The prodigal spy

He took ten minutes. Nick sat in the booth, sweating, the receiver cradled at his ear, the constant dial tone drowning out the buzzing in his head. All that mattered-not any of the rest of it, all the complicated loyalties. He saw her walking past the guards on the Prague station platform. In the room at the Alcron. His. The only thing he hadn’t lost yet. By the time he saw Larry walking into the lobby, the fear had set into something harder, without margins. The oldest instinct in the book.

“It wasn’t me, Nick,” Larry said, his voice brisk, setting things straight.

“I don’t care. Just get her. John Brown works upstairs somewhere. He’s the one who’d know her. He’s probably had her watched. What about Barbara-she take packages from anybody else?”

Larry nodded.

“Then she must have tipped one of them.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Larry said, getting into the booth. “I can’t promise anything. I don’t know the others. It may be out of my hands.”

“But you’re in mine. Do it.”

Larry picked up the receiver and began closing the booth door. Nick put his hand on it. “Secrets, Larry? Still?”

“Theirs.”

He closed the door and dialed. Nick stood outside the booth, watching the Bureau pass by, unaware. Larry was right, there was an excitement in knowing the only secret at the table. He heard him make another call, brusque, a man used to getting his way. Nick looked at his watch. They’d question her first.

“All right,” Larry said as he came out. “They’ve got her somewhere. They want to know what’s going on.”

“They tell you where?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

“One thing.”

Nick stopped and turned.

“I’d like the envelope,” Larry said, holding out a hand. Even now.

“And if I don’t?”

Larry just looked at him.

Nick reached into his pocket. “Here.” He tossed it at him. “You’re a lousy deal anyway.”

“Nick-”

“Let’s go.”

Outside, they walked to the waiting black car. Larry opened the driver’s door.

“Personal errand,” he said. “Take an hour and I’ll meet you back at the White House.”

The driver, surprised, handed him the keys. “They don’t like that.”

Larry winked. “Wouldn’t want to do anything personal on Government time, huh?”

“No, sir.”

When they pulled away, Larry said, “In my briefcase. Left compartment.”

Nick took the case from the back seat, opened it, and pulled out a gun, staring at it.

“Just put it in my pocket.”

“Why?”

“The man holding her doesn’t know me. If my person doesn’t reach him, we may need a little help. Just in case.”

“God, Larry.”

“Still enjoying yourself?”

They drove up 13th Street toward New York Avenue and stopped-why hadn’t he thought of it? — at the adult store.

“That’s why you didn’t want the driver.”

“They talk,” Larry said simply.

There was a CLOSED sign on the door, nothing visible inside. Larry knocked.

“We’re fucking closed.” The ponytail.

“Joseph sent me,” Larry said.

“Who?”

“John Brown,” Nick said. The one man he’d have to know.

The door opened a crack. “What the fuck do you want?”

“We came for the girl,” Larry said. “Come on, open. Quick. Before someone sees.” He pushed the door.

The man was holding the baseball bat, his eyes widening as he recognized Nick. “Who the fuck are you? Nobody said anything about the girl.”

“Where is she?” Larry said. “ Now.”

The man nodded toward the film cubicles in the back. “Nobody said nothing about this.”

“Nobody had to. Put the bat down. You look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck are you? I gotta make a call.” He went toward the register counter.

“Just put it down,” Larry said, holding the gun. “And the bat.”

“Fuck,” the ponytail said, amazed. He dropped the bat, which clattered on the floor.

“I thought you said just in case,” Nick said.

“Just get her. Where?” he said to the man.

“In the back on the right.”

Nick stared at Larry, suddenly frightened, then moved quickly into the back. Dim, after the garish front room. Doors with light bulbs over them.

“Molly?”

He heard a pounding inside one of the cubicles. His eyes adjusted to the dark. At the end, a chair was propped against a door.

“Molly.” He threw the chair aside and pulled the door open. She was standing there cowering, holding her forearm. “You all right?”

She nodded, still stunned. Her face was blotchy, and she moaned when he took her in his arms, hugging her.

“It’s my wrist. I think it’s broken. He grabbed-Oh God, Nick. What’s happening?”

“Come on.”

He held her by the side and walked her out of the dark room.

“They’re coming back,” she said. “Who are they?”

“Later. Come on.”

She blinked when the light hit her eyes, dazzled by the slick covers full of flesh. “Where are we?” Then she saw Larry holding the gun and drew closer to Nick, clutching him.

“Get her to the car,” Larry said.

“Nobody told me about this,” the ponytail said.

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you.” He moved toward Molly.

Larry raised the gun. “Don’t. I mean it.”

The man stopped, glowering.

“Get in the car,” Larry said to her. “Quick.”

She looked at Nick, who nodded and opened the door.

“You don’t know what fucking trouble you’re buying,” the ponytail said.

“I always know what I’m buying,” Larry said. “Now you can use the phone.”