coffee steaming, tie loosened like a man who knew this was

nus that hadn't been touched since Eisenhower was a

smile when

able. Yellowed. Stamped RESTR

hing with bones older than

came with footnotes

y d

SEN, E

German, Russian, French. Known associate of post-wa

hed?"

? He got too smart for the wrong side. The

with someone whose face was redacted. Halvorsen looked sharp. P

is he

tte, ignoring the

ousin's name. Locals call him 'Professor'. Kee

brow. "What's h

id, "what's h

ed the

hing

Then leaned fo

1942. Met with a woman. Young.

me dead

he motel ledg

oat ti

moth

nod

story's older t

to a librarian with a heart condition. Trim the lawn.

a clutch that held more questi

d the posture of someone who used to give orders and the e

pressed slacks, and shoes so po

", he said,

h for

t a disadvanta

aside. "Not

ooks alphabetised. Curtains drawn tight. There was a che

e front room. He poured

n't d

I was comi

waiting sin

ike he taught speech at Yale

e Halv

ned his

ghter. You're the one she sa

ned f

ew my m

answer r

a drawer and pulle

years younger. S

them are

hem are d

h felt unreal

Halvorsen beside her, taller, looking like he'd already

he was a seams

ied, voice calm. "She sti

oked

rt of the O

those rooms. Too Black, too brilliant, too hard to co

er cup of tea.

wed curtains for a Nazi diplomat's mistress on

breathe f

n't she

, eyes gentler than th

be safe. She though

d i

. "It just ch

he phot

Bis

loved her. Until she said no. Until sh

ard now, expre

watching you

in pr

hy

's answer

thing. And he thinks

?" I repeated, bar

rsen

tly. But she was the courier until she wasn't. Som

hy

trusting the people

d y

't trust

hout resentmen

uld come looking. Not for her. For you. Because that's how he wo

ain, my mother's smile n

supposed to

before

if I

t anymore," he said.

pulled down a thick volume of Russ

ssed flower.

an address scrawled

othe

red a

e left somet

nod

n't know whe

ce was co

s story was j

t

t

of me who had just put

the book clutched tight, my

location. It was a lock waiting f

tired ribbon under the night sky. My headlights carved through fog that

I s

ance. Same rhythm. Three

ar enough not to push. Jus

up. So

ightened o

changed tactics. Pul

wer

werved

lash of chrome. I clipped the kerb and barely miss

sil

d back, the

ory of it. Like a hand that touched your bac

led the engine. My breath came in fast pulls, like

ere a lo

opened

the addr

hing with terr

following m

aking sure