“Were any of them successful?”

“You would have read about it.”

“No major feats, like stealing the Norden bombsight?”

“That was 1938, the year Fadey and I got together. I tell them about a fast new welding process at Fisher Body. At the Chrysler arsenal they’ve reduced the finishing time on antiaircraft guns from four hundred hours to fifteen minutes. I ask if they want details and get no reply. They’re down in their bomb shelter.”

“How do you send it?”

“I want to tell them to subscribe to Time magazine. Himmler was on the cover again in February, his third appearance since April twenty-fourth, 1939. Walter will frame it, hang it on the wall. Himmler will hate the piece but order a hundred copies . . . I give the information I send-say it’s about the location of a new Alcoa plant-I give it to a man who comes by when I call a number. He goes off somewhere and transmits the message in code to a German shipping company in Valparaíso, Chile, and from there it’s sent to Hamburg.”

“How do you remember April twenty-fourth, 1939?”

“Vera has a fantastic memory,” Bohdan said, “but has to see the words or figures written.”

“If you tell me something I should remember,” Vera said, “I write it down so I have something to look at when I wish to call it to mind.”

No one spoke for several moments. In the silence Jurgen could hear, very faintly, Glenn Miller’s “ String of Pearls” on the radio in the kitchen. He said, “There’s a federal agent, a marshal by the name of Carl Webster, who’s after me.”

“Yes, I read that in Neal Rubin’s column,” Vera said. “You’re the one he’s after?”

Jurgen said, “I thought Walter would have told you about him.”

“Walter lives in his own world.”

“If Carl knows about Walter, he knows about you.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with this policeman?”

“We know each other.”

“And you think he’ll come here looking for you. Would you care to give yourself up, the war nearing its end?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t blame you. But if your friend wants to search my house, what do we do with you?”

“I’ll leave,” Jurgen said.

Vera took her time. She said, “Let me think about it.”

It was quiet again, a silence beginning to lengthen, as Bohdan said, “Well, now we’re coming on to teatime.”

“We can let the vodka be our tea,” Vera said and looked at Jurgen. “Why don’t you go up and rest. I put magazines in your room I know Walter wouldn’t have, or even know they exist. Have a nap, come down at six for cocktails and a supper Bo will prepare for us.” She turned to him. “What do you have in mind, or would you rather surprise us?”

Jurgen was watching Bo. For a moment Bo’s expression said he was tired of this happy home life routine. But then he did come alive and seemed keen to answer Vera.

“I can’t surprise you, Countess, the way you come in the kitchen sniffing. But let’s see if I can stimulate Jurgen’s appetite.”

“I hope I didn’t sound like I was flirting,” Bo said, on the sofa now with Vera, her fingers feeling through his cap of Buster Brown hair, brushing his shoulder now with her hand.

“I think you have dandruff.”

“I set my mind to play a goluboy and everything I say sounds provocative.”

“You’re very believable,” Vera said, remembering the afternoon Fadey came home hours early and almost caught them in the bedroom naked. He called her name from downstairs, “Vera?” By the time he came in the bedroom Bo had become a drag queen in one of Vera’s frocks, hands on his hips, looking at himself in the mirror. Vera, now in a skirt and sweater, stepped out of the closet to see Fadey staring at Bo.

She said to Bo now, “Do you remember what I said?”

Bo grinned. You said, ‘He loves to wear women’s clothes, but he’s still the best fucking cook in Odessa.’ I wanted to kiss you. And Fadey accepted it.”

“He didn’t care one way or the other.”

“I don’t know how you thought of that so quickly. You hear him downstairs and I’m a sexual deviant in the same moment.”

“You know,” Vera said, “there are times when you do sound girlish. But then you began putting it on-”

“It was fun.”

“Yes, until people notice you, maybe your shipmates. It doesn’t take much. You hold your hand the wrong way looking at your nails.” She put her arm around him, drawing his slender body, his ribs she liked to feel, close to her. “The death squad comes by and someone on the dock points you out. ‘He’s one.’ You try to tell them you have a reason for acting the way you do, to prevent someone’s husband from shooting you. And they pissed on you.” Vera began caressing him, touching his face, moving her hand over his hair. “My poor baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I could stop acting like a queen.”

“Not yet. You’re my secret weapon.”

“I didn’t think Jurgen would be a problem, but he is.”

“I’m not going to worry about it, if I have to give him up, I will. Walter, I don’t know, he doesn’t say much. But now he has something he wants to tell us. What he’s planning to do for Hitler’s birthday, the twentieth.”

“What is it?”

“He won’t say. He’ll tell us tomorrow night, here. He’ll bring that loudmouth from Georgia if he flies up. I called Dr. Taylor, told him he’d better come. Keep up with what’s going on.”

“I hope Joe Aubrey can’t make it,” Bo said. “The weather has him socked in. No, he takes off. Fuck the weather, he’s a ferocious, two-fisted little fellow and no storm is going to stop him. But it does, he crashes and burns to death. Wouldn’t that be neat?”

“Except he’s taking the train this time,” Vera said. “The one I’ve been thinking about is Dr. Taylor.”

“He doesn’t say a word,” Bo said, “as his eyes silently move over us, missing nothing.”

“He doesn’t speak very much at a meeting. But he could be talking to the Federal Bureau. I think if he has to,” Vera said, “the doctor will tell on us rather than go to prison. Or have his sentence reduced.”

“What would you like me to do about it?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow night, after I watch these people. See if I like any of them.”

“See who has money to give us,” Bo said. “We know the loudmouth could spare some. You could vamp him, give him one of your lines.”

“No, I couldn’t. His cologne makes my eyes water.”

“Mine too. I thought it was Joe’s breath. Get him to write you a check for German Relief, the starving people of Berlin, made out to cash.” Bo squirmed against Vera to lay his cheek on her breast. “Tell me when you’re out of money, I’ll go stand on the corner.”

“Don’t say that. Please.”

“Six Mile and Woodward Avenue, partway up the first block. Catch some trade going home to the suburbs, where the people with money live.”

Vera took Bo’s jaw in her hand and turned his face to look at her and see the judgment in her eyes.

“Never, ever, tell me what you could be doing when you’re not with me. I don’t want to hear it. You understand? Not even kidding, or I’ll cut you loose.” She kept looking at him, their faces close, and kissed his mouth, Vera gentle now, her voice soft saying, “You understand? You’re my love. I want to feel you belong to me, no one else. Be nice to me,” Vera said, “I’ll make you happy. I’ll let you wear my black sequined dress tomorrow night.”

Bo twisted around to sit up.

“You mean when your spy ring’s here?”

“It’s up to you,” Vera said.

“The black with sequins?”