Leonardo
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.”
