Page 13

13

Thomas

T he café was tucked between a tailor’s shop and a greengrocer that hadn’t displayed fresh produce in weeks. Paint peeled from the sign above the door, and half the light bulbs inside flickered like they were too tired to stay lit.

It was perfect—off the tourist track, local enough to be overlooked, but not so obscure as to draw suspicion. The Soviets had ears in every hotel lobby and eyes behind every mirror. But here, at least for an hour, we could speak without counting breaths between the clicks of hidden microphones.

I arrived first.

A woman in a drab uniform with gray hair swirled into a fraying bun pointed me to a corner booth beneath the only working wall sconce. I ordered black coffee and stared at the chipped tabletop until the others arrived.

I sipped and stared across the tiny dining room, out the massive window that overlooked the street. One of our minders stood there, leaning against a light post, pretending to read a newspaper. It was probably the same paper he’d been reading upside down only a day earlier.

Will came next, his scarf too brightly colored for the setting. It was part of his cover, of course—affable, carefree American abroad—but I still winced. He slid into the seat across from me and offered a dry smile.

“You’re early,” he said, loosening his gloves.

“You’re loud,” I replied, but there was no bite in my words. The smile he returned filled my chest. God, he did that with such ease—and in the middle of a mission, no less.

A moment later, Sparrow entered, her coat drawn tight and eyes scanning the room before she even reached the counter. She gave the waitress a polite nod and joined us, sitting beside me, not across.

Egret, as expected, took the longest. He strolled in like a man late for a meal, not a covert mission. He ordered in broken Hungarian with just enough charm to make the waitress forget herself and blush, then joined us, sliding into the booth beside Will.

Finally, we were four again.

“How’s the food?” Sparrow asked, glancing at the untouched bread in front of me.

“Suspicious,” I replied.

“So normal,” Will said with a grin. He then turned toward Sparrow and sniffed, as though her scent had somehow caught his interest. “Oh, my, Juliette. What is that perfume? It smells . . . musky. Like . . . oh, my!”

The faux alarm that spread across Will’s face was even funnier than his implication. The crimson that flushed Sparrow’s face was even more so. For a brilliant moment, even Egret’s face colored.

Sparrow gathered herself, then blinked coquettishly at Will. “Why, thank you, Henry. How sweet of you to notice. It is a new scent I picked up in Paris. It comes in an oversized bottle with the largest, um, applicator you’ve ever seen.”

Will’s expression transformed from triumph to a man wishing he could crawl under the floor, not just the table.

Sparrow beamed, while Egret puffed out his chest.

“Damn huge applicator. Massive. Like, seriously, the size of a forearm topped by a fist,” Egret added, raising his arm above the table to form a phallic gesture and slapping it, punctuating Will’s embarrassment.

It was all I could do to keep from doubling over.

Our waitress arrived with refills and the last of our food, her grim expression softening a touch as she tried to wrap her head around why the foreigners in her diner were all beet red and laughing like children—all save Will, who was shrinking by the moment.

As soon as she stepped away and everyone’s breathing returned to normal, I took a swig of coffee and lowered my voice.

“Let’s get to it,” I said, leaning in. “We’re less than two hours from first contact.”

That sobered everyone.

I took a slow breath and another sip.

“Farkas visits the Danube site at 10:15. The place is public-facing, but not too busy. According to Lark, he walks the perimeter alone. Manakin arranged for a guided tour with the facility manager. Will, you will find an excuse to split off from the group, while Egret and I continue with the manager. I have a dozen questions prepared that should take his mind off an errant bureaucrat who can’t find his way around a circle. There should be no guards inside the fence.”

“And we believe her? Lark, I mean?” Egret asked, eyes narrowed.

“We believe she hasn’t lied to us yet,” I said. “But no guards doesn’t mean no Soviets. They could have agents embedded within the staff or lurking about to keep an eye on their man. We need to stay sharp and assume they are watching and listening.”

“And Will’s still the one making contact?” Sparrow asked.

I nodded.

Will gave a shrug. “I’ve rehearsed my bumbling American routine. I’ll carry a clipboard and act like I’m lost in translation, trip over a few Hungarian phrases, ask about old telecom installations, pretend I’ve been sent to photograph restoration points.”

“And if he doesn’t bite?” Egret asked.

“Then I make a polite exit and leave behind a brochure with a message tucked inside,” Will replied, voice calm but focused. “No fuss. No risk.”

“And if he’s under surveillance?” Sparrow’s voice was tight.

“Then he disengages immediately,” I said. “No improv. No delays.”

“But you’re staying close?” Will asked, voice low now.

I met his eyes. “Sparrow will be on the tram platform across the road. If it goes wrong—”

“I run like my ass is on fire.” Will said it lightly, like it was just another Tuesday errand, but I saw the tension behind his smile—and I hated it. I hated sending him in alone, hated how used to it we both were.

“You won’t be alone for long,” I said.

“You know,” Will murmured, reaching for the bread, “for a science delegation, we sure do spend a lot of time practicing sprinting.”

Sparrow almost smiled. Egret didn’t. I scowled.

“If Farkas is under surveillance, we should know pretty quickly,” Egret said. “They won’t let a foreigner within six feet of him without raising a flag. If that happens—”

“Then we scrap the approach and wait for another opportunity,” I said firmly. “We don’t risk exposure. Not until we’re sure he wants out.”

The table went quiet.

“What’s the signal to abort the approach?” Sparrow asked.

I thought a moment, then said, “I will feign an upset stomach and act like I might vomit.”

“Subtle,” Egret drawled.

Outside the fog had lifted, revealing a cold, brittle sun above the gray skyline. The only other diner in the restaurant rose and exited, causing the tiny bell above the door to sing its merry song. There was so little merry about the place, it sounded strange, like it didn’t belong.

“Anything else?” I asked, eyes scanning each of them.

Sparrow shook her head.

Egret lit a cigarette and said nothing.

Will met my gaze and said, “I’ve got this.”