The Woman Who Knew Too Much

by Tom Savage

  “Come in,” Nora said, and she ushered them inside. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. I think you two should hear what I’m about to say. But first, look who’s back among the living!”

  Chapter 45

  By the time Nora finished her narrative for her spellbound audience, Jeff was fidgeting. He was truly a CIA field operative by way of the Marines: He’d never been one for lying in bed, constrained, and he’d always been the world’s worst patient. Now he was famished.

  “I am seriously hungry, Pal,” he moaned. “Do you suppose there’s anything in the kitchen?”

  Frances rose from the armchair, stepping over Patch, who was stretched out on the floor beside her, on her way to the door. “I’ll go look.”

  “No,” Nora said. “You two stay here and make sure he doesn’t rip those needles out of his arms. Sister Michael will be here in about fifteen minutes, so hang in there, darling. I’ll go.”

  Frances nodded, stepped back over Patch, and resumed her seat. Nora went out, closing the door softly behind her. She paused at Galina’s door as she passed it, listening. No sound from inside; the asset was presumably asleep. Good. She moved on and tiptoed down the stairs. Only one dim, shaded lamp shone in the lobby, so she had to move cautiously around the base of the stairs and along the shadowy passage that led to the kitchen. She went through the swinging door and fumbled for the light switch, and the kitchen came to life. It was cold in here; she was glad to be wearing the blue suit from Friday’s filming in Piazza San Marco.

  She gazed around the spotless room, at the row of cabinets above the counter along one wall. She could check them all, but she’d start with the refrigerator. This was a big, surprisingly modern appliance in a room with an ancient stove and even older sink. The only other jarringly new touch in the place was the shiny silver microwave oven on the counter. She opened the refrigerator, stared, and smiled.

  Sister Anne had anticipated Nora’s arrival in her kitchen, and she was obviously familiar with Jeff’s appetite. The top rack was entirely taken up by a wooden tray with three covered dishes. Propped against the cheesecloth covering was a note written in bold capitals with a felt-tipped pen: NON TOCCARE! SOLO PER SIGNOR JEFF! Under the cloth she found a boned roast chicken breast and thigh with wild rice and green beans, a bowl of leek soup, and a dessert bowl of chocolate mousse. A rolled linen napkin at the side enclosed a fork, a knife, and a spoon. Beside the tray was a big green bottle of sparkling water.

  Another note was taped to the microwave oven: ZUPPA 2 MINUTI, POLLO 6 MINUTI SU ALTA TEMPERATURA. Nora followed the explicit instructions, then put the water bottle on the tray and headed for the swinging door, switching off the light with her elbow as she passed. As the door swung silently shut behind her, she heard a sound from above.

  She stopped in the darkened passageway, listening. Someone was coming down the stairs, and trying not to make noise. Nora moved back into the shadows and waited, clutching the tray in her hands. The cautious footsteps descended.

  It was Galina. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back up over her shoulder, then moved silently forward toward the front door. She carefully opened the coat closet, removed a black cloak, and put it on. She opened the front door and knelt down, pulling a triangular wooden doorstop from the corner behind the door. She propped it in the doorway and went outside, carefully shutting the door to rest against the stop, slightly ajar.

  Nora didn’t think about what she did next. In a flash, she was back inside the kitchen, switching on the light and placing the tray on the counter. She grabbed her cellphone from her pocket and called Frances.

  “Nora? Do you need help down there?”

  “Listen, Frances, Galina just came downstairs and went out through the front door. Find Jeff’s phone and have him call his friend in the campo in front of the building. We need to know which way she goes. Tell Patch to grab his coat and get down here—he’s coming with me. Could you come to the kitchen and get Jeff’s dinner? It’s heated and ready. And Sister Michael should be there in a few minutes.”

  Frances was dictating orders even as Nora spoke. By the time Nora came back out of the kitchen and ran to the front door, Patch was clomping down the stairs, pulling on his parka as he ran. Frances was right behind him.

  “Jeff says be careful,” Frances called. “The guy outside is named Giorgio. He speaks English and he’s armed, if you need it.” She headed to the kitchen.

  Nora grabbed a cloak from the closet and carefully opened the door, peering out into the square. Streetlights glowed on walls in all four corners, and the little fountain in the center of the square was up-lit by ground-level floodlights. There was no one in sight.

  Nora stepped out into the cold night air, and Patch followed her, making sure the door was still wedged slightly ajar behind him. They advanced toward the fountain, looking around. One shadow against a far wall detached itself from the others and came forward to meet them. Big, beefy, fortyish, dark-haired: He could have been Aldo’s twin.

  “Giorgio? I’m Nora Baron, Jeff’s wife. Which way did she go?”

  The big man pointed toward the alley on the east side of the square. “She goes that way, and she is running. I come with you?”

  “No, thank you. Please wait here. I’ll call Jeff if I need you.”

  Nora and Patch took off down the alley. It was a narrow passage between buildings for a while, and then they came to a bridge. They crossed this, peering ahead as far as they could see. No sign of Galina. They were traveling east, parallel to the fondamenta on their left, and Patch got the idea to look toward the water. He suddenly stopped and grabbed Nora’s arm.

  “There,” he whispered.

  Nora looked. Down the opposite fondamenta beside the canal they’d just crossed was a lone moving figure in a black cloak. She was hurrying away from them, toward Fondamente Nove. They ran back across the bridge and plunged down the canal-side walkway, trying to close the gap while still keeping a safe distance between them and their quarry. Galina reached the main walkway and turned left, heading back in the direction of the convent.

  “I know where she’s going,” Nora said as they moved. “She doesn’t know Venice, so she arranged the meeting at the base of the steps to the convent. She took the long way around because the gate is locked. She’s meeting someone there, mark my words.”

  When they reached Fondamente Nove, they turned in the same direction, toward the convent. Galina moved on ahead of them, stopping when she reached the base of the convent stairs. She stood at the bottom step, clutching the collar of her cloak, her face all but invisible behind the hood. She was looking around her, clearly waiting for someone. Nora nudged Patch, and they moved over to hug the nearest wall. There were regularly placed streetlamps along the walkway, and they were careful to stay out of the pools of light as they advanced. Covered in shadows, they crept slowly forward, getting as close as they dared before stopping.

  Nora raised her cellphone and called Jeff.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “Aldo’s in the garden, right?” Nora whispered. “Tell him to go to the back gate, but carefully. She’s on the fondamenta at the bottom of the steps, waiting for someone. Does Aldo speak Russian, by any chance?”

  “No, but I do. Sister Michael was just here, so I’m unhooked. I’ll get Aldo to come up here, and he and Frances can help me move. I’m going out there. Stand by.” And he was gone.

  Nora’s protests died on her lips—too late now. She was startled by a young couple who suddenly arrived from behind them, wandering down the fondamenta. The boy and girl passed Galina and headed on. Nora glanced up and down the walkway. A few other people were walking, mostly in pairs with occasional singles and small groups. A scattering of private boats and water taxis were moving along the shore in both directions, and a last midnight vaporetto glided by. Nora could see that it was nearly empty at this hour. Thirty feet ahead of them down the walkway, Galina waited.

  Ten minutes had
passed when Patch whispered, “Look.”

  A water taxi had stopped at the quay in front of the steps where Galina stood, and a lone passenger disembarked. A tall figure in a black leather coat and fur hat came across the wide fondamenta to join the actress. From this distance, they were merely two black silhouettes coming together for an embrace. At the dock, the water taxi waited. The two figures separated, and the tall one turned around. A streetlight near the base of the convent steps shone down on the face, and Nora gasped. This was not the face she’d been expecting.

  It was Juna, the future heavyweight champion of the world.

  Chapter 46

  What followed was a pantomime, as far as Nora and Patch could see. They were too far away to hear anything, but Nora was trained in body language and gestures. She peered through the gloom, watching the women carefully, interpreting what she observed.

  The embrace was friendly but perfunctory, the equivalent of Galina’s ubiquitous air kisses. This was followed by a lot of swift whispering. Juna would say something while Galina nodded, and then Galina would speak and Juna would nod. Some sort of plan was made and agreed upon. Then Juna said something, and Galina shook her head. The big woman was suddenly agitated, waving her arms and advancing on the actress. Her voice rose; Nora could hear it from this distance. Galina shushed her, glancing around at passersby to be sure they weren’t observed. Juna waved her arms and shouted again.

  At this point, Galina reached inside her cloak and produced something, a rounded object that she clutched in her fist. For one horrible moment, Nora thought it might be a gun. But no; Galina moved closer to the pool of light from the streetlamp and began doing something to the object with both hands. Nora understood the action immediately—Galina was holding a wad of money, carefully counting out a certain amount. She reached a total and held out a handful of bills to the other woman. Juna stepped back, away from the offering, shaking her head. She pointed to Galina’s other hand and gesticulated. Galina’s shoulders slumped; then she put her hands together and began counting again.

  It was almost comical. Nora wondered if Jeff was on the other side of the gate above the two women, hearing their conversation, but it didn’t really matter. Nora could follow this as easily as she could follow an old silent movie, even without the dialogue placards. She remembered a detail from the list she’d written earlier tonight: Juna expecting big payment soon. The payment she’d just been offered clearly wasn’t the full amount she’d been promised, and she was demanding the rest. Galina counted it out and practically threw it at her. Then they talked some more.

  Nora had become thoroughly engrossed in the exchange when it abruptly ended. Before she could prepare for it or even predict it, Juna turned and walked back across the fondamenta toward the waiting water taxi. Galina watched her go, then returned swiftly back the way she’d come. Nora and Patch were exposed, standing on the walkway in front of a waterfront house, with nowhere to hide. Nora saw the black-cloaked woman coming closer, wondering how she could bluff her way out of the inevitable confrontation. She braced herself for the moment of discovery.

  It never arrived. Patch grasped her shoulders and pushed her back against the building, facing him. He stepped forward, crushing her body with his own, and buried his face in her neck. She guessed what he was doing and played along, throwing her arms around him in a violent embrace and hiding her face against his ear. They stood like that as Galina sailed by within two feet of them, her billowing nun’s cloak slapping against the backs of Patch’s legs as she passed. They turned to watch her until she’d rounded the corner into the walkway beside the canal.

  “Sorry,” Patch mumbled, awkwardly extricating himself from Nora’s arms.

  “Don’t be,” she told him. “That was brilliant! I didn’t know what to do, but you did.”

  Patch shrugged. He turned to watch Juna’s boat moving away. “Do you want me to find another water taxi and follow her?”

  Nora shook her head. “No need. She’s returning to the Danieli. Let’s get back.”

  They retraced their route, following Galina at a slower pace. They weren’t chasing her now, so they gave her time to get back inside the guesthouse, remove the doorstop, and rush upstairs. As they neared the campo through the alley, Nora pulled out her phone and called Frances again.

  “She’s here,” Frances said without preamble. “She’s in her room. We got Jeff back upstairs before she returned. I’ll come down and let you in.”

  “Thanks,” Nora said, and she switched off. When they arrived in the campo, Nora searched the shadows on the far side from the door until she spotted Giorgio. She waved to him, and he waved back. Frances was already waiting at the open door.

  Jeff looked much better. He no longer had the tubes in him, of course, but it was more than that, something Nora understood immediately. He was back in action, so he was happy. The color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes were gleaming. Frances and Aldo had gotten him back into bed, for which Nora was grateful. Left to his own devices, he wouldn’t be lying down now.

  “I heard it all, and Frances wrote down my translations,” Jeff said when they’d reconvened in the bedroom.

  “We got the gist of it,” Nora said. “What was the argument about?”

  “Galina was only paying them half—she wanted to hold the rest until they completed their end of the bargain tomorrow.”

  Nora nodded, but Patch was confused.

  “Them?” Patch said.

  “Yes, them,” Nora said. “Juna and Sergei. Galina’s been paying them to help her. Vera said Sergei grew up with Galina, and Vera thought he might be in love with her, but she’s definitely paying him. Juna’s going back to the Danieli, but Sergei is holed up somewhere. I think he’s afraid to show up at the Danieli because of that description of him in the news. The witness who saw him running from the scene described him pretty accurately. Anyway, he and Juna are on Galina’s side. That’s why Malinkov hired a local detective to follow Galina the other day. Normally, the general would simply command the Federation guards to follow her, but he didn’t know which of them he could trust. He finally identified Sergei and Juna as Galina’s helpers, so he ordered poor Pavel Oblomov to follow Vera from the hotel today, and Sergei followed Pavel.”

  Patch was still confused. “But Sergei was the one who tried to stop the defection! I saw him—he had a gun aimed at them! And then he called some commanding officer, probably Malinkov. I heard him reporting her escape.”

  Nora shook her head. “You saw a gun; you heard a phone call. You saw and heard exactly what Galina wanted you to see and hear. We all did. We all bought into the illusion that she was on the run from the Russians. She’s a true fan of Agatha Christie! There was more, too. She passed me that note in the dressing room, making us think Malinkov was a threat. He was only in Venice because she asked him to come here. Then she arranged a sudden pack-up of the scenery at La Fenice so we’d think the Moscow State Theater group was leaving Venice early and we’d redouble our efforts to get her out quickly. She knew I had people helping me, but she didn’t know who they were—she arranged that scenery stunt to see who showed up at the opera house. Well, Jeff showed up there, so now she knew. When I threw her into the water taxi Friday, she already knew who Jeff was. Meanwhile, she had Juna following us and ransacking my room and stealing the report. I assumed that Juna was doing it for the Federation, and that’s what Galina wanted me to assume.”

  “Jeez!” Patch said. “All this playacting—why was Galina so desperate to make us believe she was in danger?”

  “Because she is in danger,” Nora said. “A great deal of danger. I’ll explain later. Meanwhile, I have to call Ham Green.”

  She went over to the window and placed the call. The others waited by the bed, where Jeff was finally eating his long-delayed dinner.

  Hi, Ham,” Nora said. “Sorry I took so long to call you back, but we’ve had a bit of excitement here. I’ll tell you about that later, but right now I need you to call you
r Russian friends and make some arrangements.”

  Ham was intrigued. “What sort of arrangements?”

  “I’m more determined than ever to get Galina to Vicenza tomorrow, so here’s what I’m thinking…”

  Nora glanced across the room to be sure the others weren’t listening. Jeff had finished the soup and started on the main course while Frances and Patch listened to his story of the fight in the alley. Nora and Ham spoke for a while, kicking around her idea. He managed to streamline it, and they were both satisfied with the result.

  “I’ll call Moscow right now,” Ham said, “and you call everyone else.”

  Nora laughed. “Ham, it’s one o’clock in the morning here, so it’s three o’clock in Moscow. Isn’t it a bit late to be calling them?”

  “Oh, they’ll take this call,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I’m more afraid of the call we’ll have to make right after that, to the CO’s office at Camp Ederle. They’re going to have to give us some serious clearance to make this happen.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but don’t you have to clear all this with the State Department as well?”

  “Nora, State has given us a green light to handle all this as we see fit, mainly because they’re so impressed with you.”

  “Me?” Nora cried. “What did I do?”

  “Everything,” Ham said. “Make your calls.” And he was gone.

  Nora didn’t have time to bask in the praise—she had to wake people up at one in the morning. First, she went over to the bed and asked to see the notes. Frances had written the conversation neatly in a wire-bound memo notebook. Thinking of her list earlier tonight on the backs of the photo printouts, Nora reminded herself to buy one of these notebooks and keep it in her purse. She read the exchange between the two women on the fondamenta, noting the details of their plan for tomorrow. Nora smiled: She was going to have a little fun with this…

  She went back over to the window and made her first call. Mario Naldi wasn’t asleep—far from it. He was entertaining a houseful of relatives who’d arrived to see the baby. Nora felt guilty about asking him for one more favor, but he was delighted by the idea—he insisted that he wouldn’t miss it for the world. The baby would still be there when he returned.