was gone.
Again.
* * *
“Typical Devin,” said Thomas as they sat in the back of their limousine on the way back into town. “How did he look?”
“Amazing.” Pagan shot Thomas a knowing glance. He’d developed a crush on Devin back when Devin was recruiting him to be an agent for the West in Berlin, a crush Devin hadn’t discouraged until the hook was set. “You know how it is when he’s wearing one of those perfect dark suits...”
“His hair gelled back except for that one lock of black hair that falls just so over his eyebrows. Ugh!” Thomas threw himself back into the deep leather seat. “Good thing I’m seeing Diego or I’d be jealous.”
“You’re seeing him tonight?” Pagan had known about Thomas’s preference for men since Berlin, but few others did. He was a handsome young actor trying to make it in Hollywood as a leading man. Pagan thought he was good-looking and talented enough to get to the big leagues, if no one discovered his secret. It was horrible, him having to live like that. But it was a fact of life. Even Thomas’s mother and sister, with whom he shared a small bungalow in West Hollywood, didn’t know.
Thomas nodded. “I’m going to his place after we drop you off. Mother doesn’t expect me until late because of the party.”
“You are...over Devin after what happened in Berlin, aren’t you?” she asked.
Pagan harbored hopes, which she shouldn’t still be harboring. But she tended to do things she shouldn’t.
“Occasional flare-ups of resentment and memories of lust past,” he said. “Don’t worry. I won’t mind if you fly off to paradise with him. You deserve it.”
“Well, it’s better to date a man who’s actually, you know, around. I probably won’t see Devin again unless I take the job,” Pagan said.
Thomas shook his head. “He is the worst tease. But I bet he still likes you.”
Pagan frowned. “He did look very happy to see me. But he made it very clear there won’t be any of that on this trip.”
“The two of you, working together, facing danger in a beautiful city far from home?” Thomas grinned. “There’s absolutely no chance he’ll change his mind.”
Pagan smiled over at him. “I can be persuasive.”
“And you said he knew all about your movie shoot in London, knew you’d been legally declared an adult, had a birthday... None of those things are connected to this new mission of his. He’s probably following us right now.” Thomas turned to look out the back window of their big-finned limousine, half in jest, and froze. “I was joking, but I think the same white Plymouth Valiant was behind us on our way to the party, as well.”
“Very funny,” Pagan said, frowning out the back window. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the 1960 Valiant behind them did look familiar. “There must be a million cars like that in LA.”
“There’s a million of every kind of car in LA,” Thomas said. He’d frequently remarked on the ridiculous number of vehicles populating the city’s roads, but of course anywhere would appear jammed with cars compared to East Berlin. “But how did he know where you’d be tonight?”
“It wasn’t exactly a state secret,” Pagan said without conviction. Devin had posed as a studio publicity executive when they first met, and he’d exercised some kind of power, probably blackmail, over Pagan’s agent, Jerry. He’d also somehow persuaded the judge who convicted her of manslaughter to let her out of reform school more than a year early. “He is a man with a lot of powerful connections.”
“So it’s probably not him following you personally,” Thomas said, turning back to settle into his seat again. “It’s someone working for him.”
“Or it’s just another car heading home on a Friday night.”
She changed the subject to the party—Thomas was still agog at having met Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin—and the white Plymouth Valiant stayed behind them all the way through the Valley and up Laurel Canyon. But when they turned up the tiny side road leading to Pagan’s house in the Hollywood Hills, the Valiant kept going down the hill toward the city. Pagan saw Thomas eye its red back lights with relief before it vanished around a curve.
“Don’t worry, no one would be following you,” she said. “No offense, but you’re not famous enough yet.”
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I shouldn’t be so paranoid. But if anyone ever found out about me...”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry that you have to worry about that.”
The limo had stopped in front of the house. The porch light illuminated the big wooden front door and part of the slightly ramshackle two-story building that climbed up the hill behind it.
“Say hi to Mercedes for me,” Thomas said as the driver opened the door, and Pagan gathered up her stole and her handbag.
“She’s probably up studying,” Pagan said, glancing out at the house. The front porch light was off. That was odd. Maybe Mercedes had gone to bed after all, and turned it off automatically. “You and your family are still coming over for Christmas Eve, right? I’m determined to start some new traditions. Mercedes is going to make tamales. They’re delicious.”
“I’ll call to see what we can bring,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You’re going to take the job with Devin, aren’t you?”
She kissed him back and then wiped the lipstick trace from his tan skin with her thumb. “See the world by spying on it!” she said. “That’s my plan.”
She was fumbling with her keys in the dark, waving at the limo driver to go on and leave, when the porch light flicked on, blinding her. The front door swooshed open.
“Mercedes?” She blinked into the dark doorway.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a weird night.” Mercedes took her arm in an unnervingly tight grip and tugged her inside.
“What’s wrong?” Inside, the house was dark, and Mercedes didn’t let go of her gloved wrist. They’d been best friends since they met in reform school, but Pagan could count on one hand the number of times they’d touched. “You okay?”
“Someone’s watching the house. Or they were.” Mercedes released Pagan to give the limo driver a quick wave, and shut and locked the door. “I haven’t seen anything in the last two hours.”
Pagan glanced around the quiet house, instantly focused. Until recently, Mercedes had been an enforcer for one of the toughest gangs in Los Angeles, and her nose for danger was not to be trifled with. She must have turned the house’s interior lights off to see outside better. Pagan said, “Thomas and I think a car might have followed us here from the party.”
Mercedes nodded. “Your people, then.”
“Probably.” Pagan’s past experience with the CIA, MI6 and the East German Stasi wasn’t extensive, but if anyone was following her and watching the house, it was most likely connected to that. “Where were they?”
“I
