The Woman Who Knew Too Much

by Tom Savage

  “Yes,” Nora said. She didn’t add more just yet—the rumors she’d heard about Galina’s private life and her alleged meeting in Zurich. She wanted to think it through before telling Jeff everything. Several aspects of this case were troubling her, but she wouldn’t speak of them until she was more certain of her facts. Instead, she said, “What about the generals? I mean, can they actually do what they’re planning? Is it possible?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, anything’s possible. It didn’t work in Russia in 1991, but it sure worked the first time they tried it—just ask the Romanovs! And it could work now. If it were America, I’d say probably not; everyone in Washington is so tuned in to everyone else’s business. But Russia is a different matter. It’s such a big place, and everyone’s spread out more than in America or England or most of Europe. The smaller Asian and Mideast countries are easy marks for military coups because so few of the people there are in government at all. Russia is like that; it has a tiny group of leaders and a big population that’s relatively clueless—well, not so much clueless as dispirited, apathetic. And there are lots of houses tucked away in the countryside like the general’s place. God knows what they could get up to without anyone noticing.”

  Nora thought about that as they went down to the dining room. The others were there already, standing at the windows gazing out at the garden, the lagoon, and the distant outline of San Michele, the cemetery island. As soon as they were seated, a young nun arrived from the kitchen with water, wine, bread, and salad. She served just like a waiter in a restaurant, Nora noticed, suspecting Mother Agnes. The salad was replaced by roast beef with potatoes and green peas. Everything was delicious, and the wine was superb.

  Nora was grateful for the way Jeff, Frances, and Patch kept the dinner table conversation light, never mentioning their predicament. Galina Rostova smiled throughout the meal, but Nora could see that the smile was strained. Galina kept stealing glances over at the door and the windows, as though she half expected the Russian Federation to burst in on them at any moment. The inevitable mention of the defection, when it finally came, arrived from a surprising quarter.

  The nuns had dined earlier, at five, and at six the bell had rung again, calling them to vespers, their last chapel ritual of the day; they observed compline and the night offices individually. Now, just before eight, Mother Agnes made an appearance in the guesthouse dining room. Jeff and Patch rose, but she waved them back into their seats.

  “Don’t let me interrupt your meal,” the abbess said. “May I join you for dessert?”

  “Please do!” Nora said, and Mother Agnes took the empty seat next to Patch. The young nun brought in a familiar dish, and everyone but Galina grinned at it: apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

  “In honor of our American guests,” Mother Agnes said, crossing herself before picking up her fork. “Miss Rostova—”

  “Galina,” the actress said.

  “Okay, Galina, I think you’ll like our American treat, although I’m sure you have some variation of it in Russia.”

  “Yes,” Galina said, “but it is not as delicious as this!”

  “Our Sister Anne is a trained chef, and I gave her my own mother’s recipe for apple pie. The ice cream is actually a local gelato. I hope you’re all enjoying your stay with us. I know the storm has interrupted your plans, but we will try to make you comfortable here.”

  “About our plans,” Jeff said. “Have you heard anything about the situation with air travel?”

  Mother Agnes shook her head. “They’re still saying it will be at least one more day until anything can fly in northern Italy, so it looks like you’re going to be with us for a while longer.” Now she lowered her voice. “I’ve instructed everyone here to lie, incidentally, should anyone outside these walls ask them about seeing strangers in the neighborhood. As far as we’re concerned, you don’t exist.”

  There was silence in the room. Nora and her team looked over at Galina, who was staring down at the table. After a moment, Galina raised her head and spoke.

  “I apologize, Mother Agnes. I would never wish for anyone to lie for me, particularly you and the women here. I cannot allow you to do that.”

  “Nonsense,” Mother Agnes said. “God will forgive us, and you must forgive us as well. Even in Russia, you must be familiar with The Sound of Music. We’re simply upholding the great tradition of holy people lying their heads off in a righteous cause.”

  After another moment of silence, everyone laughed. Nora found herself laughing despite her misgivings. She noticed that Galina laughed as heartily as the others. Mother Agnes smiled around at them all, clearly pleased that she’d been able to raise the spirits of her unexpected but welcome guests.

  The abbess announced that after-dinner tea would be served in the lounge, which everyone took as a cue to vacate the dining room so the young nun could clear the table. As they rose, Nora caught her husband’s eye and gestured, indicating that he should go with the others. He nodded.

  “Mother Agnes, may I speak with you in your office?” she asked as they all moved toward the door.

  “Of course, Nora. I bid the rest of you a good evening. You’ll find the convent empty when you rise tomorrow—we attend Mass at two churches in the neighborhood. There will be coffee, tea, juice, hot and cold cereal, and fresh bread and pastries for you here in the dining room, but you must fend for yourselves. We’ll be back by eleven o’clock. Good night, everyone.”

  Jeff led the others into the lounge while Nora accompanied the nun through the kitchen to the side door and along the covered, columned walkway to the larger building. The door at the other end of the walkway opened into the convent’s main hall next to the refectory. They went past that door to the abbess’s office.

  “You attend two Masses,” Nora said. “Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

  Mother Agnes smiled as she opened the office door, switched on the light, and motioned Nora inside. “That’s the result of a rare disagreement in the order. Many of the nuns prefer the traditional older priest in one church, while the others are a bit in love with the fiery young man in the other one. I must admit I enjoy both Masses, so the easiest solution was for us to go from one to the other. Besides, both priests take our confessions; it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

  “Funny you should mention diplomacy,” Nora said as they sat across from each other at the desk. “That’s precisely what I want to talk to you about. I need to gain access to—”

  At that moment, a low buzzing sound emanated from the pocket of Nora’s jacket. She pulled out her cellphone. “Excuse me, Mother.”

  It was Hamilton Green. “Where are you, Nora? Can you talk?”

  “We’re still in Santa Maria Magdalena,” Nora said, “waiting out the storm damage. We just had dinner, and now I’m with the Reverend Mother in her office. Can I call you back in about—”

  He interrupted her. “Are the two of you alone?”

  “Alone? Um, yes, we’re alone here, but—”

  “Put your phone on speaker,” he said.

  Nora blinked, but she complied, placing the phone on the desk. His next words took her by surprise.

  “Hello, Millie. You’ll never guess who this is!”

  Nora stared across the desk as the other woman leaned forward, her face lighting up in delight.

  “Ham Green!” the abbess cried. “How the heck are you?”

  Chapter 34

  Nora said, “Millie?”

  Ham said, “I’m just fine, dear. I’m heading up the New York office now, I don’t know if you’d heard.”

  Mother Agnes said, “Good for you! Robert always said you were going places!”

  Nora said, “Millie?”

  Ham said, “Gosh, I miss that man. Speaking of going places, I suppose I should call you Reverend Mother now.”

  Mother Agnes said, “Millie’s fine for you, Ham. We must catch up—but right now I gather you’ve got a situation. I’ll let you talk to Nora.”

  Ham said,
“Actually, I’d be grateful if you’d join our powwow, Millie—you might be able to help us.”

  Mother Agnes leaned back in her chair. “Of course. Fire away.”

  “I think Jeff should be in on this,” Nora said. “He’s in the guesthouse next door—I’ll go get him.”

  “No need,” Ham said. “Johnson is ringing him right now. Johnson, tell Jeff to go to the Reverend Mother’s office.”

  While they waited, Nora said, “Millie?”

  Mother Agnes chuckled. “I met Ham Green nearly forty years ago, when he first joined the agency. He was working with Robert, and later your husband came in as a rookie, or whatever they call them, so he knew Robert, too. But I don’t think Ham and Jeff ever worked together then.”

  “No, we didn’t,” Ham said. “I didn’t work with Jeff until he was reassigned here a year and a half ago. Millie, do you remember Sarah Fisher, the girl I was dating back then?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, we just celebrated our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

  “How wonderful! Were you blessed with children?”

  “Two, one of each. Wanda is with the New York District Attorney’s Office, and Stanley is a corporate lawyer. I also have four grandchildren.”

  Mother Agnes smiled. “God bless you! God bless them all. Good for you, Ham!”

  Ham sighed. “Well, you haven’t met my son-in-law…”

  The old friends shared a laugh as Jeff came into the room. Mother Agnes pointed to a chair in the corner, but he shook his head. He stood beside Nora’s chair.

  “I’m here, Mr. Green,” Jeff said.

  “Okay. Camp Ederle is a go, but it can’t be until Monday. If you can wait where you are until then, you can—”

  “Ham,” Nora said, “before we discuss those details, I have some—some new intelligence for you.” She glanced up at Jeff, who nodded. “You need to hear this, but I’m not sure Mother Agnes is—”

  The abbess was already on her feet, heading for the door. Ham’s next words stopped her.

  “Nora, anything you have to say, you can say in front of Millie. Go ahead.”

  Jeff said, “Millie?”

  “Okay,” Nora said as Mother Agnes resumed her seat. Nora proceeded to repeat everything she’d learned from Galina this afternoon. Or almost everything: As with her husband earlier, she edited certain aspects. She gave a clear account of the evening at the dacha, according to Galina. As she spoke, she noticed that Mother Agnes didn’t seem to be very surprised by the story.

  Neither was Ham. When she was through, he merely said, “Okay. Under the circumstances, I’ll forgive you your breach of protocols—it’s best to know what we’re dealing with. Jeff, I think you should keep security extra tight there. Nikolai Malinkov is off our radar. He returned to Moscow on that ten o’clock flight yesterday, touching down at Sheremeteyevo at one-ten. That’s Venice time, not Moscow—there’s a two-hour difference. He got in a car and left the airport, but somewhere between there and Moscow our people lost him. He’s been off the map since then. I’m thinking he might have gone back to Venice.”

  Nora said, “Wouldn’t they know if he took another flight?”

  “Only if it was a commercial one. He was on Alitalia to Moscow, but his name hasn’t appeared anywhere since. A private jet or a military plane could have gotten him back to Venice long before the storm shut down the airports and airfields in Italy—that wasn’t until well after midnight.”

  “Yes,” Nora said. “And nobody knew he was coming to Venice the other day—he could have had private transport then as well.”

  “Or military,” Ham added.

  “So, he faked us out,” Nora said. “Still, the times yesterday don’t make sense. The extraction—the attempted extraction—wasn’t until four o’clock yesterday afternoon. Why would Malinkov decide to turn around and come back three hours before that?”

  “Maybe he forgot something,” Ham said.

  Nora stared down at the phone on the desk, remembering the parts of Galina’s story she hadn’t shared with everyone yet. She thought about it, working out possible time lines.

  “Or else,” she whispered, “Malinkov learned something between here and Moscow yesterday that made coming back here an imperative…”

  There was a pause. Nora was aware that the two other people in the room were watching her, and she imagined Ham Green holding his breath in New York. Ham finally spoke.

  “Do you know what that something might be, Nora?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe. I’ll let you know as soon as I have a story. Meanwhile, we have to get Galina from here to Vicenza Monday. It’s forty miles—not to mention getting out of this convent without being noticed. We need a plan.”

  Mother Agnes had been silent all this time, watching and listening, but now she spoke.

  “I might be able to help you with that,” she said. “I have an idea, anyway.”

  “I’d welcome it,” Nora admitted. “Let’s discuss your idea in a minute. Ham, do you have connections in the Russian police force?”

  “What kind of connections?” he asked.

  “The kind that can institute a search.”

  “Yes, I think so. Why?”

  Nora glanced at her husband. Jeff was watching her with great interest. Recalling exactly what General Malinkov had said to her at the party two nights ago, she drew in a breath and told Ham Green what the Russian police should look for, and where.

  “Oh, and Ham,” she concluded, “ask them if they can do it in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Right,” he said. “So, Millie, what’s your plan?”

  For the next five minutes, Mother Agnes took over the meeting. She outlined her idea, promising more details by tomorrow. Nora thought the plan was perfectly plausible. More than plausible: She was excited. She knew they could pull it off.

  “Okay,” Ham Green said at last. “Keep me up to date on the preparations. Jeff, keep an eye out for Malinkov or any of his minions—they could be coming your way. Nora, I’ll let you know about the Russian police as soon as I hear something. We’ll talk tomorrow. Millie, it’s great to hear your voice again.”

  “My best to Sarah,” Mother Agnes said.

  “Good night, all,” Ham said.

  Nora picked up the phone and switched it off, then turned to the woman across the desk. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “My pleasure,” Mother Agnes said. “It’s just like the old days, with Robert. He was always cooking up schemes, and I guess I got the knack from him. He liked you, Jeff. And he would have liked you, Nora—you’re quite a field agent. You must find all this odd after a life in the theater.”

  “Not really,” Nora said. “This job requires a lot of acting. Before we leave, there’s one more thing, Mother—it’s actually why I asked to speak to you in the first place.”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  Nora grinned. “Since you’re already lying your head off in a righteous cause, what’s your stance on trespassing?”

  Chapter 35

  When Nora and Jeff came back from the cloister, they found the others playing a Russian card game in the lounge. Galina was teaching it to Patch and Frances as they went along, and—unsurprisingly—she was winning. Nora didn’t even bother to wonder where they’d found a deck of cards in a convent. Not this convent, anyway. Nora wouldn’t be surprised to find a roulette wheel and full setups for chemin de fer, with smiling nuns as croupiers.

  “You’re out!” Galina cried as Nora poured hot water for chamomile tea at the coffee table. With a gracious shrug, Frances threw down her cards, rose, and came over to join Nora on a couch. Jeff chose an armchair between the fireplace and the card table and watched the action.

  “Out?” Nora asked Frances. “Out? What sort of card game is that?”

  “Don’t ask,” Frances murmured, reaching for a teacup. “I’ve never been so grateful to lose in my entire life. It’s kind of like old maid, only there don’t seem to be any rules
. Patch is getting good at it, so he can keep her entertained. I wanted to ask you, do you think it would be all right for me to join the sisters for Mass? My husband and I go every Sunday in New York. Both churches are nearby, just a few minutes’ walk. I could wear one of those black cloaks and stay close to the sisters. What do you think?”

  Nora smiled. “Of course. If the new Russia is anything like the old one, I’d say a Catholic church on Sunday is the last place you’ll find spies from the Federation. Besides, I doubt anyone will notice your group. As an actor, I can tell you that people in the street never look at the elderly, the homeless, or the religious. Nuns are invisible, unfortunately.”

  Jeff had joined the others at the card table, which Nora figured could be amusing—he was a terrific poker player but terrible at simple games like old maid, so this odd Russian game could go either way. He’d be wonderful or he’d be a bust.

  “Free card!” Patch called. Galina and Jeff groaned.

  Nora looked at Frances. “Free card?”

  Frances rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to know. The first Mass is at seven, so I think I’ll go to bed now.” She rose and went to the door. “Good night, everyone.”

  Frances was already out the door when something occurred to Nora. She jumped up from the couch and hurried into the lobby, stopping her friend at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Wait a moment, Frances. When you said you’d like to go to church with the nuns, you said something about wearing one of those black cloaks. Which cloaks did you mean?”

  Frances pointed toward the kitchen. “There’s a peg by the back door with a couple of spare cloaks. One-size-fits-all, I guess, in case the guests want to go out into the garden in winter and don’t want to go upstairs for their coats.” She pointed toward the front door. “There are a couple in the coat closet by that door, too. Sister Genevieve said it’s okay to use them as long as we put them back.”

  Nora stared over at the front door, thinking. “Oh. I was just wondering why—” She stopped, noticing the lobby window beside it. The curtains were open, affording a view of the little campo ringed with buildings. Snow was falling out there once more. The two women went to the window and stared.