A Date You Can't Refuse (37 page)

“Enough to help himself to it, maybe,” the standing cop said.

“Good God—I mean, good grief, no,” I said, handing over my license.

“Of course I would not steal,” Felix said. “From a house of God, never.” He turned to the friar. “Father—”

“Brother,” the friar said, correcting him.

“Brother, I believe this is a government building? The city, she pays for this?”

“No. Two California missions are funded by the government. This isn't one of them.”

“Like that's an excuse anyway?” the standing cop asked. “That's taxpayer money.”

“The theft of sacred artifacts is a very real problem,” the friar said. “We've had baskets stolen. Native American artifacts.”

“Sacred baskets? Who would do this?” Felix asked, shocked.

“A thief,” the cop said.

“In Monterey County,” the friar said, “someone stole the statue of Saint Anthony. They walked right out with the baby Jesus, then came back for Saint Anthony.”

“This is dreadful,” Felix said.

“Not to mention ironic,” Joey said. “Since Anthony's the patron saint of lost and stolen things.”

I had to wrap this up. I had less than an hour before Yuri needed me on the road, no idea where Stasik was, a chalk masterpiece to finish, and the possibility I was being poisoned. “Well, I'm sure you tried prayer,” I said suddenly. “But Brad? Maybe you have a particular Bible verse?”

“‘Either what woman,’” Felix said, “‘having ten pieces of silver, if she
lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?’ Luke, chapter fifteen, verse eight. Father, restore to us baskets, baby Jesus, and Saint Anthony.”

The cops appeared unimpressed with their praying perpetrator.

“Father—” I said.

“Brother.”

“Brother, he's not a criminal. I promise you. You can see he's not.”

“They come in all stripes,” the standing cop said. The friar, who I thought should have a bit more faith, was not disagreeing.

“Brother, can I talk to you a second?” I asked and nodded toward the altar. The friar stood and walked with me along the nave. “I need to confess something,” I told him. “Most of what I've said isn't true. But my friend really does love Jesus and really doesn't mean any harm, and he's definitely not a thief, he's a very kind person. There's no reason for you to believe me, but if you do, I promise you won't regret it. I was baptized Catholic, in case that carries any weight with you.”

The friar stopped and studied me, taking his time. Making me sweat. “Will you promise to tell the truth in the future?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes. I will.”

“Say ten Hail Marys. Heartfelt. Don't rattle them off.”

“Now?”

“On your own.” He turned back to the others and spoke loudly. “Officers, I'm inclined to give these people the benefit of the doubt. I won't be pressing charges.”

We didn't need to hear that twice. Felix was on his feet and saying his goodbyes and we all said a lot of thank-yous and then Joey and I were herding him out of there, back toward my twelve-foot square.

“Okay, ‘Brad,’” I said to Felix, racewalking. “What was that all about?”

“A simple misunderstanding. Not to worry.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Felix. Shall I tell Yuri you were caught by the cops?”

He stopped too, fear flashing across his face. “No! Do not!”

“Then you and I have to make a deal. I'll keep it out of my report and you tell me what you were really doing in that church. And yesterday at Tiffany's.”

“I—” He looked at Joey, then back at me.

“I can leave, if you like,” Joey said. “But actually, I keep secrets well. I'm a cradle Catholic, just like Wollie. We're big on secrets.”

“Just tell me,” I said, “is this part of your training? To be a spy. Which I know about.”

“You know?”

“I know. And you can tell Joey, because she just lied for you in there. Consider her a local recruit. So now I want to know what you were doing in there, because I bet it's the same thing Stasik's doing right now with Joey's car and I need to find it and him, fast.”

“I cannot tell you, Wollie.”

“Okay, then I'll have to tell Yuri—”

“No, no, no. I have broken the first rule. The first rule, don't get caught. No police. They don't see your face, they don't see passport. If Yuri knows, I lose hundreds of points.” He looked distressed. “But if I tell you things, then I also lose points.”

“Points?” I asked.

“You don't have to lose points,” Joey said. “We want you to win. No one will know.”

“You must swear on the blood of Christ.”

“Absolutely” Joey said.

“You got it,” I said.

“Okay, yes, it is the training. Do you know the scavenger hunts?”

Joey and I shook our heads.

“We have two weeks. The first day, Kimberly gives us the list. Number one, to find the dead drop in the canyon. Three of us did so, on the hike. Zeffie, no. Number two, we have each to obtain the security plan of a store. Number three, bring back a souvenir of a government building. But this church, she is not government.”

“Back up,” I said. “Tiffany's? You got the security layout for a scavenger hunt?”

“Yes, I am very lucky. Two days ago Nadja got the building plans for Baskin-Robbins when she is on her fifty-kilometer training run.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake,” I said. “Thirty-one flavors.” My frightful note
had been meant for Nadja all along. Nell had been giving her scavenger hunt advice.

“And,” Felix continued, “Stasik tried but failed to break into Wool-greens.”

“Walgreens,” I said. “Wait—are you all operatives?”

“Zbiggo, no. Bronwen, no. In this group, now four. There was Vanya, but Yuri needs Vanya in Europe now, he is engineer. Something big happens there now. He will come back in seven weeks with the next group, unless we are all called to Europe. The next group is now gathered in Zurich, where they learn to shoot well and hand-to-hand fight.”

“This is wild,” Joey said. “So Stasik taking my car—that's part of all this?”

“Yes, he will be trying for his government building. He is angry because Nadja and I have beat him. Even Zeffie has stolen postal supplies her second day.”

“Who else knows about the operation?” I started to move again toward my square.

Felix walked alongside me. “The second rule, keep your cover on. No one knows who else knows. At first. We report to Yuri and Alik and Kimberly Then we see that Nell too and Grusha and Parashie, they all know.”

“How?” I asked.

“A spy can recognize the look of a spy.”

Joey was nodding enthusiastically, like this was all standard stuff. For all I knew, Joey herself was working undercover for MI6. And Fredreeq was Mossad. Nothing surprised me anymore. “But you really did write
Jesus Made Me Skinny?”
I asked.

“Of course. Jesus made me skinny to do this work. Not for vanity. This work, it is very hard and only three will go to the next level. Zeffie is very good, the best at breaking and entering. Also planting bugs. Not good at climbing ropes. She is a doctor.”

“It sounds risky,” I said, “to break laws for the scavenger hunt, if Yuri doesn't want you getting caught.”

“Yes. But better now than later to find out if we can do it,” Felix said. “So this is why, you get caught, you go home.”

We were back at the Haven Lane square, where Apollo and Uncle Theo had mapped out a grid, using white chalk.

“You see what Apollo borrowed for us?” Uncle Theo asked, showing me a transparent piece of graph paper that fit neatly over my sketch of the Madonna. “Now what we do is take your delightful little sketch and blow it up—one hundred times larger than it is right now. Is that right, Apollo?”

“One hundred forty-four,” Apollo said.

“In fact,” Uncle Theo said, “since you have done your small sketch in color, anyone can do the enlarged version. Apollo and me, for instance. It's a simple formula.”

“It is math!” Apollo said.

“But it's not art,” I said. “It's paint-by-numbers. It's cheating. Isn't it?”

“Think of it as architecture,” Joey said. “Or costume design. You do the picture, the seamstress executes your vision. Here, I'll help. Everyone will help.”

“If you wish to work fast, this is the solution,” Apollo said.

“There's a theory afloat,” Uncle Theo said, “that the old masters used projection techniques themselves. And that much of their work was in fact the work of their apprentices. We shall simply walk in the footsteps of the giants.”

Felix looked at my sketch over Uncle Theo's shoulder. “Is this your Madonna? To me, she is strange.”

“Everyone's a critic!” I said. “You try drawing one. She's been done to death.”

“But she has too many arms.”

“So does Kuan Yin,” Joey said, kneeling. “And you don't hear Hindus complaining.”

“We might,” Uncle Theo said, working alongside her, “if we spoke Hindi.”

“Anyway she needs many arms,” Apollo said. “To carry all the weapons.”

“Then I will help too,” Felix said. “However, her clothes, these are not beautiful.”

“Subjective opinion,” Joey said. “Lotta men find flak jackets sexy. Poll the NRA.”

“And her machine gun is pink,” Uncle Theo pointed out. “I'm going to start here, Wollie, on the garland of skulls on bungee cords. Apollo has expressed interest in the earphones and the large glasses, so I'll save that part for him.”

“Night-vision goggles,” I said. “You really think that art by committee is okay?”

“My dear,” Uncle Theo said, “trusting other people can be the scariest thing in the world. But sometimes you simply must be brave.”

Which was when I turned and saw Simon.

“H
ello.” My heart thumped loudly in my chest, and my head told it to pipe down.

Simon looked stressed out. He walked toward us, tall and well dressed. His face had an unguarded look about it, equal parts fatigue, anxiety, and grimness.

“Theo,” he said, shaking Uncle Theo's hand, but Uncle Theo wasn't having any of that, and wrapped Simon in a hug, his serape overpowering Simon's shirt and tie. Then Joey hugged Simon, and then Apollo, which I found touching, as Apollo and Simon had only met a few times. Despite the fact that Simon was a foot taller than Apollo, he was powerless in the face of this adolescent exuberance.

I half expected Felix to follow suit, but Felix hung back. This did not escape Simon's attention. And when Uncle Theo introduced Simon as “dear Wollie's beau, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Felix literally choked. It was enough to distract me from my own shock at my uncle's outspokenness.

“Uncle Theo,” I said, regaining my composure. “In some countries, it's considered bad form to talk about someone's job right off the bat. It's like introducing them by how much money they make. Which no doubt is what Felix is reacting to.”

“In any case, I must steal her away,” Simon interrupted, with an unusual lapse in manners, and took me by the hand. “I'll bring her back quickly.”

I had an impulse to object to his plan, but I didn't want to create a scene, because drama takes time and I didn't have any. “Felix,” I called over my shoulder, “don't wander off. I'm begging you.”

“He won't,” Joey said. She gave me a thumbs-up, with a nod toward Simon.

Simon walked me across the grass. I was having trouble breathing normally, probably due to the voice screaming, “Sleeping with Lucrezia! Reported to be on the take!” but Simon didn't seem to notice, so the voice must have been in my head.

Simon found us a grassy patch that was relatively secluded. “Have a seat. Please,” he added in a softer tone, anticipating my recalcitrance. When I was seated, he said, “The feds are moving in on Milos.”

“What? When?”

“Soon. Today, maybe. They've had some break, enough to score a search warrant.”

“A warrant for what? What's the case?”

“I don't have details. I only know there's an ongoing investigation that's heating up. I don't want you anywhere close when it blows. Since this guy's an arms dealer, a number of scenarios could get played out and I don't like you being a bit player in any one of them.”

“Which feds are you talking about, Simon? The FBI?”

“The particular branch of law enforcement isn't what's relevant.”

“Humor me, would you? I want to know your source of information.”

“What's the point of—” Simon stopped, looking over my shoulder. I turned. A child, no more than two feet tall, toddled over to us, arms outstretched like Frankenstein, a big smile on her face, displaying two teeth. She was only a foot away when she realized I was not anyone she knew. Her smile dissolved and her mouth fell open. Wailing ensued.

I felt an answering anguish and started toward her when her mother came and scooped her up, laughing. I stared after them for a moment, then turned back to Simon. “You're asking me to quit a high-paying job,
with no notice, and I'm asking you, on what do you base this? Because if it's rumors, shoptalk among your friends—”

“Yes, it's the FBI. An associate of mine in the department, someone I trust, told me that an arrest is imminent, but that's all they know. What the arrest is for, I'm not privy to.”

“But you assume it's for some kind of weapons violations.”

“No. I assume that Milos being in the business of weapons makes him dangerous, and maybe unwilling to go down without a fight, whatever the bust is for.”

“Isn't there such a thing as a legitimate arms dealer?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do you know that Yuri isn't one?”

“Because my information suggests otherwise.”

“Information that also comes from the FBI?”

The mask of professionalism descended. He looked as tough and impersonal as he had when we met. I suddenly saw him as he'd been back then, a stranger who'd scared me silly, not the man whose bed—when there was a bed handy, and often there wasn't—I'd been sharing for the last half year. The man I was now sharing, maybe, with Lucrezia.

“Simon.” I drew a raggedy breath. “Are you concerned because you're in love with me and you can't imagine life without me? Or because you like me a lot and feel a general responsibility to keep innocent people out of harm's way?”