The Spy Who Never Was

by Tom Savage

  “Wait,” Nora said. “You keep saying ‘I think.’ It sounds to me like you don’t communicate with them very often.”

  This produced an interesting reaction in Sonya. She looked away from Nora, then shrugged and continued, gazing over at her refrigerator. “You were correct about Franz. Yuri’s name is not spoken here; he is—he is not received in our home. We are from Russia, from Moscow, but I left there after the change from USSR. I was offered a job teaching Russian in Switzerland, and I met Franz here, and I am now a Swiss citizen. Yuri stayed in Moscow; he became an agent for the Russian Federation—a killer. He did this for them, but they refused to ever raise his wages, so he resigned and went into business for himself. He is very good at it, I think. There is even a name for him, a name that is whispered—”

  “The Falcon,” Nora supplied.

  Sonya continued to stare at the refrigerator across the room. She nodded, brushing a tear from one eye. “Yes, The Falcon. He is a hired killer, an assassin, but he is my only relative alive. He is my brother. I speak with him on the phone from time to time, but I may not see him. He has not seen his nephew and nieces, and I have never met his wife.” Now, at last, she looked at Nora again. “I know only that she is from New York City, and she is a nurse, and her name is Julie Campbell.”

  Chapter 28

  Nora absorbed the astounding news, the final confirmation of her growing suspicion. Rose existed. There really was a Chris Waverly, after all!

  It was clear to her that Sonya hadn’t known until tonight about her sister-in-law’s CIA connection. Sonya wouldn’t be able to fill in any blanks in the story; only the elusive agent herself could do that. Nora would have to find her.

  “Where is Julie now, Sonya?” she asked. “What is she doing in Alpenberg?”

  There were fresh tears in Sonya’s eyes. “She is in a hospice outside the village, the Brandt Clinic. It is a place for patients who are no longer able to be treated. I called there and asked for Julie Campbell, and the night sister told me to call the Oberschwester, Sister Wäldchen, at her home in the village. Sister Wäldchen said you must call between nine in the morning and five in the afternoon for an appointment to visit patients. I think—I think that Julie is dying.”

  “Dying?” Nora said. “I don’t understand. What is she suffering from? Has she been ill for long?”

  “I do not know, Mrs. Baron. I have never met the woman. I know only that Yuri called me in January and told me that he was married, and where his wife was. He said I was to find her there if—if anything were ever to happen to him. He gave me the telephone number of the Brandt Clinic and told me not to tell anyone else about her unless he sent them to me. I have only told you tonight because he sent you here, and I think this is what he would want me to do.”

  Nora shook her head in disbelief. “Sonya, how do you know he sent me? How do you know I’m a friend? How do you know I haven’t lied to you, made all this up just so I could find Julie and harm her? You’re very trusting—perhaps too trusting.”

  Sonya dried her eyes and shrugged. “Yes, that is I—too trusting. It is the only way I know how to be. The other way is so exhausting. Besides, if she is dying, how can you harm her further?” She produced another weak smile. “But there is the one proof I have of you: Yuri told you to go to Hotel Toler. Franz is an accountant, and yet we work at Hotel Toler by moonlight, under the cameras—what is the phrase?”

  “Off the books,” Nora said.

  “Yes. No one knows we work there except Yuri. I told him in our last call, when he told me about his wife. Only Yuri could have sent you to the hotel.”

  Nora smiled. “So, why did you pull a gun on me?”

  Now Sonya actually laughed. “Because I wasn’t sure! I was still suspicious of you. So you see, I am not really as trusting as I think I am!”

  The two women were laughing together, and Sonya was drying her eyes, when her phone buzzed. From the way she greeted the caller, Nora guessed it was Franz. As Nora watched, Sonya’s smile vanished and she paled. She listened to her husband in silence, then said “Ja” and ended the call. She looked across the table at Nora.

  “You must go now,” she said. “You must go to Alpenberg, and quickly. Franz says I am not to walk back to the hotel with you, as I had planned. I must leave here and go to my friend’s house in the next street.” She rose from the table.

  Nora stood up as well. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Sonya moved back through the living room to the front closet and retrieved their coats. “A man has come to the hotel, a young man with red hair and a cap on his head. He knows I work in the lounge—he came in there and asked Franz if Sonya Hoffman is working tonight. Franz told him no; he said Sonya Hoffman no longer works there. The man is in the lounge now, drinking beer at the bar. He does not seem to know that Franz is my husband, but Franz is afraid.” She handed Nora her coat. “How could someone else find me there? Yuri did not tell him, and you did not tell him. How is this possible?”

  Nora put on her trench coat and hitched her bag over her shoulder, thinking. The man she knew as Chuck was in Lucerne, looking for Yuri’s sister—Julie Campbell’s sister-in-law—at her secret job. The last time Nora had seen Chuck, he’d just captured Daniel Fenwick. There was only one explanation.

  “Sonya, Yuri knows you work at Hotel Toler, but is there anyone else he might have told, any friend or relative of Julie’s who might need to get in touch with you?”

  Sonya was in her coat, reaching for her keys. “Yuri never mentioned any friends. He has only me, and he said his wife also has only one relative, an uncle in England.”

  “I see,” Nora said, pulling out her phone. She called Jeff, hoping his phone wasn’t off. He answered immediately.

  “Hey, Pal,” he said. “Are you calling to explain why you weren’t on the plane this—”

  Nora cut him off. “Darling, I love you, and I’ll explain everything soon, I swear. But right now I have an emergency, and it’s time-sensitive. I ask one question, you give one answer, and then we both hang up, okay?”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “You said Daniel Fenwick’s sister Fiona was an MI6 agent, married to a CIA agent. What was that American agent’s name?”

  “Campbell,” he said. “John Campbell.”

  “Thank you, darling.” Nora ended the call and grabbed Sonya’s arm. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Chapter 29

  They parted ways in front of Sonya’s apartment building. Nora insisted they trade phone numbers, and they promised to call each other with any developments. Sonya set off alone, turning to wave before she rounded the corner and vanished.

  Nora remembered the way they’d come. In minutes, she was back on the street where Hotel Toler stood on the corner facing the little square. She paused under a bright awning a few doors down and fished in her bag for her compact, checking her age makeup and blond wig. She still looked more Marianne Lanier than Nora Baron, but she’d have to lose the trench coat and Coach bag before she entered the lounge—and she had every intention of entering it. She wanted to see if anyone beside Chuck had shown up there, but Chuck might remember her coat and bag even if he didn’t recognize her face.

  She entered the hotel lobby at eight-fifteen, and the first thing she did was scan it for enemies. Two elderly women sat in overstuffed chairs near the elevator, studying a Fodor’s guidebook of Switzerland; otherwise, no one. The young desk clerk she’d dealt with earlier was still on duty.

  She smiled at him and paid the bill for the room, which she suspected they’d already rolled over to the next customer. Her suitcase was behind the desk, and he told her that her driver was waiting in a car outside. Nora handed him her coat and shoulder bag, asking him to put them with her suitcase while she had a quick one for the road.

  Nora went into the lounge, thankful for its dim mood lighting. The same woman was at the piano, treating a larger audience than before to a soulful rendition of “Send in the Clowns.” A quick glance ar
ound told Nora that the newlyweds were gone but the American tour group had multiplied, and they’d been augmented with a German group in the center of the room and a Japanese group in a far corner. The bar along the wall was crowded, and Nora slowly looked down its length, searching for red hair and a knitted cap. She exhaled in relief: no Chuck, and no other familiar faces, either.

  A man and woman were vacating the bar chairs at one end, so Nora quickly slid into one of them. The new barman, an older gent, started to come over to take her order, but Franz Hoffman had noticed her arrival, so he replaced the man. He arrived before her, frowning, and Nora could see that he was furious. She smiled and asked for a small brandy, hoping to disarm him, but it made no difference.

  “This is your doing,” he hissed as he placed the tiny goblet before her. “These people are looking for my brother-in-law’s wife, who is probably every bit as big a criminal as he is, and they have followed you here. Sonya called me; she is in her friend’s home. She is safe—for now.”

  Nora met his gaze. “Yes, Sonya is okay. But you’re wrong, Herr Hoffman. I didn’t lead them to you; they don’t know I’m here. They found Sonya through other means.”

  He frowned some more. “What other means?”

  Nora shrugged. “I can’t say how they found her, but I’m sure they won’t be here for long. They’re closing in on Yuri’s wife, and I must get to her before they do. She’s not a criminal; she’s a very brave American agent who’s saved many innocent lives over the years. I’m on my way to her now.” She picked up the brandy and tossed it back. “And I can tell you one thing about Yuri: If he survives in the hospital, he won’t be going back to his old ways; he wants to change his life. Or else he won’t survive, and your wife will lose her only relative on earth—I suppose you’ll be perfectly happy to hear that news. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

  Franz Hoffman stared at her, and spots of color appeared on his cheeks. He waved a hand dismissively. “No charge.”

  “Thank you.” She stood up and leaned toward him. “You might want to rethink the way you treat Sonya. She loves her brother, no matter what he is, and if you keep insisting she can’t see him, she’s going to resent you more and more. If you love her as much as I think you do, you might want to loosen up. That’s your payment for the brandy. Goodbye, Herr Hoffman.” She turned to go.

  “Wait,” he said. “Please.”

  Nora came back over to the bar. “Yes?”

  “The man who was here,” he said, “the young man with the woolen hat—he got a phone call while he was drinking his beer. He didn’t know who I was, so I got close to him and listened. He was talking to a woman, someone named Amanda. I only heard his end of it, but it seems someone talked—someone they were holding or watching? He said, ‘It takes a while to kick in. You will have to dose him again.’ The woman must have told him to stay in Lucerne for the night. He said he’d get a room in a less expensive hotel and wait for her to call. Then he left the lounge. I don’t know if that helps you…”

  “It does,” Nora said. “It helps a great deal. Thank you, Herr Hoffman.” She managed to smile at him before returning to the lobby.

  She retrieved her coat and bag from the manager, thanked him, and wheeled her suitcase outside, looking around for her car. A dark blue Mercedes sedan blinked its lights and pulled out from the curb a little way down the street, moving silently up to stop in front of her. The driver’s door opened and a young woman leaped out and ran around to greet her.

  Nora tried not to stare. The girl was about Dana’s age, but she bore no resemblance to Nora’s daughter. She didn’t look like anyone Nora knew. She wasn’t particularly tall, but she was big, heavyset. Far from being self-conscious about this, she dressed to emphasize her large dimensions in a yellow-and-black striped cowl-necked sweater, tight black leggings, and the most amazing black boots Nora had ever seen. They were lace-ups, with bright yellow yarn laces crisscrossing through steel rivets from ankle to knee. Her dramatically made up face was pretty, and her metal ear studs, necklace, and bracelets were dramatically chunky, but her hair was a disaster—limp and mouse-brown, it hung forlornly down around her shoulders.

  “Guten Abend! Bonsoir, Madame Lanier!” she said, grinning as she took Nora’s suitcase from her and wheeled it back to the trunk. “Je suis Stephanie—Stephanie Koster—mais je préferé Fanny. Vous allez en Alpenberg, oui? Nous sommes—”

  “Whoa!” Nora said, grinning right back at the delightful young woman. “I have a French name, but I’m American. Do you speak English, Fanny?”

  Fanny swung the suitcase up into the trunk and slammed the lid. “You’re American? Really? Fabulous! Now I can practice my English. I’m trying to become totally multilingual for my acting career. I’m in the international arts school here, studying theater arts, and I guess I look a bit unusual for an actress, but I—”

  “Whoa!” Nora said again, sliding into the backseat as Fanny held the door open for her. “Get in the car, Fanny.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She ran around and jumped in the driver’s seat. “Alpenberg, right?”

  “Right,” Nora said. “But first, how long have you been waiting out here in front of the hotel?”

  Fanny looked at her in the rearview mirror. “I dunno, about fifteen minutes? Why?”

  “Did you see a young man come out of there? A thin young man with bright red hair and—”

  “A ski cap?” Fanny supplied. “Sure thing. He went thataway.” She pointed down the long avenue before them.

  “What’s his head start?”

  “He came out about three minutes before you did.”

  Nora thought a moment. “He said he was looking for a cheap place to stay. If he’s walking that way, does that give you any ideas?”

  Fanny puffed up her cheeks and blew air out. “Hmm, he’s heading in the right direction. There are a couple of real fleabags down that way, far from the lake.”

  Nora smiled. “Your English is extraordinary, Fanny—you don’t even have an accent. Do you think we might be able to find him?”

  The young woman stared at her in the mirror. “What gives? Are you, like, a detective or something?”

  “Or something,” Nora said, and she winked. “Let’s see if we can catch up with Mr. Ski Cap, okay? I very much need to know where he’s going.”

  The already glittering face lit up like Christmas. “Wow, this is so cool! I’ve been doing this for a few months now, but you’re the first passenger with a really interesting request—they usually just want to see the Lion. Hang on!” She threw the car in gear and slid out into traffic.

  Nora looked through the side window, scanning the sidewalks ahead as they advanced. One block, two, three, and then she spotted him halfway down the next block. “Stop here!”

  Fanny immediately slid the Mercedes over to the curb and stopped, idling. Chuck stood looking up at the sign above the door of a small building. The plain red neon letters read PENSION. As they watched, he shrugged and went inside.

  “Ah, yes,” Fanny said. “Pension. If it has a longer name, nobody knows what it is. I think they rent rooms by the hour.”

  Nora sat back in her seat, thinking. She was on her way out of town, into the mountains, but now she’d located one of her foes. She’d also lucked into a clever, adventurous local drama major. She could use this to her advantage.

  “Fanny, dear,” she said to the rearview mirror, “I’ve hired you as a driver, but now I’d like to engage your services as an actress. Are you game?”

  The girl grinned. “I’m game, set, and match!”

  Chapter 30

  While they waited in the car, Nora learned all about her new friend. Fanny Koster had been born in Bern, but her parents had relocated to Lucerne to start a car service. Her father had figured—correctly—that car hires would be popular in a tourist town where so many of the attractions weren’t in walking distance, trains and buses were crowded, and taxis would be too expensive. His original fleet of five dark blue
Mercedes sedans had grown to thirty, with loyal drivers and loyal customers. Fanny lived with her folks in a big, rambling old farmhouse in a suburb on the Reuss River.

  She was twenty, a Capricorn, and she always knew she could only be an actor; she’d been dressing up in bedsheets and memorizing Shakespeare speeches since she was six. Nora smiled when she heard this familiar detail. Fanny’s parents funded her college education, but she was earning walking-around money by driving for the family business three evenings a week. She had a semi-serious boyfriend and many friends in the theater arts department, and she loved all things American. Her ultimate dream was Hollywood. “Hey, I may not look like Keira Knightley, but I think there are lots of parts I’d be perfect for.”

  Nora agreed. With her intelligence, enthusiasm, and distinctive look—not to mention her uncanny ear for languages—Fanny had a better chance than most. Nora told her this before revealing what she did for a living.

  “A drama teacher!” Fanny cried. “Really? Wow! But, how do you teach in France if you don’t speak French?”

  “That’s a long story,” Nora said. She couldn’t admit that she was posing as another woman and paying for this excursion with that woman’s credit card, certainly not to the daughter of the company’s owners. Instead, she said, “I think we’ve given Mr. Ski Cap enough time, don’t you? He’ll be checked into his room by now.”

  “Let’s make sure.” Fanny was out of the car and sashaying toward the guesthouse entrance before Nora realized she’d moved. Nora watched as the girl looked in through the glass door, then disappeared inside. She came out two minutes later and ran back to the car. “Okay, Charles O’Rourke is in room number six of Pension Peekaboo. What now?”

  Nora stared. “How did you—?”

  “Piece of cake,” Fanny said with a smile. “I told the drug dealer at the desk that I thought I’d seen a classmate come in a few minutes ago, and he actually showed me the register. He was still counting the cash Charles must have just given him for whatever, and he told me to go on up if I was in the mood for a party—he was sure Charles would be happy to share his candy with a fine, big-boned fox such as myself. I told him no, I had to get back to my lamppost, and here I am.”