“Oh, yes,” I lied. “Said he’s not your average diplomat. He’s more aggressive. Plans to make changes.”
“What kind of changes?”
I shrugged.
“So . . . the target’s father will now be alone for several weeks?”
A menacing feeling rose from beneath the desk. Were they planning to harm Mr. Van Dorn? I pretended not to understand the question.
“The target and his mother are gone,” said Paddle Hands slowly. He smiled. “That means Van Dorn will be alone in the apartment for several weeks.”
“I’m . . . I’m not sure,” I said.
“Oh right, he won’t be alone.” The agent stared right through me. “Your mama will be there with him.” He let the dig sit for a beat. “Just to clean, of course,” he added.
With a flick of his large hand, he shed the paper ring from his pinky and flung it across the desk at me. He grinned, pleased with himself.
“We’re done,” he said.
|| OFFICIAL REPORT ||
TOP SECRET
[15 Dec. 1989]
Ministry of the Interior Department of State Security
Directorate III, Service 330
Discussion with source OSCAR at host location.
OSCAR displayed arrogance and pretended to be upset about his grandfather’s death in an attempt to manipulate the conversation.
OSCAR provided the following information on target VAIDA: -VAIDA’s son has left Romania with his mother for the holidays. Prior to departing, he gave OSCAR a holiday card. OSCAR accepted the card.
-the new American ambassador is rumored to have “aggressive” attitudes toward Romania and plans to make “changes”
-for the next several weeks, “VAIDA” will be alone in his apartment Recommendations:
? OSCAR is no longer of use. Take necessary measures.
? VAIDA is alone. Accelerate plan.
54
CINCIZECI ?I PATRU
I thought I was a great pretender. But at that moment, I wasn’t so sure. Paddle Hands was smug, too smug. I’d assumed an agent dealing with teenagers had to be mediocre. Had I assumed wrong?
Starfish intercepted me in front of the apartment block. “I might have something for you.”
“Yeah? What?”
“A British guest at the Intercontinental threw some papers in the trash. They’re in English. A contact is holding them for me.”
“How much?
“Got any Western currency?” he asked.
I thought of the dollar I gave to Cici. “I might. You have the papers?”
“No, but I can get them.”
“Well, get them and we’ll talk.”
I left Starfish and turned toward my building.
Orange flickers.
The candles had returned along with the large wooden cross outside of our apartment block. Death was paying another house call. Tiny snowflakes swirled in the glow like specks of winter dust. Mirel lingered in his usual spot.
“Mrs. Drucan,” he said. “A couple hours ago.”
I nodded.
I made my way up the stairs to the third floor. Cici was moving chairs into the hallway.
“Mrs. Drucan,” she said.
“Mirel told me.”
“Can you ask her daughter if she needs any help?”
The woman from Boston rushed around, organizing things in her mother’s apartment.
“Salut, Cristian.”
“I’m sorry about your mother. Do you need any help?”
“Mersi, but I think I’m all set. She was very peaceful. We had a final exchange. I know she heard me. She took a breath and was gone.”
I thought of Bunu. A smile. A relieved exhale. That was the way he should have died. Deserved to die. I nodded, just standing there. Hands stuffed in my pockets.
“When are you leaving for Boston?” I asked.
“In a few days. My cousins will remain in the apartment. You’ve been so helpful and—unlike others—you’ve refused to accept or ask for anything. Could I treat you to a cup of coffee? I brought some Nescafé from the States.”
Coffee.
“Don’t drink the coffee,” I blurted.
She looked at me, confused. “Why not?”
“It’s . . . unhealthy.”
“Well, it is instant coffee, but I thought most people here liked Nescafé.”
“Yeah, sorry, they probably do. Have a safe trip home.” I turned to leave and felt her hand upon my arm.
“Oh, and Cristian,” she whispered.
I looked over to her.
“Three cartons.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the answer. It takes three cartons to turn up the gas.”