City of Spies (28 page)

But if she could delay them, maybe the cops would arrive, and the CIA could get them into custody and mete out a little justice.

She leveled the gun at the gangplank, her finger tightening on the trigger. She might get lucky and set it on fire, too.

But that would trap them all on board with a fire blazing. And with her luck she'd fire it straight into the water or blow Von Albrecht's head off. Or hit the poor sailor trying to extend the gangplank.

Her hand holding the gun shook. She lowered it.

Von Albrecht shouted something to one of the men rushing over to help with the gangplank and waved toward Pagan. The man took something black from his hip, and raised it. A loud crack, and a bullet whizzed past Pagan's head. Another crack, and she ducked to see a chunk jump out of the wooden deck at her feet. Von Albrecht wasn't backing off.

The sirens were closing in. But would they get there in time? A shot ricocheted off an empty cage next to Pagan. There were no other animals left on deck. Von Albrecht's bastards must have killed all but the dog.

Good thing this particular bastard wasn't a good shot. But he was walking toward her, taking aim again.

The gangplank was nearly to the other side. Von Albrecht and Dieter waited impatiently. The moment it was locked down, they would get away. He who had inflicted so much suffering was about to escape justice once again.

Beside her the dog was still growling. The few hairs left on his neck stood straight up. The bleeding lips were pulled back to show his fangs as he stared balefully at Von Albrecht.

Pagan unlatched the cage.

“Get him, boy,” she said, and she swung the door open.

Like a guided missile, the skeletal form took off after Von Albrecht.

The man firing at Pagan lifted his gun and yelled, “Look out!”

The dog shot past him. He fired at it, taking another chunk out of the deck.

Von Albrecht turned, blinking at the blur of raw skin and teeth bearing down on him.

“Help!” He threw his arms up to shield his face. The dog launched itself at him in a great arcing leap.

Dieter screamed and lunged forward, then flinched back as teeth flashed at him. The man who had been shooting at Pagan raced back toward Von Albrecht. Damn it, they might hurt the dog. Pagan broke into a run.

Lights were flashing, red, blue and white. The gangplank wavered, not yet secure. A siren wailed closer, and men's voices shouted. Police cars and an ambulance screeched to a halt alongside the dock. Men in uniform were pouring out, shouting questions and brandishing guns. Firemen pulled a hose from their truck.

Von Albrecht was on the ground, screaming and wrestling with a fury of white teeth and raw flesh. Dieter's face was contorted in an agony of indecision. He reached toward the dog again, then drew back to avoid being mauled. His cohort had his gun up and was trying to find a way to shoot the dog without hurting the man beneath it.

“Get away!” Pagan shouted, and fired the flare gun over Dieter's head. The round sparked and hissed up and into the black sky, leaving a trail of smoke.

That should bring the cops right to them.

The man spun around, yelling. Dieter was staring at her as if she'd popped up out of her grave.

“You,” he said. His face was wet with tears. Being unable to help his father was tearing him apart. In a way, she knew how that felt. As he stared at her, his face hardened.

“Drop the gun!” she shouted, aiming at the man who had one. The wet sounds of cloth and flesh ripping continued as the dog ravaged Von Albrecht. His screams were growing more frantic.

The man dropped the gun, his gaze torn between her and the uniformed men pelting toward them.

“Get down on the ground!” Pagan shouted at him and Dieter. When they didn't react, she repeated it in German. “I said get down on the ground!”

Bewildered, the man obeyed. Dieter did not. The cops were only thirty feet away, feeling for their own pistols now and shouting at her in Spanish. One of them was grabbing at the gangplank, trying to bolt it to the dock.

Pagan aimed the flare gun at Dieter. “It's over.”

He looked up from the writhing, bloody mess that was his father and the dog and shook his head at her.
“Nien.”
His eyes were like stones.
“Nien!”

And he dove into the sea.

Pagan stood there stupidly for a moment, flare gun still pointed where Dieter had been.

“Drop it!” a uniformed man shouted at her from the dock, pointing his own gun at her. Other men were shouting down at the water, ordering Dieter to stop.

Pagan dropped the flare gun as the gangplank was finally affixed. The cops swarmed toward her.

Let them come
. She patted her thigh and said to the dog, “Leave him, boy. Come here.”

The dog lifted his head. Von Albrecht was moaning, flailing. He shoved at the dog, and the animal left him, trotting over to Pagan. His muzzle was smeared with blood, but his tail was wagging.

Pagan knelt down and put her arms around the dog, not caring about the cops surrounding them or the mud and blood now smeared over her face.

“It's okay now,” she said to him as she pulled the wiggling body closer. “It's all right.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Buenos Aires,
Argentina
January 12 and 13, 1962

ENTREGARME

Surrender. To give oneself up to the leader's lead.

Pagan wouldn't let go of the dog, and the cops finally gave up trying to pry the gaunt creature from her arms. Someone handed her a rope, but she didn't have the heart to tie it around the poor thing's raw neck.

She tried to answer the questions the cops were throwing at her, until a nurse scolded the men, threw a blanket over her shoulders and led her and the dog away to sit near the ambulance.

She watched them load Von Albrecht, still moaning in agony, into that ambulance. So he was alive, if badly bleeding from dog bites. Pagan was about to protest, until, through the press of uniforms, she saw Devin Black speaking to the ambulance driver.

A wave of relief, of peace, overtook her. She waited and sipped the water and took the aspirin the nurse gave her. When the woman wasn't looking, Pagan lowered the cup and let the dog have a drink.

Eventually, the nurse asked Pagan to get into a second ambulance. She and the dog climbed inside the back to find Devin sitting there, smiling at her.

The dog walked up, tail wagging, and licked Devin's hand. His dark brows came together in concern as he carefully stroked the dog's battered ears. “Good work.”

Pagan sat on the bench opposite him. It took everything she had not to throw herself on him and never let go.

But the doors were opened, with men and women coming and going outside. She wasn't sure if anyone was supposed to know who she was, or who Devin was. But if she could've wished them gone anywhere else on earth in that moment, they would have vanished forever.

“It's so good to see you,” Devin said, his voice low. His expression resembled something like pure happiness.

“Dieter,” she said. “Did they get him?”

His eyebrows quirked up. “No. I didn't know he was here. Was he the one the police saw jump into the water?”

She nodded. “He and some of the members of his gang were helping his father. You have to get him. He saw me, and he's, well, angry doesn't quite cover it.”

“He's very dangerous. Hang on.” Devin jumped out of the ambulance and walked over to a very thin man whose pale scalp shined between long, carefully combed strands of hair. Blue and red lights flashed around them as Devin spoke to him. The thin man threw both hands up and hustled out of Pagan's view, shouting at someone.

Devin climbed back into the ambulance and sat down opposite her again without touching her. He was wearing a black shirt with no jacket, black pants and soft-soled shoes. He looked like a cat burglar.

“How did you find us?” she asked. She really wanted the ambulance doors to close. She needed to be alone with Devin. Even if he didn't love her back.

He glanced over at the outside world as if he, too, was waiting for it to go away. “Mercedes told me you'd gone to the Von Albrecht house, so I went to the basement, saw the entrance to the tunnels, and followed it to the docks.”

“Mercedes.” Pagan straightened. “She'll be worried.”

“I just called and told her that you're all right,” he said. “How are you feeling? The nurse said you didn't need to go to the hospital, but...”

“I'm fine,” she said shortly. She didn't want to talk about what she'd learned about her mother, or about anything else right now.

Devin was so close. But she schooled her voice to stay clinical. “They got Von Albrecht, didn't they? Your friends?”

His eyes kept moving over her face. “He's heading for one of our safe houses now. After he's been stitched up a little, they'll question him.”

“What about the bomb? It's on the ship.”

“So it
was
a bomb,” he said, and sat up straighter as the skinny balding man walked up to the open back of their ambulance. He was younger than his hairline indicated, and so thin that his bland suit hung from his shoulders like a sack on a stick doll. He had an intense nervous energy to him. An eye twitch wouldn't look out of place.

“There's news,” he said to Devin as he cast a wary glance at Pagan.

“You can talk. This is Pagan Jones,” Devin said tersely. “Pagan, this is my colleague Reggie Pope.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Jones.” They were speaking in English and Reggie Pope had a flat Midwestern US accent. His eyes traveled over her dismissively before he turned back to Devin. “The fire's completely out. The Argentine police have impounded the ship and all its contents.”

“When do we get it from them?” Devin asked.

“Officially, negotiations should take a few days,” Reggie said. “But they've already asked for our help to store the...object in question. They're not equipped to deal with it safely. But we're still not sure exactly what it is.”

“Von Albrecht said it was a dirty bomb,” Pagan said.

Devin's head came up, and Reggie Pope's eyes went round. He said very carefully, as if speaking to a child, “Did he use those exact words—dirty bomb?”

Pagan shot Devin an
are you kidding me?
glance, which made him smirk. She said, “I believe Von Albrecht's exact words were that there would be—” her voice took on Von Albrecht's relentless tone “‘—no blast wave to destroy the few buildings the Allies left standing after the war. Just dead Communists, dead Americans, French and English. Dead, dead, dead.'”

Reggie blinked at her, confused.

“And he said he was working for the United States before he escaped. You let him get away with some plutonium.”

Reggie's twitchy face became positively pale.

“I don't think you heard me, Pope,” Devin said. “This is
Pagan Jones
.”

“Oh!” Something clicked inside Reggie's brain. “I'm so sorry, Miss Jones. I wasn't expecting someone so—” he hesitated “—young.”

“You better go tell them what they're dealing with,” Devin said. “It's time for us to go.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Reggie pulled at the ambulance doors. “A dirty bomb. Good Lord!”

He slammed the back doors shut, and the ambulance took off.

Pagan and Devin stared at each other in the dim gleam of the ambulance's greenish overhead light. The dog laid down at Devin's feet and sighed. The gurney between them rattled.

“I told them to stop by a veterinarian near the hotel first,” he said.

“Thanks.” Her mouth was dry. She couldn't stop staring at him.

He was staring back. “Who hit you?” His voice was low with controlled anger.

There must be a bruise forming on her cheek, and it warmed her a little to think the sight of it made him angry. “Dieter. But I wanted him to.”

He gave her a puzzled little smile. “You're going to need to tell me a little more.”

So she outlined it all for him in short, unemotional sentences that left out any thoughts about her mother: how she'd gotten on the ship, started the fire and stopped Von Albrecht.

He listened without interruption. A faint, thoughtful line creased his forehead. “You are the most extraordinary creature, Pagan Jones,” he said. “Just when I think I've grasped the depth of your courage and resourcefulness, you surprise me.”

Pagan's throat tightened. She opened her eyes wide against the tears threatening to spill over. “I tried to play it smart and stay low,” she said. Why had his words made her want to cry like a child? “I knew you were coming, that there were too many of them, that it was stupid to go on board. But they were going to lift anchor. They were drowning the animals. I couldn't wait.”

Her face was wet, damn it. In spite of the blanket over her shoulders, she was shaking. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

In a breath, Devin crossed the space between them and took her in his arms. She sank into him and gave in to several shaking sobs. Devin said nothing, only rocked her slightly.

As she calmed, she realized that the dog had moved to lie on her feet, and that Devin smelled like fresh tobacco leaves and musk. It was so warm and safe in his arms. She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead against his neck, praying she'd never have to leave.

Devin said, “What Von Albrecht did to those animals and to his victims during the war, the terror he had planned for Berlin, that's no one's fault but his, and the devils who helped him. Don't you ever apologize to me, Pagan Jones,
mo grádh
. I won't stand for it.”

The ambulance came to a halt, and the driver tapped on the window between them.

“We're at the vet,” Devin said.

Pagan nodded, and pulled away, sniffing. Devin produced a handkerchief from somewhere. She took it, and felt cold again as he left her to open the back doors.

While she blew her nose and talked softly to the dog, Devin spoke to a sleepy man who opened an upstairs window. Shortly after that, the man, now in a white coat, was accepting a wad of bills from Devin and frowning over the dog's many wounds.

“The blood on his mouth isn't his,” Pagan said in Spanish, giving the dog another careful hug. “Go with the nice vet, sweetie.” She really needed to give him a name.

“Give him food, too, whatever he requires,” Devin said. “We'll send someone for him in the morning.”

She watched the vet walk back into his dark office with the dog. She didn't want to let him go.

“Rocket!” Pagan said suddenly. She dropped the blanket that was wrapped around her, ran up to the dog and kissed the top of his head. “Your name is Rocket.
Su nombre es Rocket
,” she added to the vet.

“Sí?”
he said, smiling and blinking sleepily.
“Buenos noches, señorita.”

“Buenos noches, señor
.
Gracias,”
she said. “
Buenos noches,
Rocket.”

She walked back out to Devin, who stood by the ambulance. When he tried to drape the blanket over her shoulders again, she shied away.

He lowered the blanket. “Are you all right?”

She couldn't look at him, but she shook her head. She wanted yet didn't want him to put that blanket on her, so he'd put his arms around her again. She wanted to snuggle in that embrace, knowing she could stay. She wanted him to bring her a martini wearing nothing but a smile. But she didn't get a lot of things she wanted in this world. Hell, she was lucky just to be alive.

“You can tell me anything, you know,” he said, and waited.

“Okay.” She inhaled and tried to put all the awful things in her brain into a sentence. “You and me in there, just now.” She jerked her head toward the open back of the ambulance. “What did that mean?”

His eyes flicked over her face. Then he tossed the blanket into the ambulance, closed the doors and banged on them twice.

The ambulance engine stuttered to life, and it pulled away, rattling off down the street. Across the way, a light in an upstairs window was extinguished. The quiet of the night filled all the cracks in the cobblestone street and infiltrated the fog. They were alone.

Devin paced away from her, hands jammed in his pants pockets, then pivoted around to face her. “When I held you in my arms just now, it meant that I wanted to comfort you, to keep you safe. I didn't do it to keep you as an asset. I did it because I care. You know that.”

She was frozen in place. The words sounded right. They sounded pretty darn great actually. But...there was always a “but.”

“You comforted me in Berlin, too,” she said. “You kissed me. But then you went away. Tonight, you said nice things, and you held me, but it doesn't mean what I want it to. So I can't let it keep happening. I can't keep hoping for something that isn't true. I probably shouldn't see you again.”

His eyes flicked at her, mouth moving into a determined line as he came to some kind of decision.

“Listen to me,” he said, taking her shoulders in both hands. “Sometimes the kissing and the flirting is fun, but most of the time it's not. I like Julieta, but kissing her didn't mean anything to me. She and the others—they're not like the time I kissed you. Back in Berlin.” He took a deep breath and his eyes got very bright. “Nothing else in my life has ever been like that.”

Pagan swayed. Had she heard him correctly?

“It hasn't?” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“You're like no one else, Pagan. But I couldn't do anything more, or say anything, because you were working for me. It wouldn't have been right. And I didn't want to make a mistake.”

She nodded. “I know it's important you don't mess up at your job. Lives are at stake...”

“Yes, but that's not what I meant. I meant that you're important.” He gave her shoulders a tiny shake, as if trying to awaken her from a bad dream. “I didn't want to make a mistake at the beginning because I knew very early on that I...” He swallowed, his face drawn. “I didn't want to be like Nicky.”

Nicky. The boy who'd scooped her up when she was at her lowest and made her feel loved. There had been no waiting with Nicky, no careful consideration of what was or wasn't right.

“You didn't want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice small.

“No!” He shook his head vehemently. “I didn't want to take advantage of you. I don't think he meant to, but when he first met you, Nicky swept a very unhappy girl off her feet.”

Pagan had been drinking secretly every day when she met Nicky. Nicky had come along and made her feel like maybe life wasn't so pointless, after all. Some of her choices after that had been terrible, but being with Nicky, until the end, wasn't one of them.

“I might've loved Nicky,” she said. “Or maybe I loved how he made me feel—I don't know. But I did what he wanted, you know?” She looked Devin dead in the eye and pulled her courage up from somewhere. “And that's why you're hesitating with me. Because I went all the way with Nicky.”