Page 44 of Beehive
“Sie haben recht.”(You’re right.)
He lowered his head, and my heart sank with his mood.
Continuing in German, I reached down and stroked his hair. “I’m trained to protect you, remember? I could sleep standing up if I had to.”
He looked up and gave me a hint of the smile I loved more than life, then propped onto his elbows. “Should we . . .” He made an exaggerated motion around the room with his eyes, the universal spy gesture for “let’s search for listening devices.”
“Sure,” I said, stepping to the nightstand and unscrewing the bolt that held the shade.
Will began with the bedframe, a solid, aging piece of wood fashioned into a sleigh.
The lamp was clean. I almost had it reassembled when Will grunted. I looked up to find him holding a round metal device the size of a button. A tiny, squiggly wire poked out of its top.
His brows lifted as our gazes met.
“I’m going to take a shower, wash off some of the city.” I spoke a little louder than we might normally talk in such a small room, then padded into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the water in both the sink and the shower. Will continued removing tiny decorative screw covers, checking for additional devices. As the water ran, I created a grid throughout the bathroom and set to work.
A quarter hour later, I shut off the water and held up another bug for Will to see. It had been inserted inside the handle of the sink. Clever little Reds.
Will held up his second discovery.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
By the time an hour passed, we’d found four bugs.
Four.
In our hotel room.
A scraping sound drew my attention toward the door. Someone had slid a sealed envelope through the massive crack near the floor. Will sat back on the bed and shrugged at me, then glanced back toward the floor where the envelope lay.
“This is beginning to happen a lot to us,” I quipped, lifting the envelope, then tearing it open. Inside was a single page with handwritten script, as well as three sheets of blank paper and a pencil the size of my pinky. I read the note, then passed it to Will.
Omaha. Alpha. Remember Vendôme.
Our uncle hears well.
M
“I need a smoke,” I said, handing the note to Will.
He cocked his head, then followed my eyes to the scrawl and nodded.
We left the bugs where the Russians could listen to silence and made our way downstairs. Antonov was nowhere to be seen, so we crept down two more flights, past the reception desk, and out the front door. A pair of soldiers stood on either side of the entrance. A bored expression filled their eyes.
Stepping a dozen yards from the door, I leaned casually against a tree and lit a cigarette. Will followed and sat on a nearby stoop.
I squatted so we were eye level and whispered, “Manakin was right. They’re all over this place.”
Will nodded. “Wish we could find a safe house. I don’t like the idea of spending five minutes under that roof.”
I let my head fall back against the tree’s rough bark. “Yeah, I know, but leaving would raise too much suspicion. We’re their guests, remember?”
“Yeah, guests. Right.”
“Alpha is midnight. Omaha is Meeting Point One. What do you think the Vendôme reference means?”
Will stared into the darkness across the street. “It’s got to be the signal. Red scarf again?”
