by Tom Savage
All five people in the room said the final word in unison: “—cool!”
The others laughed, and Nora suddenly found herself laughing with them. She looked around at them all, grateful for them, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. All was not lost. As soon as her husband made contact, they’d take it from there.
“I have to call Mr. Green,” she said. “He needs to know what’s going on here.”
“Well, first let’s open the curtains,” Frances said, rising from the bed and going to a window. “It’s black as night in here.” She pulled the cord, and dull gray light poured in. Nora looked over at the window, noting that the freezing rain had turned to drifting flakes.
“It’s snowing!” she whispered.
Mario was moving toward the other window, reaching for the cord. He suddenly stopped and looked down.
“I just stepped on something,” he said. He bent down and picked up a small bottle from the floor.
“That’s my atomizer,” Nora said. “It was on the—” She stopped, staring over at the bureau. She rose from the bed, gazing slowly around the room. “Nobody move for a minute.”
Everyone froze where they were. Nora scanned the furniture, the floor, and the night table. She walked over to the bathroom door and switched on the light in there, peering inside. She went to the main light switch and snapped on the chandelier and the lamp on the night table. Now that she could see the room clearly, she knew for sure.
“Someone’s been here,” she whispered, and the others stared at her. “Someone’s been through my things. My toothpaste was on the side of the sink where I always put it, the right side. Now it’s on the left. That atomizer was on the bureau—I used it just before we left for the interview today, and I forgot to put it in my bag. Everything’s just a little…bit…off—”
She stopped again, staring at the top drawer of the dressing table. She’d left it tightly shut, she was certain of it. Now she saw that it was slightly ajar. The thrill of panic that coursed through her immobilized her, but only for a moment. When she could move, she walked slowly over to the drawer and pulled it open, reaching underneath and feeling around with her palm. Oh God, she thought. Oh dear God…
The CIA file was gone.
Chapter 24
The maid’s name was Emilia, and she was terrified. She was just about Dana’s age, by Nora’s estimate, petite and pretty in the dark Italian mold, ninety pounds soaking wet, and she’d been working for Signora Luchese and Signora Fortuna for two months. She didn’t speak English, and she didn’t understand why all these people were staring at her.
She’d been summoned to the lobby by Signora Luchese herself, who’d ventured out of her rooms on the third floor when she’d heard all the commotion downstairs. Nora had told her associates about the missing file, and Mario had barged out of the room and down the stairs to the lobby, calling for the management, followed by the others. Pia had arrived from the kitchen, her arms streaked with flour, and her face turned nearly as white as her arms when she heard what Mario had to say.
“Here?” she cried. “In our house? How? When?”
Her shrieking had brought her elderly mother down the stairs. Signora Luchese was also shocked, but she’d taken the news more calmly than her excitable daughter. She’d called into the dining room, and the maid had arrived from there with a mop in her hands.
Mario was confronting the girl, who shrank from him when she saw the expression on his face. He began shouting at her in rapid Italian, and she cowered even more. He waved his arms and shouted louder, and she began to cry.
“Stop!” Nora commanded, and everyone turned to look at her. She’d watched the scene from the sidelines, but now she felt she must intervene. “Frances, you speak Italian. Can you—?”
At a look from Nora, everyone stepped back, away from the frightened maid. Frances gently placed her hands on the girl’s arms, smiled at her, and began speaking in a low, clear voice. The girl looked confused, then burst into a torrent of words, pointing up the stairs toward Nora’s room. Frances nodded and said something else, and the girl choked out a long reply. The Italians in the room looked around at one another as she spoke, and Nora and Patch waited for a translation. At last the girl fell silent and hung her head, clutching her mop to her chest and sobbing.
“Dio mio!” Pia muttered, staring off up the stairs.
Frances turned to Nora. “A woman came, not long after we left for the interview this afternoon. There was no one in the lobby, apparently, and she went right up the stairs. She found Emilia coming out of one of the rooms, and she asked her to unlock Joan Simmons’s room for her. She said she was from the production company, and Ms. Simmons had sent her to fetch some things. Emilia had no reason not to believe her, so…”
Nora nodded. “What did the woman look like?”
“Big,” Frances said. “Very tall and strong, dark hair.”
Nora closed her eyes. When she opened them, she said, “Patch, do you have your wallet handy? Signora Luchese, please don’t punish Emilia; she had no way of knowing. What is her weekly salary?”
Signora Luchese told her, and Nora nodded to Patch. He pulled that amount from his wallet and handed it to Frances, who smiled again and handed it to the girl. Emilia finally stopped crying, and Nora and her friends went back upstairs.
“I think we must all go to the theater tonight,” Nora said in the hallway outside her room. “They gave us tickets to both performances, so they’re expecting us. We don’t know Galina’s gone, remember, so we should carry on as usual.”
“What about the missing file?” Mario said. “They know who you are.”
“Not necessarily,” Nora told him. “The file was carefully done—it only contained our itinerary and brief biographies of Galina and her current boyfriend. The closest thing to sensitive information in it is a reference to some rumors about the general’s finances. Otherwise, it’s pretty standard stuff, things any journalist would compile before an interview. The Company is never mentioned anywhere, or the operation.”
“So, what the woman took is worthless?”
“Well, it can’t hang us, that’s for sure,” Nora said. “So, until further notice, we’re Sound Byte Productions, and we’re on the job. It’s just after six o’clock now; let’s get dressed and meet in the dining room at six-thirty. I’m sorry to make you all sit through The Seagull again, but—”
“No, it’s the right thing to do,” Paolo said, and the others nodded. “And it will while away the time until we hear from—”
The buzzing from inside Nora’s room cut him off. She ran into the room and snatched up the phone from the night table. “Hello?”
“Hey, Pal,” Jeff said, and Nora sank down onto the bed with a moan of relief. When she looked up, she saw that the others had followed her inside and shut the door. As her husband spoke, she gazed around at her team, who were waiting to hear the news. It wasn’t until Frances held out a pack of tissues to her that Nora realized she was weeping. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and listened.
Chapter 25
Natalia Fedorovna was not a star; that was Nora’s first impression of the young woman who arrived in act one of The Seagull, remembered all her lines, and didn’t trip over the furniture.
Nora the actor knew she was judging the woman harshly, but Nora the acting teacher could see that she was not an inspired artist. She was well trained and technically proficient, but she was playing a role that required much more than that. Watching Natalia only made Nora admire Galina’s brilliance even more.
The team had the same seats tonight as at the first performance, and they were all wearing the same clothes they’d worn two nights ago. The men were in black tie, and Nora and Frances hadn’t brought many clothes to Italy, so the black velvet was getting a second workout. Nora tried to concentrate on the play, hoping it would relax her, but it was difficult. Natalia’s unremarkable turn didn’t help, and Nora noticed that all the other performers were off their game as well. Even Any
a Danilova, that old pro, seemed to be sleepwalking.
She wondered what they’d been told. Did any of the cast know Galina well? Would she have confided in anyone but Natalia? Nora was certain Natalia had kept her friend’s secret, but Nora also knew the peculiar dynamic of the backstage world. Rumors could spread instantly, and actual facts were difficult to conceal from ultrasensitive people packed together in cramped dressing rooms. It was a phenomenon of all close-knit communities, the theater in particular.
And it had spread to the audience. The odd tension in the air was apparent to Nora the moment she’d arrived in the lobby. The well-dressed Venetians all seemed to be speaking in a hush, looking around suspiciously, and Nora soon saw why. Signs had been placed in the lobby announcing the substitution, and people were gathered around them, pointing and whispering. No official announcement had been made explaining Galina’s absence, which made things worse.
“It’s like a morgue in here,” Patch had observed, and he was right. Nora had attended several Broadway and West End performances where a star was replaced at the last minute, but everyone usually knew that Ms. Lupone had the flu or Sir Derek had laryngitis. Nora and her associates were in the peculiar position of being the only people in La Fenice tonight who knew exactly what had happened to Galina Rostova, and exactly where she was now. Insider knowledge: What might have been fun under other circumstances was turning out to be a trial.
Nora was distinctly uncomfortable. She’d seen the play’s director in the lobby before the show, and she was certain that Sergei and Rudi and their fellow guards were nearby. Hell, even the elusive Amazonian woman was probably backstage, watching and waiting. Nora had told the others that the missing file wasn’t a real threat, but she didn’t know that for a fact. She wondered again why General Malinkov—if it was General Malinkov—would be so interested in the comings and goings of Joan Simmons. She’d give anything to be anywhere but here in this opera house tonight. As the first-act curtain finally fell, she resolved to get the hell out of here as soon as the show was over.
As it turned out, a quick escape was not to be. Vera arrived at the end of their row in the auditorium and beckoned to her. Nora stood and joined her in the aisle. Vera was not smiling for once, and she’d been crying.
“Miss Fedorovna would like you to come to her dressing room after the performance,” Vera said in a hoarse, raspy whisper. Glancing over at Nora’s companions, she lowered her voice further and added, “Not them. Just you, please. I will take you.”
“Of course,” Nora replied despite the resistance in every fiber of her being. Then, remembering she was Joan Simmons, Innocent Bystander, she added, “Any word on Galina?”
The young woman shook her head. “They are saying that she is playing the joke on us, that she is hiding tonight because she wanted her friend to have a chance in the play, but I do not believe this. I am afraid something has happened to her.”
Nora looked at the forlorn, frightened girl, remembering the chambermaid in Pensione Bella this afternoon. She wanted to smile and reassure Vera, perhaps even give her money. But she knew it was impossible: Joan Simmons was ignorant, and that was the role Nora was playing.
When she resumed her seat, Frances leaned in to her and whispered, “Patch thought the lobby was like a morgue, but the stage is even worse than that tonight.”
“Yes,” Nora said. “Their timing is off.”
“I saw Spamalot on Broadway,” Frances said, “on the night of the London Underground bombings. It’s Monty Python, the funniest play you could imagine, but that night there was hardly a laugh in the whole show. Half the cast was British, and I found out later that they were all going backstage between scenes and calling their families and friends in London to make sure they were alive. That’s what this is like—they’re all waiting for news.”
The second act went slightly better than the first. Nora suspected the director had gone back at intermission and given the cast a pep talk. Everyone tried harder, including Natalia, and the rest of the audience seemed to like the result, judging from the final applause. But Nora knew the actors were badly shaken; they’d barely gotten through it.
Vera took her around the building to the stage door while the others waited on the front steps. The same ancient doorman let them in, but Sergei wasn’t beside him; it was Rudi tonight. Everything in the dressing room was as before, except that Natalia now sat where Galina had been two nights ago. Nora smiled at Anya Danilova and went to sit beside Natalia, watching as she removed her wig and makeup.
“Thank you for coming,” Natalia said. “We leave for Paris tomorrow morning, and I want to tell you something before I go. You helped Galina today, and you kept me from being in trouble, and for this I am grateful, so I must pay back your goodness. I must be honest and tell you the truth.”
“Okay.” Nora wondered if she should offer some polite lie about Natalia’s performance. Natalia beat her to it. She put down the jar of cold cream she’d been using and turned in her chair to face Nora, first glancing over to be sure Danilova wasn’t listening.
“You do not have to tell me I am not a good actress. I know this. But I can only be a better actress if I am allowed to act. This is why I helped Galina today. In Moscow, she is the star. She has all the parts, and the other women in the company are her understudies, or we are her sister or her mother, you understand? She goes in the bed with the director and she is Irina, she is Rosalind, she is Nina. She goes in the bed with General Malinkov and she makes the movies and the television. I will not go in the bed with men for these things. So I help her go to America. They are calling her in Moscow from Broadway in New York and Hollywood in California. Mr. Spielberg is asking to have meetings with her, and Mr. Fincher and Mr. Nolan and Mr….Paramount? Is this the name, Mr. Paramount? They all want to put Galina in their movies. So I help her to go, and good luck to her!”
Nora was surprised to see tears in the young woman’s eyes, shining against the cold cream as they trickled down her cheeks. “I thought you were Galina’s friend, Natalia, but you really don’t like her at all, do you?”
Natalia shook her head. “She thinks I am her friend, but I am not. She has the pretty face and the best acting roles, and all the men. And then I find she is with my man. She was going in the bed with Ivan! And that ugly old director! And that horrible general! Other men, too—she is the girl for everyone! This is the woman you take to America! But I will marry Ivan, and for this I help her, to keep her away from him.”
Nora bit her tongue. This wasn’t the time for a maternal lecture, but Natalia certainly needed one. She needed to be told not to marry Ivan, gorgeous as he was. If he cheated on her with Galina, he’d cheat on her with others down the road, and when he got tired of her, he’d leave. He wasn’t worth the investment. Nora wondered if Natalia’s mother was around, if they were close, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she decided to use this woman’s gratitude—and her hatred of Galina—to her advantage.
“My friends are waiting for me,” Nora said. “I must go, but first I must ask you something. Galina made a deal with my government. In exchange for becoming an American citizen, she is supposed to give them certain information. Do you have any idea what that information might be?”
Natalia stopped cleaning her face. She stared into the mirror, thinking. Nora waited.
“Information,” Natalia said at last. “No, I do not know, but I know this: She said a thing to me in Moscow just before we went to Amsterdam to begin the tour. She said she was glad to be going out of Russia because people are watching her and following her in Moscow. She said she thinks it is because of the general, and a dacha—a big house he has in the country, and meetings he is having there late in the night. She is keeping secrets, this I know. And I think she has met with people about it while we are on the tour, people not in Russia.”
Nora sat forward. “When, Natalia? When did she meet people?”
“In the city just before we came to Italy, Zurich. Galina went out in Zuric
h on our last afternoon without permission, and she came back just in time for the play that night. I asked her where she was, and she said she met with people who will help her solve all her problems. That is what she said, solve all her problems. Then in Rome, I saw her at the party talking to the wife of the American ambassador. Three days later she asked me to help her get away to America. By then I knew she was in the bed with Ivan, so I said yes, I will help her. She thanked me and said I am saving her life.” She shrugged. “This is all I know.”
Nora rose and placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy Paris and London—they’re two of my favorite cities. And I hope you find what you’re looking for. Do svidanija, Natalia.”
“Goodbye, Joan, and thank you.”
Nora smiled over at Anya Danilova again as she went to the door. Ivan came in as she was going out.
“Hello again, Miss Lovely!” he said, grinning.
“Goodbye, Ivan,” Nora said, not grinning.
His grin became a puzzled frown. Then he shrugged and continued into the room. Natalia leaped up from her dressing table and threw herself into his arms, laughing.
Nora paused in the doorway, glancing back at the embracing couple, the randy man and the clueless girl, but then she shut the door. She already knew the ending of this particular play. Chekhov had written it long ago, and so had all the other playwrights.
Chapter 26
Something big was happening at the top of the front steps of La Fenice when Nora came around the building to join her friends. Snow was still falling steadily, as it had all evening; the air was filled with drifting flakes, but at least they weren’t yet sticking to the ground. She saw her group waiting for her, but they weren’t waiting patiently. Paolo was pacing back and forth, shouting into the cellphone at his ear. His father-in-law buzzed around him, talking to him, trying to calm him down. Frances and Patch stood off to the side, watching the two Italians with concerned expressions. When they saw Nora at the base of the steps, they all rushed down to her.
