Levitate, page 8
Timo said, “Do you think you can restrain yourself under the same roof as me, Miss Rasch?”
“Does that matter anymore?” Cassiane asked. “Constance... Con... knows about us.”
“She’s not the one I’m worried about. We’ve already been caught once. We’re only fortunate it was her and not someone who could have destroyed our lives. I don’t like tempting fate twice.”
Cassiane’s humor soured. “So are we done? I thought you were eager to meet Sophie Rasch, weary hotel housekeeper.”
“I must admit, she is quite appealing.” Timo picked up a pen and twisted it between her fingers. “I don’t know if we’re done. I don’t... want us to be done. I just want to maybe take a few days. By that point, we may know Rudin’s contact and the mission could be over. It’s best to play it safe.”
“Fine.” She stood and went to move the file cabinet. “I think I will sleep downstairs. I’m too exhausted to walk all the way to your apartment anyway.”
Timo sighed. “Circe. Cassiane...”
Cassiane ignored her and descended into the darkness to the ghost station, eager to put as much distance between herself and the rest of the world as possible.
#
In the dark of the ghost station, with only the distant rumble of passing trains for company, Cassiane stared at the dark emptiness above her bed and thought about what Con had asked her. For three years, she had been Marta. When she went to the market, people who looked at her saw Marta. She was a normal Berliner, with nothing to hide. She worked for a boring man in a boring office and was having a mundane affair with him.
Marta was dead now. No one mourned, no one even recognized the empty space she once occupied. She’d left behind other cover identities before, but she’d never had one ripped away so violently. It was usually when the mission was over and she was moving on to the next assignment. One file closes, a new opens, and she finds out who she will be for the next one.
This time she’d been forced into playing Sophie Rasch while still shedding the skin of Marta. It was like being stuck in an ill-fitting suit with her shoes on the wrong feet.
She knew exactly who she was outside of her covers. She was Cassiane Jurick. She had an apartment in Athens. It was a simple place to rest and relax between assignments. She was rarely there but that was fine. She had a job to do, and that job required her to be out in the world wearing her masks.
She slipped a hand under the collar of her blouse and touched the bullet wound. It wasn’t completely healed, but the scar was forming. She ran her finger around its perimeter like it was a crater on the face of the moon. She thought about the nights in bed with Timo, who had covered the scar with her hand or kissed the tender skin just above the wound. The memories made her heart race, and a part of her hated it. Emotional responses meant entanglements.
She didn’t want that.
And yet, she hated being alone in this bed. She wanted to roll over and press against Timo’s back. She wanted to wake up with the weight of a head on her shoulder.
“Fuck,” she muttered, and yanked the pillow out from under her head so she would have something to throw. It impacted the wall with a hollow, unsatisfying thump.
She closed her eyes and let her hands rest on her torso, one on her chest and the other on her stomach, and was eventually lulled to sleep by the intermittent growl of underground trains.
#
Timo spent the evening in her office. She turned off the lights and stretched out on the couch, watching the file cabinet in the hopes a Cassiane-shaped shadow would rise from it and come to her. She was aware she was the one who caused the argument, and it made more sense for her to go downstairs and make amends if that was what she wanted. But their relationship was dangerous and transitory. There was every likelihood they would be assigned to different agents when this mission ended. It was foolish to expect anything long-term to develop between them.
Still, she hated these nights. Now that she knew what it was like to have Cassiane in her bed, sleeping alone was unbearable. But at some point she slept, and light slowly washed through the window. Cassiane appeared in her work uniform. Cassiane gave her an appreciative once-over before disappearing out into the waiting room. Timo didn’t know what Cassiane had found to admire; her mannishly short black hair was tousled from tossing and turning on the couch all night, and she was wearing her undershirt and trousers. She looked a mess.
“I have time to get breakfast from the diner at the end of the street,” Cassiane called from the front room. “Would you like something?”
“Coffee. Thank you, Cassiane.”
The only reply was the shutting of the outer door. Timo went into the private bathroom connected to her office to brush her teeth. She didn’t have a spare outfit, so she would have to go home to find something appropriate for her character. Something cheap and well-worn would help sell the identity of a backpacker. Someone who frequented hostels and slept in train stations more often than proper beds. She heard the door open again.
“Was the diner too busy?” she asked as she came out.
Con stood in the doorway, coat hanging from one hand in the act of hanging it on the rack. She stared at Timo, then quickly looked away.
“Damn it, I forgot to knock again.”
“It’s all right.” Timo retrieved her shirt from where she had left it the night before. “At least I’m partially clothed this time.”
“I suppose that’s fortunate.” Con remained with her face toward the wall. “Did you mention the diner? I assume Cassiane...”
“She should be back soon. I’m sure she’ll get something for you as well.” She tucked her shirt into her trousers. “You can look now.”
Con relaxed and finished hanging her coat. “Sorry again for just barging in. I’ll try to do better about it in the future. Did you tell Cassiane about the plan?”
“Yes. She’ll be ready when the time comes to make her move. We have to buy her two minutes. If I can’t keep him by the car that long, you have to be ready to intercept him before he gets back inside the hotel. The housekeeping uniform will give her a plausible reason to be in his room if she’s caught, but we don’t want to make him more suspicious than we need to. A stranger in his room might be enough to make him throw everything out, cigarettes included.”
“I’ll be ready,” Con said. “Once the cigarettes are in place, we just wait?”
Timo nodded. “We’ll wait three hours after the switch has been made. That will be long enough for him to crave a cigarette and for the drug to take effect. We’ll bring him back here and secure him downstairs. It might not be easy maneuvering a full-grown man, but the drug will make him compliant. It would be nearly impossible if he was completely unconscious.”
Con said, “Not to mention harder to explain if we’re seen.”
“Right. Cassiane did bring up one point of contention. She’s concerned about your guarantee that Rudin will open the door to us at all. If we can’t get that far, this whole thing falls apart.”
Con said, “It’s a valid concern, but one we don’t need to waste energy on. Our people have been watching Rudin for weeks. He’s a considerate person.” Timo raised an eyebrow and Con chuckled. “I know, odd trait for someone carrying the means to kill thousands of people, but it’s true. He holds the door open for others. He cleaned the gutters for his neighbor. If someone knocks on his door seeking help, even under these circumstances, I believe he will have no choice but to answer the call.”
Timo considered the argument and finally nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “When Cassiane gets back with breakfast, we’ll work out the best time to put our plan into action.”
Con smiled. “Let’s go get our man.”
Chapter Nine
At half past two, Timo entered the hotel through a maintenance door which Cassiane had left open. Their Trabant was parked on a narrow street on the north side of the hotel. She was dressed in shabby traveling clothes: torn jeans, a hooded sweatshirt over two shirts, a knit cap, and glasses thicker than normal to obscure her eyes and the shape of her face. She had a backpack on to lend credence to her cover story and also to change her posture. Being hunched over would make her look like anything but a threat.
She stopped in front of Room 232 and held her breath for thirty seconds. She let it out, then huffed out three times before knocking. She stepped back and grabbed the straps of her backpack with both hands. Her face was red and she was panting when she heard the lock being turned. The door opened a crack, still secured by the chain. She saw a sliver of Rudin’s face, just his bloodshot eye and one long expanse of gray skin leading down to the corner of his mouth.
Timo leaned forward and widened her eyes. “Hello? Guten Tag? English, please? Any, any English? I don’t have much German.”
“I speak English,” he muttered.
She smiled. “Oh thank God! Thank you! I’ve been trying to find, to ask...” She swept her arm helplessly down the empty hall. “No one speaks English, or they pretend they don’t...”
Rudin shook his head. “I am sorry, I cannot help.”
“No, please!” She held up her hands. “Please, sir. My car broke down outside. I don’t have money for a tow truck or a mechanic. I just need to get a few more miles. If you can take a look at it, please, I’m desperate. I can’t be stranded here, sir. I don’t know what else to do.”
He stared long and hard at her. Timo put on her most desperate expression. She let her eyes fill with moisture, her bottom lip trembling. After a few seconds she shifted it to a look of despair, as if she’d decided he wasn’t going to help after all. Her shoulders slumped. She looked away. She shrank in on herself and started to turn away.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you, sir.” Her voice was meek and hollow. “I-I will find some other way.”
She only took two steps before Rudin said, “Wait.”
The door closed and she heard the chain sliding. She kept up the façade but her inner voice became very calm as she turned and watched their target step out inside the hallway. He wore a V-neck undershirt tucked into trousers. He glared at her and she could almost see the checkmarks in his mind as he assessed her threat level.
“It is fine.” Her voice wavered with tears on the verge of falling. “I don’t want to disturb you.”
“No,” Rudin said. “I will help. But you will walk ahead of me.”
Timo feigned confusion. “Yes, of course. I will show you where my car is.”
She brushed past him and walked down the hall. She knew he had some kind of weapon on him, though she hadn’t seen it. A knife, a gun, something to bolster his courage as he ventured out into the dangerous world. She glanced back to make sure he was following her and gave him a relieved smile. He didn’t return it.
“My name is Michelle.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She faced forward and continued out the door. The metal stairs leading down to the alley echoed under her feet, and she looked back again when she didn’t hear him behind her. He was standing in the doorway and examining the street carefully. Smart, Timo thought. He was checking for suspicious pedestrians, traps, snipers, enemy agents. It was exactly what she would have done in his place, and it was the reason she had made sure to leave the car in an open area. No dumpsters for an enemy agent to hide behind, no other vehicles parked nearby with someone in the backseat waiting to spring out to grab him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Rudin nodded and finally proceeded down the stairs.
“It stopped just right here. I pushed it off the main road myself, thankfully, but I am uncertain what I would have done if I hadn’t found help. Thank you again.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said again.
Timo popped the hood and stepped back. Rudin stood a few feet away and examined the car, then twisted at the waist to look down the street. There was a man walking his dog at the far end of the block but he had his back to them.
“Sir?” He snapped his head around to look at her again. She held her hands up again. “I’m sorry. You’re obviously tense about something. I-is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? I’m a woman traveling alone in a foreign country, so... so I know the importance of being wary. I don’t want to make you feel threatened.”
Rudin said, “Will you sit on the curb across the street?”
“Yes, of course.” She pointed to a spot where a tree was providing shade. “Will that be okay?”
He nodded and she crossed the street. She sat down and folded her legs in front of her. Once she was settled, Rudin bent down to look into the engine. The Trabant was a very simple car with a very simple engine. She had no doubt he would be able to quickly determine her problem was caused by the fan belt Con disabled a few minutes earlier.
Timo was amused by the situation. She was lying to the man, she was a threat to him, and yet she was able to present herself as a completely innocent stranger. There was no trap, no trick to capture him. Her subterfuge was technically low-stakes but carried the same thrill as any other mission. It was like a game or a trick, mischievous without putting her life at risk. She reminded herself that Cassiane was putting her life at risk and kept track of how much time had passed by counting in her head.
“Your fan belt has come loose,” Rudin said.
“That sounds like an easy fix,” she said with hope in her voice. Ninety seconds.
Rudin reached into the engine and adjusted something. Timo looked toward the hotel and saw Con in the alley, waiting to intercept Rudin on his way back inside. She was holding a German phrase book in front of her and walking at a normal pace which would cause her to cross the sidewalk at just the right moment. If Timo gave the signal, Con would drop the book and spill her bag at Rudin’s feet. If their intelligence was right, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from helping.
One-oh-nine. One-ten. Ten seconds left in Cassiane’s window, but Timo wanted to give her as much of a cushion as possible.
“That should fix the problem,” Rudin said.
“Oh thank you so much. Let me try it...” She crossed the street and got behind the wheel. As promised, the engine grunted to life as soon as she turned the key. “You’ve done it! You are my hero!”
Rudin put down the hood and waved dismissively as he stepped away from the car. One-thirty-two. Technically the two minutes were up, but she wanted to be certain. Con walked past the car without even slowing her pace; there was no need for her to create a distraction. Timo grabbed a ten mark banknote and held it up as she got out of the car.
“Please!”
“No, I cannot take your money.” He was already making his way back toward the building. His head was up and he was checking every possible position for coconspirators.
Timo hurried after him. “You saved me so much trouble...”
“Save your money. You will need it. Please, I wish to be left alone.”
They were closing in on three minutes. She had to hope it was enough. She couldn’t delay him any longer without making him suspicious.
“Thank you! Thank you, sir.”
He ignored her and went back up the stairs. Timo watched him disappear through the access door and then went back to the still-running sedan. Con had circled back around and was sitting in the passenger seat. Timo got behind the wheel and drove around the corner where they would be out of sight from Rudin’s window and parked along the curb. She checked her watch and then glanced up at the hotel as if she could see through walls.
“Just under three minutes,” she reported. “Cassiane said that would be enough time.”
Con nodded. “I’m confident.”
“Me too.”
If all had gone according to plan, Cassiane would let them know by delivering a bag of trash to the dumpster at the opposite end of the alley. That bag would contain Rudin’s actual cigarettes. If they were in the bag, that meant Rudin would be smoking a tainted cigarette any moment. He would most likely be under the influence by the time Cassiane ended her shift, at which point they would take him to the ghost station, which they’d spent that morning preparing for his arrival.
Timo checked her watch and waited.
#
Cassiane saw the Trabi sedan pass by in front of the hotel from the window of the room she was cleaning. She’d planned a lie to get away from Heloise, but when she arrived to work that morning, the older woman told her she could work alone. “You did very good work yesterday. Keep it up. I’ll check at the end of the day.” It was most likely just an excuse to get out of doing work herself, but Cassiane didn’t care. It gave her the freedom she needed to move through the hotel without explaining herself.
She left the room she was cleaning and walked down the hall at a casual pace. She stopped at the head of the stairs. Timo’s voice echoed off the cheap plaster walls, but it was impossible to make out what she was saying. Rudin muttered a response, a low growl. Cassiane risked a peek around the corner and saw Timo leading Rudin toward the exit. She envisioned a clock in her head and pushed away from the wall, moving as quickly as she dared without actually running.
Her skeleton key unlocked the door and she stepped inside. The room smelled rotten, the fetor of an enclosed space that hadn’t been cleaned in days. Ghosts of countless cigarettes also clung to the walls and every fabric. The sheets and blanket were in a hopeless tangle on the bed. Her housekeeper persona was already strong enough that she was dismayed at the thought of how long would have to be spent getting this room habitable again.
No time. Less than ninety seconds. She saw a cigarette pack sitting on the nightstand next to an ashtray full of smashed butts. She took out her own pack and carefully recreated the rips and tears from Rudin’s. She squeezed the sides, bent back the top, and held them up side-by-side to make sure they were close enough to pass muster.
Forty-five seconds.
She put Rudin’s pack in her apron and removed all but three tainted cigarettes from the replacement. She put it down on the nightstand, angled it just right, and quickly dashed back to the door. The countdown was still running in her mind. She had gone a little past two minutes. She pulled the door shut behind her until she heard the click, put two fingers against the side of the Do Not Disturb sign to stop it swinging. She stepped away from the door and walked back down the hall like a person who had to be somewhere but was in no particular hurry.
