Nina Berry - City Of Spies

“Having fun yet?” He grinned, sliding his gaze back to her.

There was an impact as their eyes met, like a meteor striking the earth. She was flushing again. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

“I’ll meet you back at your suite.” He started to get out of his chair.

“Wait!” She resisted putting her hand on his arm. They were still faking casual chitchat, acting as if they were strangers. “Shouldn’t you be staying to protect us from this guy?”

“Fear not, fair lady. He’s got to be tailing you in these public places for information, not assassination,” Devin said. “And I don’t want him tailing me. So act as if you’re leaving because you changed your mind, and don’t let him know for sure you’ve made him.”

“So we shouldn’t try to lose him?” she asked. “If we see him again.”

“No. He probably knows where you’re staying by now. See you soon. Give my best to Mercedes.” And with that he was gone, weaving toward the back of the restaurant, no doubt to slip through the kitchen and out a back door the rest of the world had no idea existed.

Pagan was finishing paying the bill when Mercedes came back, looking frustrated. Her eyebrows drew together as she saw the table being cleared and Pagan sliding her purse strap over her shoulder.

“Devin sends you his best,” Pagan said. “I told him you thought someone was following us. He’s got a full file on you, so he figured you knew what you were talking about, but he says we’re not in any danger. I need to meet him back at the suite to talk.”

“That explains the look on your face,” Mercedes said. “I couldn’t find the man in the gray suit again.”

So her excitement at seeing Devin did show on her face. How aggravating. “Devin said he probably noticed you noticing him and left, or got replaced with a follow-up man. I wonder if that’s a technical term. Oh, and they’re sweeping our suite every day for bugs.” She put down a few pesos for the tip. “You’re probably hungry. Stay if you like.”

Mercedes snorted and shook her head. “And miss a chance to finally meet Devin Black?”

They caught a cab back to the hotel. Pagan tried not to keep glancing out the back window to see if anyone was following them, but she caught Mercedes looking in the driver’s side-view mirror more than once.

“Anything?” she asked.

M shook her head. “Hard to tell.”

Devin was waiting in their suite. It was a little unsettling to walk into their private space and see him lounging in the side chair, reading the paper. He stood and held out his hand to Mercedes, smiling while she shook it. “I was going to introduce myself,” he said. “But I’m thinking that might be unnecessary.”

“I might have heard a thing or two about you,” Mercedes said, taking her hand back. “But apparently nothing like the research you’ve done on me.”

Devin gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s research like that which makes my job so interesting.”

Mercedes’s lips pursed in an appreciative little smile. “A compliment that doesn’t sound like a compliment. Pretty smooth for an art thief.”

“Former art thief,” Devin said. Pagan could see he was tickled by Mercedes tweaking him. “I never stole cars, but compared to taking a Picasso out of a guarded museum, it doesn’t sound that hard.”

Pagan opened her mouth to shush him, and then shut it. As Devin well knew, Mercedes had stolen her share of cars, and other things. She was in reform school for armed robbery and extortion because she’d been one of the top enforcers for the Avenidas, one of the most powerful Mexican gangs in Los Angeles, a gang headed by her brother, who’d been shot and killed. A gang that still wanted her back.

Mercedes’s eyelids dropped to half mast as she reassessed Devin. “It’s not hard,” she said, “unless Clanton 14 has six guys chasing you from both ends of Rampart Avenue and the only car you can get to has two more of them inside it.”

Clanton 14 was the rival gang to the Avenidas. Reform school had taught Pagan a lot of things Hollywood could not.

Devin lifted an impressed eyebrow. “I retract my statement.”

“Look at us, three little criminals,” Pagan said.

Mercedes and Devin turned as one to look at her, faces wearing identical looks of skepticism.

“You think she qualifies?” Mercedes asked Devin, as if Pagan wasn’t standing right there.

“As a criminal?” Devin shook his head. “She lacks the killer instinct.”

Pagan blinked at them. “But I...”

“She’s got a thing for the criminal type, though,” Mercedes said.

“Obviously,” said Devin, turning back to her. “Now this man in gray you saw following you. Can you describe him?” He ushered Mercedes to take the gold brocade chair behind him. “I ordered steaks for you both, by the way. The hotel cook’s pretty good.”

“Hooray,” Pagan said, still trying to deal with the two most important people in her life bonding without her. “I’m starving.”

She took the sofa while Mercedes lowered herself into the chair and said, “He was young, maybe early or midtwenties, over six feet, white, reasonably handsome with reddish brown hair under a light gray fedora. Gray suit, white shirt, narrow gray tie.”

“Thorough,” said Devin. “And what made you think he wasn’t a fellow tourist?”

Mercedes squinted, thinking. “He wasn’t looking around. He had no curiosity about the things or people around him. No guidebook. He kept staring at Pagan.”

Pagan straightened. Devin said, “He wasn’t some fan of her movies, maybe?”

Mercedes shook her head. “I thought of that. But he didn’t want an autograph, and not because he’s shy. He was intent, focused, and he didn’t want her, or me, to see him.”

Pagan was impressed, and convinced, and Devin was taking everything Mercedes said very seriously. “Will you let me know if you see him again?” he asked.

“Sure. Do you know who it is?”

It was like being at a tennis match, her eyes bouncing back and forth between them.

“No,” Devin said. “But we’ll find out.”

Mercedes nodded. “He’ll be back.”

“I knew Berlin was a garrison of spies,” Pagan said, turning to Mercedes. “But Devin says Buenos Aires is, too, even more so since the Israelis kidnapped that war criminal Eichmann back in ’60.”

“I did some research for my school report that said there’s a large Jewish population here,” Mercedes said. “But also a large German ex-patriot population.”

“Exactly,” said Devin. “And those are only two of the factions that come into conflict. Many of the old aristocracy resent elements within the German community and the former Perónist government, which harbored Nazis like Eichmann and Mengele. Then there are local gangs who follow various brands of fascism and Perónism, who agitate against the current government and target Jews. Not to mention that the Israelis and other foreign agencies are still active, all with their own agendas.”

“Why would any of them want to tail Pagan?” Mercedes asked. “For all they know she’s a harebrained movie star. Sorry.” She shot an apologetic look at Pagan.

Pagan grinned. “I drank a lot of martinis to give that impression. Glad they didn’t all go to waste.”

“Much as I’d like to discuss this with you in more detail, and much as I appreciate your sharp eye,” Devin said to Mercedes, “I can’t officially talk to Pagan about her job for us with you here.” He turned to Pagan. “Shall we adjourn to my room, perhaps? It’s down the hall.”

Pagan was on her feet. “You’re staying down the hall?” It was silly how that news made her pulse race.

“Don’t leave,” Mercedes said, getting up. “Pagan needs her steak, and it’s coming here. Send mine in when it comes.” And she sailed into her adjoining bedroom and shut the door.