“I’ll come,” she said, getting up.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. I’m going crazy here. I keep thinking they’re picking you up again.”
“They won’t. I called Zimmerman. I told him I’d sign a statement saying my father was depressed. I was worried about him. That’s why I went to see him that morning.”
“But I thought-”
“That’s how you remember it too, isn’t it?” he said, partly to the walls. “He left the concert early, after that little fight we had. If they ask.”
She stopped in front of him. “Nick, what’s going on?”
“Just say it.”
“If that’s what you want,” she said, trying to read his face.
“That’s what I want.” He turned away. “I’ll go see him after Anna and get it over with. I won’t be long.” He went over to the window and drew back the edge of the curtain. “Our friends are still here.”
“Where?” She came over and looked out. “Not very subtle, are they?”
“Not the ones we know about.”
She shivered. “Stop.” She picked up her shoulder bag from the chair. “I’m not staying here. I’m just not.”
They walked down Wenceslas, past the parky stalls and half-empty shops, heading inevitably toward the Narodni Street bridge. Where had Anna found it? Did she know what it meant? Molly, wary, said nothing, glancing over her shoulder. One of the men followed on foot, the Skoda lagging behind. They passed the corner where she had caught the tram and started across the bridge. He waited until they were halfway across before he stopped, looking over at the tree where he’d stood.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want them to lose us. I like having a bodyguard.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“My father was killed, Molly. Not depressed, killed. I don’t want to end up the same way.”
“You?”
“The guy from the embassy said I should watch my back.”
“Did he?” she said, her face blank. “Why would he say that?”
“Maybe he’s paranoid. They get like that over here. Maybe he knows.”
“Knows what?”
But instead of answering, he said, “Molly, I want you to do something. Get out of Prague, today. The ticket’s still good. Take the car if you want.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I’m paranoid too. But do it. There’s nothing you can do here. At least you’ll be safe.”
She shook her head. “Knows what?” she said again. “ Tell me.”
He turned to her, angry now. “You tell me.”
“What?”
He grabbed her arm. “Who’s Foster, Molly? Tell me.”
“Why are you acting like this?” she said, pulling away.
“I’m watching my back. He didn’t have to tell me, we learned that in the war. You get like that when people shoot at you. You start seeing things. You, for instance. Standing right here, having a little talk. Not shopping. Definitely not alone. I was over there.” He indicated the tree. “But maybe I was seeing things. Was I? Tell me.”
She took her arm away, subdued. “What did he tell you?”
“Him? Nothing. Not a word. A real gentleman, if you like the type. Which I guess you do. So why don’t you tell me?”
She looked down. “He’s a friend. Was.”
“A bed friend?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A bed friend?”
“All right, yes. We had a thing. So what? In Paris. He used to work there.”
“But not anymore.”
“No.”
“So you came here. A Czech filmmaker-Christ, was that his idea or yours?”
“Mine.”
“What else did you make up? Why?”
“I didn’t think you’d come if you knew.”
“And it was important to get me here. That was the idea.”
“It was important for him. He wanted it, not me.”
“But you made it happen. You arranged everything. A little family reunion, with the CIA sitting right there beside me.”
“He’s not with the CIA.”
“So he said. What about you? Who do you work for?”
“Nobody. I did it for him.”
“Why, if it was over?”
“I thought it would get him back.”
“Did it?”
“Things-changed.” She looked up at him. “You know that.”
“I don’t know anything, Molly, remember? I’m not supposed to. Is that why we went to bed? Was that part of the plan too? So I wouldn’t suspect anything?”
“No.”
“No, you just couldn’t help yourself. Christ, and I was worrying about the Czechs bugging us, not our side.”
“Stop it. It wasn’t like that.”
“You tell him about it? Was that part of the report?”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It just did.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
“You don’t want to hear this.”
“Yes, I do. I’m dying to hear it. How stupid I was, fucking an agent.”
She flinched and turned away from him, facing the water. “I’m not an agent. I told you, he’s not CIA. He hates the CIA, as a matter of fact. It’s like a sports thing. They’re these big rivals.”
“Who?”
She bit her lip. “The Bureau. There, so you know, okay? You got it out of me. Happy? He works for the FBI.”
Nick stared at her. His father’s voice. I know where.
“In Paris,” he said sarcastically.
“At the embassy. They’re not supposed to operate overseas. It’s against the law. Like they care. Anyway, they get around it by putting people in the embassies. Legats-that’s what they call them. Legal attaches. The CIA knows, but there’s nothing they can do about it, so they make each other crazy.” She stopped. “He’s not an agent.”
“And that’s supposed to make it all right.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Some difference. So you get together in Paris. I’m amazed. An old rock groupie like yourself. I didn’t think he’d be your type. How was it?”
“Don’t do this,” she said quietly.
“How was it?”
She glared at him. “Fine, if you want to know. It was fine. Look, I’m not proud of this. What do you want me to say? What about you? Are you proud of everyone you’ve been to bed with?” She turned to face the river. “We had
