City Of Spies. Nina Berry

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СКАЧАТЬ file in front of you for years to keep you on their string,” she said. “The file might not exist. Devin himself told you not to trust them.”

      “I don’t trust them. But I know Mama was up to no good,” Pagan said. “She was helping this Dr. Someone, or Rolf Von Albrecht, or whatever his name was. Mama’s gone, but he might be down in Argentina, doing more bad things. If the CIA doesn’t give me what I want, at least maybe I can help stop him, bring him to justice.”

      Mercedes said nothing, her eyelids at half-mast as she stared at Pagan.

      “What?” said Pagan.

      “You were eight years old when this German man visited your house,” she said. “You were twelve when your mama took her life. A little girl.”

      “I know,” said Pagan. “But I’m not little anymore, and if I can make a difference now...”

      “If you can right your mama’s wrong, you mean.”

      “She was my mother!” Anger at her friend surged through her. How could she try to take away Pagan’s strong connection to her mother, good or bad? “Everything she did had a big effect on me! And if she was a bad person...” She stopped, not knowing where that sentence was going.

      Mercedes leaned forward, dark eyes ferociously intent. She tapped her index finger on the table with every word as she said, “What she did is not your responsibility.”

      A surge of emotion flooded up from Pagan’s chest. Her eyes filled with tears. “But what if Mama died because of me?”

      Mercedes did not relent. She shook her head. “That woman had all kinds of things going on, way over your head. You could be risking your life here—again. Why are you doing that?”

      Pagan got up and grabbed a kitchen towel, wiping her eyes. The cloth came away streaked black with mascara and eyeliner. “I don’t know, M. But even if I never find out why Mama killed herself, I want to help them get this guy. My mother aided in a Nazi escape. Isn’t that reason enough? Right now I’m the only one left alive who might be able to identify him.”

      “Okay,” Mercedes said. “Let’s call it patriotism and justice for now and see what happens. But I’m going with you.”

      Pagan’s mouth dropped open. “But school—that’s really important to you. I wouldn’t want you to miss...”

      Mercedes considered this. “Okay, I’ll go for the first week, as long as I can get the reading assignments in advance.”

      The corners of Pagan’s mouth turned up into a huge grin and she darted across the room to throw her arms around Mercedes’s neck.

      For once, Mercedes didn’t grumble and pull away. She patted Pagan’s arm awkwardly. “Guess that’s okay with you.”

      Pagan laughed and stepped back. “It’s great with me! I promise I won’t suck you into it too much. No violence.”

      “We should review the self-defense moves I taught you back in reform school. And when we get back here, we should get a dog.”

      “A big dog.” Pagan looked out the kitchen window at the backyard and switched off the lights. “And maybe some electric fencing, snares and booby traps.”

      Thump!

      Pagan jumped two feet in the air as something slammed into the front door of the house. Mercedes frowned. “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back.”

      They walked side by side down the hallway to the foyer. Mercedes sidled up to the side window and peered through the curtains. “A man’s walking back down the driveway. Nobody I know. And there’s nobody else.”

      “Well, then, what...?” Pagan unlocked the door and tugged it open a few inches.

      A large brown envelope flopped down from where it had been leaning against the door. In black marker someone had printed Pagan Jones on it.

      Pagan stooped to pick it up, pulling up the flap.

      About a hundred pages of three-hole paper slid out, bound together with metal fasteners in the top and bottom holes.

      The print on the front page said Two to Tango. A Universal Pictures Production.

      Pagan laughed. “It’s the script for the Buenos Aires movie.”

      “It better be good,” said Mercedes, and locked the door.

       CHAPTER THREE

      Hollywood, California

      December 16, 1961

      SEGUIDILLAS

      Tiny, quick steps, usually seen in orillero style tango.

      The script had been written by monkeys pulling random phrases out of a hat full of Hollywood clichés. After reading a few pages, Pagan had trouble forcing her eyes over the hammy dialogue and overwrought scene direction.

      The plot was something she’d seen a thousand times—a girl on the cusp of womanhood from the US goes to exotic Buenos Aires on vacation, where she can’t decide between the two men vying for her affections. One was a tall handsome blond American—kind, but a little boring. The other was a darkly handsome Argentinean gaucho, their version of a cowboy, whose seductive tangos and moonlit serenades on his Spanish guitar were too much for the naive girl to resist.

      Ten pages in, Pagan knew her character ended up with the American boy. It was too obvious that the “exotic” man was up to no good, and that his dangerous foreign ways and wandering hands would send the silly American girl scurrying back to the safety and security of the American boy.

      Mercedes threw it down after five pages. “You’re going to have to tango and sing and say these terrible lines. You’re going to have to—” she grabbed the script and read from it out loud “‘—fall under the gaucho’s tropical spell.’”

      “Is Buenos Aires tropical?” Pagan frowned.

      Mercedes snorted. “Don’t you know? All dark-skinned people live in jungles.”

      “I wouldn’t count on his skin being all that dark. They’ve cast a Broadway actor named Tony Perry as Juan, the seductive Latin man who—” Pagan grabbed the script from Mercedes “‘—tangos with the dangerous stealth of an enormous black panther.’”

      Mercedes let out a scornful laugh. “And plays the guitar while riding a horse.”

      “Excuse me, but don’t you mean—” Pagan read from the script again “‘—caresses the neck of his smooth wooden instrument with the consummate skill of a virtuoso’?”

      Mercedes shook her head. “His instrument’s wood? Don’t let him get anywhere near you with that.”

      Pagan gasped with mock horror. “Dirty jokes before breakfast! I better make us some eggs.”

      After breakfast, Mercedes went back to studying СКАЧАТЬ