to have people look at you like you're somebody. When someone comes along and pays attention to you, well...you're old enough now to know how life works.
| + | "We're here." Kathy announced. "Hopefully my bags made the change. I have an hour or so before the flight boards, want to grab something?" |
| | | | |
| − | There is a man in Bonn, Germany. His name is Theodore Kagan. He is happily married and works for the State Department. There are people in the government here who are saying bad things about Theo, things that I know are not true.
| + | "Well, the coffee won't be the same here, that's for sure." Carl laughed as they headed for the bar. |
| | | | |
| − | Theo is your father. He and I agreed to part ways before he know you were to be born. You were so tiny and cute that I wanted you all for myself, and I didn't want to hurt Theo. Later, as his career in the State Department took off, he married a wonderful lady and they have a happy family.
| + | "I'll doub I'll drink a cappucino the same ever again, Carl. It was a wonderful trip!" She looked around, like she always did. Grinning, she said. "FOr a point, hair color of the flight attendant at the desk behind you." |
| | | | |
| − | Somehow Theo found out about you. He has been sending money for years, and I have been saving it for you. The father you never had has provided for you, son.
| + | They had started this game on the way to Moscow. "Black. Too black for the skin age, so died. Nice smile though." Carl stepped around Kathy's side so there positions were reversed. "For a point, how many children does she have?" |
| | | | |
| − | I do not know what else to say. Your father is a man of integrity, son. I know you really wanted a dad when you grew up but life gave us a hard deal to play. Please believe me when I say Theo is not the man those others are saying. He is kind, gentle, honorable, loving, and most of all, honest. Qualities I know you believe in, son.
| + | "OOhh...good one! Let me think." Kathy seemed to scan the air for a moment. "Five. Two in April but not twins, on each in June, July, and November." |
| | | | |
| − | I wish life were better, but here we are. | + | "Excellent! For that you get an extra half point for knowing the gem colors. I always get them confused." |
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| − | With all my love''"
| + | Kathy gave a slight bow. "Age has its advantages." |
| | | | |
| | + | Carl raised an eyebrow. "Earlier chances for bifocals?" Sipping his coffee, he said. "Is that how you made it through such a tough college?" |
| | | | |
| − | * * *
| + | "That and a little, um, applied psycology. WOrks lke a charm." |
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| − | '''Fall, 1957. Rock Creek Park, Washington DC, USA''' | + | "Wasn't that more 'deviant psycology' and 'manipulation'? I'm sure that's what they called it when I was in grade school." |
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| − | The body was arranged properly, it seemed. Given the heat of the season and the wild animals in the area, a drunken partier who fell and cracked his head would be one line in the obits. Assuming they found him before too much was gone.
| + | "Hey, I've been meaning to ask." Kathy swirled her coffee in her cup. "Why didn't you finish school? I've seen your scores; you would have had a full scholarship to about anywhere you wanted to go." |
| | | | |
| − | Removing his gloves the killer gently walked away, leaving no traces. One does not live in Machiavelli's home town long without learning real politics, he thought to himself.
| + | "Chalk it down to character defect." Carl shrugged. "I wanted to see the world, mom let me have the money, and I found myself in Firenze learning to paint better." |
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| − | Appreciating the dusk colors, as he regained the trail, the man seemed nervously content. "False testimony is not appreciated, sir. You are held accountable for your actions and the pain you have caused an honorable man", he thought to himself.
| + | "Nice job of it, from what I've seen. Your faces and hands seem very realistic." |
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| | + | Carl bowed his head. "Thank you. I have had good models and to be honest, you get a lot of flack if you're a foriegner in Firenze and tell people you are a painter." |
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| − | * * *
| + | "Understood." Kathy smiled. The sat for a while and talked; he was going to go back to the boat and decompress for a while, she would go make the reports. The set up frequencies and schedules to call, and slowly finished their coffee. |
| | | | |
| − | '''December, 1953. Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA'''
| + | "My boarding time in trhee minutes." Kathy looked to the board. "Carl, I really enjoyed working with you and reall enjoyed the vacation. I'll have to take you back home sometime." |
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| − | "I..." The older man seemed at a loss for words. | + | "I look forward to it." He lowered his voice. "Different legend though, otherwise I think your mom would kill you!" |
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| − | The younger man silently sobbed; his overly large P jacket and ill fitting jeans a serious divergence from the two other the mourners, earlier. Hugging himself, he just looked at the new mound of fresh dirt.
| + | "Oh yeah...no worries there! I would not survive bringing home a husband with no advanced notice." |
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| − | "Listen...I know this is not a good time to talk. Please, there is a motel room for you near the airport. I'm staying there too, and we can talk...please?" | + | Carl smiled as Kathy hugged him. "See you soon, sis." He whispered. |
| | | | |
| − | Putting a card in the young man's pocket, the older man walked away carrying a load of grief he could barely face.
| + | After she left, Carl went to the restroom. He took off the tie and cuff links, stashed his jacket in the back and pulled out a warm sweater and a tobaggan. He took a few minutes to shave off the weeks growth, slicked back his hair, and was back to being Leo. |
| | | | |
| − | * * *
| + | A quick stop by the house to drop off his bags and then out to the Catherine for a week or so of relaxation. |
| | | | |
| − | '''December, 1957. Ann Arbor, Michigan.'''
| + | It was good to be home. |
| − | | |
| − | "To four years." The younger man held his glass unsteadily.
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| − | "One year...son." He still winced when he said it, Kagan thought. And the boy still winces when he hears it.
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| − | "To...us...sir..." The young man lifted his glass yet again. Biting his lower lip, he choked back a sob. "I can not express how much I appreciate what you have done for me, and for my mother. I hope to be able to repay you as best I can."
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| − | "To your mother, an angel unaware." Looking into the younger man's eyes, he saw something...what? Mystery...guilt? "You are a fine man, son. I don't know why life is as it is, but here is where we are."
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| − | The younger man raised his glass again. "To dropped charges." Thus spoken, he drained the goblet in one long draught.
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| − | "To...how did you know? Son..."
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| − | * * *
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| − | | |
| − | '''Christmas Eve, 1958. Bottom of a small and leaky boat off Annapolis, MD, USA'''
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| − | | |
| − | "unnghh..." moaned the rope tied and bloodied form as it rolled in the after effects of an open bilge tank.
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| − | | |
| − | The man not in the bilge was wearing a relatively fashionable dark suit. One that looked like any of the other hundreds of relatively fashionable dark suits you might see in DC any time of the year. Hot weather, blizzards, you name it; some men have to wear suits. Nicely cut suits that often hide bulges under their arm pits, or just off their hip. Wide cut legs for that backup protection every man needs. Or at least wants.
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| − | "See, Sam, I told you he would wake up soon. Didn't I? You owe me a beer for that one. Marco, come va?" Sitting with his rear on the upper step ledge, the man continued. "I'm Agent Sadusky, assigned to speak to you about a matter. Perhaps you can help us out?"
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| − | The bloodied mass rolled over a bit so that one swollen eye might catch a glimpse of the voice. "uunngghhh...hhoouu itps hmmmachoo?""
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| − | | |
| − | Smiling, Sadusky sighed. "Nice try Marco...very nice. Let's clear the air, shall we? You are, of late, Marco Pollazio. That is, of course, not your real name but the one you took after a two year stint in Le Legion Etrangere. Your citizenship is listed as French, naturally, birth area declared as Grenoble to Italian immigrant parents. Which is supposed to explain your effectively native Italian though you studied in Firenze where you assumedly gained the more Tuscan accent of your art instructors. Good so far?"
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| − | | |
| − | Marco, assuming Sadusky was right, didn't say anything. He did, however, try to fend off the nausea as some of the bilge bile mingled with the blood on his tongue. It cost him a moment of trying to work his hands, but Marco forced himself to focus...focus on survival. His body wasn't responding but his mind was churning.
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| − | "Shall I continue? Or do you believe that I have some small clue about who you are?" Pausing, in anticipation, Sadusky continued. "Since we are going for introductions, you may call me Agent Sadusky. Now, in common terms that means I'll have to kill you since you tricked me into revealing my name and rank, won't I?" Splaying his hands in innocent surrender, Sadusky smiled. "What can I say? You are just that good, Marco! Of course, not good enough to fight off the tetrodotoxin that's in your system at the moment. You may be able to fight it off in an hour, no later than three, I'm sure. However, there's one small problem..."
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| − | "Unngghh.."
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| − | "Yes, right, a problem. You should be able to fight off the poison in a few short hours. However, there's a very nasty storm brewing in this area right this minute. You might have noticed that your ship is not quite as seaworthy as one might hope. There's also the matter of a decaying rope that's tied you to the engine block. Not strong enough that a healthy man couldn't break it, but old enough that the decay of it's natural fibres will make it non-evidentiary in a few days." Smiling, Sadusky continued. "See, we're such good friends that I've thought at least about your burial at sea. Well, at bay."
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| − | "hhuugghhyyyy?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Why, of course! You forgot that there's a body in Rock Creek Park, didn't you? Well, there was a body, we did need to make a positive identification. The gentleman and I were not friends, but he did deserve that. Well, not really, but the agents who had been building the case against him really did deserve the closure." Looking down, Sadusky shrugged. "Had he gone to his Soviet task masters when exposed he would have probably gotten the same thing he got from you. There is, however, the matter of taking the law into one's own hands, isn't there, Marco?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "uunn..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Waving Sam away, Sadusky carefully moved down the short stairwell. Holding on with one hand he gently drew a knife from his jacket pocket. Whispering into Marco's ear, he said "We have a mutual friend, Marco. One that I respect deeply. Because of him I will offer you a choice, Marco, but you must decide quickly! I walk away and you take the just punishment for your crime. Or..." Sadusky moved the knife between them "You follow my program to the letter after I use this knife, a knife not unlike one you've used a few times, eh Marco?" Letting the blade smoothly caress Marco's chin he added "I'll use this to cut you free, and in an hour or so you can activate the boats rescue signal there on the wall. They'll find you drunk and without a license to pilot a small craft, but the identification in your wallet will be someone else. You will return to your 'home', and find further instructions. Capisce, Marco?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Pausing just a moment, Sadusky leaned further forward. "Think fast, Marco. I need some work done, things you have done before. We are on the same side Marco! We fight those that would hurt our country...and your father...deal?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Could Marco have shrugged, it would have been a good time for it. As is the faint nod was all he could manage, though some feeling was coming back.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Good boy, Marco, very good." His tone almost jovial, Sadusky leaned out and deftly cut the ropes putting them on the top step. "There are a couple empty bottles of cheap bourbon in the cabin, Marco. You wife left you for another woman and you bought this boat from a guy in Crisfield a week ago. You don't know his name and you paid cash." Pocketing the knife, Sadusky grabbed the rope strands as he put one foot out of the cabin.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We'll see each other again, Marco, I'm sure. At least I'll see you." Tossing the rope strands overboard as he gracefully moved to his own, not leaking one bit, boat, Sadusky smiled. "Game...set...match... Welcome to the real world, Marco..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | * * *
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Moscow, USSR. Present day'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Striking another match while rolling it away from Hank and himself, Leo also lights Hank's Black Russian. The others probably recognize the small technique; taught by the friends at Langley for years as it warms the hands but keep the match lighter out of the initial large glow of the match.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Offering anyone else one, and then moving to the window to observe through the closed blinds, Leo dials through his memory for Volkov. Then for Kozlov, for good measure. "Slim chance", he thinks to himself, but maybe he's seen there names on something, somewhere...
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Good question...Yuri?" Leo thinks to himself, listening to Kozlov's breathing rate and speech patterns. "Use his own words...good..." Mentally musing, Leo looks outside for cars with less snow on them, people idly standing by, the usual things. The Komitet (1) thugs were brutally efficient but seldom subtle. Unbuttoning his heavy coat, Leo made sure his Tokarev was in it's proper place. Pants pocket in case he had to ditch the coat and take another, with a spare magazine in the other pocket. Not being overly paranoid he didn't check the stiletto on the outside of his left forearm, he could feel it's soothing pressure with just a few finger motions. Various other bits and pieces available, but no sense telegraphing everything to the others...
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | * * *
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''DRAFT'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Late night, December 1960. Outside Hillendale Baptist Church, Adelphi, MD'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What's the job?" Leo asked as he sat down at the picnic table.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "No small talk, my friend? No 'Hello, how are you?'" Sadusky splayed out his hands in surrender. "Have you become so work focused that a friend can't just chat?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo smiled at that. "When we first met, I don't think it would meet the classical definition of friendship. I seem to recall some nasty chemicals, a little rope, and a quick decision being made."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Chuckling, Sadusky replied. "You are correct. I am still amazed that you were able to get that boat back to land. You totally blew our drop plan but then again, it worked out nicely. The new paint you put on looks very nice! Very nice indeed. Should I assume 'Catherine' is not some flame, but an old native of Florence perhaps?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo nodded. His voice a little quizzical, he asked "Where are the others? I've never officially met you without a few of your folks hanging around." No mention was made of the few times Leo had unofficially found Sadusky.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Smiling, a little sadly, the old agent replied. "This is personal. Not too many people know, and those that do won't say anything." Looking around, mostly out of habit since the two men were behind a large church on a very dark night. Taking a folded manila envelope out of his jacket pocket, Sadusky slid it over the table. "Remember when someone was snooping around asking about your mother? We didn't know who it was then, the person was fairly good at keeping herself hidden."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Herself?" Leo's interest piqued. "I haven't seen any females in this work outside of old Donovan's biddies, and they wouldn't leave a trace a bloodhound could follow. This gets interesting...French? The Company? Soviet?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Sadusky hesitated. "You know I would remiss had I not read that, and studied it." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Yes, she. No, not one of the old guard. If you were a more full time employee then you would have probably met her; she's made a nice name for herself. Sharp as a tack, tough as nails. Nice future if she watches her step."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo tilted his head slightly. "You're right, old friend. This must be a social call since you're nothing like you used to be."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Sadusky reached out and put his hand on Leo's forearm. "I would profit greatly if you never read what's in that envelope. Ever. Burn it, flush it, and my life is much simpler. However..." taking a deep breath again, Sadusky continued. "I have included a short bio of her, and an offical photograph. You may contact her, if you wish, but..." the steel in his voice returned, the way Leo remembered it. "Think about what you do before you do anything, if you do anything. She is an asset and I would not want to finish the game we started off Annapolis, if such an asset was put at risk."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo put the envelop in his jacket pocket. "Okay, what's the game now? You give me an official bio because?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There's more in there. We found out about a lawyer trying to track down a young man up in Michigan; he came in to one of the field offices asking for help. Naturally it was flagged and we assisted in resolving the problem. It seems the rent on an old safety deposit box had expired and the lawyer was looking for the next of kin. The lady who owned the contents died a few years ago." Sadusky let that register for a few moments. "He handed everything over to us, I assume the bank gave him a small retainer once the work was 'done'. It was a letter that was never sent, as well as a few stocks, bonds, and mementos."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo noticed the emphasis on the work 'letter'. "Go on." He said quietly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Sadusky squeezed Leo's forearm again and stood up. "The stocks are now worth quite a bit, so you're a little more well off than you imagine. As to the letter, I will leave that to your own investigation. At this moment my wife is about to go to bed and I want to get home before she decides this is one too many nights she does so alone."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Walking away, Sadusky stopped, tunred his head slightly back, and said quietly. "If you want to talk, later, call me at the office. We can have coffee somewhere."
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | * * *
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fall, 1961. An older ketch anchored in Crisfield, MD.'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''IMG of the boat: [http://www.nathangreeleyboats.com/images/project%20opener%20images/crocker/crocker6.jpg] With many thanks to Nathan Greeley Boats!''
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | Leo's hand shook as he poured the coffee. He had seen her! Just a glimpse but it was her! Her hair was just so, her eyes penetrating if you looked too long...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Setting the cup and saucer on the rocking table, Leo sat down and ran his fingers through his really too short hair. He wanted to still have her picture but that, like everything else in her file, he had destroyed beyond recovery. Not before memorizing it all, at least what there was. Looking at her was easy, she looked so much like a young and strong mom.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Get control of yourself, man!" he thought. "She won't want to meet you, much less find out anything about you!" Leo took several slow breaths and cleared his head. Talking to himself, not easy to hear as the wind picked up outside, he said "She may or may not want to meet me; I have no idea. She may or may not want to hear about mother. Those are choices she will have to make, and as poorly as I've done my surveillance these past two weeks it would take a blind elephant in the artic not to realize she's being watched."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Picking up yesterday's Journal he went over his stocks. Forcing himself to focus for as long as possible he noted times were good and his investments were growing. If he felt like retiring he could probably manage it in a couple years. That effort lasted all of three minutes before he succumed to looking around at his home away from home. "Doubtless she'll found out about Catherine, and Janice and Billy eventually." With a bit of despair he made some quick notes for his broker and then set about cleaning up the cabin. "If she is going to find me or find out about me, then we'd best make a good impression about mother, shouldn't we?" He thought to himself. "No sense in letting her think her mother couldn't raise at least one child with some decency!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | * * *
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Winter, 1961. A restaurant in Annapolis, MD'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo's hand shook as he poured coffee into the saucer and then drank from that. Looking into Alicia's eyes, over the edge of the saucer, he knew she could see his uncertainty...his doubt.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Older?" He said, setting down the saucer and reaching for a cigarette. "Do you.." he asked, offering her one. She noted the popular brand of cigarettes, popular brand of box matches, old navy P coat, and baggy clothes. They seemed to fit him comfortably, if not well.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alicia kept her face set, but her mind registered the fact: He hadn't known she was his older sibling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Smiling, he lit up and puffed. Trading smoke for time, at least for one more moment. She could see him calming down. Not surprise at her presence, just, nerves?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Okay, old and wise one." Leo seemed to have gotten back to himself and grined. "If there is a protocol for this I'm sure we're breaking all the rules. How have you been these last few decades?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alicia smiled. "I have gone through a lot of work to find someome just like you, perhaps you could be a gentleman and regal me with tales of your past?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Sipping his coffee again, making sure Alicia had whatever she wanted, Leo leaned forward a little. To an outsider it might seem a courtship ritual, but their voices didn't carry far enough for anyone to overhear. Such is the joy of a noisy diner near a major road. "I must say you are easy for me to identify; a picture of you today and a picture of her at your age...there is no mistaking who you are!" Puffing, he added, "Nor is there any doubt which child wold have pleased her more. Radcliffe! What grades! I think my head would have exploded the first semester. She would be proud of you. I am proud of you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Fact:" Alicia noted mentally "no woman will compare to his mother...our mother...in his mind." She might, at some point in time, wonder how that affected his perception of her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "From the beginning? Mom was a hard worker, as I'm sure you know. Dad wasn't aware of me, of us, for some years. I'm not even sure he's aware of you at all. I certainly wasn't until very recently. Dad secretly provided money and I went to Europe like so many young men do. Loved it there, still do. Those these days it seems travel is more business than pleasure. From what I've read you've become quite the skilled...business executive yourself." Raising his eyebrow at her, he smiled.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Fact: He's read some of my file." Alicia kept a running dialogue. "Fact: He's telling me the honest truth...a rare thing to hear these days."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "While in Europe I made some...interesting choices. More on those later, unless you get totally bored to death with what I do say. I found out through a letter about dad, and it wasn't something my young artist's mind was ready for. After a few years of... well... things... I came back. I was a different man, then." Looking at Alicia "In many ways. Father and I have reconciled, mostly. He has a nice family, nice house, nice et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Mom died, I assume you know that? That's what brought dad and I together, at last."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Leo shrugged. "And here we are. I enjoy visiting the Bay area, I sometimes live on an old boat that might sink at any moment, and I travel a lot for my clients." Looking at her and smiling. "And I just recently discovered that I'm possibly not as alone as I used to think. I'm not sure which worry causes me more concern; that the world might end in a war between two super powers or that I may have to figure out how a family thing is supposed to work."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "And you?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | '''Meanwhile, back in Trenton'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Janice glanced sideways at the forbidden door one more time. "May be he meant for me to see inside." She thought to herself. A silent streamer of pure sun edged through the sliver of open space.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Normally closed and locked by word and deed, Janice knew Leonard didn't want her in that room. She had never asked, but often wondered, and he had never volunteered any reason why this door alone must stay shut and locked at all times.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She glanced again, and went back to vacuuming the rugs. "Mister Leonard", as she insisted her son call him, kept a simple house. One or two rugs of Persian style, though they looked to have been bought third or fourth hand, a strict sofa and pair of straight backed chairs took up most of the living room. In one corner, probably the only new piece of furniture Mr. Leonard owned, was a decently expensive record player. Leonard had show her how to operate it; the few dials and knobs meant little to her. But the records he had seemed so strangely inviting that she would always play one when she worked at his house. The names weren't as common as Presley, Sedaka, or Nelson. Like many women her age, Presley had his allure but Janice tried to understand the selection of Vivaldi, Pavoratti, and Bach. After a while she just gave up picking and started from the right side and played one each day. All of the records were pushed into the rack, except the next one she hadn't listened to was just a fraction of an inch out. Surely Leonard wouldn't notice?
| |
| − | | |
| − | Keeping herself far from the open door, Janice played something labeled "The Year 1812, Festival Overture in E flat major". Janice thought Billy should hear this one; it seemed so alive! Or maybe it was just her today. Janice had felt extremely guilty when Billy burst in on her and Leonard, especially when it looked so...adult? Janice mused. Leonard had seemed so in control at that moment, and so close. She had thought about that closeness for a day or so, his aftershave mixed with a hint of oven cleaner gently layered on a freshly starched shirt.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Janice had given that afternoon some thought, and more than once her memory said Leonard was thinking about something he wasn't saying. The way he looked at Billy seemed so, fatherly? "Maybe he had a family and is divorced?" Janice thought to herself. "Or maybe he hasn't divorced, he's here so seldom that he might tell his wife he's away on business and then comes here for...for what?" Janice couldn't really think of what Leonard might stay in Trenton for. Heaven knew if she could find a way out she'd certainly go!
| |
| − | | |
| − | When Leonard had first moved onto their street, the neighborhood ladies had talked about the handsome stranger after Mass for several weeks. His rooms had a garage but he didn't have a car, and he was gone for several weeks every few months. What few pieces of furniture he had seemed to come from thrift shops around the city. She wasn't sure who did his buying, but they seemed to have some taste, if not high quality standards.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then one day he had shown up on her stoop wearing a black suit, tie, and fedora. His accent was middle class, she had thought, though he really didn't seem like the heavy worker type. Not quite from the City, but definitely not from Trenton or anywhere close by!
| |
| − | | |
| − | He had smiled at her. Before saying anything, he just smiled. Billy had been playing in the front yard and Leonard had nodded to the boy as one gentleman acknowledges another. And then he was at Janice's stoop, smiling!
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Mis'ess York?" He had said, as if she were the Lady of the manse. "Please forgive my intrusion on your time. I had inquired about finding someone trustworthy who could help keep my house clean. You come highly recommended! Would you have the time to add my small house to your schedule?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Janice had graduated high school, thank you very much, and no one outside of old dead playwrights used words like 'intrusion' and 'inquired'. She half expected him to start talking in Latin like the old priest did but he smiled at her again, and he really seemed nice. Well, when you're trying to raise a son, pay the bills, and not have the sort of reputation a few of the other girls at the factory had, you took your smiles where you could get them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was a couple weeks of house-cleaning before Janice was given the key. Leonard, still "Mister Leonard" at the time, said he would be gone for an extended time but left enough money to cover. Of course, as nothing got messed up from one week to the next, Janice sometimes felt guilty about charging him full rate for less work.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He had explained it once, oddly enough right after he had come out of that very room and locked that very door. "Mis'ess York." He had said, even though she reminded him that she did have a valid first name. "Mis'ess York. A man finds friends he can trust and at that point money is not as important. I feel I can trust you to take care of my house, and that when I return everything will be exactly as I left it, except cleaner. That makes me very happy, and for that I insist on paying you full price. It is not what you don't do when I'm away, but what you do even though I'm gone that makes your work so valuable to me!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | She had thought about that a few times. While Leonard never really shirked from her or Billy, she had often wondered if he was one of those men who couldn't stand the slightest bit of dust. Some people, she knew from the few nursing classes she had taken before having to leave college to care for a newborn, some people developed phobias about dirt and dust. They would have positively choked in fear when Billy came home after that fight a few weeks ago. Blood and dirt and no telling what else!
| |
| − | | |
| − | Billy hadn't said what the fight was about, but Janice knew he had gotten the worst of it. Once the principle had mentioned to Janice that Billy seemed a bit...slow..."Maybe he would be better off in a special class that cared for those who have such a hard time in school?" The principal had asked. "My son is not slow, sir. We've had a hard life and his daddy doesn't pay what he's supposed to. That's all! You keep my son where he can learn the most and go to college! I will not have him treated like a...a..." Janice couldn't finish the sentence but had stomped out in fake rage before bursting out in tears.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Often she wondered about Billy; what he would be when he grew up, what sort of man he might become. Janice so wanted a father for him, one who would actually stick around and stay sober. One who would teach her son to be a gentleman.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Janice jumped when the guns went off! Looking around for broken glass and making sure she wasn't hurt, she jumped again when the second volley sounded. Then, wide eyed, she looked at the stereo as the sounds of cannon came from the record player. Giggling, catching her breath, she thought to herself "Billy must hear this one! Won't he be surprised that music has guns in it!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Smiling, gently running her hand over the back of the sofa, Janice looked at the door. She wasn't sure what Mister Leonard wanted to stay hidden, but she felt strongly enough about him that his secrets were safe with her. She smiled, thinking of him. Thinking of his smile as in her mind he watched her stride over to the door and pull it shut.
| |
| − | | |
| − | There was just a small pang of regret, and Janice wondered yet again what was locked away in Leonard's house. Little did she know her world would turn upside down right as she stepped through the door in her own home.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Billy, struggling to not cry, angry, confused, just looked at her. "Mom...Mr. Leonard...he...". Splayed across the small kitchen table in front of him were several pictures, some official record, and a drawing. BIlly's hand was wrapped in a handtowel, with spots of red showing through.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Billy!" Janice gasped. "What have you done?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Mr. Leonard lets me put up his garden tools in his house, and I know where the back door key is. I had cut my hand on a piece of glass I dug up so I started to wash it off." Shrugging, sniffling a little, he said "I saw he had left the office door open and I wanted to see inside. I didn't break anything, honest! He has a lot of drawings and pictures and written stuff. And lots of books." Pointing to the table with his unblooded hand, Billy added. "And that's when I saw this. I didn't think it would hurt anything, but..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | The first thing she noticed were the photographs. There were half a dozen, all of the same beautiful woman. Taken in six different cities. There she was in Paris, the Eiffel Tower in the background. And then in Rome; Janice recognized the Trevi Fountain from the movies. She was in New York City, getting into a taxicab. She was on a beach, with signs behind her in Spanish – maybe Mexico? She was standing outside a house on a suburban street. And finally she was on a dock, next to a sailboat. She was blonde, she looked like she kept herself in good shape, and she was, Janice guessed, around her own age, although you could never tell for sure just from a photo.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The next thing she noticed was the letter. Dated last month and obviously in a female's script.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “''L.
| |
| − | | |
| − | I think we’re going to be spending some time together in the near future. I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t told any of my friends about us. I assume you haven’t either. I don’t think anybody needs to know, do you?
| |
| − | | |
| − | Love,
| |
| − | | |
| − | A.
| |
| − | | |
| − | PS – Make sure to bring your winter clothes! You know how the weather can be where we’re going!''”
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Well, that settled things." Janice thought to herself. But there was more. There was a copy of the girl’s college transcript. Her name was Alicia. She’d gone to Radcliffe – that meant she was rich, and probably snooty as hell, and her family went back to the Mayflower. And she’d gotten straight A’s. It was odd that Leonard had gone to the trouble of getting her transcript. And the photos reminded her of those “candid” pictures in the movie magazines, the ones that were taken from far away with one of those special lenses. Janice wondered if Leonard was spying on the girl. Maybe he suspected her of cheating on him? Maybe he’d hired a private investigator? Maybe he was a private investigator? That would explain quite a bit, Janice decided.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But it wouldn't explain the drawing, she reminded herself. It was the woman in the pictures, smiling, holding two infants. You could tell it was her; the same full bodied hair, the same strong eyes. Janice didn't know where the drawing came from, nor did she know how the woman kept such a figure after giving birth to twins. Janice didn't know how to undo this mess since she had just closed the door that was always locked...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Slowly, mechanically, Janice gathered all the evidence. Leonard had appreciated her work, he had commented on how well she stocked his pantry and how nicely everything was arranged. He had commented on her lasagne and how he thought it must be close to the real thing. Whatever that was. "Billy." She said. "You will have to apologize to Mr. Leonard when he gets back. This is none of our business, son."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "But he likes you mom! And you like him! I've seen the way you two look at each other!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Billy, Mr. Leonard has his private life, and I doubt this woman, whoever she is, will bother with us on Weber street and I doubt she cares how Mr. Leonard and I talk."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "But she does, mom. I saw her. I TALKED to her!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Janice froze. "You..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The other week when I got beat up by Johnny Morton, she stopped by Mr. Leonard's house and asked if he were there. She said not to mention it 'cause it was going to be a surprise."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "When did you get beat up by Johnny Morton? Why didn't you mention this before?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Aw mom! She said her name was...Alice...no...Alicia. She gave me a neat way to get even with Johnny Morton and it worked! The principal was so red faced and he gave Johnny a whoopin' like no one else!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Gaping for a moment, Janice eyes became moist. "Billy, please, go do your studies." Waving him off, she sat down with the papers and bit her lip to keep from letting him see how she felt. "Please Billy, go on to your room."
| |
Tourists from Moscow
Firenze, Italy
January, 1962
“You have got to be kidding!” Kathy said, looking at the small bed. Carl had put their bags in one corner and had just opened the large wooden shutters.
“Madame does not like the accommodations?” He smiled.
Kathy looked at the bed, with it’s clean sheets pulled down and several heavy down blankets at the foot. “Madame wonders where Monsier will be sleeping.”
Carl lit a cigarette and blew smoke out into the cool evening air. “You are I are newlyweds, Kathy, how are we going to convince our hosts that our marriage is well on it’s way to making lots of bambini if I sleep on the couch?”He smirked as she made a wry face at him.
“You’re sick, you know that!” Hitting him with a pillow, she grinned. “You want deformed kids or what?”
“Hey!” Carl said. “Watch the smoke! If we burn the place down it’ll come out of our pay.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Kathy said. “I’m not sure our new boss would like it much if our first work for him involved a torched Italian Bed and Breakfast.”
“Yeah, especially if we don’t get bed or breakfast! Lucia cooks some great food, Kathy. You better watch yourself or you’ll gain more on one vacation than you did in four years of college.”
Kathy joined him at the window. Looking out at the city; she was taken by the warm light and snow covered roof tops. “It is beautiful, Carl. I can see why you came here.”
“This very room, Kathy. That very bed.” He grinned. “Probably those very same sheets, but with a bit more starch.”
“That’s still sick.” Kathy grimaced. “How come we can’t find a better legend than newlyweds?”
Carl went over to the old record player and put on a waltz. “Dance with me, Missus Luxford?”
“Can you dance? I don’t remember that in your file.”
Taking her gently, Carl led around the record player. “Not as well as you, I am sure. Didn’t you have dance lessons as a kid? I know you took ballet, but wasn’t there something on you about a debutant ball and a certain lovely teenager being the center of attention?”
Kathy blushed. “You read too much, Carl.” Her head rested lightly on his shoulders and her tone lowered. “My brother Mike made a special trip to come back there for me. He was way too old to be there. Of course,he was way too good looking and too good a dancer for the other girls not to be insanely jealous! Probably one of the most delicious moments of my teen years.”
“I...I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”
“You would have liked him.” Kathy said quietly. “I think he was my ideal man growing up. Dad was good, don’t get me wrong. But I never really understood dad as much as I did Mike. We talked about everything and everyone was so proud of him all the time.”
“Hard to live up to as a sibling?”
“Some, but not a lot. I mean, he was awesome and all but I never knew enough details to measure against.”
They danced around the room quietly for a while before Kathy spoke. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about dad. I’ve read his file but there’s a lot I’m not cleared for. Anything you can tell me?”
Carl stopped. “Let me change the record. There was an old copy of La Traviata here, I think. We can sit and chat; my dancing legs are out of practice.”
“Oh...thanks...” Kathy grimaced. “Nice title. Are you saying something to our hosts?”
“No, it’s Lucia’s favorite. I think they get a little, excited whenever it’s played. They may assume we have the same intent.”
“I still say you’re sick.” Kathy sighed. “You flirt with half the women in Moscow while parading around as a carriage driver and then make rude comments to me! I would have thought mom taught you better!”
“She did.” Leo smiled. “Consider it a character defect. I’m sure there are some tangled knots in your genes I could find out about.”
“No dodging the question!” Kathy held up a finger. “I read about the attack on him in Paris a few years ago. I thought he was such an anti-communist that going to France was insane, but he went anyway.”
“Yeah, that was kind of funny. Back home he’s crucified for being a communist and in Europe he’s attacked for being anti-communist. You wish McCarthy could talk to his buds in the Kremlin so they could get their stories straight.”
“So what happened in Paris?”
“Well, the official story is that some Polish thugs wanted to kidnap the wife of an American diplomat for money. The operation, of course, cost a lot more than the story let on. The fact that at least a few of the men spoke very good English didn’t make the papers.”
“I didn’t see that in the file. Who told you?”
Leo lit another cigarette. “Remember the tourist that picked up a gun from one of the guards and shot the kidnappers?”
Kathy nodded, and then her eyes went wide. “I thought he died?”
“Officially, yes. School teacher in Brighton.” Carl stretched unconsciously. “Unofficially it was a lot closer than most people want to come.”
“So who do you think it was?”
“Sadly, American business interests. We’re still digging up the whys and what fors, but dad has a reputation for doing the right thing and not necessarily the most profitable thing for American businesses.”
Kathy digested that for a few minutes. “How does that play for you?”
Carl shrugged. “On the record, my Rubicon is the national border. Upstairs has always had me work outside our borders and for the most part that makes my cover easier.” He went to the small grate fireplace and started to assemble tinder and kindling.
She waited, until he had a fire started and had moved back away from the fireplace. Kathy said quietly. “And off the record?”
Carl looked at her. “I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.”
Kathy nodded. “I...my career means a lot to me, Carl. But I want you to know...”
“Shh...I know.” He gave her an evil grin. “You’re an old woman compared to this young guy and yet you are willing to throw away such a stellar career?”
She hit him with another pillow. “Careful, kiddo, or you’ll be sleeping out on the roof.”
NYC Airport[edit]
La Guardia Airport
Feb 1962 (Did La Gaurdia exist then?) Were there palces to get coffee?
Carl escorted Kathy to her connecting flight. Amid the bustle and noise of the people traffic he felt oddly happy. Work in Moscow had gone well and he knew the new bosses would be impressed with the team they had formed. There would be some changes, he was sure. THe team members were good in their own skills but for what seemed to be happening there needed to be more jell.
He and Kathy had jelled quite nicely. Flying out together from La Guardia he had reverted to his usual quiet observant self. It was a good mode for gathering information but lousy for sharing legend details and learning about someone you should have known all your life. He hand't quite figured out why the stress caused so much hesitation. At least not at first. He and Kathy had talked about it in Firenze; some over wine and come over capucci.
Kathy had enjoyed Firenze and he had enjoyed sharing it with her. There wasn't much he held back from her, now. WHich might be a mistake at some point in time but for the here and now Carl really didn't care. he was happy.
"We're here." Kathy announced. "Hopefully my bags made the change. I have an hour or so before the flight boards, want to grab something?"
"Well, the coffee won't be the same here, that's for sure." Carl laughed as they headed for the bar.
"I'll doub I'll drink a cappucino the same ever again, Carl. It was a wonderful trip!" She looked around, like she always did. Grinning, she said. "FOr a point, hair color of the flight attendant at the desk behind you."
They had started this game on the way to Moscow. "Black. Too black for the skin age, so died. Nice smile though." Carl stepped around Kathy's side so there positions were reversed. "For a point, how many children does she have?"
"OOhh...good one! Let me think." Kathy seemed to scan the air for a moment. "Five. Two in April but not twins, on each in June, July, and November."
"Excellent! For that you get an extra half point for knowing the gem colors. I always get them confused."
Kathy gave a slight bow. "Age has its advantages."
Carl raised an eyebrow. "Earlier chances for bifocals?" Sipping his coffee, he said. "Is that how you made it through such a tough college?"
"That and a little, um, applied psycology. WOrks lke a charm."
"Wasn't that more 'deviant psycology' and 'manipulation'? I'm sure that's what they called it when I was in grade school."
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask." Kathy swirled her coffee in her cup. "Why didn't you finish school? I've seen your scores; you would have had a full scholarship to about anywhere you wanted to go."
"Chalk it down to character defect." Carl shrugged. "I wanted to see the world, mom let me have the money, and I found myself in Firenze learning to paint better."
"Nice job of it, from what I've seen. Your faces and hands seem very realistic."
Carl bowed his head. "Thank you. I have had good models and to be honest, you get a lot of flack if you're a foriegner in Firenze and tell people you are a painter."
"Understood." Kathy smiled. The sat for a while and talked; he was going to go back to the boat and decompress for a while, she would go make the reports. The set up frequencies and schedules to call, and slowly finished their coffee.
"My boarding time in trhee minutes." Kathy looked to the board. "Carl, I really enjoyed working with you and reall enjoyed the vacation. I'll have to take you back home sometime."
"I look forward to it." He lowered his voice. "Different legend though, otherwise I think your mom would kill you!"
"Oh yeah...no worries there! I would not survive bringing home a husband with no advanced notice."
Carl smiled as Kathy hugged him. "See you soon, sis." He whispered.
After she left, Carl went to the restroom. He took off the tie and cuff links, stashed his jacket in the back and pulled out a warm sweater and a tobaggan. He took a few minutes to shave off the weeks growth, slicked back his hair, and was back to being Leo.
A quick stop by the house to drop off his bags and then out to the Catherine for a week or so of relaxation.
It was good to be home.
