It was 9 o’clock on the dot—Lena had run, after all—and she was realizing why she was supposed to get here when she did. Fancy folks in fancier clothing were beginning to funnel in to the hotel. They all looked to be in the same party, she noticed; both their social decorum and ethnicity seemed to have the same bent. They were thin, yet impressively athletic; feminine yet handsome features for most of the men; fragility bordering on fine porcelain for the women; and absolutely immaculate hair for the lot.
As a larger group walked in, however, the stench walked in as well. Vast clouds of perfume and cologne utterly swamped the place in a manner reminiscent of a WWI mustard gas attack, and Lena suddenly realized that she hated having a sense of smell. Alone, each individual scent may have been exceptionally expensive and tasteful; but together, they smelled as if the four horsemen of the apocalypse’s steeds were all taking a shit simultaneously.
“Ah, the French.” the bartender sighed knowingly, “The only thing that smells more overpowering is their egos. Trust me, you’ll see.”
“What are they all here for?”
“Oh, they’re the entourage of some traveling big-wig from Paris. His name is The Honorable Louis Pelletier.” the bartender responded, accentuating his honorific with thinly-disguised sarcasm, “He’s a politician of some note, and supposedly a man of great dignity and moral fiber. He’s absolutely unimpeachable in the French papers.”
“Supposedly?” Lena asked.
“Oh, don’t you believe a word of the papers, my dear. Every diplomat and politician is as perverse as they are powerful… and he is powerful.”
“I still don’t understand.” Lena responded honestly.
“Well…” the bartender replied, looking around for less-than-casual onlookers before leaning in to Lena and continuing, “I’m hardly one to judge the affairs of others—particularly our patrons. But… and you didn’t hear this from me…”
“Yes?” Lena leaned in.
“He’s a boy-fucker!” she whispered with glee and a conspiring gleam to her eyes.
“He’s… what?!” Lena gasped.
“Will that be all, my dear?” the bartender said plainly, straightening up and wiping a towel across the counter as if she had said nothing just a second before. Lena was nearly about to respond, when she heard a male voice calling from a few yards away.
“Excuse me, miss?… Miss!”
Lena ignored it, figuring that it wasn’t for her. That is, until the voice called out again, and then she prayed it wasn’t for her. She already felt out of sorts in this environment. She didn’t want to end up getting in trouble or kicked out already.
“Miss!” the voice called again, and Lena decided it was best to acknowledge it, at least.
“…uh, yes? I…” she turned around to make an excuse she hadn’t quite formulated yet, when she realized that she recognized him.
“Miss,” Patrick, her young Stasi officer spoke, “You forgot your purse.”
Lena almost said something stupid. After all, she hadn’t brought a purse with her. That, and she recognized him, so why wouldn’t she greet him? Then it dawned on her that she should ignore her first instincts, and fall into the role that he had just now written for her.
“Oh my, what a gentleman!” she gushed, “Thank you! My hero! Why, I hadn’t even noticed! How can I ever thank you, Sir?”
“Perfectly fine, Ma’am.” he responded, shooting a glare her way before hustling off to god-knows-where.
“Don’t be so eager.” the bartender said plainly behind her, “Just thank him for the purse and turn around… draws less attention.”
“B-but… he was shouting across…”
“Of course, he was.” the bartender smiled as she absently cleaned a counter, “If Jack secretly slipped it to you, that would raise more questions, wouldn’t it?”
“You mean Patrick.” Lena corrected her, without thinking.
“Right, Patrick.” the bartender said, before winking, “He’s cute.”
“No he’s not.”
“I understand.” the bartender winked again, “You work with someone for a while, feelings are bound to happen. Happens to everyone… and I do mean everyone.” She added this last part with a sly grin, that imparted a secret best kept between girls. It was good to find company with this lovely bartender, she realized.
“I suppose he’s alright.” Lena allowed.
“Oh, he’s more than alright. Not that it’s any of my business, but I think you two would make a handsome couple. Even if he’s your trainer.”
Lena nodded; she hated to admit it, but she liked the idea.
“So, how long have you two been working together?” the bartender asked casually, as she began straightening up her counter-top.
“Oh, just a few months. He’s been teaching me a lot, though.”
“So what has he taught you so far?”
“Well, he’s…”
Just then, Lena heard the clicking of dress shoes and pumps behind her. Turning to look, she noticed Wart-face, Red-hat and Makeup-lady walking right up behind her. There was no rush to their steps, but they had a certain set in their jaws that Lena understood. All three were dressed to impress, with Makeup-lady now wearing a gorgeous black halter-top gown. The former two, now dressed in immaculate tuxedos, walked casually up to the counter, leaned over, and whispered something at the bartender. Immediately, she turned ghost-white, although her expression remained the same. Her chest began raising and lowering ever-so-slightly faster, and Lena thought she could make out the hint of a shiver. The bartender nodded at the two of them, and began walking around the counter and through a doorway, with Red-hat and Wart-face in tow.
“Ah, British intelligence.” Makeup-lady smiled, avoiding looking at Lena as she slid into a chair right beside.
“Wh-what?!”
“On the one hand, I suppose we should thank you. You would make a good counter-intelligence agent if you weren’t so stupid.” she said in a low cheerful tone through a perfectly practiced smile, “On the other hand, the next time you volunteer information to anyone you don’t know, regardless of how much you stupidly trust them, I will personally put a bullet in the back of your skull. Smile if you understand.”
Lena gulped and smiled, trying to act as natural as she could.
“If that had been an Officer, rather than a poorly-chosen asset…” Makeup-lady continued, casually and without the slightest hint of the rage she meant to express, “and we didn’t have every inch of this place bugged, you would have just blown your cover and the cover of your training officer. Who knows how much damage you could have caused?”
“I understand.” Lena said through her forced smiled, as her insides twisted with the shame of failure.
“You had better”, because tonight is your big night. If you get this right, the ‘Mad Bunny’ goes to West Germany. If you get this wrong, we have to make sure everything you now know doesn’t go anywhere it’s not supposed to. And the black cells are good for several things—keeping loud-mouths safe and secure, and giving me some much-needed entertainment.”
For the first time, Lena saw Makeup-lady’s visage change. Lena knew better than to ever earn that look again.
“So, what will happen to her?” Lena asked, referring to the former bartender.
“Oh, she’ll talk. We’ll make sure that she talks. And then, once she’s done talking, we’ll have some more fun with her.”
Lena shuddered, but managed to maintain her pleasant smile.