This was his personal nickname for Miss Piggy, created from reruns of the Muppet Babies cartoon. He was playing their usual game, noting Luanne’s curly hair and now pinkish skin. But this wasn’t the time.
Audra held his hand to guide him out.
Sean had already disappeared into the crowd.
At the doorway, Audra glanced back into studio. “Good night,” she said to Luanne, but the woman didn’t answer.
46
Afterward, neither of them spoke. The only sounds came from movement in neighboring rooms, murmurs from the hallway, cars on the street.
Reclined on the hotel bed, Isaak watched Vivian replace her clothing. When she was ready, he walked her to the door. The word good-bye hung between them, though they knew better than to verbalize a thing so final. There was much unknown, with as many feelings unclear. They merely traded smiles before she departed into the hall. She rode the elevator with sunglasses on, scarf snug around her hair.
Again, the grizzled man in the lobby did not look up.
Through the dusty window, sunset was yielding to dusk. She strode out the door and down the street. For several blocks she succeeded in avoiding all thought. But her senses noted something behind her, perhaps Isaak gazing at her from his room. Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder and spied a man with a rifle.
She removed her glasses to confirm the view. He and another man stood outside the hotel. Fedoras covered their heads. Trench coats layered their suits.
Vivian slid behind a newsstand and craned her neck to keep watching.
Before long, four other men emerged from the entrance. Among them was Agent Gerard, guiding Isaak by the elbow. In the manner of a captured prey, Isaak’s hands were bound behind his back.
“No,” Vivian whispered. She was astounded, aghast. This wasn’t the agreement. He wasn’t a criminal. He had done nothing wrong.
She launched into a sprint, dropping her glasses, not knowing how they had found him.
But then she realized. Oh, Lord. She had led them here.
The man with the rifle opened the door of a black Ford. Agent Gerard helped Isaak duck inside.
“Stop!” she yelled, spurring one of the others to draw his sidearm. Agent Gerard, seeing her, reached over and directed the gun skyward.
“She’s okay,” he announced to the others as Vivian stopped to confront him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she implored.
“Calm down,” the agent told her, and ushered her aside. “The deal’s the same. His family, the whole bit. The big guys at the top just wanted to be careful.”
“Isaak doesn’t need to be handcuffed. He was turning himself in.”
“Look,” the agent said. “You remember that Sebold case I told you about? Thirty-three Nazi spies who were rounded up here?”
“I ... Yes, I guess, but–”
“Well, there was another espionage case before that. Back in ’38, we caught a Nazi agent named Rumrich. A German American, same as your fella here. He gladly cooperated and we wound up with a list of more than a dozen spies. In the end, though, all but two of Rumrich’s buddies got away, including the ringleader. The FBI came out looking like a cage of buffoons. We can’t afford to bungle a case that badly again.”
“Hey, Gerard!” one of the men called out. Engines of the two Fords were revving. “We set to go?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Vivian peered through the car window and caught sight of Isaak. He shook his head at her, a tender smile on his lips: Everything will be all right. Her own assurance had circled right back to her.
“Go on home, now,” Agent Gerard said. “I’ll take care of your friend.”
She grabbed his sleeve and looked him in the eye. “You promise?”
The man blew out a breath, his hand on the car door. Before climbing in, he nodded. “You got my word.”
47
The drive home from the gallery had worn Audra’s strength to the nub. If not for tunes on the radio, silence in the car would have swelled like helium, the pressure growing until something burst.
Behind the wheel, Sean had trained his eyes on the pavement. Audra had hoped there was another cause for his glacial mood, but his two-word answers suggested nothing else. With Jack in the backseat, she had no opportunity to voice how and why she’d approached Luanne. When they rolled up to the apartment, Audra thought to invite Sean in; they could speak in private once Jack went to bed. But she simply said good night, figuring it was better to let everything settle.
Two days and three voice mails later, however, he hadn’t responded. Though his reaction seemed excessive, she at least wanted to explain. She considered calling the house instead of his cell, but she refused to bother Luanne. Plus, by now he and his great-aunt had probably conferred over the police visit and custody case, further justifying his avoidance.